Free form thought dumping this morning…thank God the urge to write is returning. Slowly, but it is. Losing the ability to write felt like a death…but it was kicked off by one, so maybe that’s why. Grief is an interesting thing.

Today is my “official” one year anniversary, according to the State of TX. We were actually 10 years in March, but after our first marriages, neither of us wanted the state involved in something that a hundred years ago it wasn’t. This relationship is between us and God, and that was good enough for us. Sure, per common-law rules we were ‘married’ but then discovered more how that works in this state when he had a life threatening health issue occur, and the hospital told us yes my medical PoA is good, but only until his last breath, then according to TX I don’t exist in his life and have no say in anything. So if you are like we were, common law married, check the laws in your state for when that time comes, as it does to all of us.

A year ago today, I didn’t know if we’d make it this far. His prognosis was not positive. The first neurologist, and the hospital neurologists, made serious mistakes that in my eyes should have been a medical malpractice suit, and directly caused his situation worsening from “this is isn’t good, but …” to being told “he is not going to live, get your affairs in order.” We spoke to one of his long time doctors who told us a few other neurologists to look into, settled on one, who blew up in the office at the incompetence of the previous medical professionals on his case, ordered tests, found out what was causing his issues, and with proper medications and follow up he is still with me. One of those steps of “getting our affairs in order” though included making marriage official in the state of TX, so that if anything happened to him (or me) the other actually held the reins in what came next.

So, one year ago today, a pastor friend, two of my sons, one of their girlfriends and us took a careful hike a short ways down the hiking trail we became friends on, then fell in love on, to a little stream where we used to sit and talk, and said our vows with a proper Scottish handfasting ceremony (he is mostly Scottish).

I’m not sure what we are doing today, most of our plans involved the outdoors but with a heat index of 118 today and his continued fragility, those won’t be happening. We moved again the end of February, and are still not unpacked due to an auto accident I was in the last day of the move, subsequent surgery, and just life, so maybe it will be a “setting up/cleaning up together” day. And that’s fine too.

I learned yesterday of the loss of a friend. We met in 06, I think…maybe 07. We had a common history of living through abuse, and connected there. She was a gentle soul, but with a quick bite and that semi-harsh East Coast wit. Life was never kind to her, what I knew of it, and she had a very guarded nature also. A few years ago, she lost her closest son, the one who lived with her, took care of her…they took care of each other. It was sudden, unexpected, and oh so preventable. It broke her, as the death of a child does to a parent. I ached, from a distance. She had remarried, a ‘good Christian man’, who fractured her sternum hitting her their first year of marriage. I don’t know why but she never reported it. She withdrew, and I’m withdrawn already by nature…we kept saying we’d get together for coffee, catch up. We did once, that was when I learned about the fractured sternum. I wish we had both found it in us to get together more.

On the other side of it, I feel some relief, for her. I am not so sure her death was the accident it was described as, but I know she was in pain, suffering, and missing her son. They are together now, of that I am sure, in a place with no more tears, no more pain, no more suffering. Perhaps she’ll get some questions answered. Love you KR, and we’ll meet again one day….maybe you can show me around.

I started a new job today, one that I hope can become my ‘final’ start in the workforce.
Millennials aren’t the only participants in the so-called “Great Resignation”!

This past few years has taught me I’m not 25 anymore. I often wish I could go back to that age, but with the wisdom gained over many hard years. Primarily because my body wasn’t so broken then. Ah well…Anywho, Reality. The reality is years of physical abuse, years of working with large animals, and years of working physically hard jobs for little reward have caught up with me. So, I did some job assessments, pleasantly surprised myself with the results, and applied for and landed an office job at a veterinary clinic. It is my best paying job to date, for which I am happy and grateful, though still not enough to live in this area…if I remember the data from the people who do the “what is a minimal living wage in various cities to have a one bedroom studio apartment and pay basic utilities and eat” studies, this part of Texas is something like $31.50/hr to afford those basics. Which is why I split a home and rent with 3 others. I have wanted to work in the veterinary field since I was about 14, so that is nice. From what I saw today, it will be right up my alley as far as not very physical, and detail oriented, and I just enjoy interacting with clients and helping people. The benefits are good, I had energy after work to do other things, and that leads me to hope that I can finally start a side hustle that actually pays…as I’ve been side-hustling since the mid 90’s in various ways, just never very profitably. During my first marriage that was a mixed blessing, as he was threatened by what I made as a pharmacy tech and I ended up quitting that to stop getting beaten (wishful thinking. It just moved to other subjects). Hopefully this time I can find something that suits me, and I can supplement my income enough to make a difference. I am soooo far behind on any kind of retirement savings. It will come =)

Nine years ago today, March 20th, I shakily got myself together, and went to meet a stranger at Starbucks. We had been talking for about 2 wks by email. He had found my post on a local board wondering if there was any one who could introduce me to the local hiking trails. I had moved here to central Texas from southern Indiana a few years before, and being the introvert that I am I hadn’t gotten out much. I hate getting lost, like panic attack just thinking about it hate, so I wasn’t about to try to find any trails on my own. Besides, its not wise to hike alone.

Other than him, all the replies I had received had also been from males, but also made it clear they weren’t exactly interested in hiking up anything but my skirt (if I would be so kind as to wear one). I can’t do casual sex, its just not me, so I either just ignored the replies or, if they became persistent, told them go find someone else I’m not interested. This guy though was different. We just…conversed. I wondered at some of the questions he asked until we were finally planning to actually meet, and I was like “what trail, where?” and found myself getting a solid scolding about not meeting strange men in the woods, for all I knew he could be a serial rapist, and I had better get some better boundaries up. I don’t remember how I responded, I remember being a bit shocked at his vehemence and a bit feeling like a kid getting a scolding, but whatever I said he then informed me he had a CJ degree, his TCLOS, and had trained to be a cop until breaking his back put an end to that. Aaaaahhhhh……THAT made sense. So, Starbucks it is!

I often find myself wishing I didn’t have the memory issues I do. I remember going. I remember him quickly putting me at ease. I remember thinking good grief, he’s got to be Scottish with that build (he is). We talked, easily, for about 3 hours, which neither of us expected. One of the boys called to be sure I was ok. And we decided to meet at Tejas, his favorite hiking location, in a few days. I left, thinking this can work. I need an adult friend, neither of us is interested in more than friendship, we both had gotten through bad divorces a few years before (although his made mine look like a cakewalk), and hiking would be good exercise. I needed to get out in nature.

We met the few days later, and hiked a few miles down a trail that has since become very dear to my heart. There are streams to cross, rock walls to admire raising many feet above along parts of the trail. Animal calls, and tracks. My first knowledge of Ringtails, an adorable little creature that makes me think of a cross between a raccoon and a squirrel, with maybe a little meerkat tossed in. Snakes, and armadillos, and rabbits abound there. The San Gabriel river winds along, sluggish and shallow in most places, except when the rains come. He told me about the times it has flooded over the years, having spent nearly all of his life in the area. I wore out about 3 miles in, and we turned around after resting and talking more. And, we began to meet twice a week to hike. Oh how my soul needed that! I am most at home outside, especially amongst trees with the faint sound of water.

I still feel ambushed, but in a good way. Conversations flow while hiking. One isn’t thinking about barriers or walls or not letting oneself be seen when one is soaking in God’s glorious nature and sweating (its Texas, after all) and huffing and exclaiming about the mammals or reptiles that burst out of the brush beside the trail as you approach. Or while you’re sitting in chairs beside the river after, catching breath and catching up on getting to know each other. Its rare I feel so relaxed in anyone’s presence. He was so genuine, dirt and all, that it just came natural to be so back. We found we had some very similar backgrounds. Definitely not identical, but so familiar it was easy to empathize with each other. Just having someone to talk freely with….there had only ever been a few others I could.

The last nine years have been full of life in all of its glories and all of its ugliness. My boys have grown and flown the nest. His daughter came back into our lives. I have taken a kick to the spine from a pony, thankfully – a horse probably would have snapped it fully in half – and was unable to walk for almost a year and will have issues for the rest of my days here because of it. He’s been in two serious car accidents. I suffered 2 serious injuries last year, and he then suffered 2 strokes. Medical mistakes set him up for another, not 2 wks ago, and a not great prognosis according to the hospital neurologists. I don’t know how much longer we have, but I will always be thankful for the time we’ve had. And I pray, fervently, daily, that God is gracious and we have many years left. I don’t know how to carry that level of loss, yet again. But for my boys I would simply go with him. For their sakes, I will not, I can not. Though He slay me, yet will I trust Him.

Just because I think they’re beautiful, and beauty matters.

I’m not even sure where or how to begin, its been so long. Not knowing has kept me from doing, but it is time. I need to jump back in, and see where this goes. For the first time in far too many years, I *need* to write. Today, freestyle. I don’t’ know if I’ll keep this blog going, redesign it and start anew, start another, or maybe both. I initially began this with the goal of writing through raising 4 sons on my own, as an abuse survivor. Then my computer died. Then I lost all of my support group one by one, due to life. Lives get busy. I’m an Enneagram 5, very much an introvert, very much conditioned to “never show you need anyone” and “don’t bother people” from my upbringing. So as life moved on for others, I just let them go. I didn’t know how not to. Besides, I didn’t have time myself. It was taking every bit of me and then some to work 2-3 jobs, raise my boys, ward off the abusive ex, tend the minis, and try to heal. The last went by the wayside first.

Its been a lot of years. My oldest is about to graduate with his bachelors in a couple of months. My youngest has moved out east, married, taking a break from education, and settling into his new community. My middle two are still here, thankfully, though I seldom see my 2nd born. I moved recently, and that has improved, he has been by twice, and that makes me happy.

For the first time since 2017, I have a home. The last years had slipped back into survival, depression, and what has felt like a constant game of whack-a-mole, where I’m the mole and every time I stick my head out to try to improve, get ahead, make a viable living, whatever I get whacked back down into darkness and silence, with a massive headache. But Jesus began whispering again, or Spirit did, or both, last year. 2021 sucked. There isn’t another word for it. Well, there are but I probably shouldn’t use them here. I went into the year hopeful and excited…it felt inside like headway was being made on multiple fronts. Not the least of which was my debt situation. The ex took out debt, a lot of debt, in my name while we were married and for the first couple of years after the divorce until a cease-and-desist letter finally made it stop. I had just taken all of it because of his threats of fighting the divorce if I said anything about literally anything. I wanted out, and there appeared to be only one way, as affording a lawyer was out of the question. And the cost of raising the boys, even on a shoe string….but I’d been working at it, and finally the end was in sight. I was down to the last 5k in debt, and oh what a feeling of relief that was!!

Then Feb 8th happened. I had an accident that left me unable to walk for 3 months, with a 2yr recovery period attached per the Ortho doctors. I’m halfway through that, and the pain is still a daily issue, but I’ve accepted that there will never be another pain free day. I just didn’t think anything could make what I already dealt with from the kick in ’14 worse. Wrong! Ah, well…I’m still here. I was just getting back to part time work in late May, when a medication caused a severe reaction that left me in the hospital for a week and caused another few weeks off. In July, my prize foal, the one I’d been working on producing for way too many years, was kicked in the head, and died 10 days later at TX A&M large vet hospital. I changed jobs that month, because it was abundantly clear that I couldn’t physically do the previous one, but it became clear over the following months that the manager wasn’t exactly honest about the physical demands of the new job either, so I began looking again. October, the man who came into my life in 2013 as a friend and hiking partner, that had turned into a relationship neither of us foresaw, had 2 strokes, a pontine and a corpus caloseum. Minor strokes, thankfully, but still strokes, and a neurologist who didn’t listen. December, I was taken down by a Mastiff who decided I looked like a good plaything at work and fractured my pelvis. He did, though, seem sorry and let me rub his belly while I laid on the floor catching my breath. Dogs…gotta love them (most of them…and yes, I still loved the big goober. His pet parent, not so much, as when told what happened his reply was “yah, he does that to us all the time at home”. It would have been nice to know this information so one could adjust for it) So yah…I was more than ready for 2021 to end. I went out of the year with more physical disabilities, a disable husband who still couldn’t walk or balance, and a sudden need to move because his mother hadn’t been safe at home for a year even with us living there (when the ER gives you frequent flyer miles for your monthly visits with her, it’s not a good thing). That would be a whole different blog post. Anyhow…praying. God, I feel you niggling. I am glad He was, because I wouldn’t have gotten through the year otherwise.

He kept bringing up a time in 2011 when Father suddenly said something to me, and I almost wrecked my car. A time that I had for years, looking back, decided I’d failed Him, yet again. Because He said it was time for me to bloom, and if anything I felt like I’d withered. Chop that dead rose off the branch type of withered. Bloom? How? What? I am still asking those questions, but Spirit is stirring. I don’t know where this is going …..

but my very name means Follower. My Finnish middle name means “Raven”, when I looked it up, and upon looking up what ravens symbolize, it is complicated. Wikipedia says they represent loss and ill omen, but also prophecy and insight, and are connectors of the physical and spiritual worlds. Another site says they represent wisdom, affection, healing powers, longevity, death, and fertility. That is an interesting mix. Another says they are symbolic for battle, protection, and fighting for those you love, what you believe in. Norse mythology, they symbolize the mind, thought, wisdom. All of these I find worthy of thought.

Father opened the door quite suddenly though to a new home, and things fell into place no matter how many fleeces I tossed out. Then, 12 days ago, Neil had another stroke. We knew something was wrong because he kept randomly falling. Being male, he resisted going in but only for 2 days this time. After the MRI in the ER, we went straight to the ICU. The main question seemed to be “why is he conscious, he shouldn’t be conscious!”. We learned that because the neurologist wouldn’t listen last time, he was placed on a medication that not only didn’t help, but may have caused the sudden increase of blockage in the basal artery from the 45% it was, to now 100%. I was told he won’t live long. That his brain, although rerouting blood flow since all the parts the basal artery supplies have been cut off, can’t keep up. And after a week, they sent him home -“there’s nothing we can do”. His family doctor was a bit more positive, and said he has patients who have lived years like Neil, as long as we can stop the buildup from getting worse in other arteries in the brain now supplying blood and oxygen. His lab work was all well within acceptable ranges. We are working against genetics, we were told.

The last week has been….odd. I feel depression setting up house, PTSD is a constant again. Right before this I had been offered a very good position in an office, a job I can physically handle, and my background check had just gone through so I had quit the other job, and now find myself in limbo. The hospital said never leave him alone, seconds will count next time. He wants me to take the job, we need a paycheck to pay rent. There is a strange mix of optimism, hope….with a lingering layer of depression, despair, loss. I am not sure how to walk this. And I find myself driven back here. There’s a message sent in 2016 that had not shown up before. Reading it, oh how I needed that. Has it really been that many years? Six years since I began this? I knew it was a while, somehow I didn’t realize it was that long. That sounds like a very long time. Doubt tries to enter -don’t bother, you won’t keep it up again, you know that. You can’t finish things. I have learned a fair bit about myself though in the last few years, and one thing I do know, I may get knocked down…but I get back up. Every. time. Sometimes it takes a while. But I do. So I am here, and will try again. I do not know yet what this blog will become, or if it will. The original topic is now a moot point. We will see.

It’s breathtaking the way grief slips up and tackles you, sometimes.

I’ll admit, I’m a slow processor. More so when life must go on, and nothing slows down, and the children’s needs must be tended. It’s easy, too easy, to put myself away and move into survival. I did that, nearly 3 years ago.

But the Spirit has been stirring and lids are getting ripped off of a variety of boxes I had packed up so neatly and stuck on the highest shelf in my heart, surely out of reach of anyone, even Him. After the initial shock of loss wore off, and the anger settled down (now I wonder, “settled where?”, and the numbness seemed to pass (has it, really? I don’t think so. If it had, why am I still so numb?), I slipped, necessarily it appeared at the time, into survival mode again. Looking back, I’m not too certain when that actually happened. I did not understand, still do not understand, and somewhere in that not understanding and kids needing to eat and bills needing paying and Neil coming into my life it all-who I was, who I am, what I felt, what I feared, everything-it had to go away to get through the days. Healing and raising children at the same time, with little help with the healing aspect and less with the children, don’t mix. I may be wrong about that, but I don’t think so.

Suddenly though, I find myself with a little me time, a window of “break”, and I feel my Lord tugging…we need to look at some things, love. I have been keeping Him at arm’s length in many ways also…thankfully, He is oh so very patient. There are a multitude of things He could choose to tug at, and there are a few He is. And you are one of them.

Our song came on the cd when I played it in the car, and Houston came back . And I am falling apart, all over again. It is a healing falling apart this time though, I think. I feel so still in my soul, waiting. I still question, did I hear Him, REALLY hear Him, about you? Was I simply a silly female, falling in ways I shouldn’t have, as we do? Yet He soothes my hair even as I write this and asks if I question everything about the last decade, all the times He led, all the ways He led….sometimes, yes. Mostly though, no. Doubt and ever present loss do make me wonder, I will not lie. A voice asks me, “If this were really Jehovah through all of this, would you still be living as you are? I thought He was to restore what was stolen, that’s what He says he does. Yet you just keep losing more. I don’t think you are actually hearing Him, I think you are hearing another lord and following that voice mistakenly”..

The lords of the past seek hard to enslave my children. Bastards have to fight the wounds they have received though for supremacy.

Though I may falter in my steps, never beyond Your reach….

No. It has not all been a lie I fell for. From that first moment You encountered me exiting my bedroom door, and asked if I wanted life to stay as it was, as so many do, and simply keep plodding until I die, or if I was willing to take Your hand and follow–but it was my choice…I have, with everything in me, tried to say I do daily. I mess up. I have missed You in things, and I have kept up with You in others. And I will continue to fumble along, chasing you like a kid down a rocky road, falling and scraping my knee at times, and waiting for You to pick me up and bring me along again. And I will never ‘be over’ you. I do not understand, I do not know what He has in mind, sometimes I do not even know if I believe or trust..but I will. And I will let the grief wash over me today, and accomplish what it needs to. I think the next week is going to be a wild ride. If you see this, you have an email.

It’s amazing how things can still kick the air out of your lungs, even after decades have passed. After you’ve been working on healing for a decade (well, almost). After you are back to “living a normal life”, whatever that is apart from putting on the mask day after day because you are, after all, an adult, and have responsibilities to tend to.

I haven’t had a television for years, decades actually. I’ve never been a big T.V. fan, though I do have the shows I like (NCIS, namely) and occasionally watch when I get the chance, or the DVD box set. I’m not familiar with Josh Dugger, although I have heard of the family with 19 kids. I’m still not clear if he’s one of them, or the dad of the tribe. Honestly, to me that doesn’t matter. Apparently, he’s been outed for molesting children. This article was on a friend’s page on FB and showed up in my newsfeed this morning-“In Faith Communities…”

Oh how accurate! I read another, that I can’t seem to find again, talking about how his “confession” has silenced the victims via charges of unforgiveness.

My first reaction? I wanted to put a boot, hard, in his face. After finding my breath again, I prefer Jesus’ idea–tie a millstone around his neck and drop him in the sea. There isn’t another sin, btw, that He was so vehement about. Only hurting children, only causing them to stumble. I have found no place else, no other thing mentioned, where He states that it would have been better for the perp not to have been born. Apparently, God takes child abuse seriously. Would to God we would.

I left the evangelical church because of the position taken on the subject of abuse. I do not think it is all evangelical churches, but it has been nearly all that I have encountered in my life. This is not something that you simply say “I forgive”, or go to an alter and say some words, or have hands laid on you, and it goes away. I am NOT espousing bitterness. Bitterness only keeps the victim in the position OF victim, keeping one from moving on to Survivor. Ms. Demuth hit the proverbial nail on the head, however. Forgiveness, healing from such deep wounds, wounds that tear your soul from you and shred it, takes time. Much time. It takes being given a voice, without judgement. It takes learning and knowing that what happened Matters, your pain is real and to be expected, and not something to deny or hide or pretend never happened. Such things do not stay under rugs well. If it is not faced in time, when one is able to, it will leak out into other areas of life. Bad decisions, self sabotage, hurtful relationships…I have done them all, and more.

I pray that there are ones trained who can help these young ones through the violent explosions in their souls that I know from experience are going on. I pray for Justice to be done, that Mr. Dugger feels the full weight of law. There is something wrong with a society that will give more prison time for having a joint in your pocket than for ripping the soul from another human and violating their very being. I don’t know what the laws are there….hopefully, they are harsher and stricter and more enforceable than in the states I have dealt with this crime in, where the perp has walked, every time, without even a smack on the hand. No matter what the laws are here though, there is One Who is Just, and whom all perps will have to stand before and give account of their actions. I can now almost pity them, knowing He is the One Who has stated “better to have not been born”. I don’t know what that translates to in divine justice, but I do believe they will, finally, understand the seriousness of the crime they committed.

If you have been there also, my thoughts and prayers are with you. There are those who care, who understand. For my child who has been there, one perp I could get some charges against, the other talked his way out of it as always…I am here, always, when you are ready. These things cannot be rushed, but also don’t try to sweep it away. You will know when it’s time to talk, and you are brave and strong enough to do so.

For those who are ready, I highly recommend Dan Allendar’s book, “The Wounded Heart”. It is the most painful thing I have ever read…and the most helpful.

I have a feeling I’m going to be coming back to this soon, hence the part 1 title.