Another Round of Memories

As I mentioned in my last post, therapy was interesting last night. I started out by sharing a memory that had popped up yesterday.

Only a thin sheet of nylon separated us from
my mom.

I was thinking about family vacations. I remember the last camping trip my family took because it was chock full of drama. We had family in Wisconsin, so that is where we would vacation every year, and the summer before I turned 14 was no different. My family couldn't afford a camper or RV, but we did have a very large, 2 room tent. Mom would sleep in the first room on an old army cot because her back hurt too much to sleep on the ground. My 4 sisters and I would sleep in the back room, and my step-dad did as well, probably "for our protection". Even though I was once again sleeping right next to my sisters, he would grope me when he thought I was asleep. I would pretend that I was and try to roll away from him. 

The thing I don't understand, is what excuse he must have given my mom to squeeze in with 5 girls when she was the only one in the other room? How did he justify that? Why wasn't it raising red flags for her? I know I've already talked about her very deep level of denial, but it never ceases to amaze me when I come across another memory that reinforces it.

After I talked about that particular memory, I got on a roll and several others came to mind. I remember a time when my step-dad was actually paying dock rent and was able to use his boat. He would take me out some mornings on his boat by myself. We would get breakfast at McDonald's on the way. I'm not entirely sure he took all my sisters out by themselves, but I know I went at least a few times. Anyway, he would drive the boat out to Lake Erie, sit in a chair and masturbate in front of me. I'm unsure of my age at this point, because I can't remember if he ever had the boat in the water again after he had it in our backyard. If he sold it after it was in the yard, as I suspect, then I was less than 6-7. I can remember driving from our house on Maple Blvd. to go to the boat at some point, but I can't remember if it was related to this kind of incident. 

I don't remember what I was feeling then, but in retrospect, I'm stuck by his changing levels of discretion. When we were on the boat,  we were in the middle of a lake. There was no one around to see or hear anything. He didn't have to be sneaky at all. When the boat was in the backyard, he would have to be sure no one climbed up into the boat, although he would have plenty of time to stop what he was doing by the time he heard them, they climbed into the boat and down into the cabin. When I was sleeping on the living room floor with my sisters several years later, all they had to do was wake up. Years after that, all someone had to do was walk around a corner.

When I talk about anything relating to my teen years, it helps to understand the layout of the house I was living in and how small it really was:

The main floor was probably a max. of 1000 sq. ft., likely less.
*Click on the image to enlarge

When I refer to the incident in which someone need only walk around a corner to see what was going on, I was standing in the bathroom doorway, while he stood at the end of the hallway. He had me pull my pants and underwear down and masturbate and put my finger in anus. 

This seems like as good a place as any to note that I faked it all.

Moving on...One of the times this was happening, one of my sisters was sitting in the living room. She heard me arguing with him. I'm sure he was especially rip-roaring drunk that day to be so sloppy. My sister heard me say something like "No, that's disgusting!" and "Well, I'm sorry I'm such an inconvenience to you!" Between this and the fact that she could hear him coming down to my room at night after she moved down there, she had a pretty good idea of what was going on. 

My sister approached my mom after that. She told her that "something was going on between Dad and Rachel". When my mom asked what she meant, she said that she didn't know, but it was something bad. I don't remember this, but my mom claims she asked me about it and that I denied anything was going on. This is entirely possible, because that is exactly what I would have done. But here's the kicker...she never said she asked him what was going on. As a mother, don't you think that would be a key piece of the puzzle? To ask both parties involved in this little mystery? Maybe it wasn't what your daughter was insinuating, maybe there was something and he would have a simple explanation. The only reason you wouldn't ask him is if you were afraid of the answer.

When the nicest house we ever rented was sold, we were forced to move. We had nowhere to go, so we ended up renting the top floor of an older couple's home that had been converted into a one bedroom apartment. All 7 of us. This was right before I turned 13. I remember him showing me porn on the computer when we were living there. I remember him peeking in at me when I was taking shower. I don't remember him doing it before that, probably because this would have been right around the time I was starting to develop physically. 

No privacy here...

I remember a particularly strange incident there as well. My sisters were outside playing, and my step-dad was sitting at the picnic table with the old man who own the house and lived downstairs. Right before he went out there, he asked me to rub a piece of bread between my legs and bring it out to him. I absolutely did not want to do it, because it was strange and I didn't want to get crumbs on me. I was repulsed by the idea. I got a piece of bread out of the bag and carried it out to him as is. He took, smelled it, said "You didn't do it right" and instructed me to go back and do it right. I went back up to the apartment, and sprinkled a few drops of tap water on the bread, in a desperate attempt to fool him. It didn't work, but I don't remember what did end up happening. I know I didn't do what he wanted though.

Ok, that's long enough for now! There's more, but I'm tired and feeling kind of emotionally vulnerable right now. I need to get some rest and write some more later.

Rachel

I Just Knew Too Much

I had an interesting therapy session today. I started talking about a memory that came up today. Which led to another memory. Which led to another memory. There was really more than I feel like writing down right now, so I'll save that for the next post.

But on the way home, a song came on the radio that I really like. "Crazy" by Gnarls Barkley. I've always liked the music, but tonight I was really feeling the lyrics.




I remember when, I remember, I remember when I lost my mind
There was something so pleasant about that place.
Even your emotions had an echo
In so much space

And when you're out there
Without care,
Yeah, I was out of touch
But it wasn't because I didn't know enough
I just knew too much

Does that make me crazy?
Does that make me crazy?
Does that make me crazy?
Possibly

And I hope that you are having the time of your life
But think twice, that's my only advice

Come on now, who do you, who do you, who do you, who do you think you are,
Ha ha ha bless your soul
You really think you're in control

Well, I think you're crazy
I think you're crazy
I think you're crazy
Just like me

My heroes had the heart to lose their lives out on a limb
And all I remember is thinking, I want to be like them
Ever since I was little, ever since I was little it looked like fun
And it's no coincidence I've come
And I can die when I'm done

Maybe I'm crazy
Maybe you're crazy
Maybe we're crazy
Probably

Uh, uh 

My First Award!

Dear readers, I am so excited because I have received my first ever blog award!!

TA-DA!

I would like to thank the academy and all the little people who....

Just kidding. I have to thank Aimee over at Pleasantly Demented for the award, and for the ridiculously nice things she said about me on her blog. I have been reading her blog for awhile now. She is funny, honest, and uncensored. She says things that I would only say around in private with Studdly Hubby. I think we may be soul sisters. But the thing is, she uses this biting bitter sarcasm in her writing, sometimes so that she can sneak in a more serious point, but it never gets lost. So pack up your sense of humor and visit her!

Apparently this award comes with rules. The first is to thank the person who awarded it to you. See above. The second is to share 7 secrets. Good grief, I don't know if I have 7 left after months of this blog!

1 - I hate repetitive motions. If Studdly Hubby is sitting next to me on the couch and absent-mindedly shaking his foot back and forth, I will freak out. I try to be patient, but I have learned that the longer I hold it in, the bigger the explosion will be when I let it out. This also applies to sounds. Example: At this moment, my neighbors downstairs are making some noise against the wall and I can feel my pulse quickening. 

2 - I enjoy blog feedback probably more than I should. I know you're reading it...PLEASE COMMENT!!!! Moving on...

3- I set really high standards for myself, but don't know how to meet them. Then I get upset with myself when I don't reach them.

4- I want people to like me. Of course, everyone wants people to like them, but I want everyone to like me. Completely impossible. 

5- I often have stinky feet. Ask Studdly Hubby.

6- I have an incredibly offensive sense of humor and only my husband gets to see it. Well, my brother-in-law has seen some of it as well. Really, I say dreadful things for the sake of being funny. You would think I was a horrible person if you heard it!!

7- I say excuse me if I get in my cats way. Did the same thing with Less, the family dog we had growing up. I know it's weird, but it's habit.

That was hard!! Moving on to the third rule! Sharing the love with some of my favorite blogs (in no particular order):

1- Moosh in Indy. She is a mommy to 1.5 in Indianapolis. She is another one that is funny but honest at the same time. She's shared some really dark moments and some really hilarious ones! I highly recommend her. 

2- Small Town Simplicity. Lydia is another mommy blogger who is less funny, but an amazing writer. She exudes an inner peace that I long for. She has a houseful of kids and another on the way, and is homeschooling them. I really like some of her views on parenting. Check her out!

3- Dancing in the Moonlight. Allie is a survivor of sexual assualt...a couple times over. She is amazingly strong. I am amazed at the way she keeps on keeping on, despite any setbacks. I believe in her and we have an understanding. She is an intelligent girl who I believe will go far! Proud to call her a friend. :-)

4- Bittersweet Joy. Shannon has had several recent miscarriages. She is pregnant again. If you pray, please stop and say a prayer for her now. Her blog is a very raw and very real explanation of what that experience is like. I know this is something many woman can relate to.

5- Momma Resa. A beautiful woman I had the privilege of going to school with (Concordia). She is a single mommy blogger of 2. She is an absolute delight! She is doing the best she can while not taking life too seriously. Go visit! 

I think 5 is enough. Enjoy the links!!

Rachel

An Important Step

We hear stories of child abuse and sexual assault all the time. It seems never ending. Some celebrities have even had the courage to speak out about the things that have happened in their past. But many times, they are questionable role models, either because of they way they use their sexuality or their dangerous lifestyles.

As I've mentioned before, I'm always looking for strong role models. I'm a bit picky though. Yesterday morning, I caught the tail end of a news story about a senator who wrote a book entitled "Against All Odds". I didn't hear what it was about, but I had a feeling that I knew. The next day, I had a chance to Google it to get the rest of the story. (Here's a link to the video)

Senator Scott Brown (R-Mass) wrote an autobiography in which he shares that he was sexually abused by a camp counselor and physically abused by a stepfather. To me, this is huge. Here is a man who appears to have it all together. He went so far as to be elected senator in a very tough race (he won Ted Kennedy's seat) and has even had some talk about running for president.

Can you imagine the impact it would have on victims if the President of the United States shared that he was molested and abused? And for abused men, especially? It can oftentimes be even more difficult for them to speak up. But here is what seems to be a very masculine man in a well respected role and he was abused. 

Image from Amazon.com

(On a side note, he is a sexy beast...I love a good-looking man in a suit!!)

I am very excited and believe this could have a significant impact on our society. I can't wait to read the book!

Currently accepting donations. ;-)

Rachel

Things Pissing Me Off Today

There have been a few things on my mind lately that really get my blood boiling. One of them is the recent news story in Georgia. Some state lawmakers wanted to change the word "victim" to "accuser" in cases of stalking and sexual assualt.

I know that doesn't sound like much. It's only one word, so what's the big deal?

The words we choose explain how we really feel about things. By referring to someone as the victim in a case, you are validating their pain and their experience. By referring to them as an "accuser", you are saying that you don't know whether or not you believe them yet. Maybe nothing happened to them at all. I don't understand the logic of wanting to make this change. Why are victims of other crimes still allowed to be victims? Why is this small group being singled out? 

Also, sexual assault is grossly underreported. This sort of language is not going to encourage women (or men) to come forward. It's scary enough without worrying about the law not being on your side!!

Here is the link to the story. Which leads me to my next point.

In a move that makes me ashamed of the Republican party, the House GOP was trying to use the term "forcible rape" to change funding for abortions. Now, I'm not going to talk about my feelings on abortion. That's not the point here. But the phrase "forcible rape" REALLY pisses me off. It implies that some rape wasn't forcible. Are you kidding me? Just because someone was drugged or did not have the mental capacity to say no, does not make it any less forcible. Are you kidding me with this? Thankfully, they went ahead and removed that language, but, really? Who thought that one up?!

Here is the link to that story.

Parental Authoritarianism!!

The last thing I want to share is something I heard on "Little House on the Prairie" today. Laura Ingalls was taking to her grandfather about a problem (I'm not sure what the problem was because I wasn't really watching). She talked to her grandfather about disagreeing with a choice her father made. Her grandfather told her she has to do whatever he says, right or wrong. WHAT?! Who wrote that rule?! I was so irritated to hear this, especially in a format designed for children to understand! 

And I hate to say it, but I have had it up to here (hand at eye level) with older generations talking about how much better things were when they were younger. EVERY generation feels that way! Are you noticing a trend here? I feel very strongly that things are as bad as they always were. If you pay attention, just as many horrible things were happening 60 years ago as today. Maybe some of them were hidden more. Maybe the media wasn't operating on the same level to tell us all the awful things out there. Maybe we have more/different tools today to use. Regardless, people are born sinful. 

Whew! I'll get off my soapbox.

Rachel

Time Flies...

I just finished my homework for the week for one of my three classes. I made an effort to turn the TV off, place some music, and not move my butt from this seat. 

You know how they say "Time flies when you're having fun?" Well it turns out the opposite is also true. I mean, everyone knows that, but sometimes it is especially obvious. I turned in my homework and decided to take a short break before staring on my next class. I looked at the clock to see how long the whole thing took me and it was ONLY 2 HOURS. I really don't know how that was possible. I actually had tears streaming down my face at one point because I didn't want to do it. It's just so frustrating! I feel like it is unacceptable to be struggling with this. I know that's illogical and just doesn't work. I can't force myself to be something I'm not. But I can find a way to work on it and work through it. I'm getting there...

The whole thing was incredibly exhausting. I can't even begin to tell you how much effort it takes for me to focus, especially on something that feels so tedious. 

But it's done. Now I'm going to get up and stretch, follow-up on a couple other things, and get back at it.

Wish me luck!!

Rachel

Clear as Mud

Ok, my last post requires explanation. Mostly because I had some more time to reflect on the issue of academia and I had a chance to work with my therapist on it. I did not yet fully understand the issue, but really needed to share it. It was very hard for me to do, but I've promised myself that I was going to be honest about what happens after the abuse. Struggling with schoolwork is a major piece of the puzzle, so it was time to be honest about it.

I've been saying "I am a bad student" for quite some time. This was going off the assumption that the entire value of being a student is in the grades. While this is the only measurement tool available, I don't believe it is the most accurate, just the most logical. 

A student is defined as "one who studies something". Well, I wouldn't say I ever "studied" much, unless paying attention in class and soaking up that information counts as studying. It could be argued that it does. However, I would like to take that definition a step further so that it instead reads "one who learns something". If that can be an agreed upon definition, then I would like to assert that I am a good student.

Regardless of whether or not we can agree on that, the important thing is that I now better understand the struggle, and tomorrow I can start fresh. 

Now to clear up the mud a bit. Let me start by sharing that Post-traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) had a great deal of overlap in symptoms with ADHD. (Click here for a great explanation)

When I was being abused, all of my energy was going into surviving, protecting myself both physically and mentally, all while keeping up the appearance that nothing was going on at home. There was nothing left in my energy reserves for homework. Also, while attempting to do it anyway, I had to be on high alert. I never knew when he was going to attempt to fondle me or force me into the basement or bathroom for something worse. My sisters and I had to constantly "take the temperature" of the room my stepdad was in to see how he was going to behave, what mood he was in. If he was gone, we would listen for his truck to pull up. If he was taking a nap, we would listen for him to get up and open the bedroom door. We were all on high alert. This made it impossible to focus on homework or anything else for that matter. Patrick Stewart gives an excellent description of this in this YouTube clip:

Living in that existence for years has led to PTSD. I can't say if any of my sisters are dealing with it, although I would not be the least little bit surprised. You can see a list of symptoms here. The ones that most apply to me are flashbacks (occasionally), nightmares, avoiding places, thoughts, or feelings that remind you of the trauma, inability to remember important aspects of the trauma, feeling detached from others, difficulty concentrating, hypervigilance and feeling jumpy/easily startled. The last three are the ones that most lend themselves to the appearance of ADHD. 

Not the only face of PTSD. There's a war at home being
fought too.

It's easier for me to excuse my low grades in high school because I was still experiencing the trauma. However, I believe in taking responsibility for your own actions. I don't believe in using your past for a crutch. But I realized today that by going to therapy and try to heal things like this, that is exactly what I'm doing. I may still be struggling (hence the POST traumatic stress), but I'm working on it.

So I'm going to keep on plugging. I will get this degree. I imagine that I won't be satisfied with an Associate's and will eventually get my bachelor's, but for now, I need to focus on my homework for this week. I'll forgive myself for the past (an idea that had me unexpectedly BAWLING in therapy today) and move on. 

I used this quote in my last post to refer to forgiving others, but today, it's about forgiving myself in a very big way:

"Forgiveness is giving up the hope that the past could have been any different." -Oprah

Hope this all made some sense!

Rachel

Confused

It's no secret that I'm a big fan of Oprah. She has played a major role in changing how this country views and deals with sexual assault and abuse of any kind. She has given victims a voice, and has been a model of overcoming. Needless to say, I watch it whenever I can. Right now I'm able to catch episodes on my DVR. Of course I've missed a lot of episodes because of work schedules as well. 

I'm always riveted by the stories of real people on her show. Most of them have been through some kind of adversity, whether it be heartbreak, betrayal or abuse. People just fascinate me! Obviously, the stories from survivors of child abuse or sexual assault are especially significant for me.

The twins

When I'm watching these stories, I can't help but relate them back to my own. I usually spot the similarities quickly. Today's episode featured twin sisters who, along with one younger sister, were raped for years by their 2 older brothers and father. Clearly, this was horrific, and in many ways, I can't even imagine the horror of their existence during those years. 

But the similarities lie in how they felt about some things. For example, the girls didn't want their family torn apart, even though it wasn't much of a family. It was part of the reason they couldn't tell anyone what was going on. I could tell just from watching their body language that one of the twins was still very numb, but the other was in a different place and more in touch with her emotions connected to their rape. I've been in both of those places. I was also struck by their neighbors comment that they had any idea that the abuse was taking place. The girls talked about the fact they had to protect their secret. They couldn't let anyone know that anything was wrong. I can recall people telling my mom what a happy child I was...

But most of these stories also involve aspects I feel differently about. For example, they always seem to remember how old they were when things happened. I can easily tell you where we were living when some things occurred, but I have no idea how old I was or what grade I was in. I feel like my memories are not very clear in some ways. As if though in the process of blocking out the abuse, I was blocking out the rest of my childhood as well. It was very difficult to come up with a timeline for the court case. Between me sharing the instances of abuse and where it happened, my mom was able to tell the detective how old I was when we were living there. Is this something the other victims went through as well? 

Different from the other girls

Another thing that always strikes me as different is the fact that many of them believed that this must be how all families were. I don't remember ever feeling that! In fact, I think I often felt like there was something different about me. I don't think I could quite grasp how horribly wrong it was when I was very young - I don't think I even knew to say "No" - but I did know it was wrong. I was told not to tell anyone. That was a pretty clear sign. As the abuse progressed from him exposing himself to me to fondling, more red flags started to show up for me. I was uncomfortable and confused. I believe this was around the same time I figured out that my mom's wedding anniversary was 2 more years than my age and I was told a bold faced lie about my conception. Anyone, the point is I was starting to ask questions. I knew something wasn't right with our family.

Are my feelings more normal than it seems to me? Am I picking up on a trend that isn't there?

Also:

"Forgiveness is giving up the hope that the past could have been any different." -Oprah (She said it three times so I think I got it right)

Rachel

Even Brighter Than the Moon

I know I've talked about this song before, and how much it's moved me, but I just saw the video for the first time today. Its beautiful! I thought I would share it with all of you!

Keep warm!

Rachel

Like Pulling Teeth

Since I'm sitting here struggling with this issue, I might as well stop avoiding it and talk about it. Besides, confession is good for the soul, right?

But before I get to that, let me say I have tested out of English both at Concordia and Ivy Tech. I got good grades in my favorite psychology classes. I love to learn and learn quickly. I am not stupid and I make a great employee. I'm great with "real" work. That being said...

I am a terrible student. 

And I am horribly embarrassed by it. I started college in August 2004. I've taken off 2 semesters (not consecutive) since then but I still do not have any kind of degree. I cringe anytime some well meaning in-laws ask me how school is going. While I haven't talked about it with my MIL, she's figured out by now that I struggle. I'm sure the others wonder what my problem is.

So what is my problem?

I don't like homework. Geez, it sounds as pathetic typed out as it does in my head. I start almost every semester doing great. I get really good grades when I do the work. I'm not unintelligent. I'm not even sure why I don't like homework, because I love to learn!

I wish I could say this was a new problem, but it started back in 3rd grade, which is right around the time I first had homework.  That's when I really started to struggle. I remember one day when I was so proud to actually have my homework done. At this point, the teacher expected me to not have it. So when she was collecting it, I told her I didn't get it done, and as she started to walk away, I said "Just kidding! Here it is!"

She didn't find it very amusing.

It just got worse from there, but in elementary school, teachers could make you stay in from recess and complete the work. Which was fine with me, by the way, because by 7th and 8th grade, a child's playground is not fun. It's very boring. 

Anyway, I suspect this is part of the reason I felt unliked by my fellow students. They all got their work done. What was wrong with me?

High school became very difficult. There was no recess time to be used for homework. By my senior year, it was clear that I was barely going to graduate.  

As proof that I wasn't stupid, I did pretty well on my ACT, with an overall score of 26 (I think I had a 29 in English...I'd be lying if I said I wasn't ridiculously proud of these score. BTW, the average score in Michigan is 19).  This coupled with the fact that my high school was staffed by Concordia alumni, somehow got me a spot at Concordia Ann Arbor. I was sure I would do much better there because I was away from all the problems at home. I didn't do better, and now I had the delicious freedom to skip class as well. I was great at going while I'm homework was still getting done, but when it wasn't, I was too ashamed to show my face. Concordia has very small class sizes, so the professors knew everyone by name. And then not going to class made it harder to go to class because I was ashamed about skipping. It was an ugly vicious cycle. It was great in the classes I did well in (also known as the most interesting to me), but embarrassing in the rest.

So I was put on academic probation several times. After four years, my husband graduated and we moved to Fort Wayne, IN so he could work on his master's. I started online classes through another Concordia. It was the same thing again. And even though I didn't have to see my classmates or my professor face-to-face, I started to skip the weekly chats. I got put on academic probation a couple times and then they told me to hit the road.

So now I'm taking classes at Ivy Tech...for an Associate's Degree. The most expensive Associate's Degree in history. I have all the requirements needed at Concordia for a psych degree, minus field work, a senior project, a science credit and the necessary number of credits. I took and passed all the psych classes though. But Ivy Tech doesn't offer a Bachelor's in Psychology, so I'm settling. I have to finish something and the way my grades are right now, another university like Purdue isn't going to touch me. 

So there you have it. I am a terrible student. Once I post this, I need to get back to my homework because I feel myself losing momentum already. Making myself do the work is like pulling teeth... 

Glad I got it all out...I think...

Rachel

Holy Blizzard, Batman!

I'm sitting here at work on what was supposed to be a relaxing "Pajama Day". I had requested today off far in advance for the National Crime Victims' Rights Awareness Week planning meeting, which I attend as the "token victim". It was cancelled. I also had a therapy appointment at 8:30a, which I cancelled the night before in preparation of the storm. Purdue even closed today for the first time since 2007, so Studdly Hubby and I were going to hang out and be lazy. Once I decided to get out of bed and get dressed (in fresh jammies), I took the opportunity to clean the bedroom up and organize some things that had been neglected. Once I finished that, I had been sitting on the couch for all of 2 minutes when I got a text that they needed someone to come into work to help cover phones due to call-offs and employees leaving to pick their children up from daycares that were closing early.

So here I sit, listening to the sleet raining down on us, attacking the windows and reminding me of decreasing safety of the roads. I'm hoping to leave around 4:30, although if it's too unsafe I'll have to sleep over in one of the assisted living apartments.

Since the phone is barely ringing, and there's nothing I'm able to do in the Business Office, I figured I might as well blog.

Something that has been on my mind lately is a couple early memories. It seems when I remember one thing, other memories often follow, relating to that same time period. In my last post, I talked about memories related to our home on Palmwood. As I was thinking about them, I remembered something else from that time.

I think my stepdad and I were home alone. I remember him closing the blinds in the living room. Then, I was sitting in his lap. I don't remember if my shirt was pulled up or taken off. He was tickling and kissing my chest. I remember giggling and squirming away from him. I didn't understand what was happening at that time. I do know that it made me uncomfortable.

Across the stree from us lived an elderly couple. I remember him being very paranoid about them. His paranoia was extreme by the end, although I don't recall if it was always that way. I firmly believe that part of it was mental illness, but on the other hand, he had something to be paranoid about. Perhaps the combination of the two was toxic. Perhaps it began around this time, when he started to abuse me and started to feel guilty.

I hate to admit it, but I do believe he felt guilt, at least in the beginning. Often he would come to me later or sometimes right after he ejaculated and apologize. He wouldtell me it was wrong and it wasn't going to happen anymore. He would instruct me to refuse him should I attempt anything again, but we both knew that it wouldn't make a difference. On Saturday morning, he would go to confess at his chuch and absolve his sins. In the beginning, the abuse was on rare occasions. He never even said anything about those that I recall. Later, he would go for 2-3 weeks between episodes. Later it was weekly. Eventually, it was every night. Once it became that frequent, he no longer repented, at least not to me. He still went to confession, although I can't imagine it was heartfelt at that point.

In conclusion, this post has been a complete hodge podge. The weather looks scarier by the amount, although I've just been informed I can leave at 5, and my boss can come get me in the morning with her 4-wheel drive if need be. Got a new memory out of my system, will a little guilt and paranoia sprinkled in for good measure.

Have a good night everyone, and please, be safe!

Rachel