Author: Outrunning my demons

Cloudy with a chance of stalking

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I will be leaving shortly. As you are reading this, I am probably on the road. I will be driving 2 hours to meet up with my daughter Angel who will also be driving 2 hours to meet me. Tomorrow she has a vocal competition at the midway point’s college.

We weren’t even sure she would be competing. She was sick with a fever off and on the last couple of weeks. She has been to the doctor 3 times in the past month and is currently getting over tonsillitis…which isn’t the best for a singer. In the meantime, my husband will be staying at home taking care of the business and kids.

On Friday, Paul is taking our son and his girlfriend to meet up with the family of the people whose cabin they had a party at this past summer. Quick recap, the daughter offered her family cabin for an underage drinking party, ended up getting busted by her parents, didn’t go but told the others to go without her. Twenty kids showed up and trashed the place. They want to talk to our son because we were one of the few parents that made their kid apologize and offered to help pay for damages. I have a bad feeling that the meeting is not going to go very well.

Meanwhile, I will be out of town with Angel. We will be at the college of her ex-boyfriend Mitch. This is problematic. A few years back, Angel befriended a guy named Jeremy while she was on a school music department trip. Angel liked the guy as a friend and Jeremy liked her more than that. At the time, Mitch and Angel were dating.

Jeremy started stalking Angel. He hacked into Mitch’s facebook account. He sent her threatening messages from random numbers on her phone…one of them said that he would rape her. Then Jeremy punched Mitch on the campus we will be visiting this weekend.

Wait, there is more…After Mitch and Angel broke up, Angel confided in me that she thought that Mitch could have been posing as Jeremy all along. Either way, it doesn’t matter…they both go to the college we will be at tomorrow. Chances are we might run into one of them and things could get dicey. We have no idea who the guilty party is…that makes it really hard to know what could happen.

I am going to the college to support my daughter and also as a bodyguard so to say. I don’t think that either guy would be willing to give her grief in front of her mother. In my mind, I think I could take them on. A karate chop to certain body parts. Hiyyyaaahhh! Realistically, an athletic woman in her 40’s probably doesn’t stand a chance fighting a couch potato 20 year old male. But it would be very entertaining.

I am happy to have some time to spend alone with Angel. I haven’t seen her for a month. She hasn’t been home since August and is starting to feel homesick for the first time. It is hard to be sick away from home without a mother to give you chicken noodle soup. Not to mention not having a doctor and having no clue what to even do.

AAAAGGHHHH!!

Then after all this is all said and done, I will be turning around and heading back to the same college campus for a college tour with my son next week…

Will the insanity ever end?????

Inoculation

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Today I got inoculated. I like the word inoculation, it sounds so much better than shots, immunizations, or vaccinations. I just don’t like the action.

Since Paul and I are going to Thailand in a few months, we decided to book an appointment with the travel nurse. I only ended up getting 2 shots, Hepatitis A and the flu shot. What happens if you have to sit next to someone for 20 hours on a plane that has the flu? A ruined vacation..

We got a prescription for typhoid pills that we can’t take with alcohol…so no drinking for 10 days. I’m already going to use that as an excuse to not attend a party that I really don’t want to go to.

The Wisconsin immunization registry pretty much pulled up a blank on us. It registered our Tetanus shots from 2012, that’s all.

We both had chicken pox. My mom said I got it really bad in 4th grade. I had chicken pox in my mouth. My eyes swelled shut. I still have a few scars. I think that Paul even had a small pox shot.

I don’t think I had my last MMR shot. There was that couple years that I didn’t attend school. I vaguely remember needing to have a booster and telling my mom I didn’t want it, so I didn’t get it. That is how I remember it, but I’ll admit my memory of my high school years is a bit hazy now.

My mom suspected that the MMR shot caused my brother’s autism back then. Of course, that is not saying much. She questioned every little thing she did and didn’t do back then.

I have always been on the fence about shots myself. This is the first time I’ve ever had a flu shot. I don’t like taking medicine. I wanted a totally natural childbirth. To tell you the truth though, if it was as natural as I wanted it to be, I probably would’ve died. I hate taking medicine unless it is absolutely necessary.

The whole vaccination autism scare came out in full force when my oldest child was born. What was I to do? What if it did cause my brother’s autism?? What information do I trust?? Do I trust the huge pharmaceutical companies?? Do I trust the doctors that are supposedly getting big kickbacks from the drug companies for pushing vaccinations??

What do I do when it affects my family??

To tell you the truth, I really don’t have an opinion whether or not vaccinations cause autism. It didn’t even matter to me. What mattered was that if there was even an iota of a chance, I felt that it would be prudent to be cautious. My children received all of their necessary vaccinations, but on my timeline.

Some people looked down on me for the decision I made.

Did I know that I was hurting my children??

Did you know what it was like living day to day with a violently autistic brother?? Did you see how this tormented our family?? No, because I never bothered to tell you…

It was the late 90’s and early 2000’s…we didn’t know. We still don’t know. I didn’t want anything happening to my children. I didn’t want them to get autism. I didn’t want them to get measles.

I think that I made the best decision with the information I had available to me. I am still hesitant to trust other people when they try to tell me what is best for my children.

All these thoughts whirled through my head as I was nervously waiting to be inoculated…

 

Halloween lore

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To be honest, I’ve always had mixed thoughts about Halloween.

Growing up, my mom had conflicting feelings too.

We lived outside of a small town of around 200 people. My mom was big into walking. So almost every year, we walked into town on Halloween with flashlights if it wasn’t too cold out.

We would always stop at Aunt Grace’s house. Being a banker, she was always practical minded and handed out money to the kids. She would give us a roll of nickels or dimes. I’m not sure if she handed out the whole roll to the other kids.

My grandma always had 3 white sheet ghosts hanging from the big tree in front of her house. She liked to wear funny shirts like the one that said ‘I’ve got bats in my belfry’. She always had tons of candy. Grandma was always happy and smiled greeting the children in costumes. Those are the memories that I am most fond of.

At times, I walked around the neighborhood with older kids. I remember stopping at an old man’s house. He was probably in his 80’s Although in my young mind, he could’ve been 40. He handed us apples as a treat. APPLES!! We walked halfway down the block and smashed them. The bigger kids said that there could be razor blades in them. I still feel bad that the old man might have walked down the road and seen his wrecked apples. It was the 1980’s and in those days we heard stories about the Halloween candy being tampered with in some way.

I also heard stories of black cats being sacrificed and made sure my outdoor cats were locked up somewhere safe for the night. It seemed like a scary night to a worried child. Perhaps it was the one day that evil was allowed to seep into the world because it was invited in.

In the later years, my mom felt conflicted about the holiday after some friends kept their whole family hidden in the basement with their lights off. They thought that partaking in Halloween was akin to devil worship and would land them a prime spot in hell. Halloween has been associated with people doing evil things. I understand how people wouldn’t want their children involved in a holiday that celebrates evil.

When I had children of my own, I felt a little conflicted about the holiday too.

Don’t get me wrong…I love scary movies. I love wearing costumes and pretending to be someone else (alas my love for community theater). As a child I was obsessed with the Salem witch trials and read every book on it the library had. I abhor having lights on in the house. I am a big fan of black cats and the color black in general. I have a healthy fondness for candy.

Over the years we attended various churches…Some were of the opinion that Halloween was of the devil and the only way it should be celebrated is by handing out Christian literature to the children that come to their door…to children dressing up in Halloween costumes for Sunday service…

Who is right? How is a Christian supposed to act?

I can understand every viewpoint. What is wrong with not celebrating? Nothing…less money for the dentists..What is wrong with dressing up as an evil character?? Are you celebrating evil? Are you doing evil? What is your motive?? What is your intent? I personally don’t know anyone that spent the day drinking blood…or sacrificing animals despite the witch lore.

Paul and I decided that we would celebrate Halloween but only allow our young children to dress up in costumes that celebrated goodness. Over the years we had Tinkerbell, an angel, a cow, a mermaid, a cheerleader…I miss those days.

 

 

 

Out running

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Change is inevitable. It happens each season. This week a cold wind came into Wisconsin and blew the warm falls days and sunshine away. Sadly, I started going to the gym and running on the dreadmill again. I really can’t complain. It has been a warm fall with hotter temperatures than this summer.

Usually we get our first few flurries by this time of year. It makes me remember my grandma. For the first little snowfall she would write the word flurries or put a F on her empty calendar like it was a huge event. I have a F on my calendar too. It reminds me when I need to give my pets their flea medicine. Seriously, what did you think it stands for??

The last time I ran outdoors, I took a few photos to show you how beautiful my running route is. It was probably a good time for a change anyway. People were getting to know my routine which can be a little disconcerting. It was always the same cars that almost hit me. People were starting to actually honk when I wore my ‘honk if you’re going to hit me’ shirt.

I had a great season with huge goals…My first 18 mile trail run weekend, my first Olympic triathlon, and my first Half Ironman. Plus I ran another marathon. I am thinking of cutting back though. I’m not going to decide for sure until January.

Three out of four races, I had to travel far enough from home to need a hotel room. Plus adding in all of the gear and race fees, it can be a pricey hobby. I will probably still race, but will cut back on the amount of races and the longer distances. I also might want to try other things like doing a Tough Mudder. Plus next summer, the local theater is planning on doing the show Cabaret which is heavy on dancing.

Running has a special place in my heart. I spoke to my trainer at the gym this week. I told him that my races went well but I was thinking of cutting back. I told him that I want to run for the long run. Running gives me time to process my life in a healthy way. I don’t want to over train, hate it, or get hurt. I want to enjoy this hobby as long as possible. Plus I want to do other things I enjoy like dancing, cross country skiing, or kickboxing without being locked in an always training box.

I just love to run. Who knows? I might be able to get outside a few more times this year before it snows. Wisconsin is a very beautiful place to run.

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Journal 5, part 3

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It has been a rough week of posts here, hasn’t it?? Here is the funny post that I promised…It is akin to my parents stories of walking uphill to school both ways.

10/10/1990

I am feeling tired today. Last night I watched a movie at my friend’s house. Her mom rented a VCR and we had to take it back to the rental place by 10 PM. We left her house at ten to ten. On the way there, the car broke down. We knocked on a couple doors, but no one answered. We walked back to her house which took almost an hour. By the time I got home, it was 11 PM. That sure didn’t help my cold any..

Young folks, times were hard growing up. Watching a movie wasn’t as easy as perusing Netflix for the perfect show. From this journal entry, I am going to assume that the VCR rental was for my friend’s birthday which was a few days before the journal entry date. We watched Gone with the Wind and Adventures in Babysitting (great old movie BTW). I had no recollection of this event before reading about it…the previous day’s journal entry mentioned the movies that we were going to watch. I vaguely remember walking back to her house on quiet country roads late at night.

You were pretty much screwed if your car broke down in the middle of nowhere at night if no one answered the door. Forget Uber. Of course, sometimes you were screwed if someone answered the door. As a teenage girl, it was creepy going into a stranger’s house to use their rotary phone. It was also creepy allowing strangers into the house to use the phone. I think it is something the kids of today are told not to do…allow strangers in your house or go into a strangers house.. Of course, kids of today don’t need to worry about taking rented VCR’s back or leaving the house without someone having a cell phone.

Even going to the movies was complicated. We had to watch the newspaper for the new listings. Or sometimes we would call on a Friday night to listen to a long automated message stating the new showings. Sometimes the phone was busy.

Remember having to rewind the VHS tape after viewing? That took almost as long as the movie. The rental tapes would be plastered with stickers that said ‘Be kind, rewind’ and other obnoxious things. Then upon returning the movie to the store, the clerk would always pop open the tape case while glaring at you with an eyebrow raised prejudging if you were an evil offender that didn’t rewind. If you were a few minutes late (probably due to rewinding) with the rental drop off, you would be fined a couple bucks.

I can almost imagine the fines my friend received for returning the VCR the next day. Maybe the cops were called. Uh huh, car trouble you say…I bet your dog ate your homework too..

I never had to worry about renting a VCR at our house. We always had at least 10 VCR’s in our house at all times. Unfortunately, none of them worked or they ate tapes. My dad repaired them as a living and was always doing favors for neighbors on the side. People would literally stop by with their junk…broken VCR’s, stereos, TV’s…Discombobulated machines laid on our table and were strewn all over our house for months. My dad was a procrastinator. By the time he fixed the broken machines, the people forgot about them or were on their third one. But he charged them next to nothing.

I wonder how much time we wasted on video tapes?? Almost as much time as we spent waiting by the phone…

How did we ever survive???

 

 

Journal 5, part 2

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5/2/1991

I’m only going to eat one meal a day or else I will be sick. When I was younger this worked all of the time until I felt better..

It is true that sometimes the needs of the ‘normal’ kids get swept under the rug when there is a special needs child in the house.

I know now that I have been a lifelong sufferer of GERD. I didn’t know this as a child. All I knew was that I had stomachaches all of the time. When it was really bad sometimes eating made me feel sick. I felt like I had a fire in my chest. Eventually the acid crept into my throat, gave me frequent canker sores in my mouth, and wore down the enamel on my teeth as a child. My parents threatened to take me to the doctor if I didn’t eat, but they never did.

My brother Matt also has GERD which was made worse by his gagging from Tourette’s. He frequently threw up his breakfasts. There was a time that the valve completely closed between his stomach and intestines. He couldn’t keep down any food and had to have the valve surgically opened again. In the meantime, he dipped below 90 lbs and he almost died.

Whose needs were more important??

Not only did Matt suffer from GERD, he also has autism. He engaged in a lot of self-stimulating repetitive behaviors such as rocking and flapping his hands together. At one time he had to wear a helmet on his head because when he became agitated he would hit his head with his fist. He was hypersensitive to touch. He would scream when he had to have his teeth brushed. He had to be sedated to go to the dentist for cleanings. He would only tolerate having 1/4 of his teeth cleaned at a time and eventually his teeth rotted. He has difficulty communicating and understanding emotions.

He suffers from Tourette’s. He would gag when eating and constantly make sticky saliva sounds with his mouth. His body would twitch and he repeatedly blinked his eyes.

He suffers from schizophrenia. He hears voices that tell him to hurt little girls. Sometimes the voices terrified him. He had nightmares. He would talk to the voices and laugh at the evil things they would tell him to do.

He is intellectually impaired. He cannot read, write, or do simple math.

He has issues with anxiety.

Matt made anything that my brothers and I struggled with minor in comparison.

There was a 3 year period when Matt was not allowed to go to school because of his violence. After that time period, he had very limited exposure to the outside world up until he was placed on an anti-psychotic medicine that eliminated the voices and the violence towards self and others.

My mother did not want my brother institutionalized in a place for the violently mentally ill so she pulled him out of most situations where he could hurt others. That did not stop him from being violent towards me at home. He grabbed a knife and threatened to cut my eyes out. He punched, scratched, kicked, bit, and pulled my hair on a regular basis. Who protected me?? Who reported his violence against me? No one.

I want to say that I handled it like a trooper, but I did not.

I withdrew into myself. I became very depressed. Although childhood goes by fast, it seems to take forever when you are being abused. I wanted out. I cried myself to sleep at night. I woke up crying in the morning after being awoken by nightmares.

I held my body tight like I was always bracing for impact. I cowered like a dog that was beat too much. My shoulders were held tightly up to my ears. I suffered from insomnia. I fell asleep easily but was typically awake from 2 to 4 AM. In the middle of the night, I suffered from muscle pains. I had to wrap pillows and blankets around my legs. I think my muscles were finally trying to relax in the middle of the night and it hurt.

I suffered from anxiety and worry. I was angry. I developed structure, rituals, and routines to feel like I had some control over my environment. For awhile, I was a compulsive hand washer. I washed my hands so often that they cracked and bled.

With everything going on at home, I couldn’t concentrate at school. My grades were horrible. I was put on a high dose of ADD medicine. It helped me focus, but made my skin crawl. I scratched my skin until it bled, especially on my scalp. I scratched until I pulled out scabs with big clumps of hair.

I was exhausted most of the time.

I was a mess.

That was a long time ago.

I survived.

I am strong now.

I am healing.

I feel ready to fight my demons.

 

Journal 5, part 1

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12-10-1990

Tonight is my choir concert. For awhile my mom wasn’t going to go because Matt was reacting. But she is going to go.

Events were always difficult for my family. My mom always wanted Matt to be included in all of the family activities. We never really wanted him to attend our special days. We were afraid that if he hurt someone that would mar the day forever in our memory. Plus we wanted some time when we could be the focus.

How would we feel if a special day was ruined by Matt attacking someone? It would make for an unforgettable choir concert, graduation, or wedding day.

My parents typically took turns attending events if Matt was unable to go. My dad would often times stay home with Matt because he hated social events.

But if Matt was ‘reacting’ bad enough, my mom would stay behind. She didn’t trust anyone else to take care of Matt. If Matt hurt someone, he could sometimes be hurt in the process of restraining him.

For example, if Matt was at the roller rink and attacked a small girl…what do you think her father would do? My mother said that no one could love Matt like she did.

Usually there were early warning signs of reacting that we became hyper vigilant for.. His ears would turn red, his fists and teeth would clench, and his pupils would constrict giving him wild eyes. Sometimes these reactions would last for a short time and sometimes for several days. Sometimes it would happen unexpectedly and sometimes we just knew..

The longest it usually lasted was 2 days until it slowly faded away. For 2 days, Matt would scream and be agitated in general. He would often hurt himself or those around him. He would keep our younger brothers, that he shared a room with, awake at night by rocking his body side to side in his bed violently. During the day, he would run in place flapping his hands together sometimes violently enough to make his chin bleed after his hands rubbed against it repetitively.

He had to be watched constantly because sometimes he would run away. Or he would do deviant things like overflow the sinks. Most of the time he muttered to himself. He would laugh after hurting someone or doing something wrong.

After the reaction was over, Matt would sleep all day and all night.

My mom went to great lengths to try to explain Matt’s strange behavior by saying that he was reacting, or allergic to things.

Matt attacked the stranger in the roller rink because the music was too loud.

Matt attacked the girl because she was wearing perfume. The perfume triggered it. We were no longer allowed to wear or have anything with a fragrance in it. No hair spray, no nail polish, unscented soaps…we even had to dip our toothbrushes in peroxide and baking soda to brush them. I found this to be very restrictive when most girls my age used a bottle of hairspray a week.

Sometimes it was auto exhaust. My mom no longer allowed the cars to be parked in the garage. They had to be parked at the bottom of the driveway. If the wind was blowing in a certain direction, we had to shut all of the windows. My mom would panic if we had to follow another vehicle closely on the road, the exhaust could seep in and set Matt off.

Maybe it was gluten, dairy, and artificial colors. My mom started buying Matt organic food. She went to great lengths to make separate meals for Matt that no one was allowed to eat.

Maybe it was the wood stove. That furnace was removed.

Maybe it was the formaldehyde in the curtains. They were removed and old blankets were put up.

I could probably list at least 50 or more things that at one time my mom thought were triggers. We had to painstakingly follow rituals to try to stop the triggers from eliciting a response in Matt, but it never worked.

My mom took Matt to almost every doctor in the state and to several doctors in other states. She had faith that he could be healed from this affliction. As a child, I believed that he could be healed too. We hung on to every hope that he would be completely healed.

My mom took Matt to physicians, homeopathic healers, allergists, and even a lady that read auras. But nothing worked.

I fear that what I am telling you makes my mother sound like she was completely crazy. But I want to assure you that my mother was the sanest person in the house. In her natural state she is an easy going…go with the flow kind of person…She is very compassionate, sensitive, and loving…But with Matt, my mother was fierce and determined to do anything she needed to do to protect him…to feel like she had an iota of control over something that no one had any control over… and to seek answers while holding on to this irrational dream that some day she would wake up and he would be normal.

Quieting the voices again

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Last week I shared some really personal stuff about my childhood. What I haven’t told you was that every time I read, write, or think about my past I experience the negative emotions that go along with it. Maybe it is a part of the whole healing process, I don’t know.

I was feeling angry at my mom. This is a real struggle for me because a) she is getting up in age and probably doesn’t have a lot of time left, b) I feel like she was the best parent she could be, and c) she probably was as much of a victim in this whole mess as I was. It is not fair to be angry with her now about things that happened a long time ago.

I should be angry with my dad. He was a) never there for me, b) emotionally abusive, and c) a crappy parent. But I am not angry with my dad.

To add fuel to the fire, the previous weekend when I spoke to my mom she said that the family was going for one last impromptu trip up north. My whole family was going up to celebrate my niece’s birthday and I wasn’t told about it until the day of.

My mom cared about me, but she always cared about Matt more. What I am angry about is that Matt hurt me all of the time and she never did anything. She never told him that his behavior was wrong. She comforted him after he hurt me. She told me that I was in the wrong for feeling angry and wanting to retaliate. Would it have changed anything to tell him what he did was wrong? Probably not, but it would’ve made me feel better.

Did she say she was sorry when Matt attacked my friends? I lost all of my childhood friends because Matt hurt them. I was put in a position where I had to choose between my family and my friends.

When Matt was too violent to go to school, my mom pulled all of us out of school. I was Matt’s caregiver up until my second child was born. I went to college close to home. As a teenager, instead of screwing around with my friends, I was in charge of showering my brother.

When I needed my mom the most, I felt like she wasn’t there…If I dwell on it, my anger boils. I felt rather despondent all weekend. My husband thought I was angry with him because I didn’t feel like talking.

I decided to call my mom over the weekend. I asked her how the birthday party went. She told me that she dropped off the cake and gifts and went back home. She spent half of the car ride home crying. Apparently my brother Luke was not ready to have Matt around his children but that was not communicated. Luke said some harsh words to my mom which was upsetting to his daughter and everyone around.

A couple of months back, Matt was taken off of his anti-psychotic meds. He started hallucinating again and became obsessed with my niece. He talked about killing her. He is back on his medication and hasn’t hallucinated in over a month. But Luke is not ready.

I understand because Matt attacked my daughter Angel at her birthday party. He was obsessed about hurting her too. I’m sure that my brother was thinking that he didn’t want his daughter to get hurt at her birthday party either.

Matt is an adult and our daughters are little girls or were at one time. After Matt hurt Angel I had to cut ties with my family for awhile. At the time, Matt was still living at home with my parents. Matt has always been fixated on hurting girls. Never boys.

My mom pressured me to have Matt get together with the family after that happened. Not long after the incident, I became pregnant with my second daughter. I found out the sex of my baby but never told anyone because it was too painful to tell my family that we wouldn’t be together for a long time.

It took years before I allowed my daughters to be around my brother for more than just a passing glance through the window. Luke is planning on reintroducing Matt to his daughters at my house next month for Thanksgiving. Matt never hurt my nieces. He seems to be doing better. He no longer mutters to himself or laughs at what the voices are saying. The voices are quiet again. Maybe we can move past this. He will have to stay on that medication for the rest of his life.

Delving into the past and the recent events have brought up a mixture of emotions, mainly anger on my part.

I will share some old journal entries with you this week (some of them are funny). Then I will have to put it aside for awhile. I really have a hard time over the holidays because it stirs up all of these family issues. For my mental health, I have to know when to set it aside for awhile.

 

Just a mirage..

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There was a time when I was really thirsty…I allowed a mirage to deceive me into thinking my thirst would be satiated.

The blind date didn’t start well. Mac came to my house to pick me up with another couple. Once we got on the road, I noticed that they were drinking. They were nervous when a cop passed by and stopped at the nearest gas station long enough to drop off their empties.

It was the early 1990’s…I couldn’t call for a ride home..we were planning on going to a bowling alley, but it was closed. We drove around aimlessly until the driver was almost out of gas. When he went in to pay for gas, his girlfriend went through his wallet. She found the number of another girl and freaked out. She got behind the wheel and pulled recklessly out into traffic. She pulled over on a side road and tried to smash the windows with her purse. Then she ran off into the night. We spent the rest of the night trying to find her…It was awful and I told Mac that I didn’t think there would be a second date.

But Mac pursued me relentlessly. He was charming and it was flattering at first. He made me feel like I couldn’t live without him. He was going to rescue me from my troubled home. It wasn’t long before we moved in together. I knew that my family wouldn’t approve.

Things went well at first, although Mac was into gambling. There were nights we went out that he just had to stop at the casino. He said he would be a few minutes as he left me in the car taking the keys with him. It was cold sitting there what seemed like forever in the winter. Security came to the car a few times asking if I was okay..Really, it will be just a few more minutes..

One night Mac went to the casino most of the night, but had to be to work by 7:30 AM. I left early that morning for school, then I went to work. When I got back home it was 7:30 PM. Mac was still sleeping. He thought it was morning, but he missed a whole day of work. Apparently, it was my fault.

It started slowly at first…a shove, a push..Then he started to say mean things…words that even my daddy didn’t say to me. I threatened to call the police. He told me that he would tell them that I stole money from him. He gave me his work checks to cash. I didn’t place the call. It wasn’t that bad anyway…just a little bruise.

He was threatened that I was going to college. He thought that I would leave him so he tried to sabotage me in any way he could. He told me that my papers were stupid. He cut down my ideas. He even deleted a paper that I wrote right before I had to turn it in to class. Thankfully, I always wrote out a rough draft on paper first.

Things got really bad. Mac grabbed me by the neck and threw me against the wall. I spent a lot of time hiding in the closet crying. It reminded me of growing up. There were times that I was kicked, punched, scratched, bit, or hurt by my brother Matt every day for a long period of time. I started having what seemed like flashbacks. I sat in the closet with my arms around my legs terrified.

I wasn’t allowed to feel angry about what happened to me growing up. Matt couldn’t help it. I was lucky because I was normal. I couldn’t retaliate. This is how I became numb to all feelings. This is when it began.

I told myself with every punch and bruise that it was making me stronger, like I was lifting weights. That’s how I convinced myself as a child that it was good for me. It was my mantra that helped me survive.

I didn’t want violence in my life anymore. This was no oasis in the desert. I had to leave Mac.

Mac read my journals. He tore out pages from them and threatened to send them to my family if I left him. Most of my relatives were very traditional minded, all law and no love. Anything less than perfection was not tolerated. There was no doubt in my mind that I would be disowned by my family. I had already lied to them about ‘shacking up’ with Mac. I was screwed.

He also used my journals to blackmail me in other ways. I bought new tires for his car after he wasted his paycheck at the casino. I had to leave.

One winter day while Mac was at work, I packed my things and left. But Mac didn’t leave me. I would wake up in the morning to flowers left under the windshield wiper of my car with notes begging to take him back. He would come to my house while I slept.

A few months later, I moved in with a friend a block away from Mac. He started hanging out with my roommate. She fell for his charm. He got back into my life again and we became friends. One night he invited me to a party with our old neighbors. I remembered the fun times we had.

When Mac walked away for a few minutes, an old neighbor came up to me and said…I know what he did to you…Leave and don’t come back..

I left.

Several months later, I received a package in the mail. Mac returned all of my scandalous journal pages.

It was finally over.

The sign

/ Outrunning my demons / 2 Comments

A couple of weeks back the doubting Thomas in me asked for a sign…and God delivered..

The story really starts a few days after my doubting post. Paul flew out of a small town airport after visiting with our daughter Angel. He had two connecting flights from there to get to his destination. Each layover was an hour long. He almost missed his second flight. The third flight was considerably delayed due to bad weather from a hurricane.

Paul was in much thought and prayer about this trip. He was going to a business meeting that would require making a decision that he was unsure about…one that could have a big impact on our future. After the third flight was delayed, Paul sat down at the airport bar and struck a conversation with the man sitting next to him. The man started talking about recently being faced with the same decision that Paul was contemplating. Unbeknownst to the stranger, he was an answer to prayer.

Paul did not think that the meeting with the stranger in the airport was a coincidence. He decided to take the fork in the road. I really can’t go into the details at this point…but I can say that having an answer has been freeing…a burden lifted.

The following day, I spoke with my mom on the phone. She told me that my brother Luke wanted to step up as the future guardian of my brother Matt. I instantly felt free. A lifetime of being my brother’s keeper…gone. The chains of being my brother’s lifelong caregiver…broken. The weight of a heavy burden…lifted.

I only have 3 1/2 years of parenting left. Then I only have to be responsible for me.

I feel like a caged bird that has been set free. It’s not that I will leave my cage, but that I can. I will no longer be trapped. For the first time I feel like I can fly unfettered. I never thought that this would be possible.

I kept thinking over the past few weeks that if God can take care of the birds, why can’t He take care of me??

Maybe I am asking too much, but please give me a sign…I’m worried that I have to do this whole life thing alone..

In church on Sunday, a duet sang His Eye is on the Sparrow…The lyrics of the hymn echoed through my mind…I sing because I’m happy, I sing because I’m free, His eye is on the sparrow and I know He watches me..

But I still didn’t get the message until I turned to the last few pages of the bulletin. There was a picture of a bird with a message that said something like…listen and you will hear God speaking..

Matthew 6:26-27 If I just remember this, I feel better.

I finally saw the sign…God does care about me. I might not know where He is leading, but I know that I won’t be traveling alone.