Saturday, July 1, 2017

What It Took ~ My Doberman

Every daughter, at some point, probably needs a doberman, a breed that viciously guards and vehemently protects their master.  Whether it be a brother, or mother, or father, anyone, really, can be a doberman for the weak and helpless. I had hit bottom and found my doberman in the yellow pages. What no one would see coming is the determined lawyer that had come full circle in my life to help now.
This man was destined to be my doberman.  He provided much support to my mother during the worst of all this mess.  He didn't however provide support to me then.  It was a no win for all involved, but that is explored in other posts.

I believe that is why he stepped in as my doberman the second time our paths crossed.

His rules:
  Never see me in or near a bar.
  Never tell me if you did it or not.
  Never, ever lie to me
OR I will fire myself.

He made sure every fiber of my being understood I could not be anywhere near alcohol. I saw him as my last chance.

Thursday, April 13, 2017

My Scarlet Letter ~ Still

The cut bordering my forehead just below the hairline is an example of unawareness.  I cannot recall what happened to cause the gash. Distractions overwrite the incident with such preciseness there is no inkling of disturbance in awakened state.
The night terrors tell of different events. Startled from slumber I find myself in a fit of panic. I try to inhale to catch a breathe, but land shallow which only intensifies the anxiety. I pull myself from the haze of dreams with faint understanding the more awake I become, the less I am able to breathe. I try to relax to allow oxygen to penetrate my lungs. Still, not enough air. Still shallow. Can't get enough air and getting light headed. Geez. Still?
A recent bout with PTSD almost gets the better of me, but I did not faint. I persisted with breathing exercises that proved successful for past episodes of panic and anxiety. Inhales stretched from split seconds to 10 seconds or more. Still reaching for the depth of complete breath. Exhale slowly. Slower still.
Where is this place I am visiting in my dreams that causes such angst. The hesitation to sleep becomes stronger for want to avoid whatever is bothering me or should I say, my subconscious.
Days later: Not letting things get to me sometimes isn't as easy as it sounds. Being able to honest and truthful about the abuse is stark reality for some issues that haven't been thought about like not sleeping in a bed. Just hit me why I chose for so many years not to.

Friday, March 17, 2017

My Scarlet Letter ~ Lost Hope

Some time has passed since I last blogged, and I apologize.  Life has been the best for me recently and I've been riding the ride until now. The wheels fell off and the cart skidded on the rocky pavement to a screeching halt. The ride has stopped and as history has taught, time for repairs and maintenance. FINE. Let's face this and finish this.

When it is time to let go, the heart screams NO. The mind plays tricks and life's parody is robotic at best. She's my mother.  I'll never forget. I never forgave because she didn't do anything that needed to be forgiven. Or didn't she?

She asked her questions of me about how things went down. She had asked point blank if he was abusing me. He said, 'it will kill Granny' if she ever finds out and 'it will split up our family and I'll end up with you and things will be worse'.  What 13 year old is going to stand up to the fear instilled by her primary authority figure... her Dad?  He subtly reminded me over many years in different ways of these possibilities if the secret got out. I hated every letter he sent while he was away at war.  Every letter included a Snoopy comic. This was enough to keep my mother from reading anything he sent. He sent a floral arrangement as a reminder while I was fighting for life in psych ward.
She blames me now. We've already retraced these issues and I thought we had overcome. I'm shocked to read what has truly been wondered all along. I finally realized the message she has been sending
was intentional. What follows no hope? Redefined truths.

Now I must...

can't find words...

don't want to face it.

What's standing in the way of letting go? Honor thy father and mother - the bible doesn't include exception examples, so I'm going to improvise.  Honor thy father and mother, unless they treat you like shit. I'm really typing this. I know what has to be done and I'm heading straight in.