Shove it where the sun doesn't shine

I went to jail for protecting myself from my husband one-time; he used to beat me daily. This particular time he had given me a black eye, bloody nose, and swollen lip after he threw a knife at me that stuck in the wall instead of me.

I had left him a month before and moved to another town miles away. Found a job, rented a room over an old storefront building it was small, cheap, and I felt safe.. The room was quaint with plaster walls, a light hung from the center of ten foot high ceiling with only bare wires with no shade. The wooden floors clean and shiny but needed refinishing. A twin bed snug against the wall, with a small end table next to it, and a window with lace curtains in the center of the wall of the narrow room. I shared a bathroom down the hall with other people who rented similar rooms. It was mine, all mine.

 I was in the middle of preparing breakfast food for the restaurants line cooks. Baking old fashion buttermilk biscuits, frying bacon and sausage, coffee was brewing, the smell was deliciously hanging throughout the kitchen. Country music was playing on the radio, we were happy and laughing. I was feeling almost like my old self, full of confidence and anything was possible for the future.  Little did I know what was lurking outside for me. He found out where I worked. 

After he came in the back door of the restaurant he grabbed me. He was dragging me out the back door when I grabbed the door jamb on both side of the opening. I'm screaming for him to let go of me, my boss grab me under my arm pits but she and I couldn't break his grip. He got me outside into the car and drove off.  The police had been called but they didn't get there in time. He drove us back to the one bedroom trailer we had rented from a church pastor and his wife. 

The police showed up and took us both to jail.

He got out of jail on his own recognize that same day because he was from KY.

I am from Michigan.  Because of that the judge thought I was a flight risk. Ya think so?  I ended up spending 30 days because the judge wouldn't give me back my $100 bail money. So, I told the judge to shove it where the sun doesn't shine. Was not one of my better reactions to an authority figure. Needless to say, the judge didn't find my response humorous.
This happened in London KY. 

Poem to survivor of sexual assault

I searched for words to tell you what not to feel

I searched for words to tell you how to feel

I searched and searched then realized I could tell you a million words

But I did not experience your time and place

I did have my own, so I do know the place

But there are no words to express some experiences

In the end, results are always the same

Violated, hard to trust, anger that comes from know where

In time it will get easier the fear will subside

A day will come, and you will feel at peace again.

I am safer alone

She sits at the kitchen table listening to the water drip, drip, drip. Her memory goes back to a time in life when she remembers how vulnerable she could be. He controlled everything, she feared to make choices, trained from childhood to be obedient. Sexual abuse started when she was 3.

Now at 44, the dripping from the faucet reminds her of a time long ago when he put his hand through the window. They are fighting over his infidelity.

He knocks her down then sits with his knees on her forearms. She can't move, terror red is all she sees. The blood he is dripping on her forehead is running into her eyes.

He says, "In Viet Nam, we use to terrorize our captives this way. It can get worse".

Crying, begging, rocking her head back and forth desperate to keep the blood from running into her eyes. It's causing her to see everything through a red haze. Blood dripped, splattered, ran down the walls. He left after that never to come back.

Crying, sobbing from the aftermath of abuse. She doesn't know what to clean first.

Drenched in blood my vision blurred, I remember it well. Rinsed my eyes out than wiped my face. Didn't figure I should change my clothes.

By the time I washed the blood from walls, ceiling, furniture, and the floor my clothes drenched with his diluted blood, I took off my clothes and threw them away. Standing in the shower sobbing until the water ran clear and cold. I got out of the shower a new woman.

Until the next time, I meet the new one to bring terror in my life.

Now at 62, I stay alone. After 3 relationships that brought me to the brink of death, I'm safer alone.

#MeToo #iamwriting #amwriting

Making and effort to increase my income retirement sucks without enough money

Beautiful paintings from Michigan artist by clicking this link it will take you to FineArtAmerica

I am privileged to be able to share my artwork with other talented artists from Michigan.

Wean me off these drugs

Been a member of the Fibromyalgia English/Afrikaans quite some time and it helped me through some rough times. This past month I had enough of medication that just did not work. Told my doctor enough was enough, wean me off these drugs. It was tough. I survived the withdrawals. Less pain now, less stiffness, but thank goodness I am not being videotaped daily.

The mood swings from tears, anger, laughter, confusion, frustration and did develop high blood pressure now. I take aspirin and medical marijuana as needed, it does work. Not daily either. Just when the pain is intolerable. Now if I could just get the emotional fixed, but the pharmaceutical drugs has so many negative effects on me I would rather be known as the crazy lady who lives with 2 dogs, artist who paints pictures, and smokes pot.

My energy level skyrocketed from sleeping 14 hours a day and 10 hours of exhaustion to sleeping 6 hours a day and getting so much done that I had never dreamed possible again in my life. I was diagnosed 1996, symptoms started at least 10 years before. Saw many psychiatrists over that 10 years, no one knew what Fibro was. Had many family and friends giving me advice on exercise and diet. Even this past year had someone tell me I just needed to move more, did not respond to her skinny self (20+ years younger than me) with a husband and two sons to help her to do all the things I do not have help with. This is why I call Fibromyalgia the stupid disease, for the stupid things people say to us with the disease. They are not educated in the disease and chose not to understand the disease.

When your child dies, Oh how I miss her

I guess this is how I have dealt with my daughter's death on her birthday and the day she left.

 I do have sad times but mostly I can laugh at the little stupid things that Kathy and I would laugh at. I talk to her and express how she would have enjoyed the experience with me. Then we laugh together, she hears me that's all that matters. I don't celebrate her death or birthday because she wouldn't want me to glorify her death. Instead, we talk every day, just like when she was alive.
I am selfish I don't want to share my special time I have with her of a spiritual nature.

I was by myself when I gave birth to her at 15, there was no family just hospital staff. When she went to a better place for her, not me, it was only her and I. No family, no friends, just my daughter and I. Yes I am crying as I write this, just because I don't often express my pain of losing my best friend doesn't mean it hurts less, it means I am selfish about all the special times we had. RIP Kathryn Martin

Poor me day LOL

She has been trying so hard and getting nowhere.
Tired can't even begin to describe her life.
Denise and her pets surviving the winter until her paintings and prints sell. She is working very hard to get the word out about her paintings.

Sincerely love and blessings,
Matilda and Teddy

Just to tired

Haven't posted since the end of July 2016, just not enough energy to do the things I want to do.
For those who don't know, I have #Fibromyalgia disease.
Lately, illness is just too much to deal with. I don't know if it is the medication that makes me tired, the illness or getting older. Maybe it is just all three.

Positive note finally got to see my daughters oldest child he is 18 years old now. Hadn't seen him for 10 years. Wish I could say he is doing well but he isn't.

Started this post weeks ago and I am just now getting back to finishing it. LOL
But that is what it's like with Fibromyalgia. The other day it took me 6 hours to ship a box with UPS and I dried a half a load of laundry. That was it for the day.

I have been painting pictures to sell on eBay sold one of another artist but I have faith I will sell mine too.

Been going to art class one night a week to learn other styles, it is helpful.

Well got to go take a nap so I can go to class tonight.

Happy Thanksgiving to all.

Do you ever wonder what you were born for?

I have been wondering what my purpose is! I don't think it is ever going to come to me. The only thing I guess was to have my son's. Because having my daughter turned out disastrous for her and her children. Now my heart is broken beyond repair.
My life is lonely, sad and not fulfilling. Have not reached one of my goals.
I think I reached the best part of my life in my past.
So now I wait for the end to come.
It may be a year, or 20, just have to wait and see.
I worked hard, gave much, was always optimistic, now all I see is nothing special anymore.

Many shade's of abuse

Abuse doesn't have a color, religion, gender, age, or financial amount of income.

The little blond, blue eyed child is always happy in school. Yet on the way home, this child becomes solemn and slower in the child's step towards home.

The brown hair, brown eye child is always getting into fights. Why? Could it be that at home someone is always picking on this child?

Two or more children are playing sex games and showing their private parts to others? This is a sign they are being taught this at home or somewhere? Could be church, neighbor, sibling, childrens club, and on and on.

You see these children in the store and their eyes have this pleding or blank stare. The signs are there, you just have to look. It is better to be wrong than say nothing at all, instead in the news later on you hear of a child missing or dead. 

Road blocks, I see away, then another road block, Just call me lucky

A year ago I was stressing over where I would live this year.  In August 2015, I found a house to rent in October, felt safe again. Worried about having a place to live, food on the table and medical insurance to cover my medical needs.

Here it is Jan. 2017 I get a check in the mail from a lawsuit against the mortgage company Chase

$55,000,000 settlement against them And I received Cha-Ching a grand total of $8.93. Well, just call me lucky. 

February 2016 I found out my medical insurance is being canceled, now I have insurance that doesn't cover my medical needs. They cut food budget down to $16 a month, so no more healthy food that is low calorie. Instead, it is high in carbs to make the dollar go further.

I am not asking for a lot just a place to live that is mine and no-one can kick me out. That I can afford to heat and keep in good condition.  Just would like to feel safe in my old age since I have not felt safe most of my life. No vacations, fancy car or jewelry.  Just a safe, warm place I can call home.

I have no fine jewelry left, had to sell two years ago to buy food January 2014.  That was the winter I got sick and could not run my truck the way it should have been to produce enough money to support the truck and drivers that were driving it. Instead, they stole fuel money from me and blew tires on the truck. Each tire cost $500. Face it, I just make lousy decisions should have kicked the drivers out of the truck then.

In May 2014, I sold my truck paid off what I could. Took three months off to grieve all my losses over the previous seven years.

Last year (2014) I gave up the fight to save my house, overpriced because of the financial crisis that everyone went through.  I fought the mortgage company a little over two years. Sometimes you just have to give up a battle to win the war.

I have a steady income, better off than others, but not enough to get where I need to be. Safe.

Now to where I am going with this story is I recently tried to do a Fund-me page and because of sexual assault and child abuse they have it on hold. I am trying to raise money to get 3 Novellas written.  Because of the topics I have anxiety attacks and have to stop writing. It is taking me a long time, and to tell the truth, it is very uncomfortable to relive the violence I went through.

I keep trying to no avail, to publish the books so I can generate more income. So I can buy me a little house to live out my days on this earth without feeling in constant fear.

Well, I haven't achieved as much as I would have liked by now, Jan 2017. I am painting which is soothing to the soul.

I do have a small house I call home now; it is not mine but I feel safe here.

One to many speed bumps

Chapter One

She sitting on a wooden chair in the bathroom of a shabby apartment. She had lost her house, she lost her job and now she is thinking is this all there is to life. She looks up at the cracked plaster walls with water stains running down the walls from years of steaming baths that had taken place over the years. Wonders how many other lost soul have been there in her state.

The table wobbles so she places a book of matches under one leg to stabilize it, the table sits under the window with a water-stained window shade, and it has yellowed from age. The edges are torn. The bathtub claws hadn't been painted in some time, now it’s peeling away from neglect. Denise feels just like the bathtub claws, from years of neglect.   She looks at the colorful pills she had poured onto the table and started to sort them into piles by color. She thinks what a contrast from the beautiful colors of the pills to the state of her mind and the dreary room she sits in.  Is this all there is, is this the only solution.

Chapter Two

The car comes to a stop behind the house and Brad wakes her up to tell her she is home. He tells her goodbye, then his sister and he laugh. Denise gets out of the car and watches as they leave, she goes into the house. The hell hole. She is 7 months pregnant and 15 years old, still lives at home. Her mother wanted her to have an abortion but, Denise wouldn't have anything to do with that. She loved Brad and they were going to raise the baby. She had been working by taking care of 3 children and cleaning their house 50 hours a week. She had bought a baby crib, high chair and redone them to look like new. She had bought baby clothes, bottles, diapers, she was going to name her Christine Marie if a girl and Bradley Jay if it was a boy.

She didn't know that the day Brad dropped her off at home was going to be the last day she was going to see or hear from him again. He never even kissed her goodbye. The only thing she remembers from that day was the laughter coming from the car as they drove away.

In September she started homeschooling, because of her condition, this was in 1971 pregnant girls did go to public school and her family was too poor to send her away to one of those boarding schools.

By now she realizes that Brad was never going to be there for her and the baby, so she decided to give the baby up for adoption, so the baby would have a better life than she could give it. Denise did not want the baby to grow up in the hell hole she was living in.

When she was 14 years old her father made her leave home, because her mother had made her older sister leave, her sister was 18 and had graduated from high school. But Darlene would not work or go to college so their mother said she had to leave. Denise's father said, "If she has to go, so do you." Denise cried and begged her mother not to make her go. She was going to school and babysitting, she was a good girl. She was only 14. 

Chapter Three

Denise ended up at her brother’s one-bedroom trailer in a trailer park in Farmington Hills Michigan. He was married to Patty, they did not have any children. She got a job right away babysitting another couple’s child in the park. That was for the summer, then they moved to a house in Redford Township Michigan in September. Denise started school and she had chores to do around the house for her keep. Her bedroom, kitchen, living room, and bathroom. She had to have those rooms cleaned and homework done before she could go out with her friends and be home by 6 pm. she got out of school at 3:30. It was a sad time for her, she felt like a prisoner. Then one night her brother-in-law Sherman showed up at the house drunk, he tried to rape her. She screamed and her brother threw Sherman out of the house. The next day her sister-in-law and her went shopping for supplies, paint for the wooden floor and burlap to staple to the rafters, to fix up the attic space so she would feel safe. She wanted to go home so bad, but her parents wouldn't let her. This went on for a few more months until she just couldn't take any more of the abuse from her sister-in-law. She called her mother and begged her to let her come home. Finally, her father said she could come back. By now they were living in Howell Michigan and her sister Darlene was already back living there too.

Denise had met Brad two years before while they lived in Onaway Michigan, Brad was now living in Jackson Michigan, not too far from Howell. Denise's father was still being verbally abusive to her, they got into a fight one day and she ran away to Jackson to find Brad.

Denise hitchhiked down there, but on the way three guys pick her up and threaten to rape her, she fought them off until she jumped from the car, she ran to a payphone to call Brad to come get her. She was terrified of what could have happened to her by those three men.