Sevens tag

Tagged by Chocolate Makes it Better;)

7 things I want to do before I die

1. Live in a warmer climate again
2. Take G and the kids to Japan
3. Show G the California Redwoods
4. Take my family to Disneyland in Anaheim
5. Establish a memorial scholarship fund in Mike's honor
6. Make peace with my past
7. Collect shells with Number One Daughter and Little Big Boy along the shore of the Pacific.

7 Things I Cannot Do

1. I have never learned how to relax.
2. Eat spicy fare-yes, I'm 50% Hispanic and cannot eat spicy food
3. Ignore suffering
4. Sit without fidgeting
5. Sleep all night
6. Recite the multiplication tables
7. Paint-I long to paint beautiful landscapes and portraits

7 Things That Attract me to the Opposite Sex

1. Eyes
2. Sincerity
3. Personality
4. Hairy chest
5. Smile
6. Chivalry
7. Confident stature

7 Things I say Most Often

1. No way, Jose
2. Yes way, Jose
3. Pretty please, Jose
4. I love you
5. Have a happy day
6. Actually
7. I love this/that song

7 Celebrity Crushes-not crushes, but I find these men have/had a lot of sex appeal

1. Dopey
2. Gregory Peck
3. Tom Hanks
4. George Peppard in Breakfast at Tiffany's; I despised the A Team and never watched it.
5. Ewan McGregor
6. Sean Connery
7. Cary Grant

I hate Halloween and other tales

I hate Halloween. There are enough boogie men in my world. Number One Daughter started to sing The Five Little Pumpkins and I joined in. The smile on her face was incredible. I told her that I sang that song in school, too. It is comforting to me that some things do not change. To borrow a line from Breakfast at Tiffany's, "it gives me hope...Continuity with our past." or something very close to those words. We might not be trick or treating. G has to work. His parents are going to D.C. for the weekend. Maybe we will trick or treat in another community on Sunday so Daddy can take part.

1. Little Big Boy doesn't want me to call him "Puppy" anymore. He didn't like us to call him anything else. He has grown up so fast. He loves school. He comes home from school and I ask, "How was school?" and he replies, "It was AWESOME!" He can't wear size threes anymore. Some fours aren't big enough. My Little Big Boy-the baby-is growing up too fast and walking out the door too quickly. It is happening right before my very eyes and I want to shout: Wait! Wait up. Alas, it is better to say: Go on. Go ahead. Enjoy.
2. Number One Daughter is having a tough time with Halloween. The "haunting" music has her in tears each night. Tonight I had her try singing Christmas carols while she tried to sleep. That didn't work and she asked if she could recite poems. SURE! That didn't work either. So I told her to turn on the hall light and sing Jingle Bells. Soon, minus the tears, she was sleeping peacefully.
3. Salsa just snuck outside with Pepper. Declawed cats, they darted out when I was letting Bessie out. I tried to coax them back in, but the cats just disappeared. Pepper sneaks our frequently. And for the first time ever, Salsa joined her. It was like a prison break-well planned and timed. I just know that Pepper has been telling Salsa all about "out there." Well, I left the light on and am worried sick, but I couldn't find them when I went outside. I will check one last time before I lock up for the night.
4. I am watching the Astros in the top of the 11th in the third game of the World Series. Two out. The score is tied 5-5. I do not like the Sox...But it appears that eight men out might be helping the nine men on the field. Every call has gone their way-minus one homer early in this game. How I wish the Astros would take it all, but again, Shoeless Joe et al, appear to be in on the games.
5. Joey, our adopted cockatiel, is pulling out some of his feathers. I am alarmed to say the least. I have read that it is something that they do when they are upset, nervous or the like. So I talked with him quite a bit today and put extra millet sprigs in his cage. Is it possible that he is having a delayed reaction to his new home? I hope not.
6. Today I was spring cleaning. It is my hope that we will be able to have Christmas this year. Last year, I was recovering from surgery, so no tree. This year, I want to have all of the trees up. One day, I will have my year-round-Christmas room. 'Til then, I will just enjoy it from the end of September to the New Year. It really doesn't bother me that Christmas decor is given more space in stores than Halloween junk. I do not like 10/31. I know that television shows and many people make a big fuss over it, but to me it just lost all of its allure when I discovered the history of it. There are so many things that I prefer. As much as I like autumn, I despise autumn colors. I have never liked them. Except on trees. Autumn's palette belongs on trees and slowly drips off of them and runs over and onto our lawns. It is beautiful.

Therapy and things

Well. Friday was therapy for P and I. It went so well that I simply had to write about it as soon as possible. Dry sarcasm is hard to hear on a blog, huh?

It was impossible. I wanted to leave at least three times and said as much. That boy. THAT boy. That BOY. Three ways and it doesn't seem to fit any way that I spell it.

I was hurt. Enraged. Anxious. Nervous and stunned. In tears and ready to make my escape. And all this in 45 minutes.

I think that we are beyond the "who is right or wrong" of it. I do not trust him. That simple and that complicated.

He doesn't want to come home again-ever. I find that stunning.

It ended badly, but neither the therapist or I knew it. I got the dose of it ending badly on the ride home. He wants to be "out there." It is where he can have his way without asking. He can live his life his way. I'm embarrassed for him, actually.

He is unemployed and living at the home of a like-aged friend. I wonder what the friend's parents think. I wonder what story they were told. I doubt the truth is being told, but does it matter? Am I thinking like a child myself?

During the year and a half that P was back with me, he lied, snuck a girl into our home late at night and had sex with her, had sex in our backyard, suffered that he had no say or part in an abortion-though it is what he wanted to happen, flunked out of high school, made up a class at the last moment and received a diploma-though it is still sitting at his high school waiting for him to pick it up.

He did all of these "grown up" things and after the therapy session, he was angry that I have to drop him from our health insurance. It is a requirement, since he isn't living here and doesn't want to return-which is for the best, I think.

I have given him a deadline to pack his room and I told him that he has to call me the day before he wants to come over and pack it up. He is going to store it here, which is fine for now.

So after four days of pondering the situation I realize that I am angry with him-again, still-which ever. I'm angry that he doesn't want to come home. I'm angry that he thinks everything is owed to him on a silver platter. I'm angry that he wants what he wants NOW. I'm angry that he feels entitled to it. I'm angry that I had to remind him that I did not get an apology from him for calling me vile things.

I think, too-and maybe most of all, I'm angry because "my boy" doesn't want to come home. He isn't my boy anymore and more importantly, I don't think he ever was. Not in the biblical sense of him not being my son-no not like that. I mean that all during the therapy session, he kept telling me how much better it had been living with his father. The batterer. The jerk. The man who so many times left deep purple bruises on my body that didn't go away for months. "The man" who knocked me out-literally.

My son models his measure of a good life by a man that is absolutely worthless. A man who doesn't deserve to be called, "a man." My son worships a man who threatened to take my boy from me and has made good on that promise. A man who told my little boy so many lies and was so deceitful with him that my son believes that I was the batterer in that relationship. OMG. That is the true measure of his father being the lowest form of life. He told my boy that I hit him...I cannot even begin to say how deeply that hurts.

My son believes "that man." He believes him. OMG, he BELIEVES him. Well doesn't that just make me want to grab an axe and play Paul Bunyan. (When I worked in forestry and my emotions were running hot, I would chop down brush, or buck up wood or run a chainsaw for a few hours. Physical labor is good for the soul.) He has believed this for a long time that I was the one who was hitting his father-what a laugh that is, but to be told this in the little room, well, I wanted to climb the walls. So, he's staying "out there."

I have given power away again to that jerk. I have given him the power to enrage me again. They say realizing that some thing is a problem is the first step to resolving it, but I have been down this road so many times. I thought that I beat this to death a long, long time ago. And here it is again rearing its ugly head. WHY CAN'T I JUST ESCAPE THE ABUSE OF THE PAST? WHY DOES IT ALWAYS COME BACK? EVERY TIME THAT I THINK I HAVE KICKED IT, IT CREEPS IN AGAIN.

I guess now all I want is for him to come pack his things. The deadline is Friday. Sigh. Then on November 11th, we go back to therapy. Why do I subject myself to such torture? Because he's my boy.

Sleep sweet, Rosa Parks

On December 1, 1956, Rosa Parks refused to give up her seat to a white passenger on a bus.

Two months later, she was taken into custody and finger printed. The fact that giving up her seat was the law is obscene.

I wish that we were farther along in race relations and rights. So many people are victimized even in the year 2005.

I am glad that she had the courage to take a stand on that December day so long ago. How many people have that kind of courage? To stand up and be counted in a country where simple basic rights were being denied must have been very frightening. It saddens me that there are still basic rights denied to people.

Poverty, hunger, racism, hatred run rampant in our world, but there are people like Rosa Parks. I hope that everyone who thinks about her today and in the days ahead are changed in a way that helps them do the right thing.

Like next time someone says a racist remark, you take the time to say, "that isn't funny." Or the next time someone gossips about someone who is different, you get up and walk out of the room. Or tell the gossip that you don't like talking about people behind their back.

I don't know if I would have refused to give up my seat. I don't know if I would have been that courageous, but I can live my life a little differently because Rosa Parks was. I hope one day that there won't be a need to discuss basic human rights as a goal in our lives. I hope one day that we will see it come to pass.

Rosa Parks died today-peacefully in her sleep at the age of 92-and I know that Jesus himself was there to welcome her home.

Fall on your knees

Have you ever hit rock bottom? Really hit it-hard. You know that you are as low as you can get and that is a good thing. Then, the bottom falls out again. There must be different levels of rock bottom. One step up and two steps back. I think that we are finally to the point where there are no more false bottoms and we are going to be making steady progress back up.

I texted messaged w/P today. I wanted to know what outcome he was looking for. Did he expect or desire to come home after the session? What was he thinking?

I was surprised that he didn't want to come home. I really was. I figured that he would want to just come home after the therapy session, but I was wrong. He said he didn't want to come home. He just wanted a relationship with his family.

I was relieved. G and I had been discussing terms for P to have to agree to before he could come home. I was glad that he didn't want to come home. TALK ABOUT GUILT! I mean, I feel guilty for feeling relieved.

G and I are getting closer again. We don't have a constant battle over manipulation by P. And we don't have that feeling of dread that something is going to turn into an argument. The yelling is almost non-existent. There is a sense of calm-well not perfect calm and certainly not all fun and games, but since P has been "out there," we have gained some peace.

It is strange that I assumed that P would want to come home right away-that he had had enough of being "out there." He doesn't want the rules or the arguing or yelling either. Perhaps I didn't realize that while I wasn't looking my boy did become a man. He is intelligent enough to know that it is not a good situation if he isn't willing to live by house rules. That is a "grown up" revelation.

He has made his mistakes and I have made mine. We will continue to do so, but I will have to tell him tomorrow that I am proud of him for being honest. He could have said that he would live by house rules and followed them for a few days and then gone back down the same ol' path. Instead, he chose to stay "out there."

I know that his reasons for staying out there aren't necessarily mature and sensible, but they are honest. Right now, that is very manly to me, so I have to remember to tell him so tomorrow.

Thank YOU for reading and keeping me in your thoughts and/or prayers. We are going to be okay. I apologize for not visiting your blog and commenting, but I need to continue to repair my family. I know some who drop in need prayers and thoughts, too...I am thinking about you. Thank you for listening.

Star light; star bright

I have been wishing on stars lately. Wishing. Hoping. Worrying. But I know that I will not find answers in the stars...Unless I am following the Star. The right Star. The Star that led so many to the manger.

I have written, but not finished a half dozen posts. I do not have anything to say, but this I know is true. I need to really give this all up to God. I need to let go. It is the most difficult thing that I can do.

When I am in this "mode," I usually lash out and attack things that bother me. I am a "fixer." If things are wrong, I right them. If there is an injustice, I right it. If there is someone who needs a "dressing down," I give it.

I learned to be a fixer a long time ago; it is my survival skill. It is what my mind taught me to do because my childhood terrorist was beyond my control. I have had many adult terrorists, too. I have discussed this in depth many a time. But these are the things that molded the person that I have become.

Lately, I have been wanting to secede from my family. I want my family to just go away and leave me alone, which is very contradictory to what I have written before. I haven't seen most of them in years and years, but it is especially at times like these that I want them to be gone from my life.

I look for approval-especially from my father. I will never have it. Even though he has on a few occasions told me that he is proud of me, I know when he is not. Like when I call him and my mother on the telephone and my children are talking in the background or making too much noise. I can hear the disapproval in his voice. The "children should be seen and not heard" mentality. This has cost me many sleepless nights and tears, but it is what it is.

I really struggle with my need for parental approval because I would also like to dress-down my parents. I would like to voice my disapproval and disappointments. My irritations and dislikes.

Perhaps that is what P is struggling with now-to a degree. He wants and perhaps needs parental approval, but he also wants and needs his independence. I cannot give my approval for some of his actions, but I can tell him that I love him and always will-more now than ever. It is exactly in times of crisis that we should blanket our family in love. Surround them with a family hug...Even long distance.

I do not have to approve of P's actions, but that doesn't mean that I don't approve of or love him. That is a difficult lesson to teach a child. I see the difficulty that I have with Little Big Boy and Number One Daughter. It is hard to tell a child that what they have done is naughty, but that you still love them...Not because the words won't come, but because their hearts and minds are so fragile. Little Big Boy doesn't understand how I can be angry and still love him, but I keep trying to show him how it is possible. At three and six years old respectively, Little Big Boy and Number One Daughter need to know that I am always going to be there for them.

That is a very hard lesson to teach when P has been kicked out. The little ones do not know where P is or why he hasn't been here lately. Little Big Boy keeps saying, "I wish P was here." "I do, too," I say.

Once when P was about eight years old, he and G were traveling alone across the state. P looked at G and said, "When you are thinking about someone who isn't with you, do you think that they are thinking about you, too?" G replied that he did think that it is true. I have been thinking and praying a lot for P. I wonder if he has been thinking and praying a lot for me, too?

I saw him briefly this morning. I hugged him for a long minute and let him go with tears in my eyes. Then he said, "When is your next appointment with Kris?" I told him that I didn't have one; to which he replied, "If you make an appointment, I'll go with you." We are going to therapy on Friday morning.

It is true. When you are thinking about someone-they are thinking about you.

"O My Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from Me; nevertheless, not as I will, but as You will" (Matthew 26:39).

In your 18th year

Another turning point; a fork stuck in the road.

Time grabs you by the wrist; directs you where to go.

So make the best of this test and don't ask why.

It's not a question but a lesson learned in time.

It's something unpredictable but in the end it's right.

I hope you had the time of your life.

So take the photographs and still frames in your mind.

Hang it on a shelf

In good health and good time.

Tattoos of memories and dead skin on trial.

For what it's worth, it was worth all the while.

It's something unpredictable, but in the end it's right.

I hope you had the time of your life.(music break)

It's something unpredictable, but in the end it's right.

I hope you had the time of your life.

It's something unpredictable, but in the end it's right.

I hope you had the time of your life.

18 year old loves that song. I don't know where he is. Maybe that is best. I texted him that I love him and always will. I worry and wonder where he is. Nights are long, but I hope that they are short, warm and comfortable for him.

He called a couple of days ago, but it ended in him swearing at me again. Right now, I guess he just needs to be out there to see what "reality" truly means.

I feel guilty and afraid, but there are times when Little Big Boy yells at me and I know what is happening. The yelling took over our home, so it was time to put an end to it. It just seems to have cost so much either way.

When Number One Daughter was in a daycare program, she changed rooms and began to call it "the yelling school." I popped in unexpectedly one afternoon and discovered that "the yelling school," was a very accurate description of her new room. The teacher was yelling at a student and grabbed something out of the little girl's hand. The look on both of their faces were awful...one out of control, the other fright filled.

I reprimanded the teacher and took my daughter and the other girl to another teacher's room and asked for the center director. She wasn't in and I left a message for her to call me. I told G what had happened and we never stepped in that facility again; no one was going to treat our daughter like that. It was a bad situation and I made certain that the district HQ knew what had happened.

Now I realize that we were all yelling in our home. It was time to end the yelling. I do not want Little Big Boy or Number One Daughter to think of this as "the yelling home." So much to repair.

The silence from 18 year old is a weapon I suspect. That alone makes this necessary, but it isn't easy. Ten years from now, I hope that the silence was worth it for all of our sakes.

We'll leave a light on...

Yes. We'll leave a light on and a path cleared to the door. Wishing wishes...a soldier...a soldier comin' home....

Soldiers are everywhere, I think. You might be a soldier. Fighting your "good fight." A tough day at work. The loss of someone dear. A prodigal son or daughter. Are you a soldier-fighting a fight of some kind?

Then you know how tough YOUR fight is. So tonight, get down on your knees and say a prayer for our Armed Forces. Their fight could cost them their life. And they are fighting for us. For our freedoms, our country, our children.

I am lost in my "issues," but I know that there are greater pains. There are deeper sorrows. There are bigger fights. God bless all soldiers.

And while we're on the subject: After all that has happened around the world, isn't it TIME TO BRING GOD BACK INTO OUR SCHOOLS? Back into our government. Back into our lives.

After Katrina hit New Orleans and all of the devastation was evident, Anne Graham was interviewed on a morning show and asked where God is in all of this? Her answer was stunning and profound-an email message is making the rounds now about her reply. This is it:

"I think God is deeply saddened by this, just as we are, but for years we've been telling God to get out of our schools, to get out of our government and to get out of our lives. And being the gentleman He is, I believe He has calmly backed out. How can we expect God to give us His blessing and His protection if we demand He leave us alone?" In light of recent events...terrorists attack, school shootings, etc. I think it started when Madeleine Murray O'Hare (she was murdered, her body found recently) complained she didn't want prayer in our schools, and we said OK.

Then someone said you better not read the Bible in school. The Bible says thou shalt not kill, thou shalt not steal, and love your neighbor as yourself. And we said OK. Then Dr. Benjamin Spock said we shouldn't spank our children when they misbehave because their little personalities would be warped and we might damage their self-esteem (Dr. Spock's son committed suicide). We said an expert should know what he's talking about. And we said OK.

Now we're asking ourselves why our children have no conscience, why they don't know right from wrong, and why it doesn't bother them to kill strangers, their classmates, and themselves.

Probably, if we think about it long and hard enough, we can figure it out. I think it has a great deal to do with "WE REAP WHAT WE SOW." Funny how simple it is for people to trash God and then wonder why the world's going to hell. Funny how we believe what the newspapers say, but question what the Bible says.

Funny how you can send 'jokes' through e-mail and they spread like wildfire but when you start sending messages regarding the Lord, people think twice about sharing. Funny how lewd, crude, vulgar and obscene articles pass freely through cyberspace, but public discussion of God is suppressed in the school and workplace.

Funny how when you forward this message, you will not send it to many on your address list because you're not sure what they believe, or what they WILL think of you for sending it. Funny how we can be more worried about what other people think of us than what God thinks of us."

Well, I do not like Billy Graham. Once upon a time, he said if his "congregation" didn't send him enough money then God was going to "call him home." What a bunch of malarkey. God wouldn't take someone to Heaven over a "material" thing like money. I do not like televangelists either. They are dooms day sayers and they prey on your pocketbook. Pun intended.

But I have to agree with his daughter that our world is going to hell. If our money says, "In God we trust" why can't we?

Hell week

18 year old needs prayers.

If you are so inclined, please pray for him. I kicked him out yesterday morning. I did it once before earlier this year. This time is very different. This time, there is no turning back.

He thinks that he is entitled to freedoms simply because he turned 18. He has been disrespectful to G and I through his senior year. He especially challenges G.

Over the past few weeks, it has gotten worse and worse until I put the House Rules in writing-yes, a contract. Then I gave him chances each time that he broke the rules and I revised the House Rules once.

After all of that, he still wouldn't tow the line. Well then yesterday, I had a physical therapy appointment and went downstairs to wake him so he could apply for a job while I was at PT. He kept arguing with me. (I had grounded him for three days and nights. Yesterday was going to be the last day of it.) I warned him that if he didn't stop arguing that I would add another day; yes, he continued to argue. I added Saturday to the grounding. And he swore up a storm. Then, I warned him again to stop or I would add Sunday. He continued. I added Sunday and he swore more.

I don't really remember what the final straw was, but I finally yelled, "That is it! Get out of my house." He yelled, "you're kicking me out?" And his swearing and language got worse and worse. Then I slapped his face. Open handed, but I slapped him. Then he did something that I will never forget. He called me a "whore."

My 18 year old said that to me. I still cannot believe it. I am in shock-I'm stunned. I cannot believe that he has so little respect for me that he would say that. The worst part? He sounds exactly and acts exactly like his father. How I tried to insure that I raised him to be a better man than that. How I tried to have more influence than that man on my boy. How I thought that I had succeeded. Yet, here we are.

Well, he's out there. Staying at a friend's house. I texted him yesterday and asked him where he will be staying. Then, another argument ensued. He replied that come Monday he would be in the streets. He called me and swore some more and I hung up on him. I let him know that he needs to make calls and find a place to live. That this is it.

He gets what he wanted: freedom. No curfew. No rules. No participation in our family. No chores.

Last night at 11 p.m., he called and I thought the worst-busted for drinking...Something like that. Well he wanted to drop by and pick up something. OMG. What? You called me because you want to pick up something? At 11 p.m.? No! Call at a reasonable hour. He argued some more. He just keeps going and keeps talking. "why not. Why not. You're both awake. Why not. Come on let me come and get something." WE WEREN'T AWAKE!!!!!!!!

I didn't tell him that. I just said no and he continued to talk and I just hung up on him.

I can't live like this anymore. I can't have him disrupting the whole family. I can't have my little kids mocking or rather mirroring his actions. I can't explain why he needs to follow rules and have a curfew anymore. I can't keep doing it. I can't.

I feel guilty. I feel responsible. I feel like I raised him to be a better man. I feel like a failure.

I feel relief. I feel like I can breathe again. At least some of the time. I know that he is going to call me today, but it is going to be on my terms and not his and this will not go over well. It is looming again.

We aren't supposed to give up on our children. I'm not giving up, though. I'm not. I'm just trying to let him see the reality. He wants all of the freedom and no rules simply because he is 18 years old. He doesn't understand that things are earned. This is hard and awful and scary, but I think this time it is necessary. I'm not going to cave in like I did last time.

Change. Changes. I'm not going to cave in. This time he is going to have to see that everyone has rules. That I require respect. There will be apologies, too. I am so tired. I am praying. I am hoping that he will be okay out there. I am hoping that he will learn something out there.

Heaven help us please. Amen.

All I Want For Christmas

I dedicate this song to you. The family of a deployed soldier, airman, seaman, elite forces member or Marine. And to you: a deployed member of the Armed Forces. I can think of nothing better than for you to be Home, especially for Christmas.

If you are not going to be home for the holidays I want you to remember that HOME is also in your heart and you carry it with you where ever you are and where ever you go. It may not feel like that, but I know it is true because I lived the life of the family of a Marine. I know that my dad was with us on those Christmas' when he was deployed. And I know that he was with us when the turkey that he should have carved was sliced by someone else. He was always with us.

I make this wish for you now and extend it now and through the holiday season. God bless you, our Armed Forces and God bless America, its allies and friends. And may God end the evil in the world so that we can enjoy a Christmas of peace, love and joy in Jesus' name. Amen.

All I Want For Christmas (a Soldier Coming Home)
Artist: Xmas Balls
featuring: Monty Lane Allen

A music box for her
A bike for little Joe
All I want for Christmas is a soldier comin' home

The family trims the tree
With candy canes and bows
All I want for Christmas is a soldier comin' home

Wherever you are tonight
We send you prayers and love
I'm saving you the good stuff for a toast when you come home

I hope you know we're proud of you
And we miss you so
All I want for Christmas is a soldier comin' home

There's Christmas lights in town
The ground is white with snow
All I want for Christmas is a soldier comin' home

Wherever you are tonight you're in our hearts and prayers
We'll all be here to greet you back from over there
Don't forget we love you
We'll keep the fires goin''

All I want for Christmas is
A soldier
A soldier
Comin'' home

Yeah,yeah,yeah
A soldier comin home
Oooooo yeah, yeah

All I want for Christmas is a soldier comin' home
Yeah yeah
hmmmmm
hmm hmmmmm

I must learn to...

~let go of things beyond my control.

~leave "well enough" alone.

~give up the need to control because I did not have control of people who harmed me when I was too young to defend myself or understand what was happening.

~accept that I can only do so much.

~be thankful for my husband and children-at all times and not just when it is convenient for me.

~forgive myself for falling short of "perfection."

~realize that "things" happen and it doesn't mean that they are "being done to me;" they are just happening.

~savor the autumn air before it, like the summer, is over before I had the opportunity to appreciate it.

~give God the reins for the whole ride and not just when I "need" or "want" him to take them.

"I've fallen and I can't get up"

When I was in kindergarten, we had a presentation of some kind. Our chairs were in rows facing the "audience." Then one of the more rowdy boys in my class pulled a chair out from under me just before I was going to sit down. I fell on my bum very hard and continued to fall back until I hit my head on the chair behind me.

At the tender age of five-years-old, I was very good at shutting out pain and harm. I was a pillar of strength. You-YOU can't make me cry. Yes, by then, I was adept at throwing up walls that I am still struggling to demolish.

It hurt. My bum hurt. My head hurt, but I think more than anything, I was stunned that you had to be on guard at all times and not just when a certain extended family member was around. "Danger, Will Robinson," existed every where. Not just at home when the grandparents were visiting. Not just when we visited "him" or rather "it" in Anaheim.

Ironically, Disneyland was only a few blocks away from my grandparents house. What a crock. A real travesty. He lived so close to a place of dreams and childhood fantasy and fun. He was a real Disney villain, only there weren't any mountains for him to fall from...Or fires for him to fall into...At least not in this life.

One week ago Sunday, a chair that I was going to sit in was suddenly gone and I crashed to the ground. I fell forever and once I landed on my backside, continued to fall backwards until my upper back, shoulders and head finally hit the floor.

Faster than a speeding bullet, G was at my side. He was there before I finished falling backwards. He must have leapt from where he was reclining. I mean he made it in one movement. The look of worry and concern was a welcome relief. "Are you okay?" he asked. "No," I replied, "no, I'm not." I start physical therapy on Friday.

Isn't it funny how history repeats itself? Only this time, I didn't have any walls up and there wasn't a Darth Vader. The chair just crumbled. A quick look at the chair revealed that the bolts or screws weren't secure and they just slipped. I fell to the ground and for some reason I was drawn back to kindergarten and I cried. It hurt in the past and it hurt in the present. I am on meds that do not relieve the pain.

However, I let my inner child heal and now I know that is one more flashback that is done. One step closer to leaving the past behind am I.

October is...

October is National Breast Cancer Awareness month. Today I have a diagnostic mammogram. It is a precaution because of a cyst that was discovered three weeks ago. I am neither worried nor concerned; I am lucky it is a precaution and I was due for my every two year mammogram anyway.

On the other hand, October is also National Domestic Violence Awareness month. I am very concerned about this topic. I am a survivor of domestic violence. It is an esteem robbing, support system denying, brutal life; however, there is help. Twenty-four hour hotlines exist for almost every country in the world, including the United States, United Kingdom, Canada and Scotland. Just 'google' it and you can find help online-on the phone and you will be directed to help in your neighborhood. This information is for anyone...NOT just the victim of domestic violence.

If you suspect that a friend or family member is a victim of domestic violence, you can call the hotline and ask what you can do to support the victim. Being there is about the best that you can do, though-the victim has to decide to get out of the relationship. It's that simple and it is that difficult, but don't give up. The seemingly inability to get out of the relationship is very debilitating and very hard to do; the victim will need all of the support that they can get to make and keep the break away from the violence when ready.

If you do know a survivor of domestic violence-the difference is that the victim is still in the situation and a survivor made it out of the situation-there is help for them, too. Counseling, shelters to start life over, financial assistance for necessities, domestic violence hotlines can provide all of these services to help the victim become a survivor.

Perhaps the most interesting program that I have discovered to support a survivor of domestic violence is the Give Back a Smile program sponsored by the American Academy of Cosmetic Dentistry. You may recall that I was hired to blog several commercial blogs. If you visit this one: Dental Health Center, I have blogged about the the Give Back a Smile program and how to contact the organization for application information.

The best part about the post is that there are before and after pictures of a survivor. Her teeth were chipped by her abusive partner-the AACD Gave Back a Smile to this woman. It is worth a read and you can visit the AACD's website, too. It is always endearing when an organization gives back to a community...Giving back smiles is perhaps one of the best self esteem increasing programs I have ever discovered for domestic violence survivors.