Flipping the Switch

He told me that if he hadn’t deployed that he would have put me in the hospital.  Even if I had tried to ignore the severity of what had happened before – there it was in my face – truth.  I had been running from it for months and months.  Alcohol, partying, loving someone different for the night just to walk away without an emotion.  It all started so simply.  I fell in love.

I was 17, he was 18.  He was sweet, quiet, a bit shy. I could always pick out the pain in a person and I saw his.  The problem is that he never realized that he could see mine too.  He just didn’t know how to look for it in others because his sadness consumed him.  We started dating, fell in love, and I was pregnant within just a couple of months.  The smile that he had on his face when I told him was beautiful.  And for that time we were a wonderful couple.

Things changed – we married, moved far away from everything that we once knew.  We were old enough to be in love but too young to know HOW to love.  I’d like to say the “switch” was a quick flip…that it just happened and I was so stunned that I just had to get my head together.  Nope…this was more like a dimmer switch.  Hints of things to come, not able to communicate what was happening – silly fights that should have ended but turned into much more.  Slowly degrading me, poking fun, a lack of empathy, a lack of understanding and all I wanted to do was turn the lights on.  You see we switched the lights off slowly and in the dark there would be a push, a punch in the stomach, then a slap to the face and then a quick “choke”.  With the lights off it is so much easier to hide things even from yourselves.  Then when you close your eyes you can dream about those times that you saw love and kindness and pretend that it never left.

Right before he deployed I was standing in the bathroom, looking at myself in the mirror and he came in.  I wanted to talk about the night before – the punches I had taken.  Never knocked me down – I was never bruised but I knew it would be coming.  So as I tried to “fix everything” before he was deployed he choked me just to shut me up. It wasn’t one of those that would have knocked me out…but it was just a teaser of what was to come…and luckily for me…never did.

He left – gone for a year – and for 2 weeks I cried and missed him.  Then realized how nice it was not to be made fun of, not to be laughed at as I cried, not to try and try to get him to see and feel what I felt.  By the time he came back I was a different person.  Hard, a bit cold, so cold that he at one point laid in the floor and cried and I just didn’t care.  I had escaped – one night at a time, one mistake at a time – I never thought I would be the same…and I wasn’t.

Over the years I worked on me and I worked on forgiving him.  That forgiveness was so that I wouldn’t be burdened with hatred for the rest of my life.  I still have a hope that he will change.  However even though I believe a person can change – it isn’t our responsibility to wait on that change and be their punching bag until they decide its time.  You see, switching the light on is a lot harder than switching it off for both the abused and the abuser.  Your eyes have to adjust, everything looks different than before – reality is in your face and even the covers won’t shield you from the light.  

My biggest regret is that I didn’t get out sooner and that my daughter ever had to feel like she needed to protect me.  It was and is my job to protect her.  It is our job as parents to put the well being of our child – not just physically but mentally and spiritually – first.  I also believe that we can choose our own destinies that we never have to repeat those horrible things from our past.  There is always hope and love somewhere.  This isn’t a story for you to feel sorry for anyone, to hate anyone, but one that I hope you can understand.   Abuse is never love and is never ok – ever.

I was the leading actress “Fatherless”.  I never got the abuse as bad as she did – but it could have been me.  I had to feel those old feelings again just to play the part.  I want everyone to watch this not because it is in a contest but because it is a damn good depiction of where this type of life can lead, or not, lead to. Watch as the little boy witnessed this insane abuse – and then watch him grow into a man that makes the choice of who he wants to be – a loving father.  When it comes down to it…we all have the choice to flip the switch.

[youtube https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vk3F6yY9EZo&w=640&h=375]

To go and vote for this movie click this link “Fatherless”.

Every Storm Runs Out of Rain by Aaron Poole

We’ve all heard that old saying, “The sun will come out tomorrow” but we never feel like tomorrow comes soon enough. Depression is a thing that a majority of people will go through at some point in their lives and it can be mentally and physically draining. Waking up each day while in a depressed rut can be one of the toughest daily tasks one can deal with on a daily basis. Stress in my life is the main cause of depression which can be caused by even the simplest things such as our job, our significant other, debt, or even the type of food you ingest. It can be a lot to deal with especially on your own.

There are ways to deal with depression and I don’t mean going to a specialist and spending a ton of money on multiple visits a month because that solution doesn’t work for everyone. It’s always good to find someone who can bring out the best part of you and can motivate you to try. Trying is the key to starting on a happier life but you have to be willing to do it because your life won’t change unless you do. There are different ways to “try.” It can be as simple as getting out of bed with a smile. No matter what you “try” to change, you need to know that you have to believe in yourself more than anything and that will lead to others believing in you.

Like the name of this post, every storm runs out of rain but it does take time. It’s not going to be an over night change but you’ll notice one day when you’re walking down the sidewalk looking up at the sun that you’re smiling on your own for no reason. Maybe someday you could be the reason for someone else’s smile and even the reason they themselves aren’t suffering from depression. Keep your head up and remember that if nobody else does, I believe in you.

Falling Doesn’t Always Mean Failing

Its hard when we see a friend/loved one fall after we have tried to help them up. Its so much easier to walk away and be discouraged. What we must realize is that what we do to help anyone shouldn’t be for our reward or the promise that “they will do better.” That is a selfish reason to help. If we chose to help we should do that regardless of what the person does or does not do with the help. People want immediate satisfaction with EVERYTHING. We want our actions to take immediate effect and change the world in that instant. We stop giving money to a person who is homeless because we “don’t want him to do something wrong with the money.” We want them to make great choices with the $2 we could spare. Guess what…not our job to police others. We don’t know what a person is going through, has been through, or if they will even be alive the next day… We don’t want to be “fooled” by someone who is really just faking having an issue. But that is what makes us fools.

To allow others to stop us from being kind, stop us from helping WHEN and HOW we can simply because they didn’t change right away or “didn’t really need the help” is the true atrocity. First we must think we are a God if our one action or even 5 should change a person at that moment. Imagine crawling for 5 years, someone helps you up to walk, you walk but fall down again. Help them up 5 – 6 more times…but their legs and balance aren’t there yet. That doesn’t mean stand there and just hold them up because there again…their own legs will not become strong. But realize, when they are ready to walk…when they want to – they will remember when you did try and help and they will cling to whatever they can to stand on their own. Your action today may not be remembered or even make a true difference in their lives until years later. I know ths to be true because I have had people help me along the way and it wasn’t until later that I realized how amazing it was.

So basically – yes use common sense but don’t lose heart. Don’t expect immediate results from your assistance – people take time to change. Do what you do because that is who YOU are not because of who they are not. Remember that love means you will do whatever you can for a person even if that means walking away so they can stand on their own if they chose. Their success or failure is not a reflection on the help we gave or tried to give. Yes do realize that what you do today – even if it is just so simple – can make a difference 10 or 20 years from now. Help is not to give us immediate satisfaction – it is what makes us truly spiritual beings and not just bitter humans.

Missing Her…

95 Years.  That’s how long she endured this life.  1919 was the year she was born – a time that women’s rights were just becoming – anything.  A time that out of 16 babies – she was one of 4 to live after her mother gave birth.  A time in which a man could abuse his wife – and he got a slap on the hand.  A time that when at 13, she could become married to a man in his 30’s to help  her family.  A time that she stood in the face of death – a shotgun held by her father- to shield her mother.  She talked of running through the cornfields at night in the cold to get away from him.  She spoke of jumping out of the car to help her blind mother after her father had pushed her out of the car on a dark, country road.  She was just 6 or 7 years old and she took her mother by the hand and led her to safety – over and over again.  She talked of her mother’s beautiful, dark, Cherokee Indian hair and skin.  Making biscuits and caring for her siblings.  And now – she is gone.

My Grandmother, Eva Mae – was amazing, strong, loving.  She raised her children and most of her grandchildren.  She lived a life of poverty until her dying day but prayed and spoke of God as her Savior without hesitation.  I knew, always knew, that she loved me – for me.  I was always the quiet one – but she and my Paw Paw loved me for that.  She is gone and I feel that so much of my world left with her.  I think that ultimately I could have told her anything and no matter – even if she disapproved – would still love me and hug me.  A week before she died, I laid my head on her chest.  She put her frail little arms around me, and patted me.  Just as she would a baby – and talked of how my Paw Pay and she loved me when I was a baby.  How I would reach out for her.  That I never disrespected her.  She just held me and was my grandmother one last time.  As I wiped my tears I knew that would be the last.  I hadn’t gotten to be just a granddaughter for a while – but in that moment – she was the strong one.

Eva Mae – I miss you so much.


Stripper Heels to the Rescue

NoFearYep…that’s right. I’m going there.  When I started this blog that I have been neglecting due to well – life – I mentioned briefly becoming a stripper when I was in the middle of my breakdown.  Now I am here to elaborate.

First I will tell you I am not ashamed of being a stripper.  The other ladies there were just that – other ladies.  Women trying to make a living.  They had kids, lives, and it wasn’t a place where breaking the rules was tolerated even by the strippers themselves.  The majority didn’t drink, didn’t do drugs, went home to their families and maybe even worked a day job.  Feet were tired and in rough shape from hours of being on them in those famous “stripper heels” that everyone now wears to their day job cubicle.  So don’t judge..really.

Now I was working for an ambulance service doing billing and accounting.  At this time I was taking Prozac and didn’t “feel” anything but still had LOTS of crazy running through my head.  I was just numb to it which brought its very own type of fear.  The fear of just not giving a damn.  I was a temp and they decided to hire me on full time with a promotion.  That was just too much – so I never went back.  I had played with the idea of being a “dancer”.   I wanted to do something completely, utterly different.  No desks, no real responsibilities – dancing and “easy money”.  So my friend and I went to one of the nicest clubs in town – lied about our previous experience (which was the norm) and they put us on the day shift.

Now one would think with all the partying and drinking I was doing that I would HAVE to be drunk every time I danced.  Nope -I decided I wasn’t going to be taken advantage of nor was I going to fear what I was doing. It not only was against club rules but against mine.  I was done being afraid.  I was always straight and sober.  My first run on the catwalk was like I had been doing it for years.  I was fearless. And it felt good.

No I am not suggesting everyone become a stripper or the like. However what I realized is that every night I was working out – really hard.  I danced and loved it.  I was drinking lots of water, wasn’t drinking alcohol or doing any other types of drugs.  It was helping me to get physically healthier.  Now what I hated was “asking for a dance” and I just couldn’t pretend very well to be someone that I’m not.  But when I was on stage I felt good, sexy, defiant.  I never felt in danger – the club owners made sure of that and the girls were all really tight.  So basically I was working out, drinking and eating healthier, resting more, got some self esteem back without giving away everything to everyone and I made a lot of good friends.  I started feeling better.

I could go home and my anxiety levels were cut in half – less thoughts – less crazy – more in control.  So after about a year I felt more like myself and after watching a new girl accidentally OD I decided it was time for me to get out.

So again – you never know who you are judging when you do – so just don’t.  I was a scared, hurting woman – I was a stripper – and those stripper heels helped me to save my life.

Be Strong.  Be Beautiful.


The Snowball Effect

It starts really small…just a thought even.  Then without even realizing it gets bigger and bigger.  You keep just pushing along making it larger and larger but what you don’t realize is the huge, steep hill just below you.  Everything is so white, so big, these little pushes can’t amount to anything – but then it drops and the snowball is accumulating more speed, more snow and debris and becomes huge, almost unstoppable.  You are left at the top of the hill screaming for everyone to get out of the way and for the snowball to just stop before it crushes everything in its path…everything that you love…every piece of who you are.

That for me is the easiest and most precise description of a “break down”.  Yes there is that “trigger” that may set the whole thing in motion…but I promise..there were little steps to get there…little flakes of “crazy” that were at the time easy to ignore.  Once it all hits that final hill, and no one is there to slow it down…it rolls down faster and faster getting crazier and crazier.

You see life choices, DNA, environment all played into my breakdown.  Yes, my family has a STRONG history of mental illness – but the choices I was making – i.e. the bad ones…didn’t help.  I didn’t have a healthy way to communicate pain, disappointment, sadness.  I bottled it up…then drank the bottle.  No I wasn’t an alcoholic – that would be way to easy to explain away.  I was just miserable and lonely.  Then add some major hormonal changes and BAM! Off to the races of hating myself and being too afraid of what was happening to get help.  I was afraid to be around my daughter – the one person in my life that I loved unconditionally.  Then instead of making better choices…I did everything I could to run away from it.  Hoping that if I did something daring enough that I could “shock” it away.

I didn’t talk about what was really in my head.  It was terrifying.  Thoughts that I didn’t want – they weren’t mine.  So on the outside it just looked like I was shirking my responsibilities as a mother and “partying”.  I can’t blame them…that is what I was doing, but only because I was scared and wanted to protect my little girl from me…or whatever was happening to me.  You see I didn’t realize it was a severe form of OCD (obsessive compulsive disorder) or that Zoloft would make it stop.  Nope…just kept wishing the snowball would melt.  They take a REALLY long time to melt…so what you need is something to stop it in its tracks and bust it open.

So before you judge someone just realize that there may be things they are going through that you don’t know.  Does it make it right that I wasn’t there for her like I needed to be for that 2 years?  No.  But I have asked for her forgiveness and explained it to her.  I have fought to get better and have fought to help others do the same.  I can’t get back those years…but damn it…I will do everything possible to make sure that every year that I have matter.  And I am so blessed that my baby girl and I have the best relationship that a mother could ever wish for. Just keep in mind…I had to FIGHT for it.  I love you Lydia!

Be Strong.  Be Beautiful.


Chris and us

Lydia, Me, Chris, Nina and Anna

That One Day

I woke up and it was like it had never happened.  Everything was right with the world – it was after all, my birthday.  I made my way to the kitchen with my daughter Lydia, who was 2 years old at the time, and had great breakfast and “happy birthdays”.  I decided just to brush it off as a horrible nightmare that was finally over and that I could go back to the routine as usual. I wanted to take Lydia to the movies that day but was disappointed that the theater on base wasn’t open.  But I remember loving the fact that I could hold her hand, hug her, love her, tickle her and just enjoy our time together.  The three weeks prior were just hell and I had felt so far away from her and from reality.  I thought about the visit to the base psychiatrist who suggested medication.  It petrified me and my family to even think of medication – that was for “crazy” people.  I refused the help.  So on my birthday – September 1, 1997 – I was just glad it was gone – the black, dark, heavy cloud that had taken over.  It was a wonderful day and saved my life more times than I can remember. You see – later that night it all came back.  The fear, the depression, the insane thoughts and that feeling that I wasn’t really here at all.  If I knew then what I know now – I wouldn’t have gone back to “the normal routine”.  The normal routine consisted of denial, anger, self-loathing, partying, holding it all in and denying help.   What I would have done is went back to the psychiatrist and did anything in the world to help me so that I could be me.   That day of clarity would have been just that – but I didn’t know.  My mind slid back into the muck, grasping at the low hanging limbs and torn grass,  and remained there for years.  The thing that held me above and kept me reach was That One Day.  That One Day reminded me of exactly who I am and how I could once again be me.  A gift from God?  A break in insanity?  My brain healing if for just one moment?  I don’t know – I was just thankful for it even in the darkest of moments.

Be Strong.  Be Beautiful.



Thankful for the Crazy

I started this blog in 2013 not just to tell stories, but to help others and to help myself.  Then more crazy happened…just a crazy busy life with ups and downs and I had no time to write.  But the posts were all were in my head because even when I haven’t had time to write – I’ve had time to live.   So here I begin again – with more purpose and drive to really dig into the things that “shame” us and to shed light on those things so that we don’t hide behind it but rise above it and heal.

So I’m thankful for the crazy – because I can talk about it  and it gave me a purpose that even I don’t completely understand.  I just know its cool.


Be Strong.  Be Beautiful.


me bb