A Roller Coaster of Emotions

Happiness, terror, sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, relief, a bit of nausea…that sums up my weekend.  Coupled by quite a bit of excitement and disappointment.

photo credit: Ben Hodgson via photopin cc

photo credit: Ben Hodgson via photopin cc

No, I did not ride the newest coaster at Cedar Point (although I would really love to do that!) I got together all of my courage and I told my mother about my rape.  After 32 years. More

Exposure

It was a stunning day today.  Spring finally looked as if it might someday appear.  It was 54 degrees today!  54!!!!  That is a number that was unfathomable just a week ago.  The sun was shining.  The children at school were able to actually go outside for recess and run amok for a few glorious minutes.  I was able to venture into the great outdoors without gloves for the first time in months.  I had a good day at work and was ready for a nice calming evening.

I was not ready for another sneak attack of PTSD, right at the end of the work day.  More

And so it begins…

The holiday season.

Many of you have been looking forward to the holidays.  Thoughts of turkeys roasting, pies baking, shopping madness, and time spent with family and friends have you filled with nostalgic happiness.

I normally am a big fan of the holidays.  But I’ve been dreading this particular holiday season for quite some time now.  And now here it is upon us and I’m not sure how I feel. More

A Nice Cup of Tea…

medium_107846404

photo credit: photopin.com

So it’s Day 3 of NaBloPoMo, and I’m still sick. I’m sitting here, fresh from my extra hour of sleep, enjoying my morning cup of tea. I’ve added some honey today for the whole sore throat thing. And I began wondering at what point I switched my caffeine ritual from coffee to tea. Coffee is so American, so energetic, so “up and at ’em”. Tea is so British, so calming, so refined. I am anything but refined.

My love of tea began in high school. I had a dear friend, Eve, several years older than I was. An actual adult. We became friends through her younger sister-in-law, who attended my high school. I babysat her children. We would chat at the end of the evening of babysitting, and I would visit her home with her sister-in-law. Eve was the “cool” adult, more like a big sister than anything else. It was an unlikely friendship, but it worked. More

100

When I first started this blog a year and a half ago, I had big plans for building a place for rape survivors to connect and share their stories.  But in reality I didn’t expect anyone to read what I had to say.

Right away, I got 2 followers.  I don’t know who you are, but you were so inspiring to me.  Just knowing that someone…anyone…had read something I had written and connected with it was amazing to me.  I sat and grinned.  Soon I had 5 followers, then 10.  I hovered around 10 for quite some time.  I was content. More

Owning Our Stories

Owning Our Story

This was a Facebook find today.  I think it’s an amazing statement.  We all have a story.  And many parts of that story are very, very bad for survivors of rape and abuse.  But it’s us.  It is part of who we are.  Too often we push that part of our story down and silence it because it is so very painful.  Bringing it forward and owning that part of ourselves takes great bravery and courage.  And with it comes power.  Power over our rapists.  Power over our past.  Power to change our futures.  There is a lot of wisdom packed into this one short sentence.

Broken Girl


© 2010 Matthew West, Sparrow Records

This song was shared with me by a fellow rape survivor.  Matthew West, another amazing Contemporary Christian artist, asked his fans to tell him their stories.  And boy did they.  Matthew was spending 2 months in a cabin in Tennessee writing songs for his new album and read thousands of letters of pain, redemption, strength, fear, faith and hope.  His album and book, “The Story of Your Life” came from that time he spent in the cabin, based on the real-life inspirational stories of his fans.

“Broken Girl” was born of the many, many stories he read of sexual abuse.  This song is very powerful for me.  There is a definite part of me that is still that broken 14 year old girl.  It’s getting smaller, but it’s still there.  While the song has much the same theme as MercyMe’s “You’re Beautiful” that I posted about earlier, I really like the tone of this one.  The driving drumbeat has almost a righteous anger to it.  Anger and power mixed in with God’s unconditional love.  He shares our anger.  There’s a definite strength to it which I find reassuring.  We’re fighters, survivors.  We have a right to be angry.  We have a right to be loved.

Please Don’t Tell Us to Get Over It

421852_628936783785147_1244157633_n

Since I began this journey of writing and sharing my story, I have met many wonderful survivors online.  They are a huge support network for me and I am grateful for every one of them.  The other day, one posted that people she cared about kept telling her that she just “needed to get over it”.  Many of the other survivors spoke up and said that they, too, had received this kind of comment.

I am not sure what people are thinking when they make this kind of statement to a victim of rape and trauma.  They may truly be coming from a place of caring, and simply are expressing their desire to see you feeling better.  But more likely, it comes from a complete lack of understanding of how this event can penetrate you to the core.  It goes down deep in your soul.  It’s not a physical injury that can heal in a matter of weeks or months. More

Father’s Day Cookies

I’m making a batch of angry cookies.  They’re in the oven right now, and frankly it pisses me off.

chewy-chocolate-chip-cookies

Oh, they’re chocolatey and gooey, and I’m sure they’re delicious.  But they’re making me really mad.

They’re Father’s Day cookies, for my husband’s father.  It was Hubby’s idea.  It seemed like a nice idea at the time.  So, I began assembling the ingredients.  I took out the eggs and slammed the refrigerator.  I got down the flour and slammed the cupboard door.  The poor eggs took quite a beating and I grumbled as I carefully picked eggshells out of the dough.  I yanked open the chocolate chips and burst into tears. More

Comfort

A fellow survivor shared this verse with me.  It gave me great comfort…permission to forget the shame.

Do not be afraid; you will not suffer shame.
Do not fear disgrace; you will not be humiliated.
You will forget the shame of your youth.

Isaiah 54:4a

Previous Older Entries

Follow me on Twitter

Error: Twitter did not respond. Please wait a few minutes and refresh this page.

%d bloggers like this: