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Its seems shocking and a bit odd that I haven’t found any wordpress blogs written by or supporting the Mothers of childhood sexual abuse victims. Their are countless blogs on wordpress written by the victims themselves. Often written by a adult survivor of such abuse. Obviously the ability to blog about such a life altering experience offers a much needed outlet as well as some amount of emotional support and hopefully healing from such a large community. I, as the mother of a child who suffered sexual abuse, long to speak with, connect with and get feedback from woman (and men) who are living through the same hell I am.
If their is anyone out there who is the mother/father/caregiver who is suffering along side their child while fighting to protect them please leave me a comment.
I feel like there is a lack of moral and emotional support for the parent/s of such victims on wordpress.
Or if anyone knows of any wordpress blogs specifically devoted to parental support of victims of childhood sexual abuse please let me know.
I just wanna find others like me who can relate to this kind of trauma.
Saturday Night Lights always seem to be blue and flashing. This picture was taken out the window of my bar after Doucebag-dinner-disaster the other night. I went to the bar to blog and ended up wondering why, for some people, a night out for a few drinks and fun ends up in a bar fight and blue lights. Sucks for them, kinda entertaining for me.
Oh well. Just another Saturday night at a bar.
Its 4am and I can’t get to sleep. I’ve already cleaned out my closet. Hung some curtains and relocated some of my moms clothes to another closet. The thing is, today is going to be a bittesweet day. It has huge potential for being a day that open up the proverbial can of worms. Im not a huge fan of worms, even the packaged sort. Ugh, im crossing my fingers and hoping for the best.
So, I was taken out to dinner tonight. My awesome parents took me and my youngest child out to dinner. My middle child is staying the night with her bff and my oldest couldn’t be bothered to leave the house for food, he was happier placing his order as a “to go” to be brought back to him so he could complete the 111th hour of straight gaming. Lol. It was nice to go out and enjoy dinner with my parents and daughter.
The picture is one of a moth or butterfly on the outside window of the diner. We saw it when we went outside to smoke. My mom noticed it and had me take an up close picture of it. Then she got the idea for the silence of the lambs esque pic. It wasn’t easy to take the picture because i had to do a partial squat to center it over my mouth in the reflection and the move the camera out of my face so it wouldn’t be in the way.
Long story short, a couple ladies squating, smokin cigarettes, laughing and taking pictures into a restaurant window must look awfully weird to the patrons inside.
Today was a good day.
For twelve plus years, Thursdays in my home have been handled in a very specific way. Thursdays have been what our family called ” TRASH DAY for the family and/or TRASH NIGHT for the adults”. Not because the city collected the trash in my neighborhood on Thursdays, it didn’t, trash collection in my neighborhood has always occurred on Friday mornings…very, very, very early. So every week on Thursday night in my home the radio was on and turned up enough to dance if we wanted and sing if we dared while we collected all the trash from the bathroom and bedroom pails. This alone was no huge task, typically done to completion in a matter of minutes. The objective was to not only remove the trash from the bathroom and bedroom trash pails but more like miniature weekly sping cleanout sessions.
Trash night was a night that we cleaned the fridge of the leftovers no longer an edible option. Dumping expired milk, tossing eggs overdue, disposing any dish that had not been consumed in a timely fashion during the past week. And yes, any and all expired food that couldn’t be dumped down the drain or disposed by the sink disposal indeed remained safely in the fridge until trash night, so to not attract any bugs to an outside trash can. This would be like a neon light blinking a welcome message and smells of stale pizza and the like would be the latest greatest bug buffet in town.
Really, it was a solid and well thought out and multipurposed plan of pest control, odor obliterator, full property protection. God knows I can’t stand bugs and flies, wow, flies are a bothersome bug only trumped by the mosquitoe, spider and roach. (Yes, for me, in that exact order). These are in fact the most suicidal and ballsiest of all insects, who will take full advantage of a door left cracked open by kids who have no less than thirtyish trips in and out a front door on any given summer evening to make their rounds around the culdesac via bike or scooter, and preteen and teens who’s rounds where not on a bike but on a go-kart. should something slip through the cracks of trash night and make its way early to the can could be a pain in the ass. It means a fly, interestingly not weighed down by his brass balls, would be Mr Martyr. Always a dive bomber born to bother (Really, flies have some kinda nerve the way they make a point to fly directly at you, eye level, just to veer off before they hit you in the face).
More often than not the tv was turned off so it was also like a Sunday for spongebob who only got one night (Thursday) off a week, tirelessly working round the clock everyother night of the week for my children. Specifically my youngest who oddly had full control of the tv and the remote for several years, flying just below the radar of all the other family members. For a time, me and my husband would take time out to watch The Office on the bedroom tv while we folded laundry that was fresh out the dryer on our bed. The laundry during that time always seemed so warm and smelled so crisp and clean. Laundry hasn’t ever felt or smelled so wonderful as it did back then. Eventually we discovered this wonderous invention called DVR. (Side note: DVR is a whole story of happiness in and of itself. One to be shared on another day.)
To be cont…
Today is mine and my husbands 9 years Anniversary. I am trying to do this day without tears. I’m trying desperately to think of anything in the world other than what this day has meant to me for the past 9 years and how drastically different this Anniversary is from all in the past. The picture is from our 7th Anniversary. We went to dinner at Muse. It was an amazing weekend. I miss that.
The death blow of breakup songs. Its like a lyrical ninja that you never seen sneaking up behind you and then…shablammmo! Pain, tears, hurt, longing all welling up into a perfect apple size knot that has settled in your throat.
Ps, and who on gods green earth doesn’t listen to, and revel in our own misery after a breakup. In my opinion, this happens to be one of the best breakup songs out there to illuminate our own personal depth and despair. So, this ones for anyone out there who’s living through the hell of heartbreak. Crank up your speakers and sing it as loud and as ugly as humanly possible. Don’t worry, I will be doing the same on my end.
I’m missing your bed, I never sleep,
Avoiding the spots where we’d have to speak,
And this bottle of beast is taking me home.
I’m cuddling close to blankets and sheets
But you’re not alone, and you’re not discreet.
Make sure I know who’s taking you home.
I’m reading your note over again,
There’s not a word that I comprehend,
Except when you signed it “I will love you always and forever.”
As for now I’m gonna hear the saddest songs
And sit alone and wonder
How you’re making out
But as for me, I wish that I was anywhere with anyone Making out.
I’m missing your laugh
How did it break?
And when did your eyes begin to look fake?
I hope you’re as happy as you’re pretending.
I’m cuddling close to blankets and sheets
I am alone In my defeat
I wish I knew you were safely at home.
I’m missing your bed, I never sleep
Avoiding the spots where we’d have speak,
And this bottle of beast is taking me home.
Well, as for now I’m gonna hear the saddest songs
And sit alone and wonder
How you’re making out.
But as for me,
I wish that I was anywhere with anyone
[X4] Your hair, it’s everywhere. Screaming infidelities And taking its wear.
I am increasing aware of how difficult it’s gonna be to save the amount of beer bottle caps it will take to make the pixel picture art I want to make.
This is an official SOS (send out supplies) call for help. If anyone, anywhere happens to have a stash, be it small or super size, that they’d be willing to part with, your donatation would be put to good use. Not to mention that I would also be forever grateful of your generosity. SO PLEASE, ANYONE AND EVERYONE…SEND ME YOUR BEER BOTTLE CAPS!
Just comment that you’re interested and I’ll tell ya where to send them : )
Oh, and wish me luck. When I finish the piece I will post pictures and the names of any contributors that helped make it happen. (Any contributions/contributors that wish to remain anonymous will be noted only as anonymous.)
SO GRAB A COLD ONE AND ENJOY, AFTER ALL, IT IS SUMMERTIME…FOR THE LOVE OF ART
Changing your serpentine belts, tensioner and tensioner pulley on your own car sucks ass when your a girl who don’t know shit about cars. Ps, thanks youtube for the free tutorial. I guess I can use the money I saved changing my own belts to go get a friggen manicure.
Breaking Up: At a Glance
APR. 20, 2011 By STEPHANIE GEORGOPULOS
See it coming. Something’s gone missing. Its absence is inexplicable; like opening your wallet after a night of drinking and finding that it’s empty. Something was there yesterday, now it’s not. You don’t know where it is or who to blame. Feel robbed. You’ll question your soon-to-be-ex, but they won’t know what you’re talking about. You’re being paranoid. You’re being crazy. A week later, have the “talk” that ends your relationship. This may not be a “talk” at all; but it will be the acknowledgement that for whatever unspoken reasons, you are now broken up. Alone. Realize you knew better; that you saw this coming. Hate yourself.
Go home and cry. Wonder if your roommates can hear you. Turn on the television and cry louder. Feel like a crumpled tissue in someone’s coat pocket, falling apart and greyed with snot. Fall asleep with all of your clothes on.
Wake up, remember what happened the day before, sob. Get in the shower and stand so that you’re facing the water. This will create the illusion that you’re not crying. Blow your nose into your hands. Talk aloud; giving unsolicited responses to questions that no one is asking you because your “talk” was unsatisfying. Say what you need to say.
Take a Xanax and go to work. Resolve that you will not be taking your sunglasses off when you arrive. Dread telling anyone what happened, but hope that your clearly fragile emotional state will be enough to provoke HR to send you home early. When you arrive, don’t verbally respond to anything or anyone except when people ask if you’re okay. When people ask if you’re okay, say, “No.”
Don’t do any work. Make plans for the weekend. Make plans for the week. Make sure all of your plans involve alcohol. When Boyz II Men shuffles on to your iTunes, leave it on. Think of that episode of The OC where Seth and Summer are in their respective rooms; simultaneously listening to End of the Road. Smile. (Momentarily.) Watch your ex sign on and off of Facebook chat every 30 minutes. Hold your breath while their icon is green. Exhale when it goes grey.
Leave work early. Sit in the park with your iPod on and skip any vaguely upbeat song in favor of something more… pathetic. Pick the songs you’re going to sing at karaoke later. Scowl at every couple that walks by and wonder why they cease their idle walking right in front of you in order to kiss and appreciate each other. Do this until it’s time to meet your friends for Ramen. When you see your friends, realize you don’t really want to talk about it. Realize you don’t actually know what happened. Order a drink.
Get a text from your ex while you’re both out drinking with your respective friends. Have a heartbreaking exchange. Communicate better than you had in the past month. Do not fail to see the irony. Feel much better and much worse. Cry (on the inside, you’re in public, asshole).
Go to karaoke and get a private room with your friends. Sing Nothing Compares 2 U and Total Eclipse of the Heart. When your private room goes silent, hear someone rattling off Katy Perry’s Teenage Dream in the next room. Hate yourself for relating. Wish you could delete that song from the mix CD you made your ex, days before you broke up. Wish you could erase the past year, really. Recall the time your first ex told you he’d cry and listen to the mix CD you made for him if you guys broke up. Wonder if he ever did that. Wonder if this ex will do that. Hope all of your exes are crying somewhere. Hope Katy Perry shuts the fuck up someday soon.
Observe the people around you and note that for the first time ever you are not interested in rebounding. Resent any comments made by friends that suggest you rebound. Resent anyone that tells you to cheer up. Do not resent when someone offers to buy you another drink.
Go home and sleep in your filth and desperation. Wake up and commit to a bender. Do this for a week. Get exhausted around Day 3, but know that if you slow down you’ll become aware of what you lost and that would hurt. Let your laundry pile up. Let half-empty glasses of stale water pile up. Quit shaving your legs. Know that no one will be confronted with your stale water or hairy legs so it doesn’t matter.
Have good moments. Have bad moments. Have weak moments. Have another drink.
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