An Unread Essay

There was recently an essay contest that made the news last month. I thought about entering but it would literally be a drop of water in a bucket of millions of writers. It was for a mansion of a house and all a person had to do was write an essay and pay the $25 entry fee. The money earned from the entry was going to a domestic abuse charity which is something I could get behind. Why didn’t I do it? Well, $25 is a tank of gas for me or money needed to purchase ingredients to cook dinner for a night. This is what I started. Please understand, I’m not wanting pity. It’s just an essay written that I never submitted. Viewer discretion is advised. Read at your own risk.


I wouldn’t take the house you are offering for a well-written essay. One chosen that would hopefully move the reader enough to choose the most deserving writer. I know what it’s like to live in an abusive situation and in a beautiful home both at the same time. I would sell the mansion but not for what you would think.

I knew to escape my situation I would need to further my education. My first day of college was great and I felt an accomplishment until I got home. That night when I got back from a day of classes, getting lost, and learning the ropes of things I realized my mistake. My abuser wasn’t proud of his wife coming back from class, didn’t ask her how her day was, not even a hug. Instead, he was upset that there wasn’t dinner and his property disobeyed him. I can still feel the words sting before the broken rib snapped under his fist. I remember feeling the earth come to a halt. I retreated into myself and waited for it to stop hoping my body can withstand the force of anger. I could feel the earth start to spin again and from the comfort of inside my soul, he was done.

I wrapped my battered body with bandages and made one of the best meatloaves ever. The potatoes were thick and creamy and the meatloaf was seasoned perfectly and was careful to make the right amount of eye contact. When he was done with dinner I made sure the kids were washed and ready for the next day and as he slept that night I looked over my agenda for classes. I devised a meal plan that involved a crockpot and weekends of cooking meals and freezing.

What’s the ending, you may wonder? I found my strength and escaped my abuser and graduated college. I also accumulated a mountain of student loan debt and C-PTSD. So, no. I wouldn’t move into the home but rather sell it to pay off my debt. Helping rid me of the final shackles of my past and my abuser. I would purchase a house that I can sustain without debt and donate the rest to women that are still shackled by their abusers.

 

6 Word Story: 4/29

This month is coming to an end and so does April’s 6-word stories with the theme of hope. May is right around the corner.


Prompt Word: Splash!

Deep breath, outstanding form, gold medal.

6 Word Story: 4/23

I have never been to a kite festival and truth be told didn’t even know those existed. I grew up going to hot air balloon races and rodeos. After doing a little research, I learned that there is one this year the next state over. Maybe a future road trip?


Prompt Word: Kite Festival

 

Flying requirements: Courage, imagination and string.

6 Word Story: 4/22

Just a reminder that I get my 6-Word Story prompts for this year from Page Flutter. The author has put together such a wonderful list of prompts for the month and each month has a theme. I have made it a goal to do these writing prompt exercises for a year.


Prompt Word: Thunderstorm

It’s my storm that I survived.

6 Word Story: 4/18

I’m trying to remind myself when things don’t go my way to make the best out of a situation. It didn’t go that well for me yesterday but there is always tomorrow.


Prompt Word: Yellow Boots

When life brings rain; dance proudly.

6 Word Story: 4/1

Wow, it’s April already and I have written a 6-word story every day since the first of the year. If you would like to follow along with the prompts that I use visit Page Flutter. The theme for the month of April is hope. So, the goal is to create a 6-word story using the prompt word that in some way ties into the theme of hope. I don’t always do it but I don’t consider that a failure, just a reason to keep trying.


Prompt Word: Chirp Chirp

 

When the chirping started, we waited.

6 Word Day 18

I know that looking ahead can be bad but there are times with my C-PTSD I hope that one day I can be truly happy without force.

Prompt Word: Happy Tears

“One day” she said. “I’ll live.”

Stranger Things-Comparison and More Similarities

******SPOILER****** If you haven’t watched this show, don’t read! I may or may not ruin your viewing pleasure and curiosity. Also, I really wanted to write this and tried really hard to gather my thought process into a form that made sense.


When a young boy vanishes, a small town uncovers a mystery involving secret experiments, terrifying supernatural forces and one strange little girl.
Starring: Winona Ryder, David Harbour, Matthew Modine

 

I watched this show with my kids this weekend…OK we binged all 8 episodes. I’ll confess that I bawled like a toddler that just had her favorite color crayon stolen. I realized that it wasn’t for the obvious reasons. I can truly relate to the character 11 or rather her flashbacks and the way she feels.

 

So you read the descriptive blurb but what it leaves out is the little girl, ’11’ was a test subject. She was taken away from her mother at birth that was a voluntary test subject for monetary compensation. But what the mother didn’t know is that she was pregnant during the hallucinogenic drug trials. The man that 11 called ‘Papa’ was the one that ordered her to do horrible things and the only time that she got any human affection was when she completed tasks.

I CRIED! Yup, I cried as this little girl was shown being drug by two orderlies in white jump suits to a secluded closest with the door slammed and her sitting alone in the dark. I cried as she banged on the door hollering for her ‘papa’ to rescue her. I cried when she had escaped, received help from a man that gave her a burger after catching her stealing fries from his kitchen. She then witnessed his murder which was completed by someone from the testing facility where she was kept. I cried. Because I know what it’s like to need help from someone outside my abusive situation to help me navigate the world outside. I’ll come back to that later.

11 is found by a group of boys that were searching for their friend that had gone missing. She was scared, skeptic, needing a decent human being to make her feel like a human rather than a lab rat. There’s ups and downs during the blooming friendship among these boys and cried when there was name calling and when the boys obviously hurt her.

My Comparison

I was in an extremely mentally and physically abusive relationship.  I can’t even begin to count how many times I would tell my children ‘Bye baby, I love you’ in there ear as I kissed them goodnight while they slept so peacefully, all the while knowing that I may not make it through the night. So yes, I cried when 11 told Mike ‘goodbye’ trying to beat the demon. The only time I received human affection was after he was done being abusive. I was isolated from the outside world just as 11. I didn’t have friends or could go by myself ANYWHERE even to get a burger. I needed something from the outside world to show me that things weren’t like they were in our house. I broke his rules and got a job as a cashier…believe me, I paid for it later but continued to go. There I made friends with a couple of guys that showed me what it was like to be treated like a human. They knew I was scared (all the time) untrusting of people except by husband (ex now) as that was how I was molded and they took their time and were careful of my fragile state of mind. They showed me right from wrong, great places to eat, and even women’s fashion. We became close at work and I was able to confide in them over time how my husband was. They tried protecting me by keeping him from interrupting me at work. Whether it be him showing up or calling, those boys were there.

I married the man that saved me the night from my husband. I don’t want to go into details but a high speed chase ended with my girls and I at his house with the two boys standing there with guns. He developed feelings for me and of course I was shocked. I didn’t know what it would feel like to be cared for and loved. I still have flashbacks, I still have trust issues, and my husband that saved me-still needs to be careful with me sometimes because of my C-PTSD.

I understand 11’s flashbacks, issues, and what it’s like to be abused so when the final scene of the final episode showing her being brave but gone…I fucking lost it. If this comparison makes it to the screen writers and producers, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE let her make it. Let her have a normal life (yeah I’m crying as I write this). I need to know if I’ll ever have a normal life. And before you ask…I kept watching because I needed to know that she was OK. Am I ok?

 

https://www.netflix.com/title/80057281

New Adventures

Changes Can Be Adventures

Yes, that is correct. Changes can turn into adventures. With my husband losing his job and starting another has become a change but an adventure for him. He’s doing the same duties as his previous job but now the location is closer and he’s getting paid more. It wouldn’t be so hard on him if his previous employer wasn’t calling him telling him he has a chance of getting his job back. I’m not comfortable with him going back simply because he could get fired again. So his adventure is the choice to go back or stay with his new job. I think he would like his new job if he gave it a chance.

My adventure will take a little longer but it’s one that will help my C-PTSD and anxiety. We are getting my Clover Bell her service dog training. I researched this quite a bit and learned that it’s not only not easy but it’s really expensive. One place wanted $3500, one wanted $2500 and the prices from other places kept in the 4 digit range. No one would take payments and was even given the suggestion of using a crowdfunding site. I could never get anyone to donate a dollar to help let alone $3500. I mean I seen a child needing to raise money for a seeing eye dog and had no where near her goal. All I had to spare was $2 so I donated that to her. There are grants but only available to vets. Even though my abuser of 10 years, 9 months, and 4 days was and is still in the USAF doesn’t count. But why would it? He was abusive before the military and when he was deployed the kids and I could breathe.

I finally found a place that is willing to  train her but their price is over $2000. But did say if I had a dog that I was already bonded with, pass the AKC good citizen test, and provide paper work that I have C-PTSD that he would train her for a little over $500. Ok…where in the hell do I get the AKC training? Searched those classes out and prices were astronomical. JESUS! Ok, our local pet store does the AKC good citizen training but the dog needs to pass obidience classes 1 & 2 before having acceptance in the AKC class. Okay, got it. Before I can enroll her in the basic obidience classes she needs a shot to prevent kennel cough. Called the vet and nothing available until the end of July and her first class starts at the beginning of July. The pet store had a vaccination clinic this past weekend and we got her in along with being microchipped. She did so well she got to choose a toy. The only disappointing thing that happened is NO ONE wanted anything to do with her. I heard ‘it’s a pit bull’ and they would walk away. No one even wanted to pet her. So this experience spawned another adventure idea of mine to help raise awareness of pit bulls not being attack animals, PTSD awareness, and help raise money for training. An online T-Shirt business. I’m a graphic artist and know I can come up with awesome designs.

So to recap:

  • husband’s new job
  • service dog training for Clover
  • online tee business

So there will be a separate page coming soon for the shirts and updates about training. Maybe even an instagram account. Who knows.

A Dark Time – Breakdown

In my other posts through my Journal entries it seems like my husband and I have a perfect relationship but that’s not entirely true. There are plenty of unpleasant times specially with me having C-PTSD. There is a difference between this and PTSD but I’m not going into to much medical terminology as this is not meant to be a medical blog by no means. It’s for me to express myself through writing (which I’m also in the middle of adding to a story I started and posting in first draft format).

My husband and I had a huge falling out because of my mental breakdown. He just accepted a new position at work that causes long hours during the week and almost every Saturday away. For me, naturally, I thought that he was cheating or seeing someone else because of the lack of intimacy and time together. All of these thoughts in my head combined with him not being around and feeling like he had to walk on egg shells around me (hardly talking included) was the perfect recipe for me to have complete mental breakdown.

The night I told him to leave and he actually did was (I didn’t know at the time) EXACTLY what I needed. I know you’re thinking, ‘she’s nuts! Why would her husband leaving be something that she needed?!’. In my state of mind feeling lost, hopeless, just a nobody, failure, and why should I even be here on this earth, I found clarity through fog. I had a friend that literally talked me off the ledge and gave me the incentive to call the doctor. Of course, here a patient needs a referral to the mental health clinic and my family doctor didn’t have any appointments available. This sent me over the edge but the receptionist asked me to come in ASAP and they would fit me in regardless as it was an emergency. Right away I was asked what was happening. I was fidgeting, crying, BP was through the roof along with my heart rate. I was immediately placed on medication which helped. Over the next week I was feeling better and finally was able to ask my husband if we could talk. Long story short-he came home. I told him it was going to be difficult but I will try as long as he did. This lasted a week. The incident started over something as simple as choosing somewhere to eat for breakfast. I couldn’t decide. I wanted him to make the decision and asked him to choose as we would go anywhere he wanted. He couldn’t decide and that threw me into a panic attack. I calmed down after taking my medication and when we got home I needed to paint.

I had no inspiration or motivation but I needed to do something to take my mind off of feeling like a failure. I wanted something dark but light at the same time. Something that was positive in it’s own way. I put paint to canvas and ended up with a mass of black, white, and grey and decided to find something online. Something that I didn’t have to really think about or stress over and ended up at YouTube. There was a woman, Jane, doing acrylic tutorials and found one that had a girl walking through a raining dark city but light in the direction she was walking. It only took me 30 minutes to complete BUT it was 30 minutes of therapy that I needed. I was able to control my breathing that helped calm me down. It kept my mind in one place focusing on the task at hand. It helped get a brush back in my hand and even work with new tools. Jane’s tutorial helped me accomplish more than just a painting. I encourage you to look through her tutorials and possibly find a new hobby.

Painting and writing has helped me cope with certain things and has helped my husband notice my ticks and triggers to offer advice and comfort. Jane, I’m sure without her knowledge, is helping me in more ways than just painting.

May 6th 2017

High ‘Meat’ Hopes

Talk about commitment! It’s nothing new that I work two jobs and love tending bar more than my day job. I went to school after being a stay at home mom for more than ten years. I finally divorced and married a man that told meo follow my dreams which was going to college. I went into a creative field because I loved drawing. I don’t regret my college, I only regret where I landed. That’s all besides the point. The bar that I call home (because every bar tender has one) is a small town beer and shot bar. This is where everyone knows everyone, fresh eggs are sold, people catch up on news and gossip, and where you can find help whether or not your looking for it or needing it.

Now the owner of this bar passed away a couple of years ago and his brother is in charge of the estate because there wasn’t a will left. The sisters of the brothers seem to be receiving not so good advice and wants to sell ASAP when the brother wants to keep his brothers dream and memory alive. He was a man that would give the shirt off his back for anyone and loved animals so his brother really wants to keep the bar. No surprise that during the winter months here in Wisconsin the bar business is well…slow. Obviously when we are slow there isn’t much money coming in. My home goes up for sale. After much crying, worrying, and panic attacks, I was told that the liquor license was renewed!

Both my manager and I were told that we need to come up with ideas to bring money into the bar. I immediately sprang into action. I decided  that we would take part in the northern tradition of meat raffles. This bar has NEVER had one. After closing the bar last night only to wake a few hours later to have breakfast with my family and our usual trip to Barnes and Noble, I went shopping for meat. Traveling an hour to purchase good quality meat at sale prices my anxiety set in. Negative thoughts of: Will there be enough meat? Will people show up? Am I even fucking doing this right?, ALL reeled in my head. I wasn’t going to let self doubt creep into the crevices of my soul. I only went over my $100 budget by $30 and ended up with a great lot of meat! I was eager to see my managers face when I brought the meat into the bar. Her face reassured me that I was on the right track!

So-wish us luck that the meat raffle is a hit and will help bring in business. I’ll let y’all know about it as I sit here the bar in case backup is needed for our first ever Kentucky Derby party.

 

Saying Goodbye

psst….I’m the one on the left

I have a friend well she’s more like my daughter affectionately referred to as my pseudo daughter. She is leaving for 16 weeks for a tech school in Florida and I wanted to do something only a mama would do as she calls me mama. This is a way for me to say goodbye without having the emotional goodbye.

It was a perfect cold rainy day for her to leave and I watched my husband carry out the crate stuffed with the brightly colored paper packed full of all different items. ‘Perfect day,’ I thought to myself hoping it would encourage her to keep driving towards her dream of attending college. She left behind a husband and three step children. I hope there marriage will be strong enough to embrace the miles apart. I wanted to make sure she had small reminders of comfort and wisdom wrapped in a little sarcastic comedy and began with a simple Google search of, ‘gifts for daughter going to college’. Of course like anyone else-I ended up on Pinterest and found this cute idea but took it a little further.

There’s little gifts for her to open different times throughout her first year such as a journal, and water bottle. I also wanted to include little notes with inspiration and quotes of motivation. I remember being in college and not receiving any support from my ex husband at the time and I do not want that to happen to her or anyone for that matter.

I think it’s important that a little something from yourself, a piece of your heart will go a long way. It doesn’t cost anything to be kind. It actually helps with my anxiety and allows me to have positive thoughts within myself and resurrects hope that humanity can find a way to rise above all that is hateful and cruel.

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