When you are blinded by abuse

As I release control over areas of my life which have caused me so much turmoil over I find myself more in control of others.  Areas of my life I mean.  I’ve always known I was abused.  But I didn’t know how the PTSD was ruling my life.  I felt cursed not to be blessed with the ability to block it all out like others I have met.  I spent my entire life fighting the images, the feelings and the hell that came from childhood sexual abuse and rape.   Now once again my opinion on the subject is changing.   Because I’m healing.

I’m not grateful for my abuse.  Fuck no.  But I am seeing that everything I walked through as a result of the abuse was my path to today clarity.  Every path I willingly choose to walk down which resulted in me allowing someone to use me, take advantage of my vulnerability & ignorance and was me straight up going back for more abuse was the way I had to go.

When you are blinded by abuse you simply don’t know you are blind.  You think you can see clearly but really everything is covered in thick chaotic darkness.  When clarity comes you stand back and marvel and accept what you see knowing you will never be going back.


This is not an anniversary to remember

No matter how I feel inside and out, today is not about me.  Today is about my Son and whatever he needs and wants.  He has asked for an upbeat celebration and good day downtown Seattle.  That is what I will endeavor to give him.  My pain, emotional and physical, can fuck off.

One year ago today I drove stunned and clearly in shock in response to the third phone call of an inner circle death in the dark shaking my head in disbelief that it was happening again.  But this time it was my Son that I would have to hold myself up for and listen to as he screamed and cried behind a closed hospital room door.  I sucked it the fuck up and shoved my shit way down deep.  My whole body clenched and jerked as he screamed Dad Dad No Dad……  I will never forget that sound nor the immediate change in my Son just an hour later.

My Xhusband had a heart attack and put his car into a wall on Father’s Day 2014.  Tell me how I can ever do anything less than everything my Son asks of me on this day for the rest of my life?  So right now I am going to shower, put on makeup and dress beautifully.  I am going to smile and laugh and joke with my Son and his pregnant girlfriend.  I will raise a glass and tell grand stories of our time together as a family and B’s childhood.  I will honor the man I am so blessed to have co-parented with.  I have to let myself cry a little now.  I cry because I realize how hard the next few years will be without Mike to co-grandparent with.  I cry because I can still hear my Son screaming and no Mother should ever have to hear that.  I cry because I know how bad my son is hurting today.  I cry because grief is a part of love and I have chosen to love deeply.  I understand that now.

Oz B hand on back This is me walking my son into the funeral last June.  Yes I have chaps on.  We gave him a biker funeral.

The cover image is my Xhusband, my Son and I at OzzFest at the Gorge Ampitheater.  It is 2004.  A year after our divorce.  Which we did amicably for $300.00.   He wasn’t perfect.  I am not perfect.  We did not fuck each other over.  It made being friends and co-parenting a dream.  I was lucky.  I had no legal right to my Son when I left.  I was very lucky and I guess maybe just realizing today that maybe I didnt choose “that” badly when I married….????

Nerve pain

I hate random nerve pain.  For example this morning I went from zero to catching my breathe and cussing because it felt like a bowling ball had been dropped on my big toe.  Sharp pulsing take my breathe away pain that lasted about three mins.  What the mother fuck is that?  Tonight the same ankle that is attached to that same foot feels tight and painful.  I ache all over.  I don’t fucking care.  It’s just pain…..

Fuck this mother fucking disease!  Grrrrrrr!!

I helped paint some art tonight.  In spite of the pain.  Fuck you Fibro – you loose.  My life rocks.

Here’s a pic of what I helped the community make tonight.  It’s fucking gorgeous.


I don’t require me to stay and fake it any more

I just dashed out of Beer Friday and raced home in fear.  A good 15min drive home and my heart’s still pounding in my chest.  I can feel my stomach churn and ache from the knots.  I have an urge to cry, scream or panic.

I was fine.  I was standing with two women I have years of established friendship with.  Two women who have shared some of their darkest secrets with me.  I told them how I had talked myself into coming forced myself to come out and I was glad I did.  I had loved seeing the people I have forged this eleven year friendship with.  I was questioning myself as to why I ever have to force myself to see my friends…..

And suddenly there were too many people.  About 3hrs had passed and maybe 25 to 30 people were milling around chatting away.  There was good music with a great beat playing.  Two tables filled with food and a kitchen overflowing with beverages of every kind.  I could name about 3/4 of the people in attendance.  I felt myself begin to question what I had to talk about and the next thing I knew my heart was pounding so loud I could barely follow the conversation.  I took a few deep breaths.  It seemed to help.  I changed groups and engaged in conversation.  My heart started pounding again only this time is was accompanied by waves of anxiety.  The kind of waves that make me feel like I must be going fucking insane.  There is no rhyme or reason.  There is nothing for me to fear.  Yet I feel my stomach turn over and a wave rises from my gut to my face.  It’s a hot physical wave of anxiety dripping with fear.

I walked away.  I sat down on a semi-secluded couch and took a few deep breaths.  I could hear distinct voices of people I know and love.  Yet I was so overcome with embarrassment I could not bring myself to ask for help.  I thought of at least two women at the party whom I knew I could pull aside and ask for help and they would not judge me.  I could not do it.  I grabbed my keys, smiled and even gave a few hugs.  I felt myself calm down knowing I was leaving.  But in my van I sat with my heart pounding and fought off tears.

The waves continued as I drove home.  I searched for a reason.  What is triggering me?  Nothing….. I’ve got no answer other than I have fucking PTSD and ever since the last trigger I have been unable to shut the social anxiety part off.  There is no reason other than the crowd gets too big and I go from zero to heart pounding physically very uncomfortable symptoms.  I’m still having the waves.  I’ve been home long enough to say hello to the dogs, change into my nightie and sit down to type.  I am still getting waves of physical anxiety and heart palpitations.  I feel annoying and stupid.

I don’t know if I can do it anymore.  I have a small crowd limit now.  I have an urge to cry and feel sorry for myself.  I wont allow it.  I would rather sit here all night and take deep breaths then I would break down and cry over this shit any more.  I didn’t fucking deserve to be abused.  it’s not my fault I have the fucking PTSD and yet I am humiliated and embarrassed that it can still do this.

And yet I still have my clarity.  I know exactly what it is.  I know what the anxiety is from.  I know that the tapes of my childhood got triggered and a social situation turns them on and WHAM hello social anxiety waves.  They are stronger than they were eleven years ago when I first pushed past them to join this community.  I didn’t know what it was back then.  I just thought I was weird and a chicken shit.  Again, thus the creation of “the bitch.”  Now I recognize what is happening and try to take myself down.  If I can not, I leave.  It sucks but the alternative is worse.  Get drunk and possibly make an ass of myself because I am so caught up my social anxiety that it causes me to show off or get cocky.  I don’t want to be the cocky bitch any more.  I feel lost and sometimes panicked without her.  So today, my clarity allows me to leave and do what I need to do for me.  Like last weekend when I choose to go back to the hotel.  Tonight I choose to come home.  And that is OK.  There is absolutely nothing wrong with me coming home and I dont need to beat myself or feel about it today.  That is a huge difference for me.

I find myself thinking “well I guess I better keep investing in my friendships privately and get used to not going to the big events.”  And I am OK with that too.  Camping is different.  I have my space that I can isolate in when needed and recharge.

I don’t require me to stay and fake it any more.

The pain is back

I’m struggling.  The pain is back.  My hips and back are at a constant 3/4 and sends shooting pain to an 8 through out the day and night.  My left woke me.

I know what I need to do.  My pride is not letting me.  I need to take my cushion with me and sit on it rather then hard seats.  Everywhere…..

I don’t like to show my illness or pain.  I don’t want to now.  This is fucking bullshit.  Can I at least please have my dignity?

The pain is making me exhausted and overly sensitive.  I do not …… FUCK!!!!!

Pic is my tire on the side of the freeway last week.  That’s how I feel today.  Soooo fucking pretty!!!

That’s pretty cool 

I did great.  I smiled, I held my head up high and I laughed with my brother T.  I did not stuff my face with cookies.  I waited until I got back to the hotel for my earned pig out.

The same Aunt I spoke of earlier never came near me but I caught her looking me up and down and snearing to herself.  Seriously she has to be in her sixties now and still does that shit.  The after party was to be held in her home.  I drew my boundary politely and calmly telling my Dad that I had no desire to be in her home and planned to order a pizza and pick up beer at the hotel.  My Dad decided to join me.  So in the end I got a couple hours alone with my Dad drinking beer, eating pizza and telling stories.  Turns out I’m not the only one with some stupid drug stories from my young and dumb days.  My Dad is no longer afraid to tell me the truth.  That’s pretty cool.

Fuck those people.  I hope they have peace someday.  I love my Step Mom more then words can say.  And I loved her Dad who was a good good man.  I paid my respect.  I showed my love.  I looked good and I honored me.  Win win win.

This is taken outside the hotel tonight.  It was 94* at 6PM

The dress was full length but showed my arm and back tats.  I was complimented.  I felt like a Goddess.  I am a Goddess!   

But I am the “freak” of the family and it always is made clear.

I should not be surprised.  I woke up at 5AM in a foul mood, in physical pain and the fucking internet was out.  I went to bed dreading today and ohh look it started out shitty.  I’m like a ticking time bomb inside waiting to unleash my BOOM.

In two hours I will be leaving to make the drive to Portland for my Step Grandfather’s memorial service.  He was a very good man.  He was always kind to me.  Other members of my Step Mom’s family not so much.  There is added tension between my brother and I that I can’t speak of.  So today promises to suck dirty sweaty haven’t been washed for months hippy balls.  Well at least a few hours of it this afternoon.

What I would like to do is rise above the BS and shine like a ray of light.  I picked a sleeveless dress as it is what we consider “hot” in the NW today.  I also packed black pants with two sleeveless top options.  I have thousands of dollars worth of art on my arms and I am not hiding them for anyone.  I wont be the only tattooed person there.  But I am the “freak” of the family and it always is made clear.  So how can I be me and not let them know how much I hate being there?  How good have I become at tolerating the glances, the stares and those fucking whispers?  How I hate the whispers most of all.

It’s so bizzare how the don’t know me.  They don’t know that the world I live in holds me as one of it’s trusted and dedicated leaders.  Even after my two years of grief and the PTSD being triggered.  When I came out of my cave and said “hey I’m OK now” they came running to embrace and continue to trust me.  These people who stand in judgement over me have no idea the countless hours I have put into serving and helping the homeless, building art festivals for the public or helping local urban farms improve the grounds to feed hundreds of people for years to come.  They don’t know me.  Yet they sit and stare and judge.  Inside I will be flipping them off with both hands.  Outside I will be shining like the sun.  I am fucking determined.

Here’s an example of how I am seen.  I was a teen and had come for visitation with my Dad.  We went to a “family gathering” at my Step Mom’s parents house.  The house is filled with people.  I am quietly standing in one corner of the kitchen watching my Step Mom laugh, chat and prepare food with her Sister and a couple other ladies.  My Step Mom asked me to open the cupboard behind me and hand her a mixing bowl.  I hesitated, verified what cupboard I was to open and then reached up to do so.  One of the Aunts came walking in the kitchen just as I did so.  She forcibly shut the cupboard I had barely opened and snapped at me “NO!  What are you doing?”  My Step Mom quickly said that she had asked me to help and the Aunt said something under her breath and walked out.  That was the day it was clear to me that I was not a part of the family and that my mental health issues had been a topic of conversation.  And for some reason she thought I was either snooping or stealing.  I have dreaded and hated seeing these people ever since.  I have felt unwelcome and unwanted since that day but have gone when asked by my Step Mom or Father out of respect.  I’m 45yrs old and could throw up right now……

Why am I going?  Because I love my Step Mother, I love my Father and I was invited to come and honor a man who deserves my energy.

I choose to be present.  I choose to accept where I am and be peaceful in the moment.  I will not allow the behavior of others to steal my peace.  Even when the others are hypocritical judgemental shallow cunts.

Ohhh and I bought a vape pen with a lovely Sativa blend.  I can walk outside and get ripped with no one being able to tell.  No bloodshot eyes and no smell.  I will sit quietly stoned judging them for judging me.  Yeah thats the plan 😉