My scars are showing

I woke up this morning feeling like the evil inside of me was up to my eyeballs and soon my husband and everyone would see it...how long can I keep hiding what I am?  I don't know where this is coming from!  It might be the stress of having a visitor or it could be the 2:30 am wake up call from Maddie!  I get this way when I am tired.  All the surface things can't seem to hold up and I feel stripped down without a defense or a support.

I once again find myself in a battle with the in-laws.  Diane can't understand why I don't trust everyone that she trusts.  I am not sure what in our relationship ever pointed to my being able to trust in abundance!  In her eyes this is wrong.  I am wrong!  I can forgive the past and I am closer than ever...but why would I ever forget it?  For one thing it helps other people for me to remember what it feels like to feel pain so deep you feel like it has become you.  Our pasts create a commodore and a bond...a very special bond.  As we move beyond the past we carry each other along over the good days and the bad.  No, I will never forget...I will never be normal and I like that.  I trust the woman who read these posts.  There is no doubt about that.  I just get so so so so tired of being wrong.  I get so exhausted from trying to live up to standards that are unattainable.  I am never going to be sweet, quiet, or sensitive like my sisters-in-law.  It would be so refreshing to be told things that are good about me...things I am doing right.  There has to be something...right?!

Having my sister here, although exhausting, is quite validating.  I don't think I have ever cooked so many meals back to back in my life!  But I watch her go about her day.  I see that she doesn't offer to do dishes or help me in the kitchen...now that doesn't bother me or shock me at all.  I was and still am the same way.  To us, those things were punishments.  In our house chores were...like breathing.  They were 24/7 and very tedious and stressful.  Often times me were made to repeat them for whatever reason she could pull out of her manipulative mind.  Chores caused fear and anxiety.  They were solid proof we were worthless..."I can't even clean the floor right!"  Because chores like these were and are still saturated in anxiety...we avoid them if there is a chance for failure.  I have been accused more than once in the Warden family of avoiding "work".  Try explaining to someone why washing dishes makes you feel like you are going to have a panic attack!!  They will never understand that.  So, yes, watching my sister is validating.  She also just doesn't think that way.  We were never given a chance to offer to help.  It just never came up...we were violently told to clean this and clean that.  We were told we were disgusting and made to clean up after ourselves...thus the feeling of being a greasy, smelly, bloated bum was attached to household chores...um, again, try to relay that feeling to a "normal" person!  I can recall that most Saturdays we were woken very early by my mother screaming at us to get downstairs and clean up the house or to clean our rooms...vacuum, scrub the floor, do the dishes...(is anyone else flashing back to Cinderella?).  Talk about anxiety and fear from sun up to sun down.  The weekends were the worst because our days didn't have the interruption of school.  This is where I come from...and now I try to live in a world with expectations weighing heavy.  I often feel like I am running a race with only one leg...but no one can see I am missing a leg or they just don't care.  "She's had all this time to recover lets start living life like the rest of us!"  I can't live like the author of the Tutu blog in the real world or the world of the Warden's.  I had found a balance though.  I can pretend or just keep my feelings out of my interactions with them.  Since I don't really want to share that part of my heart with them...it was working and it felt good.  I pretended to be normal and I even felt normal.  I came here when things hurt me or bothered me...worked through it...and kept moving on.  Am I wrong here?  It kept the peace!  We even spent a night at Joel and Angie's house and there was NO PROBLEMS!!!  Can you believe it???  I separated the "tutu" in me from the "Warden" in me...and it was peaceful.  I know this isn't trusting the Warden's...but I say again, it was peaceful!  I don't know that I want to move away from this system!  I fill myself up with these posts and your responses.  I am just filled up in every corner.  It feels so unsafe to let the Warden's back in...because I will mess up again and I will feel wrong again.  Ugh, I don't want to go back there.  What would you do?

A restoration unforseen

Most of you know that my sister Rebecca is in Toccoa for a few weeks.  I am sitting in my living room right now.  Everyone is asleep.  My son is curled up on one couch...and my sister is stretched out on the other couch.  I stared at them for a long while.  It doesn't seem...probable.  All that has been suffered over her life and mine...compared, we should not be so calm.  We should no be so easy going.  The weight we have each carried would bring the strongest man to his knees...but yet here we are, together, sharing a roof...sharing meals...sharing my children.  Restoration, unexpected and unforseen.  Last night, after a long but fun day, we all struggled to keep our eyes open.  She laid her head on my shoulder.  I had forgotten how touchy she was.  I am not someone who likes to be touched..at all!!  Anyway, she laid her head on my shoulder and I thought, "This has been too easy!".  We picked up where we left off.  It seems as if the last 5 years has not separated us at all.  Oddly, it prevokes a small unnerving feeling in me.  I am not the sister she saw 5 years ago.  Does she notice that?  Should that bother me?  It won't ruin this time...but I wonder if all I have been through in the last 5 years makes the difference to the ones who matter most. 

She arrived Wednesday morning early.  She had never met my kids so when I had to go in and take Eli to the potty she walked into the kids room.  Eli saw her and did a total (and totally obvious) double take.  We just laughed together.  I don't know that my kids have seen many black people...and I can assure you no black people in their room at night.  She enjoys them so much.  They are still warming up to having to share their house and their mom.  Maddie will snuggle with Aunt Becca a few times a day!  That makes Becca's day...of course<3

Say it isn't so!

On Sunday our small group at church got to talking about what we thought Hell really was or what it would be like.  It was such an interesting topic...it inevitably lead to what Heaven would be like.  Since no one knows the exact details of these places it leaves so much to the imagination.  I wonder if that is what God intended so that each place ends up being beyond our imaginations. 

Our group leader asked us to describe what we thought hell would be like in one word.  I felt like I had a lot to say...as if my life in abuse and even before recovery was a small taste of hell.  How could I sum up all of that in one word?  There was pain, anger, confusion...but what would it be like to live in that "state" for all eternity?  What would it be like to have no more hope...not even a small spec...not even the hope that tomorrow wouldn't be as bad?  Sorrow....complete sorrow.  That is my one word to describe what Hell would be for me...sorrow.  A sorrow that was all within me...a sorrow I could feel in my bones.  I don't have to worry about sorrow like that!  People I know though may have nothing but eternal sorrow!

Someone mentioned the phrase in the Bible, "There will be a new Heaven and a new Earth".  It was suggested that we may very well be living in a place similar to where we are now...and all that that entails but with new bodies (PRAISE GOD!!!).  As this person went on a scary thought hit me.  Where would God be?  I knew the facts but I had to ask.  Wouldn't God be where we (the saved) were?  I was reassured but what a scary thought.  Isn't that what this life is for?  I struggle and I fight in this life knowing that I will rest in heaven.  I don't fight to earn a spot in heaven.  It doesn't work that way.  I fight to "convince" my children that God is worth the fight.  I fight to show my sister what love looks like.  I fight to light the path for the rest in pain looking at a future of sorrow.  After I enter heaven I can do no more...but I wait there for my children and there children...and there children...  I have this one life to convince others that the sorrows of this life are only temporary.  We feel pain and dark days always come.  Take joy in what you'll learn, eventually, from those trials and look forward to your time to rest and wait for the rewards...the lives you've touched.

Today was a good start to my Easter weekend! I was getting the kids dressed after their baths this morning. Eli picked out his shirt and started putting it on by himself. I turned to finish Maddie's hair and all the sudden I hear my son say, "I di yit!"...translation, "I did it!". Clear as day to me my son said a full sentence!! I pour the praise on heavily. I asked him to put his pants on. I handed him the right ones and turned again to put Maddie's shoes on (multitasking queen!!!!). All the sudden I heard the same, "I di yit!". He ran up to me with his pants on backwards...I just laughed and praised him again! He probably had no clue I was more excited for his words than him dressing himself. He has been dressing himself for a while but today it just seemed...better! He could be proud of himself and communicate his accomplishment!

So proud!!

I have had a good day...well most of my family could claim this as a good day for themselves. Rebecca called me last night saying she was nervous...she was going to talk to the detective in charge of the case against my mother and my brother. She felt guilty for not being loyal to her mother and her brother. She was afraid of getting sick during the interview. She was a mess. We talked about what would happen during this interview. I recalled what questions he had asked me so she could feel a little more prepared. I told her what made me call social services four and a half years ago. I knew what was going on in that house even though I hadn't spoken to any of them in 5 months...I felt a heaviness on me, a burden, to tell the truth. I had to get it out...like a moral obligation to stop something bad from happening. I had a responsibility to help those who couldn't help themselves...they were counting on me. I knew I could never face them 10 to 20 years down the road when they came to me and asked why I hadn't done anything to save them. What would I say...what would have been the truth by then, that I was too scared and too selfish to face the fear of my mother...even the fear that I would lose them forever. It was clear...it was the right thing to do. It almost felt easy to hold my fears and still know that the right would...well that it would just work out. In love I let them all go knowing somehow God was at hand and was going to clean up the mess. I told Rebecca that after she did what she could she would feel great. It would be a burden lifted and she'd feel lighter. She wouldn't have to hold onto the pain anymore. We could all rest in knowing my mother could not take in any more children and Preston would never be allowed to harm another child...ever! It would end with them and we could all move on from there. I told her to do it for herself knowing that someday she could rejoice in knowing she had stopped anyone else from being abused.

She sent me a text this morning thanking me for our talk and saying that she slept very well. She hadn't been feeling sick all morning although she was still nervous. I asked her to call me after she was done at the police station. When we finally spoke she sounded so...refreshed! She even said herself that she had done a good job. I laughed! She felt great! She said that the detective could see a difference in her because she was smiling now. He asked her the things I had prepared her for but then she said she just started spilling out other stuff. She had been afraid that she would clam up and not remember anything...that isn't what happened! She opened up and felt so much better. She was even excited and was so thankful she had gotten it all out. I told her I was so very proud of her. Just three months ago she called me one afternoon...in secret afraid she would get in trouble. Now here she was talking to the police about what she had endured. Amazing! She is looking at the future possibility of facing my brother in court and having to talk about what he did to her. I try to help her take it one day at a time. We can work on that over the next few months.

She is opposed to counseling. Boy, does that sound familiar. She told me that while she was in foster care she would have to go to these places and play with toys or draw. The people there would ask her why she was drawing what she drew and why she played with dolls or whatever else. they were trying to get her to open up but she shut down instead. She said it was because she still wanted to go home. I think it was just easier and felt safer to keep it all to herself. I always opposed counseling and resented those who asked me to go because that was for "crazy people". How dare someone say that to me. Why couldn't people just leave me alone...stay away from me if they didn't like what they saw in me. I was so offended and every time someone suggested counseling another brick went into the wall between me and the world! In the end I had to be "tricked" into going! I don't know what it will take to get Rebecca to want to talk to someone but that is my new goal. I want to see freedom in my sister...though after today I see her on her way!

A new song...

It has been a long week since Eli's surgery. Wednesday we met with a speech therapist. A sweet woman who has taken a liking to my son...did everything to avoid the phrase "learning disability". We know maybe why he is so far behind but in the technical sense he has a learning disability. He has to be put in this category so they know what to do with and for him. It makes me shutter! Of course no one wants this for their kids. I was so thankful we could rule out autism before we walked through the door. I know it could be worse and that echoes in my heart when I see other children that have passed over Eli in development. I can be thankful he can look into my eyes sometimes and that he loves to get dirty...he is normal at most things. At times it is hard to swallow that my son will struggle so early with learning. Three years old should be all about dirt and dinosaurs...not speech therapy and home exercises. I hate having to list what words he does say and then have to write the phonetic way he pronounces those words. I was driving home yesterday from dropping Eli off at school wondering why I send him there at all. It hasn't helped and he just gets lost in all the other kids who can speak to the teacher and go home and tell their moms about their fun morning. I wish there was a physical way to unlock the ability to speak that is lost somewhere inside my son. I want the quick fix. I want to hear my baby speak!! I was annoyed with myself for being so upset and so gloomy over all of this. I put too much worth in this early learning challenge for Eli. I struggled all through school and college. Evan has a learning disability (ADHD) and also struggled through school. We both know the emotional toll that learning challenges can have on your self esteem...these often lasts many years into adulthood. Why our son? We know a little of the road ahead for him and it comes with pain. Oh how we had hoped this would not be the road for our children. Madeline seems to excel and catch on to things rather quickly. Another kick at Eli's self esteem as he might see things come easy to his sister while he struggles. Again, I was annoyed that I had become "that" mother. I was already preparing for my son to be a less than average student...after one meeting with a speech therapist. I know my struggles in school have left me extra sensitive to wanting better for my children. I couldn't figure out what my problem was. Eli was still the same boy and needed me now as much as he had needed me the first months of his life when my body was what gave him life and then sustained it. I knew the road ahead wouldn't be easy but I laughed when I remembered that breastfeeding was more challenging than childbirth! I remembered holding him in my lap and crying over him because he wouldn't latch on. I cried during every feeding afraid my son would die because he wasn't getting what he needed to live. (Hormones make you a little nutts). Then one day...he just got it and he never looked back! Eli has always been that way. Once he gets something right, in his own time, he just takes it and runs. It is as if he never remembers a time when he couldn't do something...he has no hesitation. I need to have faith in my son and in God who knows why all this happened. As I turned onto my street I heard a song on the radio and the first few verses unlocked that door that holds back my tears...why do I keep locking that door?

"Before the Morning" by Josh Wilson

Do you wonder why you have to
Feel the things that hurt you
If there’s a God who loves you where is He now

Maybe there are things you can’t see
And all those things are happening
To bring a better ending

Someday somehow you’ll see you’ll see

Would you dare would you dare to believe
That you still have a reason to sing
Cause the pain that you’ve been feeling
It can’t compare to the joy that’s coming
So hold on you gotta wait for the light
Press on and just fight the good fight
Cause the pain that you’ve been feeling
It’s just the dark before the morning

My friend you know how this all ends
You know where you’re going
You just don’t know how you’ll get there
So say a prayer

And hold on cause there’s good for those who love God
But life is not a snapshot
It might take a little time but you’ll see the bigger picture

Once you feel the weight of glory
All your pain will fade to memory

It’s just the hurt before the healing
Oh the pain that you’ve been feeling
It’s just the dark before the morning

Do you wonder why you have to feel the things that hurt you. If there’s a God who loves you where is He now? Maybe there are things you can’t see. And all those things are happening to bring a better ending. Someday somehow you’ll see. Story of my life...literally! I have said before and I will say it again...I wouldn't change the things that have happened to me...not for all the money in the world. I'd never trade the pain for what I have learned and for the woman I am becoming. I could never look at my daughter and just tear up in joy of her freedom if I hadn't been abused as a little girl. I couldn't feel the pride in my son when he does little things to help his sister...I couldn't look forward to the man he'll become if I didn't know what it was like to have no one have any hope for me...it just wouldn't mean the same.

There is a small tunnel down the road from our house. I have walked through it once during an overcast day. I remember the goosebumps covering my skin as I stepped out of the sun into the shadow of the tunnel. The dirt and dead leaves make the inside if the tunnel very unappealing and a little scary. There was, of course, light at the end of the tunnel and the sunlight soon warmed me up and the fresh breeze hit my face...a much better smell than a dusky tunnel. I wondered though, on a hot day...wouldn't the shade of a dark tunnel be a welcome change. I thought of this as I heard the rest of this song. In life we often find ourselves inside tunnels..we could turn back because the darkness looks too unappealing but then we would never see what is on the other side...a fresh breeze waits for us there! I love how God won't always push us...though we need it sometimes and thus God pushes!!...but His patience is endearing to me. God knows when it is a good time to wait and when it is a good time to push...He certainly knows better than any one of us. He knows what waits on the other side, anticipating the peaceful breeze!

You wouldn't believe it (well you probably would) but I heard the new Amy grant song...the words just floored me and solidified what I have become to believe about a relationship with God:

"Better than a Hallelujah"
God loves a lullaby
In a mother's tears in the dead of night
Better than a hallelujah sometimes
God loves the drunkard's cry
The soldiers plea not to let him die
Better than a hallelujah sometimes

We pour out or miseries
God just hears a melody
Beautiful the mess we are
The honest fries of breaking hearts
Better than a hallelujah

The woman holding on for life
The dying man giving up the fight
Are better than a hallelujah sometimes
The tears of shame for whats been done
The silence when the words won't come
Are better than a hallelujah sometimes

Better than a church bell ringing
Better than a choir singing, singing out

God deserves many hallelujahs!!! But I think of my most dear friendships. My most dear friends have seen me raging mad, they have seen me weep violently over my abuse, they have heard me admit that I want my father...they hold precious pieces of my heart. I m so REAL with the people that I trust the most. Why be fake? I can pretend to be okay, I can play a "Christian" but all that brings is bitterness and anger so deep I can feel it tighten my muscles. In my mind, pretending to be okay is another wall...a wall I'd put up to just keep people away from me. It also confuses me...if I have to be okay all the time I never take the chance to understand why I hurt...I never feel. Feeling pain is painful but it is glorious the release of it all! God already knows what hurts me...when I cry when I get angry, when I shout out, when I am miserable I might as well get a big cup of tea and curl up with a blanket because God and I have just been real! Let the mascara run ladies...be REAL! Be vulnerable and find a soft place to land with friends whom you trust and a God who is thankful for every shout and every tear. I'd rather be a mess and be peaceful than have it held together with lies!

My son

I think I updated you all after Eli's surgery. He did so well and we were ready to go home 2 hours after getting to the hospital. I expected to noticed a significant difference in Eli, but we haven't seen a change yet. His teacher actually had to ask me if he had had the surgery. They were expecting the same thing. I guess I am getting a little fearful that the problem is deeper. I am afraid that Eli has a learning disability.

I have been on the verge of tears...and many times have been past that point since Friday. Evan and I still have not shared with his parents, his sister, and other family about Eli's hearing and speech delays. His brother and wife know as they live right next door. I think I blogged about this situation, but allow me to refresh. We enrolled Eli in preschool last May after seeking advice from the educational director at our church. She had seen other children with Eli"s similar delays catch up after being around other children. Evan and I decided to give Eli one semester to make an improvement. December came and we had not seen any improvement at all. In fact, we had had many discouragements along the way. Several moms came up to me and said they heard about Eli all the time from their child...my son had never mentioned one name or one child from his class...he could not speak to me. I'd cry every time but promised to give my son a chance. In October Evan's mother came for a visit. The morning she left she was waiting for me in my driveway as I was getting home from dropping Eli off at school. I saw that her car was sitting at the bottom of my driveway. I thought she must be in a big hurry because she had spent the night next door...why park her car there if she weren't ready to GO! We had spent 4 hours together the night before. She asked if I had noticed that Eli doesn't talk much...that in fact every time they came back to the states he was talking less. I looked at the car at the foot of the driveway and then at the little girl in my arms and I wondered why she wasn't snuggled in grandma's arms and I decided this was not the time or the circumstances to open my heart to my mother-in-law. She was halfway "out the door" and this situation deserved...care. I told her his teachers were aware of the problem and that they said he was doing fine. I offered nothing more. I was offended that she considered herself an expert on Eli's problem after 4 hours with him and the whole family. I dismissed it as best I could. About a month later..."it" hit the fan when I got a call from Eli's great grandmother concerned about Eli's speech progress. Another conversation with Eli's great Aunt confirmed my suspicions that the gossip had been lit like wildfire. I finally found out the contents of that gossip when my sister-in-law told me Eli's great grandma told her she was concerned for Eli because Evan and I were not getting him help. I was so so so hurt. I know that grandma had been fed this information... All these months of pain at my son being passed over by his younger peers and now his own family was whispering about him. My son, my baby has a problem and I felt like there was no safe place for him. Even his grandpa was ready to strike a gossip match when he tried to provoke information out of my sister-in-law by asking, "So what do you think of Eli's speech?". Why don't they ask me? I mean, ask me out of concern and give me the consideration and environment to answer! No one asks! I care more about giving Eli room to grow or fail than answering the rumors. We began the journey towards surgery in January...as we had planned. I heard the words, "Your son is partially deaf" and I felt a sucker punch. How could I have not known? His ENT doctor said it was as if Eli had been hearing as if he were under water...but for how long? No one really knows. He had fluid so thick behind his ear drums the doctor said he had no questions that Eli hadn't been able to hear most of what anyone was saying. How could I not have known?!

I felt peaceful during the surgery. His doctor had asked to pray over Eli before the surgery. I needed to know I was not alone. I needed to know that God saw my baby...that no matter what was going on in the family that my baby was a priority. Later that night Evan and I again talked about whether to tell his parents or not. Evan would like to address the rumors...what could it hurt. I just feel the onslaught of questions from the family and I don't feel like answering. I feel like the more information they have the more proof they'll have to think I am a sub par mother. I haven't been able to get passed feeling like I have failed my son. I can't get past the pain of never hearing my son tell me he loves me...or telling me about his friends at school. I can't help but tear up when I think of all the "Mommy loves yous" I have WHISPERED in his ears that he never heard. We are still very much in the middle of all of this. I don't need to be worrying about what is being said about my son. I cried...no I wept to Evan and begged him not to say anything yet. I cried that I didn't want anyone to say that my son was stupid (sorry, weeping does not allow for political correctness)!! I am still afraid that the delay goes much deeper. I can't offer up my precious boy to this family...known for their insensitivity. It just isn't a priority now to include people 1600 miles away. Eli's church family knows his struggles. I'd like to see Eli get past this "delay" and be able to communicate before we explain the process. I'd like Evan and I to be the only ones scrutinizing his progress with the speech therapist. Information is power...I feel like this information our lifeline as parents. What if Eli is learning disabled...don't we deserve the privacy to process that and deal with that in our own way as we help our son overcome?