Staying in Abusive Relationships
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Beauty
I was just on facebook reaching out to people I don’t know asking them to be my friends. Kind of nervy, but seeing that yesterday I revealed my facebook identity to some of my current friends, it seemed to be the next step. (I’m not telling Will’s family or “his” friends anything.) I suppose I’m
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Who Spoke The Pillow Talk? Remembering Abuse
Were we really that sweet to one another? Did he really treat me well sometimes? Even if he did, he doesn’t now. The sweet memories are gone.
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The Veil is Thin
Halloween! The veil between this and “the other” world is as thin as it gets tonight. My dad, Pap, died in 2003 at the age of 54 from an abdominal anyeurism that moved and exploded his heart. It was sudden and shaking; according to reports, he was surprised himself as he died on the gurney
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Seconds Away
Sometimes I feel like I live in a haunted house – dark, dreary, ghosts hovering, and memories creaking in my mind. And then a window flies open, the breeze blows the heavy curtains aside and I can see what has always been there but lurked forgotten in the overpowering shadow. This time when the curtain blew aside,
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Perception Deception
I was talking to a friend today who told me she had read the blog and could completely relate – almost like I was writing about her experience instead of my own. Many of you who read this blog tell me the same thing. In fact, my business card says, “Read my journals…you’ll think I
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The Abuse Is Incessant, Hurtful and Real
I wish I had stopped this long ago, but I didn’t. And now that I am trying to stop it, I wish that I could wave a magic wand and make it all better. I wish that saving my soul and saving my marriage was not a process – a long process.
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The Gift of Being Right
“Why did I marry him?” implies that my fear of worthlessness was in place before I knew him. Maybe I married him because he validated my fear; maybe he truly was the hero I was looking for. In essence, he told me that I WAS RIGHT.
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The Beast Under My Bed: What If My Husband is Right?
He makes the money. He schmoozes for the promotions, he works his ass off goddammit so he can come home and work like a slave around here, too. I’m always breaking stuff, always buying more than we need, always wasting the good life he’s providing for me by crying, fearing, cringing, and hugging the walls…
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Declutter with a Theme
Make Your Home More You I am getting rid of some possessions that reflect “the old me” and keeping ones that project “who I am, was at heart, and always will be.” If something I own does not support the idea that I am “strong and vibrant”, then it is finding a new home. Self-Care
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