3 years of the unimaginable. 3 years of heartache so intense there are no words in any language to paint a picture close to the truth. 3 years of tears, pain, grief and blackness. But you know what? I'm still here, 3 years later. I'm still breathing, my little people are surviving, and some days thriving. We lived. I honestly didn't think it was possible, was sure that the bleakest oblivion would win and swallow me whole.
In one week, Hope Noelle with be 3 years old in Heaven. Normally that thought sends shock waves through my system and tears flooding my face. Now it brings a strange sense of comfort and peace to my soul. It doesn't make my love for her any less, nor the ache in my empty arms more filled. It simply means, that in spite of all that I've endured, my spirit still understands truth that my head and heart sometimes ignores. Families are forever. Simple words, yet so profound that finally a balm has been laid across the raw edges of my soul. Families are forever.
I know few things with absolute certainty. Things that while I can't physically show you, my spirit shouts are true non the less. I guess it's that strange thing that Later Day Saints claim to have one Sunday a month when telling each other stories from the pulpit during Testimony meeting. That thing that other dear friends of mine of other faiths have that they share freely but that I've hoarded and even tried to snuff out at times. My Testimony is small, and sometimes very fragile, but as is always the case, hard to kill. I've thought it dead more than once, but it was simply waiting for me to remember the things I know. So while I may never stand in a meeting to share, because my anxiety tells me that no one needs to hear what I have to say, I'm going to leave it here, for whoever may stumble upon my weird little corner of this world. So buckle up, as always, I never know what will flow outta my own head, but my soul needs to have the words out of me, one way or another.
I know that there lives a beautifully perfect soul, who loved his family so much, he was willing to walk his own unimaginable path to lead us all home. I know that Heavenly Father sent him to this bleak, hard world, not because he didn't love Him, but that He loves us all. I know that Christ came, willingly, to suffer for me. He has walked this hellish path, He knows the deepest pits that I have fallen into. He knows me, and that I need his help to get out of the pain, and he loves me enough to promise me that it will all be made right one day. I know that while some may see my church as an enemy to those who don't fit a certain mold, that's not the case. The Gospel of Jesus Christ is simple. I know it is. It's sometimes very, very hard to live, but it is very simple. Love the Lord God with all your heart, and love each other. It doesn't say we have to qualify a person to love them, nor do they have to do anything to earn that love. We just have to love each other. God so loved the world that He sent His Son to lead us all home. All of us.
I know that there are injuries that we all suffer at someone else's hand. Insults and lies and pain and disappointments and letdowns. In that same breath though, others have suffered those same things from us. He is ever mindful of me, even when I try to ignore Him. I have often thought that my life would be so much easier if I didn't know these truths. Not just a little, but rooted in my soul is the knowledge that I am His daughter, and he loves me. I can rant and rail, and scream and shout, but it changes nothing. I am a daughter of the Most High God, and He loves me. That is my testimony, that He is there. It's not a pretty lie I delude myself with. It is not a crutch when life is hard, for if it were, my crutch would have snapped long ago. Christ walks with me, and supports me when my own strength fails, which is a lot. And I know this, beyond a shadow of doubt, the meaning of life is simply one word, FAMILY.
We are all family, and so, as written by Rick Riordan in one of his books, "Families are messy, immortal families are eternally messy. Sometime the best we can do is remind each other we are related, for better or for worse-and try to keep the maiming and killing to a minimum".
In the end, when we shed this imperfect for perfect, and cross that path to the home we all feel pulling us back, we will still be family, forever. I know this is true, just as I know that our Father will be waiting for us, to embrace us like we embrace those we love and miss. So yes, 3 years is my milestone for now, 3 years of so many things that have tried to squash me, and sub out my testimony. 3 years of enduring things I once was certain would kill me only to still sit here, with a light in my soul that nothing can snuff out. This is my truth.
Thursday, October 19, 2017
Monday, June 26, 2017
the poo pool
I randomly sit down to write out my crazy, and sometimes I forget that I started. This was written on Easter Morning, 2017. I know that so much more was running in my head, this is all that spilled out.
"It's Easter time again. Unlike last year, I'm sitting at my own table, in my own place. My children have their own beds again, and all of the things that have been waiting a year to be unpacked. One year. One solid year of hell and heartache and tears. One full trip around an uncaring sun of deepest despair and pain, I want to sit here and write about how much better I am today. I want to, and I can about a few things, but mostly, I've learned to survive with part of my soul dead.
Eric still isn't allowed to come home, but he is at least out of the jail. Because he is now a convicted sex offender, he isn't allowed to be around the girls. Any kids in fact, as he is now considered the most vile of predators in existence. I want to make bells for us to wear around our necks as we yell " UNCLEAN" to the world, Yes I mean us, as we are one. That was in the vows we made. To cleave unto each other and be as ONE flesh. So his unclean status is also mine. As it should be. If he is guilty of anything, so am I. We are now lepers, outcasts and unwelcome everywhere we go. Him because of the courts, me because I stand with him.
A new Easter season has only brought more questions, more wondering why all our prayers go unheard and unanswered. Truth would set my family free, but those that have that power refuse to use it.
My family has gotten so much smaller. K and E are no longer included in my thoughts of the future. But as the future is a blank black hole, maybe it's better for them."
Easter is long gone, we made it through.
Maybe it IS better for the big girls to be gone, maybe in that same wave length it would be better for the little ones too. I worry about them, about the scars that this life has already inflicted on their tender souls. M has so much fear and anxiety, she is so afraid of displeasing anyone for fear that they will leave her too. L asks me randomly "what happens to us if you die momma?" At first I thought that it was simply the thought process of a 5 year old learning about death. Until I asked her. She is truly worried about who will take care of them if I'm gone, because daddy is already gone. She knows that family is not solid. She is always aware that something can happen, and that there is no safety, only the illusion of it. People you love and count on can be ripped away, others throw the finger at you as they run head first into the Poo Pool.
Let me explain the Poo Pool. M is having a hard time with her torn heart. On the one side, she loves her daddy and misses him so much. She is angry, but that's not a good enough word to use, angry at her older sisters for the lies they used, the damage they left behind in their attempt to break away from the rules that governed our family. Yet she loves them, and gets upset with me for not letting her see K. How do you explain to an eight year old something you yourself don't understand? The facts are, her oldest sister shredded our world because she wanted to be able to drink, drug, smoke and have sex without being told no. How dare we, as her parents, try and instill a sense of right and wrong? So, I thought long and hard and came up with this example to help M understand. In her selfish, narcissistic ways, K looked at a pool filled with refuse, decided that's where she wanted to live and cannon balled in. Our world never stood a chance against the wave of feces that swallowed us. Eric was drowned in the resulting tsunami, he will never be rid of the stains she threw on him as he tried with all his might to save her from herself. I did what any mother would do, I shielded the little girls, and wadded in after her to help bring her back to the safety of solid land. In the process, she almost killed me too, because while I wanted to save her, she is happily splashing in the shit, engulfing all who get near her in her stench. She doesn't see the problem, doesn't notice that while she's doing everything I've ever told her not to do, thinking that she has freedom, the waste that she is marinating in is slowly dissolving her, in essence, it's killing her future, her worth, and her. Her family is dead because of it, E might well die as she can't handle the weight of the lies that K heaped upon her. And M and L can't be allowed near her, because, while I am still waiting on solid ground, waiting to help her when she is through in the poo, they are too small to withstand being splashed by her. It does't change the facts that K is loved by us all, always, it doesn't change the fact that her little sisters want nothing more that to be with all of their family. Until she is ready to start the process of fixing what all she did, wash off the poo you could say, I don't dare let her influence contaminate the little ones, I am guilty of not stopping the poison she inflected on E, the price I pay for that will be eternal. I can't allow it again.
There are days that death seems like the best option, it would free Eric from the children I inflicted him with, cut the ties that still bind me to them. In my mind that works, he won't be free of the stain, the unclean label, but he wouldn't have to be exposed to them because of me. I am only seeing things from the inside of my scrambled brain, because I know that while they have hurt him in ways I can't even understand, they are still his, and he worries abut them every day. Death would also free the little ones from the crazy person their mom has become. Fear and pain are so often masked with anger. I ooze anger, out of the very air around me. I can hide it for a while, while I'm in public mostly, but at home, when I don't have to wear my "normal" mask, it spills out everywhere. I'm ashamed with the weakness that has taken hold of my mind, yet unable to dislodge it. L is worried about what will happen to them, but she doesn't need to be, I've made arrangements for their safety. However, death won't solve anything will it? There are moments that it no longer frightens me, the thought of sweet oblivion is enticing, until a small body climbs on my lap and needs a cuddle.
This life I live is unimaginable. If I ever wrote a book, no one would buy it. Yet I live it, daily, as do my sweet children. I don't know what tomorrow brings, hell I don't even know that the next ten minuets bring. I know that we have a trip planned to spend the 4th of July in Richfield, and while it sounds fun, it also scares me witless. K is there, I need to see her, hug her and kiss her forehead. But... Always there is that word, but. But I don't want to see her, don't want to be reminded of the pain she causes daily. I don't want to be reminded that she has the power to end our suffering, but won't. How do you bring two warring half's of the same heart together? How do I keep this up?
"It's Easter time again. Unlike last year, I'm sitting at my own table, in my own place. My children have their own beds again, and all of the things that have been waiting a year to be unpacked. One year. One solid year of hell and heartache and tears. One full trip around an uncaring sun of deepest despair and pain, I want to sit here and write about how much better I am today. I want to, and I can about a few things, but mostly, I've learned to survive with part of my soul dead.
Eric still isn't allowed to come home, but he is at least out of the jail. Because he is now a convicted sex offender, he isn't allowed to be around the girls. Any kids in fact, as he is now considered the most vile of predators in existence. I want to make bells for us to wear around our necks as we yell " UNCLEAN" to the world, Yes I mean us, as we are one. That was in the vows we made. To cleave unto each other and be as ONE flesh. So his unclean status is also mine. As it should be. If he is guilty of anything, so am I. We are now lepers, outcasts and unwelcome everywhere we go. Him because of the courts, me because I stand with him.
A new Easter season has only brought more questions, more wondering why all our prayers go unheard and unanswered. Truth would set my family free, but those that have that power refuse to use it.
My family has gotten so much smaller. K and E are no longer included in my thoughts of the future. But as the future is a blank black hole, maybe it's better for them."
Easter is long gone, we made it through.
Maybe it IS better for the big girls to be gone, maybe in that same wave length it would be better for the little ones too. I worry about them, about the scars that this life has already inflicted on their tender souls. M has so much fear and anxiety, she is so afraid of displeasing anyone for fear that they will leave her too. L asks me randomly "what happens to us if you die momma?" At first I thought that it was simply the thought process of a 5 year old learning about death. Until I asked her. She is truly worried about who will take care of them if I'm gone, because daddy is already gone. She knows that family is not solid. She is always aware that something can happen, and that there is no safety, only the illusion of it. People you love and count on can be ripped away, others throw the finger at you as they run head first into the Poo Pool.
Let me explain the Poo Pool. M is having a hard time with her torn heart. On the one side, she loves her daddy and misses him so much. She is angry, but that's not a good enough word to use, angry at her older sisters for the lies they used, the damage they left behind in their attempt to break away from the rules that governed our family. Yet she loves them, and gets upset with me for not letting her see K. How do you explain to an eight year old something you yourself don't understand? The facts are, her oldest sister shredded our world because she wanted to be able to drink, drug, smoke and have sex without being told no. How dare we, as her parents, try and instill a sense of right and wrong? So, I thought long and hard and came up with this example to help M understand. In her selfish, narcissistic ways, K looked at a pool filled with refuse, decided that's where she wanted to live and cannon balled in. Our world never stood a chance against the wave of feces that swallowed us. Eric was drowned in the resulting tsunami, he will never be rid of the stains she threw on him as he tried with all his might to save her from herself. I did what any mother would do, I shielded the little girls, and wadded in after her to help bring her back to the safety of solid land. In the process, she almost killed me too, because while I wanted to save her, she is happily splashing in the shit, engulfing all who get near her in her stench. She doesn't see the problem, doesn't notice that while she's doing everything I've ever told her not to do, thinking that she has freedom, the waste that she is marinating in is slowly dissolving her, in essence, it's killing her future, her worth, and her. Her family is dead because of it, E might well die as she can't handle the weight of the lies that K heaped upon her. And M and L can't be allowed near her, because, while I am still waiting on solid ground, waiting to help her when she is through in the poo, they are too small to withstand being splashed by her. It does't change the facts that K is loved by us all, always, it doesn't change the fact that her little sisters want nothing more that to be with all of their family. Until she is ready to start the process of fixing what all she did, wash off the poo you could say, I don't dare let her influence contaminate the little ones, I am guilty of not stopping the poison she inflected on E, the price I pay for that will be eternal. I can't allow it again.
There are days that death seems like the best option, it would free Eric from the children I inflicted him with, cut the ties that still bind me to them. In my mind that works, he won't be free of the stain, the unclean label, but he wouldn't have to be exposed to them because of me. I am only seeing things from the inside of my scrambled brain, because I know that while they have hurt him in ways I can't even understand, they are still his, and he worries abut them every day. Death would also free the little ones from the crazy person their mom has become. Fear and pain are so often masked with anger. I ooze anger, out of the very air around me. I can hide it for a while, while I'm in public mostly, but at home, when I don't have to wear my "normal" mask, it spills out everywhere. I'm ashamed with the weakness that has taken hold of my mind, yet unable to dislodge it. L is worried about what will happen to them, but she doesn't need to be, I've made arrangements for their safety. However, death won't solve anything will it? There are moments that it no longer frightens me, the thought of sweet oblivion is enticing, until a small body climbs on my lap and needs a cuddle.
This life I live is unimaginable. If I ever wrote a book, no one would buy it. Yet I live it, daily, as do my sweet children. I don't know what tomorrow brings, hell I don't even know that the next ten minuets bring. I know that we have a trip planned to spend the 4th of July in Richfield, and while it sounds fun, it also scares me witless. K is there, I need to see her, hug her and kiss her forehead. But... Always there is that word, but. But I don't want to see her, don't want to be reminded of the pain she causes daily. I don't want to be reminded that she has the power to end our suffering, but won't. How do you bring two warring half's of the same heart together? How do I keep this up?
Wednesday, March 8, 2017
chapters
There is to be a wedding Saturday. I should be happy that my lovely daughter has found someone to spend her life with. Should be. Am not. I have seen where she lives, and listened to how they manage their lives and relationship and inside all I can do is cry out "This isn't how you were raised! This in NOT the life I wanted for you". But it's the life she set in motion with a few well placed lies. I will never move from where I stand. I love you K, more than you will ever know, but oh how I'm scared for you and the mess your making of things.
This last year has taken me into paths and places that I never knew existed outside my nightmares. I have been homeless, hopeless, faithless, husband-less, worthless, soulless and so many other less's that I sit here tonight amazed that I can laugh and smile again. But I can, and I do, and I do both almost daily. Yet, there is a cloud hanging ever over my head, always reminding me of my lack of worth. My lack as a mother, as a woman, as me.
I try so hard, to put into words the thought spinning in my mind, and I use this as a way to keep them for consuming me, yet I'm at a loss tonight, to adequately find the words.
8 days, 8 little 24 hours periods is all that separates me from being with my husband again. I should be over the moon with anticipation, but i'm only filled with sorrow and dread. He isn't allowed to come home. As with all the unimaginable things that make up the chapters of my life, this is proving the hardest pill to swallow. He can't come home as the court says he is a threat and a predator. A threat to whom? I'm so sick in my soul that he's lost a year because of the lies of those that I mothered, and now, he will loose more time. The truth won't give him or I back our year stolen, it won't erase the fear and pain inflicted on M and L. I'm not even sure the truth would be heard if it was ever uttered. I find it telling that the only people who believed the lies were strangers. Our family and friends who truly know us know the truth. Yet the strangers have all the power. So my sweet husband will be kept from us longer.
Why was my mothering not enough? Why were the empty promises of the man who's only good thing he ever did was help create you of more value than the love and safety of my heart? Was it worth it? these are the questions that plaque me when it's quiet in my home and i'm left with my own thoughts for company. Where did I mess up? How do I fix it?
My wandering thoughts are out now, to the world to be judged. If it calms my mind a bit, maybe it was worth it. I don't know anymore. I only know that I am promised my eternal family, and that It will all be made right one day, I just need to keep my tiny slip of hope.
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