Getting into the Rhythm even when you dont have Rhythm

Last Sunday durning my church service, My pastor was teaching about the Rhythm of Christmas. I felt it was interesting when he was teaching this in the following perpestive. I wasn’t sure how the music lesson was going to tie into Jesus. I loved the whole thing. I learned that I may never be a drummer, and I would be that one band member that would always be a little off. I used to play in Orchestra our conductor kept our time along with our foot, but I am not sure that it was really a proper etiquette in orchestra; I’m not really sure, moving. Orchestra I understand, but if I were to learn to play the drums I would have to have mass amounts of practice and lessons. Over and over until I got it and it was second nature. Which makes total sense when we apply it to everyday in our lives. Eureka I got it!!

I am one of those musically inclined people, if you want to call it that, I am that person that can hear it and play it to hear a mistake or something is off. I also learned that not everyone has that gift, just like I don’t posses the gift of being a drummer the keeper of time. So keep this in mind as I go through this moment. On a side not I am in constant reminder of the anchor… I need the anchor. (Hebrews 6:19) Jesus is my anchor and reminder to go at his pace, or to slow down and stay grounded with Him.

After church and getting my daily bread, I look back on my notes and the scriptures and I try to apply it to my life. Like really apply it. In this case, how do I stay in sync with God and how can I use the reference to music to understand and apply it.

Here’s my take. When I LISTEN to music, I am able to HEAR the conversation between instruments and media used to create the SOUND. Then I am able to COMPREHENDED what the singer or artist ( If there is one) is interpreting for us to be able to hear what the conversation is all about. Maybe its weird but that is how I hear music. When its a song that touches me, its because I am able to hear the entire conversation of the song and it touches my heart. You know the mood, the feelings, the story. Or I am able to take on my own interpretation of what the song is trying to say. In another words, I am digging in deeper and hearing all the sounds of the story being told.

Have you ever been in a mood that you couldn’t quite put your finger on, and you’re searching for a song to match what you’re feeling and you just can’t find that song? Yeah me too. Sometimes I feel that we can get that way in our lives. Nothing seems to sync up just right and we search and search to feed that moment. To satisfy that hunger. To make sense of what’s happening right? Bear with me. God has a reason for this, and sometimes He is moving the band around, but it is still playing great music, even if we can’t hear it like He does. God calls us to have a relationship with Him and Jesus is the heartbeat. ” He started the heartbeat of Jesus.” Y’all, when my Pastor said this, he put his hand to his chest , Thump thump…. thump thump…Je-sus Je-sus …. Je-sus Je-sus… That made so much sense to me. The gift that God gave me was redemption through Jesus. My thump thump… Talk about mind blown. God is love. Love is God. We often refer to the heart as love. Jesus equals your thump thump. I know right! I know that not everyone will see what I mean here, but this is how it made sense to me.

So my heart calls me for a purpose. So many of us, don’t listen to music the way I do. I know I am not alone, but my perception may not be like others. But we still are all a part of the same band bro. I am just not the drummer. Each of us have a different role to play and a different purpose. So how do we get our lives in sync or rhythm with Him? Well, its a choice I think. I know that I chose to listen to what He is calling me to do. I know that I am to write. That is all I know. I have to listen closely to what I am being guided to do. Even though it scares me, I may be lead by faith and not by sight. (2 Corinthians 5:7 NIV) I may not see the results right away, or hear the music playing at the moment, But I LISTEN to what I am being instructed to do by SOUND so I am able to COMPREHEND what I am to do next and know that the music is going to be awesome. We all have a purpose to fulfill. I know that when I was called to write I had no idea what or how everything was going to work. It turns out that me Knowing isn’t my current instrument to play, my instrument is to be obedient and write. Do the work to practice everyday, some days are harder than others, but I am practicing until its my second nature. Just like so many other things in my life at the moment as you may have read yesterday. I need to do the hard work to get where I need to be in accordance to what His will is.

So the last thing I wrote in my notes was this ” How can you get better Rhythm?” Well, I made the choice to change, to allow Him to do what He needs to do. There is a reason for me to have the purpose in this life because it’s going to matter to someone else that He puts in my path. We get out of sync because of sin and to align with God its going to take a lot of practice. I dont have the exact words that my Pastor used but I feel that I am pretty close. I dont know about you but I certainly dont like going through a hard time alone, I rather have a partner, brother, sister right next to me, and Jesus is right there beside me too, even if I can see Him. I know that He will never leave me as long as I reach for His hand.

My previous blog post, is a glimpse into what I am doing to stay in sync, its hard work, and its a lot of practice but by the grace of God, the support from Jesus,and guidance from the Holy Spirit, My journey doesn’t look so overwhelming. And just like any relationship there’s a lot of work and practice there too. It’s hard for us humans to really understand God’s love for us. Like we can’t even fathom the love He gives us and or many of us don’t even know what that would even look like. but maybe that is for another post later. Nevertheless, He wants a relationship with us. If you could text Him everyday like you would your best friend, would you and what would you tell him? That is what He is wanting. He loves you right where you are today, and who you are today. He is the most trustworthy friend you’ll ever have. He is the dad you can tell EVERYTHING too, and will still love you at the end of the day. So what part of the band is He calling you towards? Are you willing to take His hand and walk with Him through this process, even if its scary? Are you ready to start? Well I encourage you to pray on it ( have a conversation with Him) and I will do the same. We aren’t perfect beings, I am perfectly imperfect made by Him and He loves me faithfully, even when I let him down by my shortcomings but I will continue to the work and practice.

Thank you for reading today. Please feel free to comment, like and share. Please subscribe and don’t miss a beat with me!

Lastly, here is a funny picture of my American Bulldog Tucker. He just turned 4!!

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Chapter 14: Hey we need to talk.

So we need to talk. Well, I guess I will talk and wait to see if you respond back. Yes, I am talking to all of you. There is a lot going on and I often find myself in a whirlwind of chaos. I really hate that… Like a lot. But as I work through those issues, there are some things that are on my heart lately that I feel I just need to say.

I know what it is like to be on the side of suicidal thoughts and ideation. I know that I have talked about what it is like for me and probably so many others that have gone through that situation. I find humor in the “survivor,” term with that. I didn’t survive my attempt in suicide. I was stopped from committing suicide. I was pissed about that as well when it happened I might add; and when I saw my doctor and he said ” so you survived,” I actually laughed because it was a choice. It was a choice that was made for me, and a choice I eventually made for myself. Yes you read that right…. a choice. Now granted if I was alone, which I was before I was stopped the first time, I would of gone through with my plan. It was still a choice, But since I wasn’t alone the second time that day, it was the choice of my husband to stop me. CHOICE.

I made a choice to live. I made a choice to listen to my husband. I made a choice to not do it that day. I made all those choices. My intention of leaving this world didn’t just vanish after I made that choice. It was always there like a nagging splinter in my mind. My heart was so incredibly broken, but I made a choice to live. I made a choice to continue to listen on how much I was selfish and it was not the time for a “Kristal Show.” But I can tell you those thirty some hours were so incredibly impossible after my last attempt. I couldn’t be left alone for more than ten minutes at time before I would freak the F out again. Constant awful feelings of shame and guilt came like darts and arrows from war from the enemy. ( think of the movie 300 and all the arrows that were shot at them, and it darkened the skies. That is how it felt, just me without a shield to protect me)

So, I was thinking … How all my actions have affected people all around me. What if I wasn’t caught and I died, how all of that would affect the people around me. Pretty heavy stuff. I can see why I never thought about it from their point of view before. I didnt want to trigger myself into all the shame and guilt again. Let me clarify, from their point of view from a healthier point of view. So if you don’t know, when a person is suicidal they think of all the shame and guilt. You have to understand from their point of view, from my point of view, I was doing my friends, family, co-workers all a favor by leaving this world because I WAS THE PROBLEM! For healthy people, they don’t quite understand that… LIKE AT ALL!!

The one thing that I hate hearing is the cliché saying of …. “IT’S A PERMANENT SOLUTION TO A TEMPORARY PROBLEM!” stop saying that to people. And if you are a person that was suicidal and this phrase worked for you, please contact me because I want to give you so much praise. That phrase still triggers me because it reminds me of how some people just don’t get it. To me this phrase means this… ” You’re going to kill yourself over something that means nothing.” Yeah I get it… But when a person has shame they BELIEVE THEY ARE THE PROBLEM… I was the problem for everyone around me… I was the solution to end all things because I was taking care of the end result for them to be happy!! I was giving them peace. That was my thinking and understand; and  nearly enough words to express that y’all. I really don’t like that phrase. It sounds so self-serving for the people saying it, like they are better than me. Because they seem to know more than me. When I was suicidal I was thinking that it was the most selfless thing I could do for all of them. I understand that I might offend some people but this is my story from my point of view.

On the flip side of that coin, I seen something I haven’t seen before. The after effects to people who had to live with the death of their love one and the people who have been affected with the person who attempted. Talk about an eye opener. I am really thankful I am in a place where I can withstand seeing that without being triggered. So this is what I have seen. Parents living with guilt and what if’s lingering. Spouses living with guilt and shame of what ifs and blame. Children growing up with confusion and blame that maybe it was their fault. Friends blaming themselves and feeling responsible for their death. The pastor who talked over their service feeling pained that maybe there was more that they could have done. The co-workers who try to comfort and get rejected. The coffee shop clerk being attacked verbally because that husband doesn’t know how to cope and was drinking the night before and doesn’t feel good. I see now that there are soooo many people affected than just the immediate people. ( Hence why its important to me to not judge people because I dont know what they are going through.)

No matter how it manifests, the one thing that is clear to me is they all become something they weren’t before. Sad, depressed, confused, isolated, irrational, lost, in need of answers themselves, blame consumes them, guilt and shame take over for them, feeling of abandonment and rejection, trust issues, traumatized. Their lives can be consumed by the death of their loved one. I feel that people feel the same with people who attempted. They still feel all those things but don’t talk about it with the person in fear it will trigger them. In a sense they lost the person they once knew and still mourn the loss even though they are living. They all share the anger and sadness and all the other emotions that come with all of that. I never saw that before.

The first people I think of is the people who I live with. What would their lives look like with me gone. I can see it so clearly. I can see exactly what I think would happen. My husband would turn to darker things because he would be the first to blame himself. The guilt would wash over him thinking it was his fault because the last things I ever said to him were that it was his fault. He would end up leaning on the kids to feel better but they would be the first ones to take the brunt of his emotions. He might even start drinking again after being sober for a long time. His family would come to help him and support him but he won’t ever show his true feelings because he feels that he is protecting himself by doing so. “Because that is what men do,” that is what he would say anyway. Then he would have to make all those calls to people and say the words “I have to tell you something, Kristal is dead. She killed herself Sunday.” My ex husband would be distraught and would want to blame someone, then he would have to tell my children what happened, and console them. My kids would then silently try understand that their mom is gone. They would be crushed and that’s being mild only because I can’t stand the thought of them in pain. Nor would I want them to ever feel that it was their fault or that I didn’t love them. Then the call to my mom and dad. I can’t even begin to think of how they would respond because I know they too would feel depression and blame. The call to all my siblings. I can see the anger and overwhelming sadness. Then the call to my boss to tell her what happened and for her to tell my employees what has happened, and how work would not be the same for them for a while. All my friends getting the call, and all the people who saw me everyday, all the people’s lives that I touched in some way, or my church family. THEY WOULD ALL BE AFFECTED! So would all the people that would come to console them or run into. Its a crazy ripple affect.

This isn’t an easy thing for me to write. I am literally in tears trying to get this out. Because the pain they would feel all because I thought I was the problem in their life. I am not crying because I am triggered. I am crying because for once I saw what the consequences would be on the other side of my suicide. I am sure that I am not as close as I think I am to predicting what would happen, but I know enough to know that they would be heartbroken and inconsolable. Their entire lives would change for a little while because of my death. I can tell you that from my point of view that this is something I was not thinking about that day I was attempting suicide. I thought I would be easing their burdens. But in fact I would only be adding to them even more so than simply opening my mouth and saying I need help. I realize now that even though I didn’t die and I made a choice to live, and that they to had a choice to go with me on this journey. It wasn’t easy on them and some days it’s not easy on anyone. But the point is I AM ALIVE!!! They are happier with me living than laying in the ground.

I don’t like crying…. its hard to type and see the screen. #justsaying … I know… bad timing for a sense of humor, but that is how I can get past things. I know how to be funny in times when people need it the most.

I need you to know that this post comes from a place of understanding and love. I realize so much more now. I was in such a dark place. It’s hard to see the light and to see that there is a way out. When you are there in that awful place, it seems like nothing that is good is believable. Then there is a small light, some people hold on to that little bit of light for dear life and others lose hope in that light and feel that they don’t deserve a way out. I was both those people. I held on to that light for a long long time, and I finally let it go. Then I made a choice and walked through the light… I will NEVER go back to that dark place. That dark place will never have me back because that dark place doesn’t deserve me. I am person who is loved, and deserves love. This person, me, deserves a good life of living and love. This person deserves to see what her Father created her to be, and all the people in my life deserve that from me as well.

To everyone, I am sorry for all that I have put you through. I know some days are harder than others but I am learning who I really am. I appreciate all of you for staying by my side. I know that it was hard and scary, but we are here now and doing good. I am still learning and healing. So thank you for your patience. I know that I am confusing at times and I dont know who I will become through this healing, but I do know I will be a person.

To anyone who is feeling suicidal please reach out. There are a lot of places and resources to get you the help. I know how that sounds, I was there and when people said that to me I dismissed it too. But I feel better and I know that I am better. It took me a long time to stop believing the lies my mind told me about getting help. Everyone’s journey is different I know. I just want to share mine so that maybe someone who is in the same place I was knows that there is a way out of the darkness, that doesn’t invlove dying.

I am just so glad that I can see now what everyone else was trying to tell me, and see what it would be on the flip side for others.

So many people go through this and there are people who are still healing after their love one passed. For that I am so sorry. I understand now. My heart is with you.

The one thing that is a constant in my life and recovery is listening. I wasn’t alone through all of this. I see that now. Thank you Father. Thank you everyone. I think there is only one more chapter after this one to write about before I can really start telling you other stories of my brighter side of life. I can’t write those until you know where I was.

 

 

 

Chapter 9 Here’s to you…

For those of you who know someone or you yourself are suffering from mental illness of some kind. These words are for you. Well all of this is for all of you who read.

After enduring all that I have in my life, some of which that I haven’t even begun to talk about it… YET… So lets start with packing up to go to a treatment retreat. That is what I am going to call it or summer camp .. in the winter.

The night before I was so scared, mad, upset, accepting, stubborn, sad some more, shame, guilt, hatred, rage, depression and the rest of all the emotions that you can go through. It was like I was packing to go to a summer camp that my parents are making me go to and I didn’t want. I felt bad for what I had put my kids through, my brother and my mom and lastly my husband. I felt like a huge mistake. I felt bad for what I did to my employees and my job. I mean it was a lot all at once. Too many emotions all at once and I was not in a place to detach from it all. I mean if I had I wouldn’t be going to a ” summer camp.”

When I got there, I was welcomed and yet I just wanted to run away. I knew I needed help and I was being forced to confront all these things. Things as in being alone with all my shit. Plain and simple. I said my goodbyes and it was harder than ever. I clung to my husband just hoping he wouldn’t leave me. But it was time. I walked away and it was so hard. At this point ( a few days after attempting) I couldn’t talk to anyone, or walk out of my house. I even turned off my phone days before. I just couldn’t cope with anything. I couldn’t even be left alone for more than 10 minutes at a time before every bad thing in The Wall contained came crashing down. Every brick of shame, every guilty thing, all the things I have said and done would come full force into my mind. As a result I was really jacked. Panic attacks full force!

So for me, to be in a place where I didn’t have anyone safe to cling to, and I am to trust them fully. That’s crazy. It took all I had to put on my strong face. That seemed to go on a little smoothly than I would have liked, but I was also in survival mode to the max. I hadn’t slept in a few days. I was tired but there was no way that I was going to start sleeping right away. Sleep was a treat for me at this point. I rather be awake and active than have nightmares. I was told that I would meet with all the doctors and therapist in the coming day or two but to try to get settled in and sleep. Once they searched everything in my bag, and took all the things that I could kill myself with I was left alone. FINALLY. The staff was really nice and supportive. They all knew my name without even knowing me yet.

My room was really a small house. The bathroom was pretty nice. I was expecting something more like a hospital bathroom. But It felt like home for now. I just couldn’t have all my stuff the way I wanted, and that was something I struggled with the whole time actually. The room had a great view of tall mountains, and old wooden floors. I had a space that was all mine. I shared the room with others but we weren’t cramped and respected each others space. I stayed as far to back of the room as possible. I had a large desk all to myself. I loved that!! It was in front of a huge window where I could look at the wonderful views. I was unpacking when I was told that everyone had already had dinner but they are waiting for me to eat so they can close the kitchen. Y’all!! We had a chef. I walked in and they all introduced themselves and I ate quickly and alone. The food was pretty good. Eventually the chef knew exactly how I liked my eggs every morning! Fresh food, and very healthy yummy food. Anyway, they made it feel like home as much as they could for the residents there. My camp mates. I will not talk about them or what we did but I will say they are pretty awesome people. We were a community that is for sure.

I still wasn’t really sleeping I was very happy to hear that I was going to be talking to the psychiatrist that morning. I was looking forward to maybe getting some medication to sleep and calm my internal self. Not permanently but for the time being. So I had basically 90 minutes to tell my life story to this person, and just like that I was given a diagnoses. I felt a glimmer of hope. I also was given my schedule of what my days would look like and I was to see my therapist that same day. I felt great that she also prescribed me with meds. I was looking forward to sleeping that night.

So what was my diagnoses. Well, I wasn’t told the whole thing at first. I was told that I have PTSD, Depression with suicide ideation and two others that I didn’t really pay attention too. That was until I saw them on paperwork that was being sent to my work. That is when I saw Borderline Personality Disorder. I lost my crap! Internally, that is. To me when I read that, I needed to see the psychiatrist right then. I called my husband and he tried to calm me down. Even though I was enjoying my newly found community I wanted out of there. I no longer trusted. At this point there was a defcon 1 situation going on in my mind and in that office. haha looking back at it now, they were trying to help me understand what I was going through. Little did I know that I was showing that I was actually having an episode of BPD right then and there. I didn’t see that then, but in all fairness I rejected that part of my diagnoses from that moment.

So let me explain myself a little. When I saw this term BPD I have associated it with like multiple personalities. That is so not it at all. BPD is a result of trauma in my case. It was a result of coping with life, and always being in survival mode all my life. I feel emotions longer and deeper than a healthier mental person. I don’t know who I really am without these symptoms of survival. I have defined my life based on what I have done in my life. Work, accomplishments, kids, spouse, family. Everyone in my life was my personality, everything I did was my personality. I didn’t have my own identity that was truly mine. Then to complicate it even more having BPD I would tend to detach from all emotions to think and asses my situation better to survive. BPD doesn’t allow room for boundaries to be made because there is the huge fear of rejection and abandonment, hence why I overworked myself, tried to be everything everyone ever wanted. Because who would want this jacked up mess of a woman. RIGHT?! And because this a very real thing, people who have this condition get depressed because they have no idea who they are or where they fit. They don’t always know their purpose.They get into bad toxic relationships. I mean everything goes wrong with small amounts of good that happen. That has been my experience. It is a complicated condition. Those that are diagnosed with it hold a lot of shame and guilt for everything and everyone. Someone with BPD can take up to 10 years in order to recover fully. In women that statistic is 60/ 40… 60% of women will recover fully whereas 40% have ended up committing suicide because of it.

The people who take care of people like myself are great people who have great hearts. It’s not easy for the people around me to notice when I am in a mood. BPD patients also have a lot of zoning out stuff. We live in our heads a lot. I do anyway. Not as much as before. People close to me are able to bring me out of the zone. I feel a lot of guilt for the people who take care of me, there are days I feel bad for myself. I just want to be better and it is a long road ahead of me to get there. I am learning patience and its worth it because I am worth it.

Imagine a situation where you accidentally bump into someone at the store. Healthy people just say sorry and move on. People with BPD over think the whole thing. They feel so deeply sorry and sad that they didn’t pay attention, then they feel that they need to over apologize, then go through an array of other emotions. Before it’s all said and done  a day has passed and two panic attacks later than can move on and realized that it wasn’t a bad thing. This is a, at times a moment to moment, day-to-day, hour by hour thing. Learning to feel and accept an emotional response is hard. Allowing myself to cry just because I had a flashback is hard. Allowing myself to feel joy is harder, because I feel that I don’t deserve all that joy at that moment, then that whole cycle starts again. Its exhausting. PERIOD. To actually talk to someone about feelings is hard when you have spent all your life detaching from emotional stressors. That includes the good too.

So what works… well we are all different. Some people with BPD are really hard to handle when they don’t talk openly or honestly about whats in their head. All BPD patients have had similar traumas but we are all different. That is why it is so complicated to have a pinpoint plan of action to help that person. We all respond differently to treatment courses. There isn’t a pill on this planet that can treat this condition. So for those of you who think that… please don’t. It is completely up to the person to take action to get the help they need. Forcing pills down their throat to most is just confirming to that person that they are not worth the work. Forcing them to do anything is not a good thing. That is my opinion. When it was forced to me, I bailed and rejected, detached, burned that bridge and walked away. This condition is right at the heart of this person. Rewiring is what needs to happen.

So for me, I finally decided to take another look at BPD. With an open heart and mind. I had already treated most of my issues. Oh yeah! I was also diagnosed with OCD and extreme agoraphobia. Haha squirrel moment. I am still working on my OCD, somethings are very hard to break when you have done them for a long time. Just saying. The depression is gone. I have to practice some things when I am triggered but that is all part of the recovery process. Plain and simple. I have tools that I can use for that other stuff.

Those other issues are just fruit from a bad root. That root for me is BPD. Tackle that root and I will continue to have good soil to grow. So when I chose to read my condition I finally accepted that I have this issue. BPD doesn’t define who I am as a person. I do the work in order to get better. I can’t wait to see who I really am when I am done with all of this. So I do work that is called DBT ( Dialectical behavior Therapy) Basically, you learn who you are. You are being rewired to who your real identity really is. You learn new ways to cope, learn ways to feel the emotions and process them in a healthy way, figuring out what you really like and don’t. Setting boundaries, learning what your true morals and ethics are. I mean the list goes on and on. There are days where I get so frustrated and want to take it out on something, and that is usually myself. Learning to communicate in a way that is less aggressive to myself and others. Learning grace for myself and others. being mindful. It’s all in practice. As much as I would like to be better now, I know that I am not. I have to rewire all the lies that I believed and work on the ones that are true.

I know that I can’t work outside the home because I know that I will dominate in ways that are unhealthy for me. I will put all that I know into that job and overwork myself and start that cycle again. I am mindful enough to know that. I recognize that I would even make up lies to convince others that I am okay enough to work outside the home just so I can feel something that I have known. I am fortunate enough that I have an opportunity to live out my dreams right now. I wouldn’t have said that a year ago. I had to overcome people telling me that I needed to go back to work. I had to overcome their judgments. It’s really hard to do when you feel everything and detaching is not an option. Besides it’s not their life its mine. That was a hard thing to say at first.

Sometimes day-to-day stuff can be just too much. But everyday I have the opportunity to live not survive. I have to fight for my life everyday but everyday it gets that much more easier to handle. I know what is important to me. I know that life happens and I can’t run detach from my issues. I have to be present in them not in the past, not in the future. I have to be in the right now. I also know that I can’t do this alone. I know that I have voice and its ok for me to use it. It’s ok for me to vulnerable and its ok to show that without feeling shame for it. Not everyone is going to like me, and I have no business knowing what they feel about me when it’s behind my back. Its ok for me to feel the way that I do, and I know that its ok for me to tell people NO.

Everyday is a new day, a new problem, a new solution, a new way of seeing who I am, a new way to live, a new day to be who I am meant to be. To the people who help take care of BPD patients, family, spouses, kids, parents, anyone there is hope. Don’t give up on that person but don’t live their life either. Don’t stop living because they don’t know how to yet. Create your own boundaries but don’t sink into every fiber of who they are. You are meant to live just as much as they are. They just don’t know it yet. It is not your responsibility to ensure that they get the help, you are there to support and love. But they have to be the ones to do the work not you. Try not to take what they say personally because they are fighting a deeper fight within themselves. and yes most BPD folks fear that you will leave them, sometimes they just need to hear that they are worth it. Even if they don’t believe yet. They will eventually see the mirror in new eyes if they want to and ready to. Be kind, full of grace, assertiveness and love. That is all we all really want anyway. It’s a complicated condition and there is a lot of work to be done. There is a way out.

I had the great experience of deliverance to help me know who I am in Gods eyes. That gives me something to hold on to but that is my experience. I can’t say the same for so many others. I know how hard it is to be on the side of BPD but I refuse to be defined by it. BPD is not who I am. I am a great person. I have a big heart. I am an introvert with great social skills for the most. It’s a work in progress. I am a good mom. I am beautiful. I am funny, I am caring and loving. I am cherished, I am loved, I am worth it, I am loved by my creator, I am so many other things. I am falling in love with who I am little by little.

I am reversing all the lies that I once believed. I am learning what people really see in me and that is inspirational and empowering. I am seeing how I can affect my life in a positive way and how I impact others. I see that I am worth it to myself. I am happy. I am not perfect and I don’t want to be. I am me and I have a lot to offer to myself and others. I have a long road of me but I am enjoying the journey.

To those of you who have a mental illness, hold on. You are worth it, you are loved even if you don’t believe it yet, there is hope, make a commitment to yourself to do the work everyday, give yourself a lot of grace, you are not a mistake, its ok to make mistakes. You can do this. Reach out… you can even reach out to me. I will gladly be there to listen without saying anything… unless you want me too.

Kris

Chapter 7 The Wall

There comes a time during the moments of change. Almost all self-help or personal development books, the journey leads to a place to overcome. I know that I have been to this place many times. I call this the wall.

The wall is a place for me that has huge signs of DO NOT ENTER! DANGER DANGER! That wall is a place of things that I don’t want to encounter ever again. I have lied to myself over and over that I don’t need to ever look over that wall ever again. Much less break it wide open all over again. F that noise. That was my exact thoughts about The Wall.

Envision the great brick wall that seems so tall and wide. That is where I kept all my shame and guilt. All the burning desires of anything that I thought was wrong and bad. Every bad thought I have ever had, every bad thing I have ever said. You name it, it went there. To me it was massive. Every bad thing that ever happen to me that I blamed myself for, went in there. So to me when the books told me to confront the things in my past that were holding me back, I envisioned me looking up at this huge brick wall then looking down in despair. I made a choice to try to go around it. I refused to revisit that place ever again. I did this for many years.

So there is a moment for me when I built this wall. I was fifteen. I had already experienced my virtue taken from me and now feeling alone. There were many guys that have ” tried,” to get in my pants as a result of this news in the tiny town I lived in. I started my freshman year that year and I met a young man my age. I didn’t think of sex like my peers did, I could care less really. He was a virgin it made it safe for me. He was scared but curious and I didn’t care. We ended up having sex, and I ended up pregnant right before summer vacation. Oh lucky me.

Sex was awkward for me to be honest. All I could think about was hurry up I feel gross. I really didn’t want to have sex. I was like reliving the trauma all over again. In fact I would stop and push him off me. I hate it. The whole darn thing. So when I got pregnant talk about a shocker. I was with my Dad and I happened to have been bucked off my horse that summer during a poker ride, and ended up needing to go to the doctor. Little did I know that my dad suspected so much more when he took me. I was sleeping more than normal. I was sleeping in the car which I never have done in my life. Showers were painful. I did tell my dad that as well. I could tell my dad anything.

So when the doctor came in she told me the news,”you hurt your back and you’re pregnant. Do you want to tell your father or would you like me too?” Whoa!  That is a lot to take in. I told her to tell my father for me and I walked out. I walked past my dad and said she wants to talk to you, and I waited in the truck. I was trying to process everything that was just told me and what was going to be told to my father. OH MY GOD!!! He is going to be so disappointed in me. He’s walking to the car…. Keep it together Kristal.

He hops into the car, and as happy as he could. “My baby is having a baby.” I lost it! I start crying and saying sorry over and over. Like it was going to change my fate in any way. He then has this bright idea that he needs to tell my mom. That was the first time I ever cursed at my dad. “Are you F-ing crazy?! She will kill us both!!” He laughed it off like I was joking! This man is insane. What the heck am I going to do, and my dad is to kind to me to tell me what he is really thinking. I am a royal screw up. A+ for me on this. In all fairness though it’s not like I was educated in real life situations to handle such things. Sure I passed health class with an A but how do I talk to my parents about this sort of thing. My sister was the one who was experienced in this arena of life, and I am not telling her crap anymore. I vowed at this point that I would not do the same thing with my kids. I would make it a safe place to ask for the things that they need in these situations before there is a baby on the way.

So I am thinking of everything and anything all at the same time, and I just want to eat my emotions. Pizza it is. I make my dad take me to pizza hut in Hillsboro OR. I sat there quietly, and my dad is encouraging me to talk. I am just sick about the whole thing. The guy in the matter was the last thing on my mind. I was overwhelmed, full of pizza and exhausted. My dad comforted me a lot that night but kept telling me that he needed to tell my mom. I yelled at him not to, and beg him not to. That I would tell her myself.

Little did I know that back home, there were problems on the home front. My step dad accused my mom of cheating on him, and they have been fighting. There were in a midst of a separation. The crap had hit the fan back home. I had no idea what I was literally flying back too. Which by the way, flying a four-hour flight while preggers sucks!! I threw up the whole time. I even had to throw up in the little bags behind the seat while taking off. It was so humiliating. When I arrived in New Mexico I was welcomed as usual but my mom wasn’t there. She always is there to get me from the airport.

I raced to the bathroom and threw up again. This made everyone suspicious of me. I have never done that. EVER!! So once I was cleaned we went to Olive Garden as usual and my step dad was wearing his sunglasses still. I was confused. I looked at my boyfriend and my brother. Neither of them knew haha but I knew something was wrong. My guilt comes rushing to my face! Did my dad tell on me?! My step starts to cry while at the table. Now I am confused. Now mind you I had no idea whats been happening while I was with my dad. Then my step dad laid it out for me. It was the hardest thing for me to hear.

“Kristal your mom and I are getting a divorce.” Oh my gosh NOOO. “I have this suspicion that she has been cheating on me.” hahaha that’s a joke. I did giggle because that was outrageous claim against my mom. She maybe a lot of things but a cheater. NOOOOPE try again. So he tells me the whole story of what he suspects of my mom. I explained to him why those were all false. Anyway that was not good enough to him but I see now that I was a teenager with no real life experience with this sort of thing… YET. They still don’t know that I am pregnant. Maybe I should have stayed with my dad. This is not going to end well. So part of the tradition of picking me up we either go shopping or to a movie. I opted for a movie because then no one had to talk. We can sit silently in our guilt and joys. My step dad and I had a lot on our minds and my brother and boyfriend know nothing. Super. So my step dad picks the movie. He picks ” A Perfect Murder.” I remember looking at my brother then my step dad as tears rolls down his face as the movie plays. Now I am concerned. He walked out and after I gathered my thoughts and my own feelings I had the rest of us follow. I felt bad for the man. There was no way my mom would ever do anything  like that to him. She actually loves this dude. He has is facts all wrong and he was on the bad end of my mom. Then there is me and my bundle of news to deal with. I knew that I couldn’t wait very long to tell my mom. Otherwise, she would be even more upset that I didn’t trust her enough to tell her right away, even though she has her own issues to tend too.

We get home I call my sister right away and talk to her about it, she told me the same thing. I needed to tell mom, but they were arguing in the dining room. I went out there to make sure my brother wasn’t in the room while they were arguing. My step dad had told my mom about what we did at some point. The next morning I was laying on the couch sick a dog and tired, and there stood my mom. She always had this look about her when she had something on her mind. I knew right then she knew. She asked me if I was up for shopping. Like I will turn that down. ” Are you feeling good enough to go shopping with me today?” she said so tenderly. I felt calm enough to tell her once we were in the car. It was just me and her. We rarely had me and her time. So I knew she knew for sure. I sat in the car, and she was backing out of the garage. ” So how far along are you?” I am stunned. Ok we are going to talk about it right now right now. I tell her that I only had found out a few days ago. To which she said that I was not going to keep it and a lecture that I am happy to never have to go through again. She then realized that I needed the How To instructions to sex. Always have condoms, don’t share my body, and the dreaded birth control talk. She asked if my boyfriend knew and I said no. She told me I had to tell him before she calls his mom. OOOOh crap a doodles, she’s calling his MOM!! Better her than me I suppose.

Later on that night, I was called to her room. She had just gotten off the phone with his mom and they both agreed that I was to get an abortion. There was no negations. Now this is where the wall is built-in a day. That choice they made for me was against everything I have ever believed. I was killing a baby that God had given me. I was committing murder and premeditated at that. There was a date and time already. There was no talking about it anymore. I was so upset. I didn’t even get to really make the choice on my own. I see where my mom was coming from. We were young and had our whole lives to have children. Which is all understandable. I get that logic but my relationship with God might change. What if he hates me for this. I am a failure at this too. They all agreed except me. I finally accepted the day before we went.

I remember the sonogram before the procedure, seeing that baby in there. Hearing its heartbeat. I remember it all. I remember being sedated and telling them no as they sucked the baby out of me. That is what it felt like anyway. They told me it was too late and to get up and get dressed. I threw up and sat in the recovery room with other women who hung their heads low. I walked out aware of everything and we went out to eat. It was the first thing I was able to eat in like a month. The after effects of that drug made me feel happy. I wish it could have lasted a lot longer than that day, because that night I felt a darkness over me and it stayed for a long time. I haven’t been able to talk about it until this last year. There were so many unanswered questions for me. I needed to know that I was going to be okay at the end of all of this and no one could tell me. I reached out for help but the therapist wanted me to talk about it. There is that wall again. That stupid tall brick wall.

I stare at the wall, as the therapist is asking me to talk to my dead baby. What would you say to that. I just stared at that brick wall that I couldn’t get over. So I left. I left that mans office and didn’t look back. I was ok. I can get past this. I know that I can. The last thing the therapist kept getting at was forgiveness. That is a strong word for me at that point. How can I forgive this? How can I forgive my boyfriend? How can I forgive my mom? How can I forgive myself? How can God forgive me? So many questions. So many choices had to be made for my future and yet there was this large darkness that had overwhelmed me once more. Maybe it was always waiting in the wings. Maybe God was punishing me.

Well these are all questions that we ask about our Creator isn’t it? Why does God allow bad things to happen? He has to be testing me, right? How can He can forgive even the worst people? Well I may have answer for ya. I had all the same questions throughout many events in my life. Some you will get to know soon enough, but those questions above in these moments I have an answer for.

God, our Father, He allows situations to happen because he has bestowed us with a blessing to cross paths with someone else and our testimony is going to impact that person’s life. Or because we simply didn’t listen to his answer about something he said no to, so he allows us to go through these situations. Always remember that you’re never alone in your situation He already knows how its going to end, and He doesn’t walk you to your situations doorstep just to leave you to go on the journey alone. It’s all about faith that you know He is going to be there to help you through. And at the end of the journey the glory goes to God. Your story matters. You have to have the courage to open your mouth to speak it.

God didn’t leave me in my time of my abortion. I left me. I left everything behind that stupid wall. God was there all along He was waiting for me to take his hand so he can help me out, but I never took it. I went along a very dark path. Dark to me anyway. I acted out. I smoked weed, I had sex again, I drank a lot. I lied. I stopped caring. I was going to do what I wanted to do regardless who it was going to hurt. I went to parties and eventually I went back to my Dads. But God never left me. He walked right by me the whole time just waiting. Telling me softly to not do what I was about to do. Telling me that I was worth it, I shut him out. How can he forgive such an unforgivable sin. That is what I thought for a long time. So how did all these answers come to me.

There is a story that will come later but here is what I will tell you now. The day that I met Jesus, the Holy Spirit, and heard God once more is the day that all those answers came to me. I asked God for forgiveness for the abortion, and he said with a loud Yes. I was asked if I could forgive myself and I started crying. I said Yes. I felt Him hold me close to him. I was being hugged by my Father. I have not ever felt love like that. I learned right at that moment…. What love was. Unfiltered love. I just cried in that couch and cried. I have not ever felt something so pure in my life. I was told that I would one day meet that baby and he was safe. I know how why we go through the things we do. One way or another people come into our lives or we are called to serve Him in ways that we didn’t think were possible. Philippians 4:13 I know now what I am called to do for him. That is to tell you my story. He got me out of the darkness in such a way.

So I am writing this out today because I knew that this is part of the wall that I am knocking out of my life. This is the start of the hard stuff that is yet to be written about. So all week I knew I had to write this part out, and I was staring at that wall in minor defeat. But I knew that I can do this because this is my calling. I will no longer have this brick wall to stare at in defeat but to stare at this wall knowing it’s already been defeated and it is no longer there. I will walk through that shame and guilt with my head held high because my Father has already defeated the enemy and the victory has already been won. All you need is a little bit of faith and courage. I know that my story is going to reach who it is meant to reach. I say there is hope even if your faith is a small as a mustard seed. God can do a lot with that mustard seed. I love you all.

Chapter 3 Wait… I have a Dad too?

So by the time that I was five years old. I have experienced so much already. There was a moment in my moms daily life with that she decided that it was time that my dad start being in my life too. My mom had this moment of recognition when my sister left for her dads again. She said that I was standing there at the door as usual and I guess I told that I must have a dad that loves me.

This actually broke my mom’s heart. She recalls the moments as tears are filling her eyes. She did a very selfless act and tracked my father down.  She had to go through many of people that have hurt my mom because of my dad. As she tells me more about the story I see a woman who has been deeply hurt and has kept those things to herself. She tells me that even though she would have rather raise me alone than to share me with my father.

I didn’t know the full extent of why she felt this way about my dad. I was young my mind isn’t going to understand adult issues. I know more now and it is so much more than what I expected. I will say this though. You have to love someone so much to hate them as much as my parents hated each other.

So back to the selfless act that my mother did. She tracked my father down and arranged a visit. I would soon be on a plane flying to the big D! Dallas. What a wondrous place.

You know for a young child who just discovered that she actually had a father I was more in awe that I had a step mother. Man was I lucky girl that summer. So many new things happened to me that I may have been on an overload of information.

I mean I flew in a plane for the first time. My mom bought me gum for the flight, she packed me things to do, and made sure that I had my name badge draped over my neck. Thinking about it from as a mom now, I will be honest, me sending my young child on a plane alone would be F-ing scary. That is putting a lot of trust into many people to take care of your child. Blind trust= faith on a whole other level! I earned my wings. You know the plastic wings that they hand to all children who fly. I always sat in first class. I remember just enjoying peanuts looking at all the clouds. I actually thought that the clouds would actually feel like pillows and hold me up. I later shared this thought with my sister and she ruined that for me . Haha, she told me that I was stupid for believing such fairy tales. That if I were to ever touch or sit in a cloud that I would fall to my certain death.  ( you see what I mean by not having a tribe to keep me accountable) Even though she was right, I still wouldn’t back down from what I thought.

Flying then was a true fun experience. All kinds of people, all around all the time. Coming and going. I now am one of those many people who are going to and fro. I was lucky that this was happening. Although, I didn’t know it at the time. I was just excited that I had a dad waiting for me on the other side.

I came out of the terminal with the tall lady holding my hand and she securely handed me over to my father. He held me tightly, I savored this moment. I was being held. Just think about that…. being held. Can you feel the security and the affection that person holds for you. You are wrapped in their arms and the whole world is quiet for those moments. Think about how many times a day we don’t hold each other. Well for me as a child I craved those things. I craved being held and cuddled with. To be kissed. I didn’t have that with my mom. That was something that she wasn’t raised with. I often think how many times in her life she just needed to be held and shown that she was loved with a simple gesture. That thought alone brings tears to my eyes.

He let go of me and pulled his wife close to him and I met my step mother. We clicked immediately. She presented me with a gift. A wind up ceramic clown. I still have that clown. It is very special to me. It went pretty much everywhere I went that summer. I got to spend a lot of time with them both, and so many others from that side of family. That summer I spent a lot of time in the pools, eating the most delicious ham sandwiches, riding in a Model T Ford truck, playing with my cousin Amanda in the Ft. Worth heat, having carmel popcorn with my Granddad and learning how to sew with my Granny, and lastly crying all the way to Wichita Falls to visit Granny Burt.

So many hugs and so much affection. So many gifts. I belonged with these people. You know things made sense to me. The way they spoke me, or corrected me, I felt secure. My dad was a funny guy. He played with me. He showered me with simple things like just holding me until I fell asleep. My step mom painted my toes, she made jokes about how men were pigs and ladies are ladies. The voice she said it in made me laugh every time. We would take showers together and we were two hams, singing as loud as we could. She showed me how to take care of myself by loving myself. I would switch back and forth between everyone for all this love, but I was never far my dad. I would soon have to return back to my mom.  I wish I could stay here with them.

Little did I know all the complications that were going to come from these moments with my dad. Not only for myself but for my mom too. When I came home I was full of life and couldn’t shut up about all the things that I did that summer. Things were so different between the two houses. HUGE!!! Even though my mom was supportive of my experiences, she would be waiting for the other shoe to fall with my dad. I am sure that it was a constant worry for my mom now that I spent time with him

I would eventually talk about my dad all the time. I didn’t know that I was causing my mom stress and anxiety. Maybe jealousy and feeling like I was an ungrateful child. Then visitations seem to be a regular thing now and my mom was getting a little more frustrated with the topic of my dad. I started really acting out. But not only just because my dad was in the picture but I started trying to figure out why my parents acted the way they did with me and how it was confusing to me. Who was I? Who were they? Who were they to me?

I started asking questions. It was like the pandoras box of things that I was to young to really understand what their points of view were. I did gather one thing, they hated each other.

My mom decided to transfer all of us kids to a different school district. A much nicer school system I might add. I for the most part fit in with those children. They were a lot like me as far as witty, smart and just well rounded of awesome. I am biased though, I really liked all the kids there and the teachers.

My previous school wasn’t so nice. Kids there had a different set of codes to live by. It was survive or die. Roughing it out kinda of thing. School of eat or be eaten. haha Even the teachers were so unhappy there it felt like. They didn’t as attentive to students. For instance I was telling my second grade teacher about my mom and nothing happened. I am not saying that I wanted my mom to get into trouble, but we were learning about ” good touch bad touch, and ‘if anyone is hurting you at home, we are here to help’ or ‘ Stop child abuse.”  with a toll free number to call. So really I was just taking my education that was just taught to me in class to reach out to someone. But at this new school I wasn’t going to say anything. I just might make some friends. Which I did, it helped that I had a cousin who was going to the same school.

What made me kind of uncomfortable was that I was not as smart as these other kids. I struggled, and this was too much for my mom. That is what my perception is anyway. I learned how to spell Knock after my first time encountering vocab night with my mom. Haha Oh my gosh the stories about vocab nights. My mom was something else when it came to education. She made it very intimidating to ask for help. Anyway I am getting off track a little bit.

So I had this math teacher. Ms. Davis. Man she was a great teacher. Intimating at times only because I didn’t understand the operations that she was teaching. She observed a lot. That also made me weary. She asked me to stay behind in class. I was actually scared. All my class mates left to go to lunch and I was stuck here with her. I wonder what she is wanting from me.  So many thoughts were running through my mind. This whole situation is making nervous.

She asks me to sit down, and she asked me if something was wrong. Well that is a loaded question. I didn’t know what to say. Then she asked me why I was behind in math and turning in my homework. These were hard questions for me. I was a little defensive. I didn’t want to say that night before my mom got mad at me because she didn’t understand why they were teaching pre-algerba to a third grader. Needless to say I hadn’t turned in my homework because I don’t get and can’t ask for help at home. Then she hit me the what she really wanted to know.She asked me if I was being abused at home, and not to be afraid of saying anything. That I was safe.

Well this is a moment of discernment for me. Do I trust that this teacher is really going to help me or is she going to be like the last teacher who caused more of an issue for me? Those questions were tossed in my head for too long, because the subsequent statements of encouragement helped me in my choice. I decided to talk about it. After telling her my life story with my mom, she comforted my the best way she could. She empathized with me the best she could. She gave me affirmations that it was a good thing for me to have told her. She also told me that she had a feeling that something was happening at home.

Later on that day, I was talking to two other people in the office about what I told my teacher, and I just told them everything that happened. That mom was so pissed at me because I didn’t make it back to her boyfriends house when she asked me to, so she left me there and went home. Which was in the next town over. About 30 minutes away. You would think that I would be used to her leaving me but it was something that never felt good. When she drove all the way back to get me and she was furious with me. She made a lot of blind threats with the exception of being grounded. She took away dinner from me as well. I know now that she was pissed but then I just thought that she meant what she said. I mean its not like my mom and I had a solid foundation of trust. So in that office I was singing like a canary. I just thought WOW someone is actually listening to me. I didn’t know it was CPS!!! oopsie my bad.

I went to the library to wait for someone to pick my up, and when I saw my mom. She was mad and I didn’t know what about. That is when I found out that those people I talked to called my mom and told her that she was being investigated for child abuse. This was F-ing confusing to me. Who do I trust??? Who am I? I mean think about it…. I get in worse trouble when I am being honest, but nothing happens when I lie? Who, what, where how am I do be??? Who Am I Really?? For crying out loud there is no winning. I am just not worth this trouble, because that seems to be all that I am at this point in my life. I am confused as to what is right and wrong.

I was honest with CPS about everything I said to them. I am a great story teller, so maybe I made the impression that I wasn’t suppose to? I don’t know, I just know that my mom blames me if she loses her job for my “false” story to these people. I mean I told them EVERYTHING!! Then she lays it on me…. KRISTAL YOU ARE MOVING WITH YOUR FATHER. I CANT HANDLE YOU ANYMORE. I AM AFRAID I MIGHT JUST KILL YOU.

Cool. That was probably the best news I have heard! I didn’t get to say bye to anyone. She literally put on a plane the next day. haha Things changed for us both. I feel that she made a great choice.

I know I talk more about my mom from my early years. She was the one that was there. She was the one taking care of me. I feel that sometimes kids take things out on the parent that is actually there everyday. They take them for granted. That is my opinion. I am not saying that the things I am talking about define my mom. My mom is my mom. She gave me life. Very cliche I know but its the truth. Now that I know my dad, I feel that the grass is greener on the other side. That just shows that I didn’t know what was really there for me on that other side. Almost everyone has had those moments of thinking of the grass is greener, but that is because of something they are lacking, or things that were presented to be better with that person or people. Whatever it is. In my case it was my parents.

I mean I have only known my dad for a small amount of time. The time that I had with them was brief. That is not how life was going to be all the time. I didn’t know that. Before I left my mom, brother and sister my mom told me that I have put my dad on a pedestal and I would learn who he really was. Of course she was angry, hurt, feeling betrayed, sad, rage, disappointment and relief. This was new start for the two of us. This was another selfless act that my mom did and something she needed to do for her own sanity. I know I didn’t help her condition. I feel that my mom like so many others back then didn’t talk about depression, postpartum depression, or any mental illness. I mean a lot of people did NOT talk about that sort of thing. Unfortunately, that still is the case.

My mom was raising three kids on her own, with little to no help from our fathers. She was our soul provider. She took the brunt of everything that happened. The sad part is that  we didn’t know what was going on with mom. My mom was carrying the weight of her world and I was just focused on mine. I feel that she was suffering from all these things and said nothing. Just held it all inside. Then lashed out. She didn’t have an outlet maybe? I am not sure if there were real help or tools to help with such things.

I know for me what helped me through all of this up to this point was God. My dad had given me a bible. My Grandparents from both sides and my dad taught me things about God. He seemed totally trust worthy. I talked to him all the time when I younger. I would tell him how I felt like a curse. How I just wanted my mom to be happy. I wanted to see my dad. How I wanted to be loved and cherished. I wanted to be worthy of love. I would talk to him like he was my friend. He guided me. I would open my bible with no real understanding of His Word, but man I was hungry to know Him and I didn’t even know it. I really saw God as my friend.

 

Chapter 2: Divorce Rate of Shoes is High

As I move forward in this moments of my early childhood. I have had to reflect on some things over the weekend about my chapter 1. I was feeling so incredible vulnerable and naked. I had this moment of panic that EVERYONE was going to see this. Which is kind of funny because I am writing a book to where the public is going to read it at some point.

I felt a great overwhelming support from all my followers both new and continued. Not much about the past is ever really easy. There are moments of love and laughter. Good memories that have stuck. I just don’t want you all to think that I am stuck in the past because I am not stuck there. Thank goodness right. There are not many of us who would choose to go back to the past. I mean, sure we make jokes about things we would change. Thinking about it though. I see the grace of God that has been with me the whole time.

Grace and forgiveness. I think that is where I want to take us today.

So there was this one weekend my sister went to her dads. It was my baby brother, my mother and me. I was playing in my room when my mom entered the doorway. She told me to get my shoes on that we were going to the store to get ice. So I got up and started looking for my shoes. Well I was looking and would find one shoe but not the other. Find a separate shoe but not its partner. I mean looking back at it now I can kinda giggle. I mean who loses one shoe? Just one shoe of each pair of shoes I had. Leave it to me to accomplish this flawlessly.

My mom however at the time didn’t think it was such an accomplishment. I heard her footsteps coming to my room. I am starting to feel stressed and scared. She said ” let’s go,” which turned into ” where are your shoes?” to “you have a minute to find them or I am leaving without you!”speech. The absolute terror I had in my heart that my mom was leaving without me was so overwhelming that I just started crying. I tore through everything I had in my room. She came back in without my brother on her hip this time. The look in her eyes scared me. For the first time I am actually scared of my mom.

She pushed me so hard that I hit the back of my head on the wall as I fell. Then the assault that came after that, I was in shock! As she furiously hit me I was crawling to find my shoes which was only pissing her off even more. I was a moving too much but that didn’t stop her assault. It didn’t stop the rage that she had against me. I just wanted to please her and find those shoes so she would be happy again.

The hot tears running down my aching face. The stiffness I felt all over, but yet I am still tearing a part my room just proclaiming that I can’t find any of my shoes. She is yelling at me and I can’t hear anything she said until at the end. ” You better find a pair of shoes by the time I get back, OR else!” as she points her long finger at me. She and my brother walked passed my window, and they drove off. I cry even harder now. She left me. She left me because I am a bad child who has lost all her shoes.

As I write this out I am sitting her reliving this moment. But lets look at what is really happening here to all of us. There is stress, trauma, fear, rejection, shame, guilt, disappointment, sadness, breakdown of trust and abandonment. There is pain there at the time. Physical pain. My goodness my head hurts so bad, I am finally calming down. You know that cry that is so bad that at the end you can’t  get all your breathing under control and you make that noise. You know that noise. I feel my eyes getting heavy. I just want to sleep now. I hurt all over but I need to find those shoes. I am full of fear that I won’t find them by the time she gets home and she will hurt me again.

But my eyes are so heavy and there is no where else to look. I have found every shoe I own. I have them lined up neatly, but I don’t have their partners. Maybe she will be happy with what I did do. I just need to close my eyes. I hurt…* Car door slams shut* I don’t move from my bed I don’t feel so good. * front door opens and shuts*  She walks to my doorway. I am so scared but I can’t move. I have accepted my fate with my mom. She looks down at me and asked me if I had found my shoes. I told her no. The hot sting of tears are forming and running down my cheeks. She throws the bag of ice on my face, and tells me to put it away and that I am not to leave my room.

I just lay there and cry. She hates me. I must be a horrible person. I wait to hear her door close on the other end of the house. It is safe for me to go out there to put it away. I go back to my room and lay down. The whole thing plays over and over in my mind. I can’t stop crying. Over and over as it was playing I am just telling myself that I was just not a good kid and my mom doesn’t love me. I cried myself to sleep apparently because I woke up in fear when I heard my mom come to my room telling me dinner was ready. I think it was hard for my mom to look at me after that happened. I was covered in bruises and I was sporting a pretty impressive shiner.

Oh my goodness the pain is too much. My whole face and body hurt. I am unsure how to be around my mom. I suppose anyone would be after something like that. It was almost like I hit the save button on what not to do. I will say this, I have not lost a single pair of my shoes since then. I have been very diligent and mindful as to where I put my shoes. In fact I have developed a great habit, I will literally take off my shoes in front of the door, or in the middle of the room. Man it irritates everyone except me. I am totally laughing about it as I write this out. The frustration on everyone’s face is comical at times, but I know where my shoes are. Unless they are moved by someone then I am on the hunt.

My mom and have talked about this incident a few times and we don’t ever talk about the details of the abuse that happened that day. I see the pain she feels when she recalls the moment. I see the emotions that she goes through as we laugh and giggle about me losing one shoe to every pair of shoes that I owned.She ended up locating most of my shoes from all over town. School, neighbors houses, the babysitters.

I see that she has shame and remorse about what has happened. I know that she does know what she did and how it has shaped my life. But at the same time my child self doesn’t know what is going on in her path. My child mind tells me that my mom hates me and that I am no good.

I feel from this moment in my life as a child this incident was the crack in the vase,if you will. I feel like the first time you do something that is intoxicating you have made it ok to do it again. I can tell you every time that she beat me. The things she would say to me, and how that affected my daily life. I know the things that stress her out and not to do those things. Some of the things that happened were excessive punishments. To put it mildly. I remember the first black eye she gave me. That was the only time she ever said sorry to me. I feared those footsteps to the back of the house. Because I knew that they were coming for me. Every bad thing I ever did was going to be beaten out of me into submission.

There was this time that she just got done doing laundry and she would always have all our piles separated neatly. Shirts, pants, dresses, folded socks and underwear. She would ask us,my sister and me, to please put them away.Not me. nope nope nope. Almost everything I did was half done. Thinking about it now,I I did it because I wanted to. There wasn’t a hidden meaning to me not doing it, I just didn’t want to. That it was just too much work. In reality it really isn’t. She did the hard work. We can empathize when it comes to laundry. Anyway there was the first time that she asked me to bring her my dirty laundry.

I kind of panicked a little bit. I hadn’t picked up my dirty room nor my laundry but if I don’t produce that laundry basket I am going to get my ass handed to me….again. This was a weekly thing that we have done. It was a habit now, I do something bad, Kristal gets her ass handed to her. Oh Kristal didn’t do the dishes correctly like she wanted, Kristal gets her ass kicked again. Anyway, I hadn’t put away the clothes from last week away. To me here is the funny part, and this is something that I still do to some degree. The clothes that were left behind was one jacket that I needed hang, which was literally a foot away from the laundry basket. Two shirts and a few pair of leggings. Still folded, I stuffed them in-between all the dirty clothes. I casually put the laundry basket where it was to be and walked away.

I even had a very brief moment of second guessing. But NOOOOO I made a choice to hand over that laundry basket anyway. I went back into my room and moments later I heard those foot steps heading my way. I knew exactly why she was coming. SHE KNOWS!!! So she comes into my room and has the clothes. She asked me if they were clean. I lied. NOOOO mom they are dirty. She gave me that look of ” Oh no she didn’t!” commence the angry mom look. She asks me again, I lie again. Not a smart move. She walked over to the hanger and hung up the jacket yelling at me…” IS IT SOO HARD TO HANG THIS UP KRISTAL? ITS RIGHT HERE! LOOK KRISTAL! IS THAT SOOO FUCKING HARD?” Then she walks a few more feet to my shelves where I kept my clothes, and she put the leggings and shirts there and said the same thing.

I was calm and soft toned when she was yelling at me, that seemed to put the cherry on top for her current mood. She is really pissed. I am sitting on the ground watching her closely, she’s coming for me and it will be same and I was right. She grabs me by my hair and drags me to the same spot in the living room. Right over the heater vent closest to the kitchen. She would throw me there and choke me until I would pee in my pants or pass out. The rage that would come out of her was unreal.

In this case, I peed she got off me. Telling me the usual. I was worthless. How her job was more important than me, and how I can’t do simple things. I was stupid. Finally she would tell me to clean up the mess, and go to my room.

So lets talk about me as a child. I did not make things easy for my mom. Like ever. From the moment that I was born. I was independent from the get go. I came into this world when I was ready. That is what I joke to my mom about. I have always seen the world through different eyes than most people I know. I couldn’t ever conform into my moms ways and the way she wanted things. It wasn’t with the lack of trying but I felt that it wasn’t me. I mean, I would tell her the truth and she wouldn’t believe me. Its funny now because even now today she still won’t believe some things have happened. Maybe it was because the first time I went to school, I made up a very convincing story.

She was doing dishes,and she asked me about my day at school. I was in kindergarten mind you. I told her it was good until the principle hit my hands with a ruler. Oh my gosh that still makes me laugh. Who would think of something like that….. Yours truly… Kristal. She was furious, but it wasn’t at me. That felt good. I was getting positive attention. It was like a drug. That feeling wore off as soon as she said that she was going to my school to talk to the principle. Well crap. I knew I was in trouble and I think she sensed that I was lying but my story was so convincing, I still kept to my story, in fact I was adding to it. I don’t remember what I said but I am sure that it was good.

The next morning we are waiting to be seen by the principle. I was nervous as she was called in. I hear and the way she was talking to him that she was mad and really confused. They finally call me and there he sat with my mom. Thinking about now maybe wanted to be right I wasn’t lying but when he started drilling me with ” which ruler did use?” may have thrown me off. Even then I picked out the ruler and said that it wasn’t him that it was another teacher. I just kept the lie going even after walking the entire school to find a teacher that hit me with a ruler. We got back to his office and he just looked at me and said ” ready to tell the truth?” I guess so. Oh my gosh the look on my moms face after I told the truth. I know now she was embarrassed.

This was a kind of new thing for me. I was getting my mom alone when I did things like this. That is what I was thinking as she was yelling at me on the importance of not lying and how I won’t make friends if I lied and how embarrassed she was that she went in there thinking someone was hurting her child. Weird. That was weird to me because she hurt me?! Anyway I don’t remember what happened after that.

I just know that for my own accountability I did not make things easy for my mom. I was just in my own world. Things were amazing to me. Good and bad. They were things that I was seeing through my eyes and no one to talk to about these things. How was I to know when I didn’t have a balance to keep me accountable? 

I will share more stories of all the off the wall things I did that made total sense to me. But before I leave this I want to tell you something that means so much to me now.

At this point in my life, I have come to learn that any attention was a good thing for me. Not always the best choice of how I get it but I got it nonetheless. My mom was alone and so was I. But at this points I learned that The weekends were scary, and put your clean clothes away and finally don’t lose your shoes. Lastly, my mom showed me mercy that day that I lied. She made a choice to teach me a life lesson that really did stick and something I have told my own kids. Those words stuck with me. As I have grown up I have learned that forgivness wasn’t for my mom but for me. I made a choice to forgive my mom and show her grace because I didn’t know her path. I didn’t know the things she was going through as a single parent. I thought our family was normal. I didn’t know anything diffrent. My mom is a power house of a woman and I admire her.

 

 

Where to start. Ahh yes the beginning. Chapter 1

Hello welcome to my new blog. My name is Kristal. I am from the US of the great land of America. That is a whole other blog concerning my country. I am 34 years young, and I love telling stories. But the story that I will be writing about here is my own. Here is my why I am writing my story.

I am writing this story because of the things I have been through. I feel that it needs to be told because someone out there may come to this page and see that they are not alone. My story like so many others; it has ups, downs and plenty of loop de loops. Plenty of laughs and WTF moments. 

My story matters and so does yours. If one thing comes out of this vulnerability of myself that I am exposing is helping someone; then my story has made a difference. It will all be done without violence, riots, war, hate and all things that are bad. If anything it’s from those sorts of things that has made my story a successful one. Shall we get started? I think yes.

My story starts really from the time that I was brought into this world. I was three weeks late and my mom will gladly tell you how relieved she was. I was born to my mom and dad and brought into this world with so much already on my shoulders.

My parents were not happy in their marriage and there were all sorts of curses set before I was even born. ( curses= something I will bring up later) According to my mom my father denied me from before I was even born and would be later used as tool to hurt her. So from the get go my very existence was being used as way to hurt and heal. My father was abusive to my mom. My mom was a fighter. They hurt each other in their own ways.

Before I was born my mom had my sister from a previous marriage, and my father had my two older brothers also from a previous marriage. Then there was me. Born into a family that was just made of my father and mother, and three half siblings. My father was not kind to my sister. And my mom tried to forge a relationship with my two older brothers. She also tried to engage in a relationship with their mother for the sake of all of their children. There are plenty of blended families now, but back then it was more a taboo thing to do. Needless to say that didn’t work out. Eventually, my little family was split too.

As a child I was always so independent. I had my own way of thinking about life. I talked all the time! My first words were shut up for crying out loud. Already in my young life, I was kidnapped by my father, used as a tool to hurt my mom. These are memories I don’t remember. I remember being kidnapped by my father.haha

I was two maybe when that happened. I know what you are going to say. How can I remember something like that at that age. Well one word. It was a traumatic experience. Although it wasn’t violent in any way. He is my father. I love him. But I remember him picking me up at my mom’s house and leaving. Next thing I know I am in California with my dad and my grandparents. Heres why I remember it the most. My father sat me on the their counters, the phone rings, my Granny handed me a banana. I love bananas!! Then I remember my dad yelling over the phone and my grandparents comforting me and then being asked to talk to momma on the phone. That is the end of that memory.

I was later returned because my dad “didn’t want to buy or support me on his own.” That was according to my mom. My father didn’t deny this fact. My mom also told my dad over the phone that since he took me that he needs to be responsible for me. That scared my dad. My dad at the time had issues with any kind of commitment. That included his now three children. Basically my said, keep her, and he brought me back that weekend. I laugh about that now because that was so my dad and mom. But I was still used a tool. I just wanted to be loved, nurtured and cared for.

Some time passes and it was just my mom, sister and me. I annoyed my sister, my favored me because I was the baby. I really didn’t see my mom a whole lot. It was really me and sister. Then mom got pregnant with my brother. I was five years old when my baby brother came into this world. My whole life changed from that moment on.

The day that my baby brother was born, I was brought into the room where my mom just gave birth. I walked over, I look down to see this baby. A boy? ugh!!! I wanted a sister. Everyone was so joyous and I flat-out said,” I don’t want him.” I walked out of that room so cold-hearted . I remember walking into the hallway and my now ten-year old sister is telling that I hurt moms feelings. In my heart I didn’t care. I wanted a sister. I went back in to be with everyone because I had too.

I had to share everything with him. My room, my mom, and my sister. Don’t get me wrong  the kid grew on me. My mom let me be around him but he took so much from me. I think back now and I think I resented him. I wanted to love on him. He was the cutest baby I have ever seen. My mom let me hold him, and I was walking around him and I dropped him! I didn’t mean too!! But no one saw it that way. They thought I did it on purpose. So I wasn’t allowed to hold him anymore, but I saw a different side of mom. She hated me. That is how it felt anyway.

Like I said from the time of his birth my whole life changed. Anytime my baby brother cried she was mad at me. Even if I had nothing to do with it. My sister was my only safe place, even though she too turned her back on me. I was alone now. By this point my sister is going with her dad every other weekend. That meant that I was stuck with my mom without my safe place. I mean at this point I just think that my mom hates me, but I was not afraid of her. I didn’t have a reason to.

Sister left as usual with her father, and I was sad. I remember staying at the front door for a while after she would leave. I was alone. Sad and alone. I mean I was potty trained by a babysitter. I didn’t like that babysitter.

Here is why. One day she tells us ( all the kid she was watching) that she was leaving to the store and that her son will be watching us. Finally she says we are not to move and to go to sleep. It was nap time. Me and another girl were paired up on the aqua leather couch. I see her son talking to another girl, she goes into his room. Then some time later she come out. Then the girl, I actually think it was my sister, told me that he wanted to see me.

I get up and go into his room. He ushered me in and closed the door. He asked me to pick out a toy from his bed. I picked a book. He turned me around and told me to read the book. I didn’t know how to read but I sure depicted a great story from the pictures I saw. As I was flipping through the book telling my story he told me he was going to pull my panties down and I might feel something warm. He put his penis in between my legs against my vagina until he had his orgasm. I sure did feel something warm running down my legs. He got a wet cloth and cleaned me off. He pulled my panties back up , he turned me around and closed my book that I was still “reading” and told me to NEVER tell anyone. He fixed my white dress and told me to go take my nap and never to talk about it again. To be honest when this all went down. I thought he peed on me! Just as gross. Yuck!! I didn’t know what I do now. 

When I walked out. My sister had asked me what he said. I told her I wasn’t allowed to say, and did what I was told to do. I hated going there. At some point we switched babysitters. Still to this day, if I happened to be going past that house that is the only memory I have of that place. I didn’t tell anyone for a long time. 

I also remember going to a doctor around that same age, and the doctor doing almost the same thing. He asked my mom to leave the room, he turned off the lights and felt around in my panties. Moments past and he was all done. That is what he told my mom. At this point I am thinking that this is normal. Men = private place touchers. I did tell my mom and she told me that it didn’t happen. I was confused because it did happen. So it starts with my mom.

I think that is enough for today. I leave you with this. If you are reading this, just know that my story at this point only beginning. There is a lot of emotions that are coming. A lot of things that are hard to envision happening. But the truth is, that these happens all the time, and not many people talk about it. Or bring it out into light. I am talking about it because it needs to be said. But to also let you know that there is hope and salvation.