Winning!!

Things are in full swing in my advocacy world. This is keeping me wicked busy fortunately!! Here's a quick update though:

I've now been off ALL my anti-depressants for the last month. I've lost 40 lbs in 2 & 1/2 months with no gimmicks, fad diets, pills, patches, wraps, multi-level scams... Pole fitness has been incredible in so many ways. The confidence is back, emotionally I'm stronger, I realize my goals & am loving these changes. My pole family has my back. It's amazing!! 

Oktoberfest was this weekend. I was there from Weds at open till Sat at close. No anxiety at.all. None. It's been a great time but I'm beat! House sitting, enjoying the quiet, & regrouping. Will post more AFTER the 26th!!!! 

So it's been a while...

Some psychotic gun nut with a penis complex found my blog & tried to turn it into something ugly. He also used old info regarding an expired PO that was granted in which the judge ok'd our firearms due to the fact that we weren't granting the PO on the complaint but Little Dick didn't do his homework. Then he proceeded to say I have legal issues. THIS is laughable. I can't drive. I'm horrible at it. I have never claimed to be. I'm frequently ticketed. My DL has been suspended more often than not. Shit happens. So I am guessing either a) Little Dick doesn't drive or b) Little Dick himself, CANT. Whatever tho. 

The purpose of my blog has ALWAYS been to be open about The Trauma & my PTSD. This, according to Little Dick, makes me "unstable". Sure. I was raped (with my gun on my hip!!!) & I have ptsd stemming from that. Soldiers- you all are unstable too!! Domestic violence survivors, YOU are too unstable as well!!! Basically that's the gist of Little Dick's smear story. 

What Little Dick & his pencil dick ammosexual friends fail to realize is this- the more you hurl insults or attempt to drag us thru the mud, no matter how much you threaten, we aren't going away. Your bullshit actions prove that MY hard work with MOMS was & IS working. You're scared, & you should be. People in glass houses shouldn't throw stones. If I were a petty bitch I could run a smear campaign on you or any of your pencil dick friends. I don't HAVE to. Because we are winning. Slowly. You've threatened our rights to feel safe, you've threatened our kids' rights to feel safe, all because you've got a fucked up interpretation of 2A. Well sugar, good luck. I'm sure we will cross paths again. In fact, I look forward to it. 

Why sleep?

Doc put me on a new med- took me off the ugly Remeron. Put me on Doxepin. Remerons #1 side effect was weight gain. Doxepin combined with the Effexor & Wellbutrin could/did cause Seratonin Syndrome (hallucinations, among other things). No weight gain. I'm slowly losing. 

Pole dancing is great. I'm losing some of that self conscious hell, I feel more confident, & I'm losing weight. 

I'm not feeling too hot. Tuesday started in a frenzy, ended up feeling gross. Possible side effect or a bug? 

Stuck on some of the older hells. I'm worried that I'm slipping some but I know it's the disease. Stress, exhaustion, & new meds always come with nights like these. Blabbering too... 

Trying to explain this to strangers feels impossible. Today, at 2am, EVERYTHING seems impossible.... *sigh*

Trying to help...

Addiction, depression, anxiety, thoughts of suicide...I'm familiar with them all. I've lost friends to suicide. I like to think that I will be able to help the next friend in crisis but I'm finding that not to be the case. 

Addiction has a way out. It's hard, it sucks, you stumble & fall & beat yourself up until one day, you've made it. 

Depression & anxiety are demons. You wrestle them day & night. Sometimes you win, you get out of bed, take a shower, act productive... Some days you don't move out of bed. It's like a weight in your chest that keeps you from moving or healing. 

Meds help. Therapy helps. Having a supportive family & friends helps. Sadly mental health in Oklahoma is such shit that you have to either have no $ or a ton of it. It's a broken system trying to fix broken people...

Suicide--- If you personally know me, you'd know I will walk thru hell with you to get you past that drive to end it. I'm selfish in that I don't wabt to lose anyone else. I can't. My email is erika.quinn78@gmail.com & from there I will give you my #. If that means we talk all night, I'm good with that. 

I love my friends. I don't like seeing them suffer. Please--get help. 

Hurt People Helping Hurt People

Met a woman at 3am last week when I couldn't sleep. She had been gang raped & was injured. She needed someone to talk to...the hospital wasn't keeping her in the loop on what was happening, the police were making her feel uncomfortable, & I kinda got the impression that she's either very very young & uneducated, or mildly retarded. This made explaining things so much harder. Being 900 miles away & not familiar with her hospital & police protocols, it was a lot of guess. Anti-anxiety meds, pain meds, line-ups, crying, no one to talk to....one night we talked for a couple hours, the next night it was from midnight to 5:30am. 

She doesn't know how to see a therapist or psychiatrist. She needs to. She says she will never leave the house again. She has a young child, they're moving in with her folks. She's petrified.... How broken is our system that she had to reach out to strangers on FB for support & to have questions answered? 

I just wanna ask y'all- please say a prayer for her. Send positive energy. Make a donation to DVIS/CallRape in your area. Thank someone who has helped you thru your biggest hell. I want to be able to reach out to her this weekend & tell her of the awesome people in her crone praying for her or donating to causes that help women like her. If you're one of those in need of help, please seek it out. Love & light y'all ❤️

The Fat Girl at the Dance Studio

Tonight I went to a regular class at the gym where I take pole class. Class tonight was called "Bikini Body". I knew when reading about the class that it'd be intense & quite possibly hard on my back. I also knew that I'd be the biggest girl there. Both I was ok with.

I have 100 lbs to drop. It's not going to be easy. I'm certainly not going to hide from the challenge any longer though. I'm done hiding. Period.

That hour schooled me on just how bad I had let myself get. Watching the girls with super tight, strong bodies "ugly girl sweat" (not something you can wipe off, it's intense, construction worker in 115 degrees sweaty) was reassuring though. I wasn't alone. They didn't look at me like I was disgusting them, they didn't pity me, they were supportive & I felt welcomed. 

Every muscle got a major workout, I am going to be in pain tomorrow for sure, but I made it. Already looking forward to next week ;) 

Awakening

Prior to The Trauma I was fearless. I was confident, I was secure, I was very much in touch with my femininity & the power that came along with it. 

After The Trauma I could "fake it" sometimes but I basically quit caring. I let myself go, physically. Some subconsciously, some due to my back issues. The result is a 100lb weight gain, severe anxiety, & insecurity. I lost my inner goddess. 

After being told AGAIN that I only need to lose weight to be rid of the back ailments, I decided to act. On a whim I googled "pole dance classes" & found Studio 7. That was last Wednesday. 

Keep in mind, I am a former Hootets girl, & I'm no stranger to pole dancing, but I am so out of touch when it comes to my sensuality, it shocked me. I literally couldn't tap into that part of my past. Slowly as the class progressed I could feel a bit more relaxed & a bit more comfortable with my body. Not in it's current shape, but with it's potential & ability. 

Sore everywhere BUT my back, I signed a 1-year contract for unlimited classes. It was fun. I can see this as a way to awaken my inner goddess & to be able to heal more, physically AND mentally. I look forward to it. The instructors are kind, supportive, & empathetic. They have given me a set of rules to start with. They're confident that I can reach my goal of losing 100lbs by next summer as long as I stick with the classes & my diet. 

This is huge. I see a faint glimmer of my old self. I will find her again. Watch out world, here I come!! 

Who wins the world? MOMS!!

Pardon the lack of communications. I've been a tad busy. I actually meant to post several times but the words were...gone. Where to start.

I have hidden behind the keyboard far too long. I've let myself get wrapped up in my own disease until it's left me strangled. No more.

I spent the last weekend with 200 moms & dad's from all over the country. I'm the Communications Lead/Advocacy Interim for the OK chapter of Moms Demand Action for Gun Sense in America. I listened to brave survivors tell their stories. I met women who'd lost their children....their babies for Gods sake... Whether it was gun violence or a car crash, the fact remained, they'd lost their babies. I have mine. Both of them. Three are in Gods arms after miscarriages etc...but I have my babies. I'm a survivor though, & that created a bond, made me part of a family no one wants to be a part of.

We lose 33 people a day to gun violence. 8 of those are kids. With statistics like these, how can we NOT act??? Were it a disease, we would be all up in the CDC's ass to find a cure, a vaccine. But we're talking bullets, not cells & bacteria. And along with fossil fuels, America is drunk on it's almost pornographic adoration of guns & the NRA. People see this as a black & white issue, it's not. Unless you've been convicted of a violent crime, we don't want your guns. We want enforcement of laws, expanded background checks, & an end to private sales & the gun show loopholes. For the average Joe, that means maybe an extra form to fill out. Is it so hard to do that or do you want the blood of more children on YOUR hands?

We are serious. Times up. For 30 years the leadership of the NRA has turned this issue into a disaster that keeps replaying in thousands of homes a year. It's time to let Moms fix this issue. I encourage you to find your local chapter, go to the moms website or Everytown site & get involved!!!

Calm....still

I know it's a matter of time. My anxiety is thru the roof, & the night terrors are bad. I'm sleeping a lot due to waking up so frequently. I need to blow my top, & soon. 

Sounds weird I know, but the release is necessary if I'm to function. Until then.... 

Hatred

Hot burning hatred. Hurts my soul. Steals my peace. Needs release. 

I made it thru an evening out without melting down despite having been jolted by unseen approaches, pats on the back or shoulder, etc... The Rage is still there, bubbling, boiling, waiting to blow the top in nuclear fashion. 

I have training end week in Denver with an amazing group of women with a common goal to end gun violence. Sadly I won't be the only PTSD survivor there, but should I melt down there, I know a couple of ladies who'll care for me. I want it out of me now. Before I leave. Before I smother in my own pain & anger. 

The Letters....

Dear Paul,

I didn't know what a penis looked like, I didn't know what you expected a 4 year old to do with it, but you tried anyway. You caused a fracture in my world, cost me the ability to trust ANYONE & caused a chasm in my relationship with my dad. You gave my mother a reason, an excuse, to play the martyr at my expense. You caused me hell for years, making me feel like I'd never be safe, making me feel like all men were dicks. 

Dear Mason,

Fuck you. My hatred for you burns like acid on my soul. I should have gone with my gut, J said you were a creeper, but I was vulnerable & you took advantage of that. Fuck you fuck you fuck YOU!!! I tried to forget The Trauma. I can't. Every year, you regain the upper hand on March 6. You've taken beautiful parts of life & made them humiliating & gross. I've searched the casualty lists, I never found you. I wish I had. But knowing that maybe, somewhere out there, you relive battle nightmares from one war or another, makes me giggly. I hate you & hope you suffer thru life like the piece of shit that you are. 

(This is all I have today. I waited too long, this is a different set of letters that I'd wanted to write. I'm raw & super hyper-anxious today. Praying for release in a healthy manner.... Remember The Rage? I'm close...)

Activism on the Gun Front Lines

I'm an advocate for stricter gun legislation. Raised by a cop, married into the ARMY to a momma's boy who was taught to hunt & fish for survival. Neato. We own guns. Legally. If my government wanted me to register these guns, I would with no hesitation.  

Everyone says Sandy Hook changed their life, made them into activists, got them fired up. For me it was a long combination- from my Trauma, to Columbine when my oldest was 2 months old, to a shooting at a Oklahoma school, to starting my career in EMS/nursing. Ah nursing...

This is the lynch pin. This is the icing on the cake, straw that broke the camels back, end all be all. August 2002 I had my first GSV (gun shot victim) who happened to come thru the cardiac ICU where I'd started working. Dude was 27, had 3 kids, there were fights & words in the waiting room... The aorta was toast & couldn't hold a repair. He died. His moms wails haunt me to this day.

Not just his moms tho. It's been a long 13 year career in EMS/nursing. I've heard families fall apart numerous times, in numerous ways, but always always ALWAYS there's that one....voice. That one that penetrates every fiber of your being. Mom, sister, wife, father, daughter... That wail. Every time. 

Hold tight to your values. If God & guns are your religion, fine, but my values are my right to be safe, for my children to be safe from gun violence, & that we don't have to experience "That Wail" ever again. 

Getting it OUT

The Toxics are what I dread. I get hit with them fast, like a ton of lead weight. It starts with a small crack in happy. You would miss it even if you knew me inside & out. Quickly it permeates my mood, turning me into a depressed, moody, angry person. This can stay that way for days before The Rage. Sometimes I can hide The Toxics all the way up to the The Rage but it always comes. Always. 

I'm ashamed that my kids have lived in fear at times. We all joke about my epic temper but there's an underlying ugliness. I've broken things, said heinous things, & acted a fool. Once The Rage is over, depression takes hold or I can return to Ground Zero Happiness. 

This is common with us PTSD folk. I'm not alone in this. Coping skills & attempts at battling only make things worse. I have hope that as time goes on, I learn to manage The Toxics & Rage better. 

Flashbacks = kryptonite

Last night was my birthday. We were at a local bar having drinks, throwing darts. Great time. Then suddenly all the noise was sucked from the room. I could see my friends around me having a good time, but I wasn't "tuned in". I was reliving my Trauma. 

Not all flashbacks are the same. Some are mere inconveniences. Some are debilitating. Last night I managed to squeak out my husbands name loud enough to get him to me. He handles this amazingly well. Gently. Calmly. I won't say I handled the incident well because I was drinking A LOT. 

Just be there folks. Whether it's me, or someone else, just be there. If they/I say back off, I'm not doing it to hurt you. None of what happens is about you. It's about us & what we are reliving. Love & patience is key. 

Birthdays

I don't know, I guess even when my meds are working & I'm "happy", birthdays just aren't all they used to be. Even my birthday- 4 months after the anniversary of The Trauma- is a reminder of what happened. This is just the insight of today for me. 

I love my family & friends & co-activists who've wished me well, I love that yesterday Germany won the World Cup, I love that my daughter wants to spend time with me (she's 12, that's rare). I don't have a reason to be unhappy. 

Something is just always "off". Happy 36th to me though. Tonight we celebrate with darts & bier & friends. I will have no complaints. I just wish it was less stressy. 

Not A Post for My Parents...

Since my attack threw up in my life in 2010 I've had no sex drive. This is apparently common. I wish it wasn't, but it is. 

Meds don't help either. They make things almost impossible to "work". 

Between flashbacks, the lack of desire, low self esteem, meds making things not blast off, etc... This might ruin my marriage. We've been thru hell but this is like oxygen to my marriage & right now, I'm suffocating. 

Therapist said to "cut off the crusts", basically throw him a bone because I love him but that's not a solution. I seriously feel repulsed. This is an area where I need fixing. This needs to be a non-issue. Science needs to help a sista out. 

*sigh* I know I keep promising those letters. Soon, I swear, I'm just not quite as "there" as I'd like to be. 

Happy Places, Happy Faces

Those with PTSD need an escape. Sometimes we suck at making healthy choices- I feed my feelings fried food & chocolate- I'm also a recovering addict of 13+ years (GO ME!!! Keep comin back, it works if ya work it). I hit a nervous breakdown of EPIC proportion in April. The kind that will be remembered in my family for years to come. Legendary, epic, total & complete meltdown. I had one escape- docent training at the local zoo. 13 people, all passionate about animals & conservation, keeping my mind away from the DANGER!!! signs. 

I've since graduated the docent program. Actually graduated May 9, left for Europe May 10. Happy place #2 but my first choice ALWAYS is Europe. I spent a week in the Czech Republic (meh), 4 days in Vienna (stunning), 8 days in Berchtesgaden & Salzburg, 3 days in Füssen where Neuschwanstein & Hohenschwangau castles are located, 5 days in Amtzell where my family is & my incubator was birthed, & 5 days in Hamburg saying good bye to my tante (aunt) & seeing my older but sufficiently cooler cousins. All that travel. All. By. My. Self. 

If you're a survivor reading this, I've just graduated to a level of badassery that one only dreams of. It was amazing. It was empowering to maneuver my way thru strange places, different languages, really weird food, all left to my own devices. Bad. Ass. 

I realize that Euorope isn't practical for all y'all. I realize for some, happy places are in your 4 walls. Some PTSD sufferers are agoraphobic. I've been there. I have to watch myself to NOT get there. Point is, we all need to find that one spot that makes us tick, makes us feel anything other than fear/anxiety/depression. 

What's yours? 

"Get over it"

3 words that will send me into a blind rage that makes a charging momma grizzly look like a tame kitten. Get over it? Gee why didn't I think of that? You mean all this time, all I needed to do was turn off the crazy like a switch? Well, your Masters in McDonalds must make you qualified to tell me how to run my life. 

Things I need- 

• To know you're not leaving

• Support

• Guidance

• Time

Things I don't need-

• Judgement 

• Suffocating 

• Telling me to take my meds when I'm having an off day

• See the title of the blog

This is my reality. I live in my head. I relive memories as vividly as the day it happened. I try to do normal things but some days, I can not. Some days I need my space. In fact, I'm one who does better on my own, with my mind occupied & less responsibility. This has caused me to be labeled a "bad mom".  If I'm elevated, a nervous wreck, in a constant depressed state, unplugged from their day to day lives but living at home, that makes me a "good" mom? As opposed to living apart some, getting space, being my own person & actively involving myself when I'm mentally able? 

I may do things differently than the "normal" person or the next guy with PTSD, but this is me. 

I promise next time I will get to the letters.... 

Medication Hell

I'm on 17 different meds a day. Pain meds, depression meds, anxiety meds, sleeping meds, ADD meds & meds for neuropathy. I'm a walking pharmacy.

It's dawned on me recently, & more often in frequency, that I could lose most, if not all of my meds if weed were legalized. Now, I'm in Oklahoma, where we sell 3.2% beer & you have to buy wine from a liquor store. Marijuhana legalization is probably not going to happen for at least 50 years in my state.

As a teen, I smoked pot. Not my proudest moments but, ya know.... I don't like the way it made me feel & smoking it is kinda bad for my asthma. It occurs to me that, with the legalization in other states & other methods of delivery, if we could legalize it here, even if just medicinally, I could potentially solve most of my problems. My anxiety & depression, my pain, my nausea...poof.

I'd love for this to end happily for me. My meds have caused me to gain 100 lbs, have screwed with other functions, & has cost me a fortune.

This was just a thought running thru my head today as I lay writhing in pain & anxious from the night terrors. Oklahoma has an advocate for legalization or decriminalization- Connie Johnson. I do so hope you'll join me in helping her get elected starting in August.

More acronyms!!!!

PTSD is the kingpin in my mental illness BUT I'm also ADD with OCD.  This leads to....quirks.

• My food can't touch.
• M&M's & Skittles have to be separated & eaten in a certain way. Specific colors. Never mixing.
• I can eat one food at a time, always in the same order. IE- fries, then the burger.
• I can sit through a 2 hour movie until the last 10 minutes. Then I'm done. I get bored, I can't think of finishing the movie, I don't care, I just give up. Even the best movies. Every. Single. Time.
• I love crafts. I have yet to finish more than 2 out of dozens.
• No wire hangars. Not because of "Mommie Dearest" but because of the sound they make on the rack.
• I have to sleep away from the door. Maybe that's a combo of the OCD & PTSD? If someone breaks in, they'll have to kill Spouse to get to me.

There's more, much much more, but basically I think I'm a well rounded fruit loop. (Get it? LOL!)

Another day, another night terror

Ah one of the highlights of PTSD. Imagine, you're sleeping next to your love, cuddled up contentedly dreaming of tulips & unicorns. Your love however, is reliving their trauma. The next thing you know, your love is screaming in agony & fear.

Feeling terrified, as if you've just relived the worst moment in your life, is terrifying. Waking up confused, not remembering your own bed, not remembering the touch of the one trying to comfort you. Night terrors are a bitch. Flashbacks are too. They come with the territory. Kind of "love me, love my insanity".

Now, triggers. For me it's black men with a certain build, "Under the Bridge", any rape scenes or almost rape scenes on tv/movies, being touched from behind specifically on my right shoulder but anywhere on my back, special forces, older model step-side Chevy's, gas stations especially at night, and big hunting knives. I've melted down at Academy & Bass Pro. I've most it in the car feeling frozen to the point where I can't change the station.

The other down side to this is, evidently since I already have PTSD I'm more prone to developing other triggers. Like when I caught the patient who ruined my back & career. I tried getting back into patient care. I was so scared of being around patients, I was missing easy "sticks" (I'd transferred to phlebotomy briefly). Even babies scared me. Any tragedy, any trauma, is a new door to new triggers & new fears.

I can tackle one at a time. My current therapist is really working with me on coping skills but it's kinda a slap in the face when a new symptom appears.

And by the way, last nights night terror? Was about the loss of a dog in April. Everything traumatic is a trigger. Now what?

The Trauma aka "sonofabitch"

March 6, 1998. My girlfriend Mich had come to Nashville with her boyfriend Jacob. It was her 21st birthday so we planned to live it up. I was DD which was fine since she had a 1997 BMW convertible. We had a plan. Spouse & I had been fighting, in fact that night, he spent with his new girlfriend aka Gutter Slut. So off I went to meet Mich at her hotel, picked up her & her car plus another fiend who lived in Nashville. Dropped them off on Broadway, took the top off (it was 67*) & cruised around for about an hour while they went to collect her birthday drinks. I stopped to get gas somewhere around Glitter Gulch & ran into my ex boyfriend Jason's roomie. They were Special Forces. They liked to brag about their badassery & how they find stuff out, scout, are trained to kill etc... So Mason (Jason's roomie--- I don't think that was his 1st name) said hey, I went over to chat. He was kind. I talked about my bullshit marriage (at the time) & he was empathetic, even rubbing my back. The attention was welcome & felt wonderful to feel cared for.

We talked a bit more & as I went to leave he leaned in for a kiss. I pushed him away & told him we were just friends. I don't remember how but somehow I ended up face down on the bench seat of his red late 50's Chevy truck. His "big ass hunting knife" was pressed against my neck. To this day when I get anxious, when I have flashbacks or night terrors, I rub my neck where I can still feel the cold blade. "Torn" by Natalie Ambruglia was playing, or just ending, "Under the Bridge" by Red Hot Chili Peppers came on. I remember watching this happen to me but feeling it all the same. "Don't forget me bitch. You know you like the kinky shit, I heard you & Morgan [Jason] fucking. I don't care bout your husband, he's just infantry, I will kill him & make it look like an accident. You tell one fucking person and I will kill everyone you love while you watch". Verbatim. I still feel his breath on my skin, I feel his teeth as he bites the hell out of my shoulder. Before the Red Hot Chili Peppers song was over, so was the attack. I had a small handgun in my hippie bag which was slung across my shoulders. Before & during the attack I had no opportunity to use it, nor do I think I could have. Afterward I just wanted away.

I didn't even get gas. I pulled up to the Stage to get Mich & she knew so etching was wrong. She forced me to go to the hospital. I sat in the backseat with my head in her lap. Jacob drove. I refused to get out of the car at Baptist Hospital. Finally, when Mich said I could use a different name, I got out. The police have a record of Leslie Osborn. Not Erika Quinn or Willis. I felt that anonymity would save me. It allowed me more disassociation. By 6:45 am I was heading home to Oak Grove. When our visiting company saw me, they too figured something bad happened. Finally, Spouse's best friend coerced the event out of me. He called Spouse to tell him I'd "been taken".

Needless to say, the drive Spouse & I took was ugly. He didn't understand the meaning of "being taken" & I was still reeling & terrified. Finally we talked, or I screamed & ran off. That apparently made him feel guilty. He ended it with Gutter Slut & we started to try to heal. Chaplains helped but then I got pregnant (which I lost), & was pregnant again 2 months later. Life just happened. Once a year for 12 years I allowed myself a day, the anniversary, to feel & mourn.

In 2010 something snapped. Suddenly my rape was all around me. It consumed my life. I began seeing a rape counselor AND our marriage counselor quit seeing us as a couple to focus on me. Intensive therapy twice a week. Slowly the band aid came off. It's still coming off.

I make progress constantly. It never goes away though. I challenge myself to sit with my back to the door. My prejudice against black men is gone. I'm working on my hatred of Special Forces. I trigger easily. I've found that sharing my story helps. Talking about it helps.

To be continued: next topic- my letter to Paul & my letter to Mason....

Teenage me vs grown up me

After my GED I took off. First I sold magazines door to door, I danced at a couple local clubs, then I got the dream job at Hooters. Hooters was hell. Or, the girls were. I got hired & transferred to Nashville within 2 weeks. Loved Nashville. Dated a few soldiers from Ft. Campbell, started spending weekends up there, got a DUI so I was kinda forced to stay in the area. Got a job at Sonic, met Spouse Jan 13,1998 & married him Jan 31, 1998. 18 days.

It's sucked at times. We fought for our individualities, we couldn't just "break up", babies came, life happened. 16 & 1/2 years later, it still works.

The Trauma happened 34 days into my marriage, at the most intensely impossible time in our marriage. We were, for all intents & purposes, done. His best friends girlfriend was in town staying with us, he was off with his own girlfriend (it was a bad time), I was looking for ways out & felt horrible.

The Trauma happened. (More on that later....)

Babies came, we moved to Idaho & back to Oklahoma (I've found people in Idaho to be really nasty rude!!) . I went to school, became a paramedic, worked odd jobs as well (bait shops, blackjack dealer), & started to reevaluate my dreams. My own dreams.

I'm now at a cross roads. It's going to be a very big move, upheaval, life change but I feel good about it & am making this decision for the good of the family.

Growing old is mandatory, growing up, optional. I'm choosing to do a bit of both. Continued tomorrow with: The Trauma

Part Two & 9/10ths

I have a math problem. Have since 5th grade. So much so that I can not balance a checkbook to the penny, or the dollar even. I'm content to get within $5 over/under. This doesn't bode well with my OCD which thank GODS has nothing to do with numbers. I have a friend who's OCD does & man....he makes me look sane. (Typed without a straight face cause, let's face it, he's not blogging about his insanity...)

So 5th grade. I got my first B. Like, ever. I'm a genius & have the IQ scores to prove it. But in 5th grade my dad got kicked out & while my mother was moving his boxes out, she was moving another man's tighty whiteys IN. For this, my sisters & I stayed with my grumpa for a week. Yes, grumpa. Not a typo. I'm genius remember? I gotta give mother credit. She was a dancer of the ballroom variety before she met my dad & at some point must have perfected tap dancing because my memories of age 10-11 were riddled with a revolving door she swears doesn't exist. Pssht. -> ME <- genius REMEMBER?! One night my dad was over for dinner. It seemed like maybe reconciliation. He even said to 10 year old me, "Maybe your mom & I can make this work after all". Oh daddy... So he leaves & within 15-30 minutes the yellow Ford pulled in where the black Blazer had been. Dessert had arrived. This was the night my dad kicked in the bottom of the screen door because he was so livid. My next door neighbor, who's mom detested me, even allowed me to have sour cream & onion Pringles & my first cappuccino. They were Italian, we were German...my mom & hers didn't like each other, I was often fallout from their decade old feud but I enjoyed the chips. Took me another 20 years before I'd have another cappuccino. Yes, it was ALL "that bad". After the chips & coffee my mother took me for a walk to my boundary (like 5 houses away?) & told me her & my dad were divorcing & it was because he was a dangerous man. She was going to make sure he "never" hurt us girls. (I pause for an extra long sigh & eye roll that I inherited & picked up from my dad because it's a good place for such) ...............siiiiiighhhhhh...............eye roll.

So, school starts, I get the dreaded B, my dad wasn't pleased but my mom said, "it's ok, I expect your grades to suffer some while there is a divorce going on". To ME this translated to "I'm giving you this opportunity to screw off & ignore grades, they don't mean much anyway since your family is falling apart". She might have even said that, I don't know. Fuzzy memories and all. 6th grade, I'm at a new school with only 3 people I know, none of whom like me. My mother is marrying the yellow Ford man, Kevin, who had just bailed on HIS wife for another mans wife. Oh, and HIS wife had a brand new baby who Kevin didn't meet until just recently. I'm 36 y'all. Priorities. But I'm the maid of honor & wore some ugly second hand dress that was more for going to pilgrim school than a wedding but ok. This whole time I hear stories of how my dad is violent & scary. He had a temper, I knew that since I inherited it as well. I'd never seen him be violent to her, though now I kinda wish I had....sigh.

So since I flunked 6th grade (because after all, I was fragile & sad) I was moved schools. I got a little better but before the first quarter of 7th grade was over, I  had moved in with my dad, never to return to my mothers. Here's where the abuse comes in: I was living with my dad who was in school. My mothers lawyer ruined him financially so we were living with my grandma. She is awesome. My dad tried to get the child support modified or temporary guardianship, that bitch wouldn't give an inch. She was ALWAYS telling him how she was the custodial parent, so on my dad goes, paying child support for me when I lived with him. I became ammunition. A pawn. She fired the first shots, he finally fired back but by then, I was moving on. At 15 I went to a group home followed by moving in with boyfriends. Abusive boyfriends.

Teenage life is hard enough without that mess, but I made it & am determined to not repeat that with my children.

To be continued.... Aka "The Posts That Become Interesting"

My Story Part One

First born to a woman who was seeking a sugar daddy. He honorably married her & for the first 6 years of my life, I was the princess. At 4 I was molested while my grandma took her car thru the car wash. Her car leaked & she was a trusting woman. I was a spoiled brat & knew that I'd get a pop or candy for waiting. Instead I got a penis in my face. My recollection of this is splotchy. I remember less about the incident & more about the trauma of the prosecution. Even a 4 year old gets treated like a felon on the stand. I remember the line-up. I remember my mother acting like a victim (crying, "how can this be happening" blah blah). I remember putting on my purple dress with ruffles & waiting in a room with my mother & a couple grown ups. I remember the courtroom & sitting on a booster seat & seeing "Paul", which I'm pretty sure is his name but not 100%. I remember his face. I remember his ugly penis. I remember uncomfortable questions & saying words that embarrassed me. Penis. Vagina. Vulva. Bottom. "What did it taste like?" from the man sitting by Paul. I remember.

Maybe I should mention that my dad and mother were Tulsa Auxillary Police Officers. There was ALWAYS police at my house. I remember names, faces, ohmygod CANDY!!! Now I know that after I was molested, the officers were there to pity me. This happened to one of their OWN officers' kids. How? Protect & serve?  I wonder how many of them felt responsible. I knew what Paul did was bad, because of what I'd been told. I didn't care though (at the time) because I got candy & time with grandmas & toys & my dad paid attention to me. It wasn't the worst of times.

So there was that. I went to my first therapist then. Dr. Schwartz. Then I saw a woman named Kitty. I liked her better because we played games & I had Tootsie Rolls. After time went on, the attention went away, my mom had to find a way to go on so she got knocked up. Reflecting on it now, my dad wasn't around a whole lot, I think the marriage was in trouble (because when you marry out of "honor" because you knocked some slut up, nothing could go wrong, especially when trauma strikes). So entrapment baby 2 was born....

To be continued.....

Testing 1, 2, 75

I hate moving blogs. After pouring my soul out on another site, they went down & now I'm starting from scratch. Again.

I am a survivor in case you missed that. I'm a gun sense legislation advocate, I'm a mom, I'm a former paramedic, I'm a dog lover. I'm a lot of things. I have severe ADD on top of my fabulous PTSD. Both bring about depression & anxiety. Frankly, my psychiatrist deserves a gold star. Or a billion dollars. He's awesome. But my therapist....

Not just one therapist. Several. Many. A lot. I've done group therapy, inpatient, outpatient, weekly, bi-weekly, monthly, & whenever the hell I wanted. My current therapist is an angel. She's amazing. She's sweet. She's been out of college a couple years & is still eager. I like her.

This will be a mess of blogs. Maybe daily for a while since I have to play catch up, probably at least weekly once we know each other. I'm always open to questions, suggestions, etc...

My life is one big trigger. What I post is what's in my head & might be hard for some to read. Just keep that in mind. Let's do this!!