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I Guess He is Alive May 21, 2008

Posted by only4now in Depression, doubts, Pain.

I pick up my phone and check the date that he called me last:Febuary 03 at 9:28pm. He seemed to be in a fairly good mood… But he chastised me for not calling him for so long. He told me that I had let him down. It sounded like he was ribbing me. I must have missed the pain he was feeling.

Since then, I have tried numerous times to call him and he lets it roll to his voice mail…

It is not that I purposesly waited to call him before. I had to make myself set the phone down on many occasions. I felt like I was smothering him. No grown child needs to hear from his Mom all the time.

He was supposed to come visit in February. He was supposed to come live with me in March…. But, he no longer takes my calls. He no longer answers my emails…

I want him to know that I love and miss him so much that my heart is ripping from me…

I need him to know how important he is to me… How much his happiness means to me…

I don’t care if he lives here. Did I pressure him too much to move home? Is he still suffering from the nightmares of his past?

I would give EVERYTHING to go back and erase the things that have hurt him so deeply.

But for now, I will continue to see that he has opened my emails… and I will know he is alive.

…And I will keep it together… Just in case one day he needs me again.

Protective Coating January 2, 2008

Posted by only4now in abuse, betrayal, Depression, doubts, Pain, spousal abuse, Trust.
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He scratched thru the layers of protective coating in which I surround myself. The protective coating which stops me from feeling the pain and vulnerability.

So many times I have been hurt, that I developed a special shell to block out the pain. In so doing, I have become numb to many feelings. But, it makes it so much easier to put on the false smile and say, “Yes Sir” “No Sir” What can I do for you?”

Very rote, but very safe.  I am no longer me, but I am no longer in pain.


Ya win some, ya lose some.

Well… Monday night he scratched thru the layers leaving me so very vulnerable. Let me retrace and see if any of this makes sense in writing.

A few years back I made a mistake. Innocent thinking on my part, but no excuse to him. His younger brother had been over the day before and left a few things at our house. On this day, Jeff was at work and I was home by myself, cleaning… basically puttering around, kind of a lazy day. His brother knocked on the door and asked to come in and get his things. This seemed innocent enough to me. Growing up, our home had an open door policy. Friends, family and neighbors came and went at will. We were very trusting.

Anyway, his brother got his things and left. I went back to cleaning, thinking nothing of the event. That evening when my hubby came home, he walked right up to me and punched me in the face. He then proceeded to beat me, while cursing me for being a slut. I remember begging him to stop, and then begging God to let me die.

The next morning he told me that if I ever let another man into our home again he would kill me. Later he told me that his brother said I answered the door in a sexy nightie and ‘came on’ to him.

I think the pain of him believing his brother over me was worse than the black eye and bruised ribs.  

Trust is a major part of my life. I have learned to trust no one fully. I trust different people on different levels. And my Dad is the closest I will ever come to full trust. However, I am afraid to open up to him and have him think less of me. Crazy web I am tangled in.

Back to my brother-in-law ~ That was the first time in which he lied and I paid the price. On the second occasion, he stole something from my husband’s truck. Jeff was giving him a ride home and stopped for gas. When Jeff was inside paying, his brother removed the item from the glove compartment.

A couple days later my hubby asked if I had seen the missing item. Immediately I thought of his no-good brother and asked if he might have taken it. Jeff asked his brother, who promptly told him that I had given him the item. Without allowing me to defend the lie, Jeff came home and knocked me silly. This time I stood my ground and insisted we both go confront his brother. When asked again, with me in the same room, his brother admitted he had taken the item. Jeff then punched him and told me he would never have anything to do with his worthless brother again.

Over the next couple years I developed an intense hatred for that man. Anytime his name came up in a conversation I became ill. Slowly Jeff let him right back into his life (they are brothers after all… bs)

Fast forward to last week ~ His brother had called a couple of times, once to tell us that they had moved into our neighborhood. (SHIT) Another time to ask is he could make a few dollars washing my car. (HELL NO!) Then on New Year’s Eve he calls and talks with Jeff on the two-way radio. Hearing his actual voice made me nauseous and I got up and left the room.

The remainder of the night my emotions flipped back and forth between anger and pain. I felt like my husband had betrayed me by once again opening his arms to his brother.

Yesterday I could not take it any longer. His betrayal had broken thru the protective coating. I had to confront my husband, and ask him to at least make certain that I was not in the room when he is talking with his brother. He wanted to know why.

WHY? WHY? WHY? Why didn’t he already know the answer? Why was he making me tell him again? How could he forget?

He then told me that if my feelings were so strong against his brother, there must have been a lot more between the two of us and I needed to come clean. I became hysterical, shrieking at him. The pain was so acute that I could not stop until I was drained of energy.

This is all bizarre for me because I am very passive. I am so good about hiding my feelings. I do not crack…

Which brings me to today ~ Today I am about as low as I have felt in my life. I don’t feel suicidal. I just feel empty.

Slowly, I will repair the protective coating. Each time I rebuild my shell, it becomes thicker and tougher to penetrate. Perhaps one day, it will just be me… for I will have succeeded in forcing everyone else out.  


What is really screwed up about my thought process ~ I am full of hatred for his brother for the lies, but not mad at my husband for hitting me. I am hurt that my hubby does not trust me enough to believe me over that piece of shit. Why am I not mad at him for what he does to me? Why do I need him to believe in me? This crap is so messed up. Why does my heart break every time I think of losing him? Why do I care?

Sorting it Out December 19, 2007

Posted by only4now in abuse, betrayal, Pain, sexual abuse, Trust.

 I have yet to decide just how much of my past I am ready to share…

(I typed that first line three days ago and could go no further. I think today I am stronger and ready to proceed.)

The first memory of sexual abuse was when I was five. (I wrote a short post about it here) trying to let go  I told a couple people about my brother, but they were obviously skeptical.

I would like to say that it does not matter that they did not believe me. But, it does matter. Not so much the validation of the event, but that they now think I told them a lie.

It was not easy to open up, and then to have my painful past scrutinized… Well, I can’t deal with that. Dammit, I didn’t tell you because I needed sympathy. I told you because I needed you to understand where I was coming from.

Even though I have not been back to that place in more than 35 years, I could still take you to the very spot. Yes, this is the spot

3rd base dugout…

Some things, such as this are etched deep in my mind. They don’t always sit on the surface and hurt. In fact I seldom think about them. But, when I do push them to the front it is for a reason. Telling me I am full of shit, only does one thing. It closes all channels of communication between us.

(The person who needs to see this never will. But just maybe, someone else will think twice before slamming somone who has opened up and shared their pain.)

After that day I do not recall any abuse for some time. I am not saying that it never happened. I am just saying that IF it did occur, my brain put it somewhare deeper than I can reach.

… It will take more time before I can move on to the really bad stuff. I am going to do it though, because I have found that writing ‘stuff’ down and reading it 40-50 times, makes it so much less painful for me.

A Night of Pain December 12, 2007

Posted by only4now in abuse, Pain, spousal abuse.
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 (What does not kill us makes us stronger???)I have no idea what fueled his rage this time. Maybe I got on his case about drinking. Maybe I rolled my eyes at him. I cannot remember.

I could feel the slow boil building and I was growing more apprehensive. My mind raced, trying to think of things to say to calm him down. Everything I uttered must have come out ass-backwards. He was livid.

I tried to ignore him, hoping he would blow off steam, maybe break a few dishes and let it go. This seemed to make everything worse. Why was he so mad at me? I had been so careful … speeding thru traffic so that I would not be late… Cooking his favorite food… Smiling politely and asking about his day.

It did not matter… I knew he was going to hit me and I could only hope I could reason with him, so that it would not be as bad as last time.

He was yelling at me now. He wanted my car keys … and would not believe me when I told him that I gave them to him when I got home. I always handed them to him when I got home. It is his way of making sure I did not leave in the middle of the night.

He grabbed me by the throat and slammed my head into the wall. As I lay slumped on the floor, he began destroying the house. Screaming that he would find where I had hidden the keys. I wanted to help him find them so that he would stop screaming at me … but, I knew better than to move.

He broke first one than another chair over the dining room table, throwing the back of the second chair in my direction. A piece of the wood lodged in the wall above my head. And still, I did not dare move. I once made that mistake.

He picked up a third chair and slammed it into the table. This time the dining room table split in half. He moved on to the buffet … pulling all the drawers out and throwing them around the house. One hit me in the arm. I tried to keep from flinching as I knew it would draw more attention to me.

He came over and grabbed me by the hair, pulling me into the office. He threw me on the floor, wanting me to watch as he threw my computer on the floor. He yelled, “You want me to keep going? Where are your keys?”

I just shook my head no. Too afraid to speak. I don’t know how long it lasted, maybe only minutes. And then he pulled out his gun and held it to my head. I closed my eyes and prepared to die. I could feel the tears burning on my cheek, but did not want him to see them.  And then everything went black. I could hear him yelling and felt the sting of his boot in my ribs. But, I could not focus.

He had hit me pretty hard with the gun and my mind would not clear… So, I stayed in a limp pile on the floor and I fell asleep, hoping I would die.

Upon waking, I cried seeing the house. It had not been a dream as I had hoped. I remained still, listening for any sound to tell me he was in the house. Nothing. How long had I been sleeping? Where is he? My mind raced…

His gun was on the desk… Why did he leave it there? He is never careless with his gun. I did not hesitate. I grabbed the gun and ran to the big walk-in closet and hid. I was not going to let him kill me. Not tonight.

All night, I stayed crouched in the corner of the closet with blankets and boxes in front of me. My muscles ached, my head ached, and my heart ached.

Twice during the night, I held the gun to my head and tried to find the courage to pull the trigger. And I cried some more because I was too weak to do it. I despise my own weakness.

I thought about climbing out the window and running somewhere, anywhere. Yet, I stayed. Was it fear of him finding me or fear of being alone?

As morning came, I decided to face life … whatever that is.

Am I now stronger because of this? Maybe one day I will be… but for now, I am not

Comfort in Numbers? December 10, 2007

Posted by only4now in abuse, Pain.

They cry in the dark, so you can’t see their tears
They hide in the light, so you can’t see their fears
Forgive and forget, all the while
Love and pain become one and the same
In the eyes of a wounded child

Because Hell
Hell Is For Children
And you know that their little lives can become such a mess

Hell Is For Children
And you shouldn’t have to pay for your love with your bones and your flesh

When I heard this Pat Benatar song in the early 80’s, I knew that someone out there understood. Part of the depression associated with abuse comes from feeling that you are all alone with your pain.

My Mom caught me singing this song and popped me in the mouth. But, I knew I was not alone. I knew that someone else must be going thru the same Hell. The words did not just leap into Pat’s head without a reason. There had to be others.

The song offered me a small bit of comfort, a power of sorts.  

Is it sick to find comfort in knowing that other children were also in pain?

Trying to let go December 7, 2007

Posted by only4now in abuse, Pain.
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Not a poem… just a random thought that I need to let go of… 

“Hold still and let me get them out of there!” the fat boy insisted as he poked at me with his stubby fingers.

I was so scared. His fingers were hurting me. How did I get snakes inside of me?

The two boys and my older brother were taking turns poking around at my privates. Probing, searching for snakes. The snakes that they said I had inside.

I was a frightened five year old girl, lying as still as possible on the bench in the baseball dugout.

I started to cry… “Go get Daddy. He can get them out of me.”

The boys looked scared which made me cry more. Then my brother explained to me that Mom and Dad would send me away if they knew that I had snakes in me. Only bad people get snakes.

So, I let them continue… and I tried to be brave. I tried not to cry.

Sometimes I hate my brother.

Taunting the Soul December 5, 2007

Posted by only4now in Dark Poetry, Death, Pain, Poetry.
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Whence do they come,

These cold sneering taunts

Laughing and chiding

The body lying lifeless

In the pool of blood? 

Shrugging off the spirit

Unseen to the crowd.

Which hovers uncertain

In the din of the night 

Was he an offender

Deserving of shame?

Trampling innocents,

Gnashing the crippled

Who lay helpless

All alone? 

There lies the body.

Do they not see the soul?  

The mocking voices

Circling, hurling vulgarities. 

Can they not see? 

He was a father,

a son,

a friend. 

They cannot feel his parent’s screams

Wrenching the breath from their deep beating hearts… 

Begging God to let him live,

To ease the aching… 


One more day… 

Whence do they come

Can they not feel the pain?

Scream December 5, 2007

Posted by only4now in Dark Poetry, Pain, Poetry.
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For no sense can be made of the madness.

Gather the breath from the depths of your bowels and scream.

The shrill pain letting loose from your soul as it slips from your lips

No more will the anguish torment your sleepless mind

With the last gasp

Let the pain go