Find Me

       Some days I find myself rushing through my life with purpose and drive.  I know where I'm headed and what step to take next to get where I'm going to be.  Other days I find myself struggling just to get from one moment to the next.  Some days I am strong and full of life, ready for new experiences.  Other days I find it hard to breathe just thinking about the fact that I'll have to go somewhere unfamiliar and be around other people.  I have been free of my abuser for over fourteen years now, and most days I think nothing of my past.  But some days I find myself smiling a little slower, my heart a little heavier, and my mouth a little quieter.  Some days I still flinch as the sun glints off of a belt buckle worn by a random passerby, and my heart skips a few beats at the sound of a raised voice.  Some days I find myself memorizing the make, model, and license plate of the car driving in front of me.  Not because I have a great memory, but because I subconsciously think that they may be on the way to commit a crime, or maybe they have a girl in their trunk who's fighting to get out and I'll have to testify in court one day.  For some people it may appear that I'm having irrational thoughts, but for me those thoughts were once a very real part of my everyday life.  Some days I know that I'm doing my best, but other days I need a helping hand.  Some days I find myself asking my son if he feels safe, if he has everything that he needs, and if he knows that I love him.  Some days I find myself looking for problems that aren't real in my marriage, because it's hard for me to trust that my partner doesn't secretly want to hurt me.  Some days I don't care how I look because I think that I can finally be comfortable with who I am.  Other days I find myself staring blankly at my skin, remembering the blood that once trickled through the little blonde hairs.  I often smile freely and dance without restraint whenever given the opportunity, but some days I find myself struggling to feel free and wondering if I'll always carry this pain.  Some days I find myself wishing that things in my life had gone very differently for my younger self, but other days I run my fingers over my scars and know that I am perfect.  I will never personally thank my abuser for the suffering that he caused; the shattering of my body and my mind.  But some days I find myself thanking the spiritual forces that be for bringing me to a place of continual healing.  I have a story, one that many other people have as well.  Every person on earth is on their own journey; no one can truly save anyone else.  Each person must walk their own path and choose their own healing.  While I sometimes sit in the sun and bask in the fun of the lighthearted and the unscathed, I often find myself curled up in the shade feeling every emotion and having to fight against each stray thought.  This is what makes it worth all of the pain.  Because the people who need help are not the ones out dancing in the sun, they're the ones hiding in the corner shadows.  I may not ever truly be able to pick someone up and carry them back into the light, or lay my hand on their wounds and heal them, but I can rest well at night knowing that, if only for a few moments, I stood in the shadows with those hurting people and held their hearts within my own.
Where do you find yourself?

Photo by Alessandra Vidotto

"Invisible Bruises- Defining And Escaping Abuse" with guest blogger Katie Pitzer Thorton

       I turned the corner of I-77 into Columbia.  It was 1:00 am.  I made it.  I made it out of a twenty year abusive relationship and I did not die.  I almost did.  I came close.  The sight of the city lights of downtown brought me to tears.  I pulled into my parent's driveway, walked over to my sister's house next door and began to tell her that I was drowning and had left.  She already knew that, she had watched me drown helplessly for two decades.
       This was a weekend trip from Florida for Father's Day.  My counselor had asked me to go alone.  I had brought my two youngest kids with me.  Their father was not capable of caring for them, but the older two would be fine for three days.  We stood in the kitchen the next day and my father said, "We're done here, right?"  I said, "Yes."  He immediately began sobbing with relief.  He had been on his knees for years over me.  He looked instantly ten years younger.
       The next week we returned and collected my other kids.  I took a leave of absence from work.  The counselor and my father-in-law removed him from our house.  My father-in-law stood on the front porch and told me he would be a "new man" in two weeks.  Six months later there was no new man.  He went to rehab for one day.
       When I would not return to pick up the pieces, my father-in-law took his son to an attorney friend's office and filed for the immediate return of my kids WITHOUT dissolution of marriage because, and I quote, "We believe with counseling, Kate can be restored to the marriage."  I hired a lawyer in Florida, gave half my paycheck for eighteen months, and went to court in Florida for almost two years.  I did not lose my children.  They do have to visit him.  He still endangers them.  His father still props him up.
       I was told that I could never divorce or leave him, no matter how hard it got, because God hates divorce.  As a result, I was guilted into twenty horrible years that almost physically killed me.  I developed a rare, deadly autoimmune disease I will receive treatment for forever.  The treatment is sixty thousand dollars a month.  It resulted in financial ruin.  It resulted in damaged kids.  My son in on the Autism spectrum, and because I was made to homeschool him with no money, support, or resources because he said the world was evil, he is severely behind.  I am having to climb the corporate ladder all over again at 44 because I had to stay home for seven years.  Only bad mothers work.  That's what his mother told me for years.  Someone in the household has to work, my husband would not.  Thus the financial ruin.
       I was never validated by his family once I left.  They fought me legally.  Because I did not get physically hit they did not consider it abuse.  It was abuse.  The devastation is deep and long suffering.  I may have lost much, but I left.  I did it.  You can too.

Defining Abuse

       So what is abuse?  Your situation may be like mine, no bruises.  None that you can see anyway.  But the damage is just as devastating.  I suffered in many ways.

Emotional abuse:  In the beginning of the relationship I was the most amazing thing.  I was "needed" on the phone at all hours.  There were cards and letters, dates.  But early on emotional control began.  I remember one night I went to dinner with my family and he flipped out because he couldn't find me, even calling off the engagement.  I learned to isolate myself from others to keep him #1.  Nothing was ever his fault.  I was always just being unreasonable.  Time with family or friends became such a fight emotionally I stopped trying.  Everyday was a fight over the dumbest things.  I would end each day exhausted.  

 Any behavior that manipulates your emotions and thoughts is abuse.  Constantly having to make concessions in the relationship is abuse.  Emotional abuse can be name calling, threats, teasing, putting you down, or telling you that you do everything wrong.  You could not possibly make it on your own.

Physical abuse:  Pushing, hitting, slapping, or any contact that brings you harm or is against your will is abuse.  It will happen again, no matter the promise that it will not.  It will happen to your kids if it happens to you.  Covering up bruises or marks is not okay.  It's time to end it.

Sexual abuse:  Making you watch pornography, making you do things you are not comfortable with, or affairs is abuse.  Texting other women, getting or sending pictures, or forcing you in any way is abuse.  Inappropriate behavior with your or someone else's children is also abuse and must be dealt with immediately.

Financial abuse:  This was a huge one for me.  He was underemployed or unemployed for years.  We lived in very little.  He felt God had him "in a season of life".  That was total bull because we had four small kids.  They needed to eat.  I would get him a job online and he would lose it within weeks.  He once lost a job at the pizza place for eating in the freezer!  Even still, I was to hand over babysitting money I earned to him and never see it again.  I had nothing.  I was not allowed to buy groceries.  He controlled all the shopping.  His answer for us was obsessive shopping at local food banks.  He would bring home dozens of bags of expired food and drop them in the floor for us to sort out.  He would then go get himself food out.  He also kept food hidden from us in his closet.

I once had a customer at the bank who had over a million dollars in his account.  His wife was allowed ONE account with less than a thousand dollars in it.  Her clothes were old and tattered.  Abuse!  Keeping you uniformed or away from financial decisions is abuse.  Giving you very little is abuse.  It keeps you controlled.  Then you can not leave.

Social abuse:  We were kept very isolated for a long time.  It did not help that I was always broke.  I had to ask permission to go anywhere.  Nobody came over.  He had no friends or outside purpose in life.  He did not wash a dish, cut the grass, do laundry, or fix any meals.  I did all of it.  He sat in his room and sorted through his prescriptions.  I was given 14 days a year to see my family.  Isolation kills.  You may find yourself with no help or resources at all.  That is where an abuser wants you.  Weak.  Stalking your social media accounts, controlling them, flying off the handle with absurd jealousy, or reading all your texts or emails is abuse.  That is keeping absolute control over you.

Religious abuse:  I include this one because, for some of us, this is a hard reality.  God, the bible, or church is used as a tool to abuse or enable abuse.  My father-in-law was an elder in our church.  He had a lot of pull.  Any counseling sought was controlled by him.  I even had the promise of my bills being paid if I only did what he wanted.  My ex, his family, and the church used bible verses to make sure I knew just how much I needed to "submit" to my husband, and how much "God hates divorce".  Let me tell you, God hates abuse.

Verbal abuse:  Yelling, name calling, belittling, putting you down- all is abuse.  Subtly telling you that you are nothing and you will never go anywhere is abuse.

Now what?

So you have identified with so much of what I have just described.  Now what?  Identifying is step one.  There is a description of abuse in which victims are likened to a boiling frog.  If you put a frog into boiling water he is going to jump out right away.  If you put a frog into room temperature water and slowly turn up the heat that frog is going to boil to death.  Why?  It was so gradual.  The frog did not even realize it was dying.  It is the same for us.  We go into a situation with all sorts of histories and backgrounds that make us vulnerable people-pleasers.  We want the dream, and personality disorders promise to deliver!  But they don't.  Slowly we give up ourselves and lose who we are.  Eventually we are surviving, and what seemed horrible before is now normal for us.  It is why we stay so long.

Climbing out

       In my story I went along with my ex, who was in counseling because he wanted to write a book (ha!), and the counselor was publishing one at the time.  After a few sessions, the counselor requested me.  I was hesitant.  After all, I did not want a counselor to tell me it was my fault AGAIN.   One day the dam broke.  I could not bear it anymore.  I cried through two hours of revealing what this monster had been doing to me and my kids.  He ordered my ex out of the room.  He did not want to go.  This was it.  No more control.  My counselor looked at me and said, "It ends today."  Finally, someone standing in the gap for me instead of watching me drown.  So many watched me drown.  That was the Thursday before I left for Columbia.
I have an amazing family.  It was no question where I would land.  In retrospect, I had been preparing for a while.  I had gotten a checking account and a credit card in just my name.  I put my papers in order.  All secretly.  Social security cards, birth certificates, shot records, important documents like tax records all in order.  It was a long climb out.  I had to find a job.  I had to enroll my kids in public school for the first time.  I had to take the blame from teachers for my son's delays.  I had to find a new doctor.  I had to scurry to find an infusion center because I can't go more than 14 days between treatments.  Then came custody battles two states away.  It was the hardest thing I had ever done.  But you know what?  I did it, and so can you.

Preparing

       Be careful!  Abusers are like cornered animals when threatened.  I know someone who's abuser tried to shoot her as she was leaving!  Prepare quietly and carefully if you are leaving under duress.  Planning is key.  Get your financials in order the best you can.  There are resources when you have nothing.  Get your important documents ready to go.  Remember: stuff is stuff.  What is important here?  You are, and your kids are.
Not everyone has parents or relatives willing to take in multiple people. Here are some resources for domestic abuse victims:

National Abuse Hotline: 1-800-799-7233 (SAFE) or live chat via www.thehotline.org

They have folks willing to help you from start to finish, including local shelters or resources.

Try leaving when your abuser is not there.  It is just better to avoid confrontation.  After you leave you may be in shock for a while.  Use Google forums, support groups, and seek counseling when you can.  Self-care is critical here.  Rest, take a bath, take a nap, go for walks.  You will doubt yourself here, please don't.  You did the right thing.  Abusers do not change.  Not permanently.  It will resort back to abuse.  Facebook has tons of abuse support groups.  These were hugely helpful.  Do NOT date or enter relationships of any kind for a while.  Lonely or not, you need to heal.  Healing looks way different and takes way longer than you expect.  The key is TIME.
No contact!  If your abuser is friends with you on social media- unfriend!  Unfollow!  Don't look at it!  Only contact them if you must for communication about the kids.  And by that I mean factual stuff that is necessary.  You do not need to be chatting, talking, or communicating.  This is where abusers lure you back.  You are vulnerable at this stage.  No contact is the best policy.  You need space to heal.  You can not heal a wound that keeps getting smacked open.

Being a warrior

       If you are reading this and you are stuck in abuse, hopeless, not knowing where to go, there is hope.  You are stronger than you could ever imagine.  There are things you can do that will blow you away when you look back.  Your instincts, power, and drive is in there, it has just been beaten down in one way or another.  Reach out, do your research, plan your steps one at a time.  You can do this.  You can leave abuse and refuse to take it any longer.  You are a warrior.

       -Katie Pitzer Thorton

Do you have invisible bruises?

"I am a Senior Teller for South State Bank in Columbia, SC.  I live with my husband Todd and our Brady Bunch of 7 kids, 5 cats, 2 dogs, turtle, and bunny we recently passed on the road!  I have a massive support system of my parents and sister nearby and a mass of great friends.  I manage an ultra rare autoimmune disease on the side.  I also love to speak to people who have survived and endured abuse like I have.  My passion and hope is to encourage others who are suffering."
-Katie Pitzer Thorton

  

Ergo Ego

       The strangest thing happened to me yesterday.  Someone told me, "No"!  I asked this person for their help with a project that I thought would greatly benefit us both, and she flat out told me no.  No explanation, no reason; she didn't even hear the whole proposal!  Of course my first reaction was to try to convince her as to why she SHOULD want to do what I wanted her to do, and then I spent the afternoon re-reading my text messages to her and trying to figure out what I had said to make her not want to help.  My head ran wild for hours, "She doesn't like me.  She's a bitch.  She doesn't know what she's missing.  What did I do wrong?  WHY didn't she think my idea was wonderful?"  I had been on a high of yeses, but as soon as I heard the word no for the first time that week my entire day just fell apart.  I began to doubt everything that I was doing and wondered if I just really sucked in general but people were afraid to tell me so.  Later that afternoon I sat outside as the sun went down and just let the whole range of emotions wash over my brain.  I let myself feel angry, I allowed the rejection to hurt me a little, and then I suddenly realized what was REALLY wrong.  My EGO was injured!  You know what?  She is allowed to say no.  We are all allowed to say no.  She owes me nothing in order for her to refuse me, and I commend her honesty.
       The problem is that I'M the one who is afraid to say no.  From the time we are born we are told what to do and where to go and what to think, to the point where its almost like our own opinions and thoughts and wants aren't considered just because we're little.  As we grow, if our ideas aren't encouraged or validated, we learn to simply obey orders and if we don't want to do something then we feel guilty about it.  I think this is amplified greatly in abuse victims, sexually abused or otherwise, because there is a power there that was snatched away.  Someone along the line showed us that our opinions didn't matter.  Someone once revealed to us that our no's didn't really have any meaning or value.  And when our no's no longer have meaning then we lose a power within ourselves.  Long, long ago I lost that power, and I've been trying to find it again with every part of my beating little heart.  I'm going to practice saying no today.  And tomorrow.  And the day after that.  If there is something that I am uncomfortable with or simply don't want to do then I'M NOT GOING TO DO IT!  Isn't that a free feeling?  I won't allow myself to feel guilty for standing up for my wants and desires.  If I don't voice them then no one will ever know!  If I don't reclaim my power then who will that authority belong to?  I am my own person.  I have ideas, good ideas.  I will not feel small for having them, and I will not make other women feel small for having their own.  We are all of the same sex and we must stand up for each other.  Girl, say no!  Say it loud!  YOU DON'T NEED A REASON.
What's your ego saying?

Inspire A Revolution

       By now most of us have heard of Amy Bleuel, the woman who inspired the Project Semicolon.  For those of you who don't know what that is, let me blow your mind for a moment.  Amy Bleuel was a young woman who was physically abused by her step-mother beginning at the age of six, sexually abused at the age of ten, raped at the age of thirteen, endured the loss of her father to suicide at the age of eighteen, was raped twice more in college, and then suffered from alcoholism and five major suicide attempts.  That woman endured more in ten years than any person should ever have to go through.  And what did she do with her pain?  She inspired a revolution.  Amy founded a non-profit mental health and anti-suicide organization in 2013.  Amy hoped that her organization would present "hope and love to those who are struggling with depression, suicide, addiction, and self-injury" by encouraging the tattoo semicolon symbol to raise awareness and show support.  Selena Gomez jumped on board after she helped to produce the Netflix series "Thirteen Reasons Why", as did two of the actors from the show.  A book was later published by HarperCollins entitled "Project Semicolon: Your Story Isn't Over" in 2017 which is available practically everywhere now.  This was more than just a fad, it was hope.
       In literature, the semicolon is used when the writer could choose to end the sentence, but instead the author chooses to keep going.  That is what Amy Bleuel did with her life until March 23 of 2017.  The coroner ruled Ms. Bleuel's death as a suicide which left a bitter taste in my mouth.  As we mourn the one year anniversary of this amazing woman's death I ask myself, "How could she?"  She was changing lives!  People all over the world looked to her for support when they had suicidal thoughts or needed emotional help to get through the grief of a loved ones suicide.  How could she?  I begin to feel angry when I think about what she did, but I know that deep down I'm only angry because I feel the hurt.  Suicide saddens me beyond what I can describe.  It is the very moment when a person who has been suffering inconsolably for so long, while everyone else around them lives their life normally, snaps their fingers and flips it around.  Now, the person who was suffering is no longer in pain, and all the people around them who had been living normally are suddenly suffering instead.  I want to be mad and tell those people that they were selfish in the worst way, but who am I to make such a heavy judgement?  Who am I to pretend to know someones deepest pain?  How could I possibly know what it's like to wake up and feel so much hurt that I couldn't get out of bed?  To hate myself so much that no amount of encouragement could calm my mind?  So, instead of hate, I will choose to spread love.  Good for you Amy!  You endured the worst that this world had to offer.  You didn't become a serial killer, or the unabomber, or a terrorist.  You inspired the people around you to live their best life and get help.  I'm proud of you.  I support your decision. And I wish that there had been more help for you, you who helped so many others.  Today I would like to take two moments of silence.  The first as a remembrance for an innocent little girl who was lost to the madness of hate and corruption.  The second moment of silence will be for you.  The you who is reading this right now.  You are still here.  You can still make a difference.  You can inspire a revolution.
What's your revolution project?
https://projectsemicolon.com/

The Girl I Wouldn't Save

       Heavy hitter alert!  So in my quiet time this morning I noticed that I was feeling sad.  My heart was a little heavier than usual and my thoughts kept wandering to a girl that I once knew in high school many years ago.  I ignored these thoughts for a while until I reminded myself to be aware.  I turned off the radio in the car and allowed each roaming thought to produce a scene in my brain until I knew exactly what needed to be done.  I needed to remember.  This girl whose face was filling my morning thoughts belonged to an old friend, but one that I had not spoken to in years.  She was trouble, put quite plainly.  She was wild, she drank uncontrollably, she went home with strangers after long nights of dancing and often ended up in trouble with the police.  I loved her anyways, but had to distance myself.  Why was I feeling so guilty?  Because I could have saved her.  When I was fifteen I remember this girl coming over to visit for the first time.  She had stolen alcohol from her parents and proceeded to dance on the coffee table in front of my friends.  When they all lost interest and left the room, she admitted to me that her father had been sneaking into her room at night.
       I can still remember how my chest had tightened and my face grew red at the thought of what she was going through.  I immediately told her that she should tell her mom or move in with me or run away or call the police.  She had to do something!  But she gave me every reason she could think of as to why I had to keep it a secret, and I agreed to.  But as time went on and I kept her secret and watched her act out time and time again, I began to feel resentment towards her.  I didn't just resent her flirting with everyone else's boyfriends and flaunting her body, I resented her secret.  You see, she had the nerve to tell me about her secret and let me carry some of that weight.  But I had a secret of my own that I had never been brave enough to share with anybody.  I resented that I had been carrying the weight of my secret all by myself for so long while she seemed perfectly content to burden other people with hers.  I resented that, compared to her secret, my secret didn't seem very big anymore.  Not only was her secret worse than mine, but it was more complicated than mine.  But I think if I'm being completely honest, I resented how scared she made me feel.  It was a loss of control.  If she decided to tell someone then did I have to tell my secret too?  What would happen if people found out?  Would the family be torn apart?  Would anyone be mad at me?  Would everyone hate me?  So I did nothing.
       It's easy to say, "I was just a kid."  "I didn't know any better," is also a good excuse, but looking back as an adult I feel guilt because I should have said something to a trusted adult anyways.  I should have ignored my paralyzing fear and stood up for her.  If I had, then maybe she wouldn't have tried to kill herself only to awaken alone and covered in her own vomit two days later.  No one had tried to call her while she was passed out; no one even knew she was missing.  It's sad.  It's such a damn shame.  A girl as beautiful and smart and wonderful as her had become so wild from her inner pain that other people had trouble being with her.  I'm sorry.  I am so sorry.  I have tried to find this girl, to reach out to her and personally apologize, but I can't find her.  She has no social media account, her phone number has been changed, and her family is refusing to give out her contact information.  All I can do at this point is forgive myself.  But I won't give up on her either.  I wish that I had known back then that no one secret is worse or bigger than another. I wish that I had known that there was always help and support to be found, and I have nothing but overwhelming compassion for any woman who has been though sexual abuse.  You are not alone.
What's your #metoo?