Tuesday, September 30, 2014


Before I get into my post I want to thank everyone for your encouragement! You guys are awesome and made me feel more comfortable in this endeavor. One of the biggest reasons I started this is I've always felt like I needed to do something with the things I've experienced. When I was a teen I wanted to go onto The Real World and use that as my way to reach out and tell the world what it's like as a victim. Now you couldn't pay me enough to do something like that. However, the desire to expose the things you deal with as a victim is still there. One of those things are the memories that never dull. This is also the next step in healing for me. I hope it reaches people who are in similar situations, but simply sharing everything makes me feel like I'm beating the depressing effects. Brandon has encouraged me to write a book, and maybe someday I will. But being a working mom of 3 makes it hard for me to focus on that. I know that many women do it, but I can barely find some quiet time to write this! I titled this post Memories because I want to share my first memory. (I'll probably share a few more.) Do you remember yours? Was it good or bad? How old were you? Is it something you're comfortable sharing? I think I was 3 in my first one. I was at my grandparents house. My grandma was at work so it was just Drew (abuser) and I. They lived in a mobile home in Dixie Downs and from what I can remember it was fairly new. My grandma decorated nicely but it couldn't cover up the ugly wood paneling. I don't remember if we still lived with them at this point. There was a hallway leading to the master bedroom. I remember standing there next to Drew, we were both naked. He'd brought out the vacuum. I watched him turn it upside down and take a part off of the bottom. He pulled off a piece of metal and showed it to me. I didn't understand exactly what I was looking at so he began pointing out the shape of it. He wanted me to see the part that stuck out from the main piece because the two parts combined looked sort of barely like a penis. He explained what penises are for and that he's going to teach me about them. Then I remember him guiding me into his bedroom but the memory stops there. When I was a little older he showed me a deck of cards that had pornographic images on them. He told me that the women in the pictures is what men like, and as I get older he'd help me look that way. I remember the card vividly. There was a busty blonde woman surrounded by 4 men. She was the only one naked and the men were tying her wrists and ankles to posts. The picture really bothered me but I couldn't do anything to make him stop showing me. I was in the bathtub while this was happening. He often liked to bathe me because it was his way of being able to have me naked while my grandma was home. If I had to go to the bathroom he'd make me leave the door open while I used the toilet so he could watch me wipe up when I was done. I couldn't close the door when I changed because he'd get mad that I was shutting him out. Any attempt at privacy would make him angry. He never hit me but when I made him angry he'd take it out on me in some mortifying way the next time my grandma was gone. One morning he had just left the house to take my grandma to work. They always left me there alone when she had to go to work early. I wanted to run away but I knew he'd find me and he'd be angry. He guilted me beyond belief. He scared me out of telling on him. He made me believe my family wouldn't want me if they knew the truth. He told me he'd hurt my family if I said anything. My grandma had terrible health and he knew how much I loved her. All of her meds were provided for through his insurance, so if he wasn't around my grandma would die and it'd be my fault. I felt incredibly stuck. I have memories of him up until I was 12. These memories, and so many more, still bounce around in my head. I know these will be with me until I die. I can ease the pressure of thinking about them by talking about them. And I'm thankful for everyone who chooses to read them.

Monday, September 29, 2014

This blogging thing is freaking me out

I've put this off for long enough. Each day I think, "This is the day I actually post what I type". And each day I find a reason I can't finish the post I started that morning. I had a draft sitting here for 2 weeks and each time I went to add more, I had a few thoughts run through my head. Is what I have to say really all that important? Does anyone even want to hear what I have on my mind? What's motivating me to put myself out there and do this? And what would I do if people think this is just another blogger that wants to clog up their newsfeed? Personally, I enjoy reading peoples blogs, learning about their life and seeing what they choose to share. But I know not everyone likes it and that's what has made me postpone this. Also, sometimes my grammar and sentence structure are wrong, and maybe it's weird but that is a huge insecurity of mine. I don't want y'all to think I'm stupid! The thing I keep repeating to myself is if people want to read this then they'll click on the link and read. And if they think I'm stupid, oh well. :) As far as what I want to focus on with my blog...it's kind of all over the place. I'll probably use this as a venting place, share dumb jokes, show you the latest crafty thing I'm doing or talk about what it was like growing up sexually abused, and the NEVER ENDING recovery. That escalated kinda quickly, didn't it? I had to just go for it and say it. There's no polite way to say you were abused. A lot of people already know about it. I'm very open about it. But I always talk about it like I'm ok. I brush it off like it's no big deal. Largely because I don't like it when who I'm talking to gets uncomfortable. I feel bad for making things awkward so I'll say something to lighten the mood, or make it seem like it was so long ago it doesn't affect me anymore. But the reality is I'm still struggling. Not everyday. Sometimes I'll go a few months hardly thinking about it. Then BAM! I'm dealing with it again. Something I like about blogging about this is that I can talk about it and if it makes anyone uncomfortable they can stop reading. I'm not offended if you do. And obviously I won't know if you stop. Ok, so I've said what I needed to say for now. My kids are about to start a war downstairs so I need to go break it up. I'll post more later!! Thanks for reading and feel free to comment on any of my posts if you want to :)

Wednesday, January 15, 2014


My youngest has never been good at bedtime. Before I get into that, here's a little side story. He's our last child, and from the second I found out I was pregnant I wanted to absorb every moment of it. To store everything in memory because I'd never be doing it again. Once he was born, I wanted to stop time and cherish every thing he did. I know that every mom wants this. But with my first two kids, I don't remember a whole lot. My postpartum depression was so bad I've pretty much blocked out nearly 3 years of my life. I remember things, but in that foggy way you remember a dream a day later. So, it was super important that I kept myself mentally healthy and wouldn't spend my life wishing I hadn't been depressed through another childs infancy/toddler years. Back to my youngest...To make a VERY LONG story short, I knew from early on that I wanted to co sleep and nurse and Ain't no one gonna stop me! So we did, for much too long. He was nearly 1 1/2 before he slept in is own bed. Judge all you want, but I was creating memories, and just, you know, lost sight of structure and have been cleaning the mess up ever since I realized it. So here we are. He's 2 years and almost 2 months old. And still throws a tantrum like no other at bedtime. He wakes up often picking up where he left off. "ALL DONE!!! ALL PAU!!! ma. MA!" He screams. Side note, I'm part Hawaiian and my mom is determined my kids know their language. So Pau = Done. (He reserves that one for when he's really serious.) Well tonight I've decided that I'm going to blog while sitting in my chair in his room as he settles in. But before I began this I felt compelled to look up Proverbs 31 ministries Daily Devotion. A particular part of it stood out to me as my child is yelling at the world, and it's this..."There is only one name worthy of our wishing, one name deserving of our dreams. And when we keep that name in the middle of our madness, He offers hope in our beginning, glory in our end, and grace for every moment in-between." After reading this devotion it didn't give me a huge eye opening thought, but it reminded me that I started out hopeful as a parent, I'm in the middle of madness right now, but there's grace abounding, and I can offer a little of it to my toddler, since he's going to (hopefully) be asleep in 20 minutes. I know I have my all pau moments during the day. He's allowed to have his. I suppose.