transforming

Riding the tale of a comet, I pause to reflect on the antiquity of my sorrows.
Yesterday is the foundation of my remarkable dash between the dates on my tombstone.
I search for peace inside the beating of my heart that matches the universe as I scale the wall to my tomorrow.
I yearn for solitude ,yet crave company in my turmoil.
I cannot fathom the reason for the face that I see.
I seek rapture and no longer crave redemption.
Passion is the fleeting symptom of release to the side of oblivion I careen into as I sleep.
Waking is merely words falling from my face as I try to rectify my existence.
Shadows slither so slowly now I can see the total outline if I stare long enough.
Solid masses solidify out of the curtain of nothing as I search for nonentity.
Seeking to name this delusion is a terrible waste of the precious beating of my aging heart.
Truth can be vanquished if we return to normalcy.
Nothing gained by pretending.

title me done

Hmmm, I have battled this subject for such a long time.  A long enough time that I have become quite an expert on the subject.  The vast first hand knowledge that I have is to encompassing to sort through all at once.  I am forced to write my thoughts today in fear that I will become bitter if I do not at least let some of them go from me…out into the infinite whiteness of this computer screen.
        Rape victim…not what is a victim, as we all think we know what that is… but the battle the victim fights…
         I have been a victim.
         My children have been a victim.
And like all victims I have ever met, and it has been a considerable number,  how do we not remain a victim.
I would love to tell you that once your ‘perped on’ you move forward as if the event never happened. I would love to tell you that ,but I cannot…It would be a lie. This is a vast phenomenon of human misunderstanding, human fear, human reactions.
   As I walked myself calm at the YMCA last night I pictured in my swirling mind the rage and disbelief falling from my form as I strove to answer the screams in my head.
         I turned to my young pre teen daughter and told her, “We have not, as a society come any further then Tamar’s’ story  in the biblical days.”
   Tamar is not a well known story in the bible, so if your scratching your head in wonderment your probably not alone.  It is a very short story.  It is contained a  very short number of paragraphs. It is a horrendous testimony contained in one chapter.  
        I use her story almost daily, as victims will continually seek me out.  As I have said the story is very short, and there is not a lot to teach from.  In the beginning of my wavering teachings it was enough to let the other victims know that they were not alone…that this atrocity had been happening for a long time.  Yet as time has merged into a place where I should be able to offer something more then just a comrade in this horrible event, I am forced to look at society and how we fail victims so miserably. It is not enough to shake my head at the world around my little victims as they try to steer through a world that still protects the perpetrators.  It is not enough to understand how a victim feels. That only goes so far.  It is not enough to parrot back how they feel as someone somewhere (everywhere) do not know how to proceed in the fragile world of a victim of such an atrocious crime.  The emotions a victim goes through is to raw to talk about, and It would not be fair to share such  intimate details.  Furthermore it is my firm belief that you as a reader already know…the statistics are truly staggering.  The age old question then rears it’s ugly little head.  Why treat the victims as if they have been wrong in complaining about their treatment…their rape…their total loss of power over their body, their life, and their future.  Why do we re-victimize the victim?
     Even victims will turn into victim abusers.  Why do they do that?  Where they as victims told the age old lie themselves.  Where they told that it was not to be spoken about.  Where they told by not speaking it was inherently telling them that they were not good enough to proceed to the truth. That  their pain was not important.   And in so doing then they made life choices based on the assumption that they were not worth a second thought as they fought to find solid ground.  So they made life choices that did not speak to release and happiness but to pain and despair no matter what anyone else told them.  They forever from the moment someone told them to,  “hush be quiet”, they started telling themselves that their sanctity, their body was only a tool , only something to be used for the power and control of another.
      I know a lot of victims.
          I’ve met victims that sell their body because someone somewhere first made them a victim.  Secondly, someone somewhere told them that it was ok for that to happen to them.  The victim didn’t really believe that but find her only solace with the others like her. Those others that had also been hurt and then told to shhhhhh.  Those who also knew it had been wrong.  those who welcomed them into their personal hell.  Their world that survived in the underbelly  of existence away from the ‘clean’ parts of society. They became a counter -culture into and of themselves. Bound by their own rules. But first they were a victim.
        I know victims who are so angry you  can feel the anger roll from their  bodies like waves of hate.  They are unable to move through the stages of a victim,  because no one was there to give them the tools.  No one was there to offer them a hand out of the pit they had been thrown into. First they were a victim.
       I know victims that  accept horrendous treatment from their lovers, husbands,  pastors, teachers, church  leaders… any one with power over them because they had been told to shhhhh, don’t say anything…and they didn’t.  First they were a victim.
      I know victims that need,  achingly need to use something…anything to make the angry voice in their head be quiet for just a minute so they can be human for just one second. They use any sort of substance, so they can halt the hate tirade that lives in their head endlessly. The inner shouting voice that tells them that they are not good enough for fair treatment.  The loud accusing voice that tells them that they deserved to be treated like a mattress. First they were a victim.
       I know victims that reside  more in then out of mental institutions because they cannot find their peace with what has happened to them.  No one took the time to look them right into the eyes and tell them that what had happened to them was wrong, and they are right to be angry.  Their fractured thoughts are so jumbled that they have to be medicated to not attack themselves.
 First they were a victim.
I also know a lot of victims that live a semi-normal life hating and pushing people around them so that they feel powerful, if only for a minute.  They need to feel powerful because they once  at one time was so powerless.  They made it through to appear normal to the world, but they hate themselves daily. 
 First they were a victim.
        Each victim is my victim.  Because they were first His, and He has taught me to reach out to them with dignity, compassion,  with no judgment or control over how they get through to the other side of the abyss they swim in.  I cry for them when they can’t see me cry.  I won’t let them see me break.  I am a tower of strength for my vics…I am their goal, the way they want to live, the way out of the pit. I offer my shaking hand to them.  I warn them that there will be pain, utter pain….and they will hate me…and that is ok too.  Cuz while they are hating me…I will still be loving them …pulling them forward through their personal debris. 
 But…I can’t fight the world, can I?
Society is a stubborn mistress that seeks to annihilate  the panic stricken of the hurt and abused.
You know those pictures on the internet. The ones that are a picture of something but if you stare long enough you see the hidden picture.  When I look at the picture I immediately see the hidden picture.  Victims are like that to me.  Their victim-ness jumps out at me.  I instantly see the pain and disbelief they try to hide.  
But that is not the point of this writing.
My plea is for us , as society to stop  treating victims the way you were treated and bring civilization to the standard it should be...we have been arguing this argument  since biblical times beginning with Tamar.
       Let me tell you about this tough chick named Tamar.   Tamar was a princess.  She was King Davids daughter by one of his wives.  King David also had several sons by other wives.  The point is that Tamar and ansolem were half siblings.  They both lived in the grand castle, with each having their own servants. Anmon was in love with Tamar.  She was very beautiful.  She and her  full brother were two of the most beautiful children of the castle.  Anmon could not stop thinking about her day and night.  He grew frail from loving her from afar.  His cousin told him of a plan to finally have her for himself.  So he did as his cousin suggested and pretended to be sick.   When the king came to check on him. Amnom told the king, his father that he needed Tamar to cook for him I his chambers so that he could feel better.  The king ordered it so.  When Tamar came in to cook for her brother she was merely being a good sister.  She was doing the right thing, the proper thing.  In short she was being a good girl and following orders.  Amnom told her that he could not eat unless she brought it to the bed for him after he had told all servants to go.  She did as instructed as did the servants.  As soon as the servants were gone Amnon tore at Tamars clothing.  She begged him not to do this thing. She reminded him that it was wrong. Wrong against God, wrong in society.  She reminded him that the king would give her to him if asked.  He did not care he had to have her and he did.  As soon as the rape was completed. His disgust for her was as encompassing as his lust had once been.  He told her to gather her robes and get out.  Tamar knew that this was a certain kind of societal death for her. She would be reduced to mere servant now. Her future was gone.  She would never be allowed to marry of have children of her own.  Her life was over. She plead with him again to marry her, so that she could have some sort of life, some future beyond servant hood.  He not only refused to listen to her.  He ordered his servants to escort her out and bar the door.  
         Our little Tamar refused to go away quietly though.  She tore at her glorious virginal robes to indicate her loss and screamed through the streets.  She was not a silent victim.  She had been wronged.  Gotta love that brave chick.  But what did she have to lose? She had already lost everything.  He had taken everything form her.  Everything she had held dear to her.  




To be continued…

Leaving the tapestry of my rigid thoughts.

Diagnosing my fear as a symptom of disgust.

Living as if I can find solace.

Laughing glances follow me to oblivion.

Radiant lovely whispers caress my tongue.

Breathing becomes labored as I seek the valor of my thoughts.

Taking the encapsulated pieces of time resurrect my soul…one second at a time.

Wide eyed stare keeps me safe from the harm I feel all around me.

Talking to air is my rapture.

Knowing the degree of time is a constant nuance of forever.

Comprehension of knowledge inside the madness of laughing bubbling lights transpires my clinging fingers from the darkness.

I leave nothing unturned.

I furrow the depth of my weakness’

There is but one that can hold the madness back…

Only one.

musings....

musings....

Wiping away the vapor that encapsulates my mind,I look around me like a toddler touching grass for the very first time.

Raidiating luminosity rains inside my brain freely…

Easily I take in the landscape around me.

Clinging to the past is not consequential.

There is nothing to be gained by standing still.

No ground to cover if I remain in the same steps that led me there.

Boredom teases me with melancholy.

My mind springs forth and travels well before my troubleome body relents to journey.

tresspassing into the confines of normalcy I remained unchanged.

My heart,my soul remains intact as I continue my search for more…

Pondering my ability to remain still…I seek the confines that will not shackle me.

befriending truth

Stuck in the hiccup of pain…

Coaxing degradation from innocence…

Unwinding ribbons of hatred…

Recognizing agony casually, while trying to replace responses…

Survival is a tragedy…

Stuck in the hiccup of pain…

Taking the hand of a silhouette that cannot tolerate touch…

Transpiring against lunacy to negotiate with rage…

Living inside raw liquid emotions that must bubble to the surface without abatement…

Relinquishing history is a truce between the shadows that trip through the night…

title it...done

WE ARE ALL HUMAN…

I have crazy ridiculous faith.

I know it makes no sense…it is by mere definition lunacy…they all called Him crazy…

My battle to free the victims…

I have a person that I know. He is not a friend. He is not allowed around my girls. He is not allowed to know where I live. He is just a guy I know.

The year after our court battle was bizarre and surreal.

I met lots of characters.

Before this time my thoughts were black and white.

Your wrong. You did a bad thing. You must never to be looked at again. End of story.

Then that mystical, rapturous, ever pressing God made me open my eyes.

His people. His people were all victims…even if they victimized others…first they were victims. So, how do I draw the line in the sand.

Ahhh that’s a biggie isn’t it.

Let me tell you about Crazy Roy.

I’m not being derogative…he asked me to call him that…and trust me friends and neighbors…he is a crazy man!

I met him and he was merely annoying, dirty, bothersome…just weird.

But I had trained myself in the study of sexual predators…so many different kinds. I was not going to be fooled again! I was an expert in the field…my field. I knew he had red flags…I knew he was a situational molester…heehee, I really did have categories of molesters...I could quote statistics too…I was an expert bore from utter fear.

Anyway, when he found me somewhere and endlessly talked to me…I could hardly hear what he was saying cuz I was so busy hearing the bullshit instead…its like you gotta be real dude cuz I cant hear your babbling anymore…you gotta come clean…and he did…he told me that yes he did do that, and he fought the urge everyday…and he had been questioned about it…never charged tho, just like so many…never charged…cuz no one wants to admit his nastiness was near them. He is a real character. So just questioned . Then we broke through the bullshit that ALWAYS follows the admission. He gave me every tag line…every excuse they always give …I don’t really want to go into all that. Because its boring to me now.

But trust me, he is a sexual deviant…and you should never try this at home because he is a very, very dangerous individual.

We cut through all his bullshit…and …and…well, I didn’t run away from him. I did however put very bold, strong boundary’s around him, cuz I am not an idiot.

I remember once I was busy paying and he was in the store, he saw that I was busy and ran, literally ran out to the car to talk to my girls,(A real deviant) I wasn’t afraid I stood at the window and watched and laughed. I watched Fate push the button that automatically rolled up the window and locked the doors. She wasn’t afraid, her face was a mask of pure nothingness. She had to fear of him…just total mistrust. Hehehe…I met him at the car still laughing. I said she aint going to talk to you…she KNOWS you. Groom away…you’ll be talking to air. I talked to him a bit longer then told him to be good…like I always do…be good,Roy. No fear.

Over the years…I have so many stories about him.

Once a tornado knocked a huge tree into my door blocking the path in and out. I had to use the back door. I am a single mom I have no resources. Crazy roy pulled up in his hoopity wagon and got out a handsaw…yes a handsaw and went to work. It took him more then a week to get it gone. The tree was twice the size of him around, and he had just a handsaw…but he kept at it everyday till it was gone. No fear.

One time I came up to the store and he was ,um…outside his ever loving mind…he was past psychotic…and he was scaring everyone…badly. I distracted him with my bullshit. He didn’t even know who I was…he was so gone inside his mind. I motioned for the clerk to the store and she called the police. I kept him talking…cuz he was clearly sick. When the cops appeared, he of course tried to flip out . I yelled for fate to get down in her seat…roy reached into his truck and pulled out a gun…I calmly told him that he was being ridiculous that we were helping him…he put it back and with that patented roy shit eating grin, and told me there were no bullets…The cops pulled in and I went to them and explained that he was very sick and needed an ambulance… He was crazy yelling again and blocking my path to my car. He hadn’t seen fate cuz she was hidden. I was stuck. I watched the police try to talk with him…then they had to man handle him down to the ground…it hurt my eyes, but it had to be done. I explained to the police that he was altered …not himself…didn’t even recognize me…they took him in patient…and he got better.

Next time I went to the corner store he ran out to me . I was trying to get gas. He took out a dirty tattered 20 and told me he was paying for my gas. He apologized for being crazy…it told him it was fine, he wasn’t in control….he bought my gas the next few times…It made him feel good.

I had treated him as a human. He had told me his dirtiest deeds (no details tho…I am human too), he had done some very bad deeds…Then I had seen him acting badly….still I smiled and looked him in the eye. I didn’t just talk at him…I listened to him…and it was always painful to listen to him. He stuttered and his face would freeze trying to get the hardest words out, but I was patient. I used my patience not because I would get something out of it…Not even the good feeling you get when you help someone. With him I never received that release of feelings. With him…I don’t know he just makes me smile. He is dirty, smelly, psychotic, …not sure if he could be redeemed in this world…he is so very lost…

….He confounds me…I don’t know why I treat him human…I just do… with him there are no little moments of ah ha. With him, I will never have a oh! I finally said the right word in the right sequence moment …With him, I don’t know…He is my thorn in my side…He is a rapist, pedophile, attempted murderer…and now finally murderer. He just continues to make horrible choices that effect so many people…Yet….he worked for over a week on my damn tree. He used money he did not have to buy gas for me so I could work. He is a real deviant.

No one will testify against him…because trust me, the dude would fucking kill you…no problem.

His blue eyes twinkle when he talks to me.

He reminds me of Santa Claus….he’s got those wrinkles round his eyes…

He is never to be trusted…not ever.

He and I understand each other.

He is a true predator.

He has no feelings.

He has no deep emotions.

He is an empty, scary individual.

…and he makes me smile every time I see him.

My Gideon battle…

Here is my thought for the day…I always try to end on a happy note. I do a lot of peer counseling. It’s my title. it’s my rank. But it is really unimportant…because really it is who I am. Who I have been, Who I will always be.

It was a huge struggle to get me here, but I am comfortable here, so I think that I will stay. I have two stories in my head. I am not sure if they are related, but I will begin cautiously with this one and I have an open page for the other…they may melt together…they may not!

Gideon had built a large army, and God said wait! Do not take all your soldiers into battle. If you win this battle with this large army it would be a worldly battle. If I am to be glorified…it has to be all about me….the world will not see my might if it is all your warriors…I paraphrased but my point is I want to tell you what I learned and pass on, as a ,peer councilor’ to the hurting broken around me. In the middle of the monstrous battle in front of you, you must let Him lead you. Even when the battle makes you feel crazy, even when everyone looks at you with the saddest eyes…battle on…

I had a huge battle.

My children were raped when they were four.

I hope you never have to know how hard that was to type.

So many thoughts, but I will reign it in.

If your reading this chances are you have read the previous blog.

So, you already knew this information…

I was utterly alone.

The very worst thing had happened to us.

Our five year court battle was not even the real battle.

It was a priceless exercise to find our peace.

I have written a lot about these moments, so I wont digress.

The battle really was about not letting my girls, my young ladies continue to be victims. That is my daily battle.

If we had won the court battle…it would have been a worldly battle. We would have been justified. Everyone would have seen the outcome, but the outcome would have been so menial compared to the real release, the real ‘win’.

God ….the Alpha AND the Omega…the creator of heaven and earth….saved me and then saved us from ourselves. I wont go into the words….so many words…I am so very tired…

My daily battle is to try to show His mighty love to the victims I interact with everyday. Not in a corny ,fake kind of God loves you way…cuz that shit used to piss me off to no end. “God won’t give you more then you can handle’ bullshit…really fuck you, how do you fucking know what I can handle…and the utter despair of the battle…the depth of the pain is to deep…so fuck you . You have no idea, of the pain I can handle or not fucking handle. Let me know when you hold the body of your lifeless child who is still breathing, still fighting to breath through… ya FUCK YOU!

Maybe your better at ignoring the pain and despair around you…I am not! I react, I fight, I pray, I teach, I remind, I love…

I remember trying to walk out of the courthouse…I could hardly stand let alone walk. Workers came out of their offices to watch me try to make my way out of the building…I walked alone. They wore such looks of shock, and despair…utter confusion to match my own. The word had quickly spread that the ADA had already quit her job…she couldn’t fight another day. It was to ridiculous. Everyone had to see the tragedy walking out… No one spoke , they merely stared with their quiet support. I can still see the rows of women standing up and down the hallways. No one was whispering to each other, it was just silent. There was no need for words. Everyone knew the travesty. I could hardly open the heavy door. I faltered. No one came to help me, it would have been offensive to help me. I had begun the battle on my own. I would finish it….on my own.

The sunlight was extremely out of place when I stepped out into it. I looked up to the sky, as if for the first time. I in actuality expected God to show Himself. I wanted Him to show himself in all His mighty anger at what had happened… He did not.

I kept glancing up trying to see His mighty arm stretch out from the heavens…He did not.

There were groups of people standing around…watching.

I didn’t know where I was going.

I could form no thought to how to step down the stairs. No one came to help , they merely watched with agonized faces. I finally made it to the ’smoke bench’ outside where our little ‘witness group’ had gathered. My girls were safely stashed away. This was the second day of testimony and they had already said their part. I remember several people handed me cigarettes. I just stared at them, the smokes not the faces. I couldn’t look at their faces…My ears were trained to the heavens…I knew He was coming. Cuz there was no way the world could continue to spin.

Silence…

Excuse me ladies and gentlemen this is a train wreck…you will have to back away…there is nothing to see here…Groups of three and four gathered on the outside circle of us, witness’ . Our case was not spoken of but everyone knew of it. It was a biggie. The judge had said in open court that he believed all the witness’ but he just didn’t think it was a crime worthy of punishment…

…..so rape of children was ok….

My brain could not wrap itself around that.

God was on His way….He had to be…I could not figure out a way to breath again in this world.

He did not come.

I don’t know who it was but several people gave me pills.

I don’t know what they were. I’m sure they were xanax or something…I think I remember that. I must have looked pretty…bad. I dropped the pills on the ground and everyone took a collective step back. I still couldn’t focus on the faces around me. I couldn’t stop looking for Him… He was so late already.

Someone asked me ,ever so softly and gently where the girls were…

Suddenly I took off running…I had to get to them before… Before some one else told them… I had to get to them…the thought of them brought the floodgates of tears, the tears that would not stop…

My little group followed after me running and yelling my name. still no one came close enough for me to swing. I was an injured animal, not to be trusted. He must be waiting to show Himself…He is just late…but He is coming…I wanted to be on the highway when He came…I wanted to see all His glory appear in the heavens and see Him take their car and hurl it….

“…It would be better a millstone be tied…” I could see the actual words written in the sky…He was on His way…He was merely coming in His time…But He WAS coming…He had to. The world was upside down and inside out…this was the nonsense world the last chapter of His book talked about.

………………………………................................GASP………………………………..........................................

Gideon built his army and God said…God said, no…It has to be about me……………

I could not wrap my brain around His will. I am the great manipulator…I tried to force His will into my existence…He didn’t fit.

I tried to control His glory, He was to big.

I tried to twist His logic to fit my own, HE IS GOD.

My battle was not as I expected…If we had won we would have been vindicated in this world. This world is not relevant to the spirit…the spirit is only relevant to the natural.

All the pain, suffering despair, turmoil, harassment, cruelty, rage…

It took me a year to get it.

To understand His will.

I see them everywhere…my victims…..His beautiful victims.

Reminds me of a dream I had during the darkest of my days. I was on a beach walking along the tide. I little girl ran up to me. She took my hand and thanked me. I was confused. I didn’t know why she had said that, she pointed behind me…I looked and there was a long, long, never ending line of children…she said, “they are yours….they all want to say thank you…but keep walking…we are following…”

……….So I keep walking…I keep moving forward….that had NOT been my battle…It would have been about me had we won…besides, by this time I hadn’t wanted repercussion…I wanted freedom and peace and new life for my injured children. I wanted them to have freedom from their pain…from their despair…and I wanted to love the dirty, broken around me because there are so, so many.

….so that is the battle…and no one knows of me….so it is all about Him….and we walk forward…each of us….each of the victims who become victors…we walk forward.