Author: Dre

Categories
Life in general Parenting

Snooze

It’s that time of year. 

The time when we have to start waking up on time.  To get somewhere, on time.

I decided that we’d spend this week getting used to the new (old) schedule so that when school starts next Monday, it wouldn’t be a shocker.

I’ve been setting my alarm at 6:30, so that I can be up, showered, and ready with breakfast on the table when I wake the kids up at 7:15.  So that I can get them up, ready, and out the door by 8:00.

How is it going, you ask?

Well, apparently I like playing this game called “snooze”.  Where I try to see how many times I can hit snooze before Blythe wakes up for the day.  And in that game, I  am able to immediately return to sleep between beeps of the alarm.

Even though, every time I’m woken up all damn night, whether by Alison or Blythe or the dogs or the cats or some cricket chirping like its performing an opera, it takes me a full hour to get back to sleep.

Right now, it’s 9:45 am on Friday.  I’m in my pajamas.  Blythe is nekkid.  Alison is still sleeping.

No one has had breakfast.

I hope no one minds if we all show up in pajamas on Monday.  Possibly two hours late, and hungry.

Categories
Surviving

Out of the Abyss

I walked through life upon a tight rope.

At times, it was 10 feet wide.  Others, it was mere millimeters. 

I fell, silently.  My voice was stolen at the age of 12.  I was unable to cry for help.

Below, an abyss.  A deep, dark, prickly place.

I was walking along, happier than I’d been for some time, when I stumbled.

The abyss was waiting for me, with its greedy claws outstretched.

*

This time, I clung to the rope above me.  I didn’t want to fall.  Not this time.  Please, not this time.

I clung.  Limp.  Barely holding on.  Invisible to those passing by.

But you.  You.  You know who you are.  You noticed.  You stopped.  You grabbed onto what remained of my self, and you pulled with all your might.  You didn’t know why.  You didn’t know how, but you pulled against the abyss, anyway. 

I know you hear me say thank you.  But can you ever know what it means to me to be pulled, unscathed, from the abyss?  It almost swallowed me whole for the millionth time, and you saved me.  You helped me to find my voice.  Thank you will never be enough.

And Nic.  You changed my life with your story.  We are sisters, you and I.  Sisters of sorrow, of grief and of unimaginable pain, but also of survival.  Your strength gives me hope for the future.

Quieter than the squeak of a field mouse, I spoke.  Filled with anger, my voice rose.

You heard me.  You stopped.  You listened.  You gave me strength.  Every one of you.

Melissa and Duchess and Sautter and Cindy and Kendra and Neena and Issa and Stacey and Nic and Tracy and Meghan and Jenna and PB and Jazz and Megan and Habanero Gal and Marinka and Heather C. and Kellee and Krissy and Eileen and Samantha and Tricia and Vixen and Lora and Kathy and Greis and Maura and Heather and Katie and Kirsten and Al_Pal and Kari and Kate and Stoneskin and Susan.  And always, always, my husband.  My trapeze artist, trying to catch me.

The abyss is still there.  It will always be there.

For twenty years, it was a deep and lonely chasm I walked above, never knowing when I might fall. 

Always, I wondered when my happiness would be taken from me.

But now.  There is a safety net below me.

The abyss has lost its power.

Thank you.

* courtesy of google images

Categories
Home and Garden

The Price of Getting It Done

We’ve been remodeling our house for about a year now.

Not the whole thing, just the living room, dining room, and two of the bedrooms.  So, let’s call that half.

We’re almost done.  The end is in sight.  I can almost taste the normal (construction-free) dust.

This past weekend, I was determined to get the primer coat of paint on our new living room.

The only problem?  What to do with my kids while I worked.  Don’t get me wrong, I’m not above putting a paint roller in their grubby little hands.  My husband and I are proud that we’ve been blatantly ignoring child labor laws for years now, but the kids lost interest after the first 5 minutes.

It only took 8 hours of child-neglect, but I got it done. 



So, what happens when a desperate mother puts her 5 year old “in charge” for hours on end?

First, they raided my craft/sewing cabinet.  It’s not like I ever use any of that stuff anyway, right?



Next, apparently, it was lunch time.  So they made swill.



And by the way?  Swill really stinks if left to marinate overnight.

So do a dozen bottles.  And yeah, my 2 year old still takes a bottle.  Wanna make something of it?



Alison decided it was her (4 month old) kitten’s birthday, so they had to get into the closet and pull out all the party supplies.  And I do mean all of the party supplies.



Please note that Charlie-the-kitten is not present.  He hid during the “festivities”. 

Maybe because of all the blow up animals that showed up for the party?



Before too long, they lost interest in birthdays and decided August is the perfect time to start decorating for Christmas.



Think I can get away with leaving them up until January?

So, what’s the price of getting shit done?  A big mess, take-out for dinner, whiney kids, and sore shoulders. 

But at least it’s done.  Until tomorrow, when I’ll paint it all again.

Categories
Life in general

Thief

I want him to know what he did to me.  Beyond raping me, what he did to my psyche.  To my self worth.

I want him to know he’s the reason I have a hard time looking at myself in the mirror.

More than that, I want him to feel badly for what he did to me.  What he stole from me.

I want him to hurt, deep inside, knowing that he, a grown man, changed the course of a 12 year old girl’s life and walked away as if nothing had happened.

If he’s married, I want his wife to know every detail so that she can look at him and see the monster I saw in 10 years worth of nightmares.

I hope he has a 12 year old daughter, so that he can look at her an imagine a man doing to her, what he did to me.  

If his kids are little, I want him to lay awake at night, afraid of his daughters meeting a man like him.  A man who will stalk them like prey, who will weave a web and catch them in it so that he can suck the life right out of them and spit them out as though they are nothing but garbage.  I want him to take that fear right out of my head, so he can see what he did to me.

Twenty years has passed.  I’ve never sought counseling.  I’ve never dealt with being a victim. 

And I know now, why I haven’t. 

I’m afraid.  Afraid to voice what I’ve thought all these years: that I deserve what he did to me.

I’ve worked my ass off to be the best person I can be.  Trying to prove to myself that I’m worth something.  I’ve only just realized, that so much I’ve accomplished in my life has been because I was compensating for being raped.

I didn’t deserve what he did to me.  No more than someone crossing the street deserves to be run over by a drunk driver.  I have to come to terms with that. 

Who I am is more than what he made of me.  I deserve to move on with my life.

I deserve to look in the mirror and see what other people see, for the first time in 20 years.

Categories
Life in general

Coming

I can feel it coming.

Like a storm cloud off in the distance.

It rumbles and rolls, inside my head and my heart.

I hate that it can still do this to me.

I wish I could leave the past in the past.

If there were a pill I could take that would wash it away, I would take a dozen.

I can feel it coming.

I have to say I’m sorry, in advance, for what may appear here in the coming days.  Weeks?

I have to let it out.  It has stormed inside of me for far too long.

Twenty years of letting it beat me down, and finally, I will conquer it. 

I’m ready to fight.

This time, I will win.

I will win.