My Tickers

Thursday, April 28, 2011

This week will be a different post, although it is still a post about my past it will take a different swing. This week I am reflecting differently because this week is a wonderful week for me!

This week every year I like to think back upon my life and I tend to try to make sense of things, this is the week for me to feel like I have found the answers that I have searched for. Maybe they aren't the real answers, maybe they are just partial answers, but they are answers that make me feel better for 1 week every single year. I will share these with you today, this is what Thoughtful Thursday is about this week. 

The big question....why did I grow up in that home, that life that horrible existence? 

The answer has to be broken down and so I will share it with you. If I had not been born into that nightmare of an existence I would not understand pain and have sympathy on those around me. I would not know how to survive hardship as well as I do now. If I had not spent those first 11 years and 4 months in that home my life would have been different from what it is today. Had I not survived those 11 years and 4 months not only would I be missing from this world, but the lives of those I have encountered would also have changed and my son would not exist. Therefore, surviving those 11 years and 4 months was important.
If I had not been placed into foster care I would not have learned that the life I was living was not normal and that there was life after abuse. I would not have been able to be friends with the people I built relationships with over the years. I would not have been best friends with Angel and I would not have spent so many nights at her house listening to Barry Manilow, sneaking into her fathers sap mill to steal maple syrup. It simply would not have been allowed and so I would not have those precious memories and neither would she. She would have a different best friend! I would not have been able to spread my wings and fly a little and I certainly would not have been able to contemplate college. I would not have received the scholarship for foster children to help me go to the school of my choice. More likely than not, if we had not been placed in foster care, my older sister would not have gotten that same scholarship and gone to the college of her choosing and married her husband who managed a KFC. If I had not ended up in the foster home of the religious kind, I would not have been encouraged to choose a religious college in Massachusetts.

If I had not had a falling out with that religious family before I left for college, I would not have had a need to stay with my sister in New York and work for her husband at the KFC he managed on my vacations. If I had not learned the ways of the KFC I would not have been confident enough to walk down the street from my college and get a job working at the KFC right there. If I did not work at that KFC I would never have served that young man his large fries, large Mt. Dew and small gravy most nights of the week. If I had not worked at that KFC I would not have been invited by his room mate to their apartment for a party after work. If I had not gone to that party I never would have met my husband face to face!

May 3, 1991 I went to the apartment of a guy who had invited me over for some drinks and a gathering of friends. I was curious because I wasn't much of  a party girl but I needed to socialize and make some friends. I needed to let my hair down. So I went to that apartment and I remember it so well, it was a nice day and I was sitting there on the couch and Mike says to me that his room mate would be home any minute. I asked if he was cute, he laughed and said he was kind of boring because all he did was work and sleep and watch tv. He talked about how his room mate would come home from work and fall asleep on the couch. I asked again if he was cute and he says that I could see for myself. He walked in the door and there he stood, not too tall, long hair, and my jaw dropped. I must have looked like my dog looks when he's staring at his food dish but I'm telling him he has to stay and wait. He had on these blue/grey work pants that hugged his nice tight butt and this leather jacket that was only zipped up half way. He had no shirt on under it and his chest muscles were to die for! I could see myself running my fingers over that chest...oh he was some major eye candy! 

I was instantly IN LOVE! This was the man I was destined to marry! This was the man I was supposed to be with forever! 

We have never been apart since that day!

A couple of weeks later he told me he thought he was falling in love with me, 1 month to the day June 3, 1991 we got our first apartment together. We simply knew we were going to work. I don't know how we knew, it was just perfect, it was amazing, he was amazing and I couldn't have been happier! Already in that 1 month he had done more for me than anyone had ever done. The man knew me for 3 days, yet when I asked him to drive me to the doctors to have a surgery and to drive me back home after, he did it without a complaint. When I found out that lump was pre-cancerous cells he held me and comforted me and told me everything was going to be okay. 

5 years from the day we met, May 3, 1996 we exchanged our vows formally. We knew it was going to happen, it was just a matter of time. It was an amazing ceremony surrounded by friends and my new biological family wasn't there. My sissy couldn't make it and the others didn't care to or I didn't care to have them there so I didn't invite them. This was my day, my time to shine and it was my day to be happy! My foster family that I had the falling out with was there, my foster father performed the ceremony. My foster mother, who had taken the greatest offense to my teenage rebellion even smiled and congratulated me. It was a fairy tale kind of day, a day I was destined to have.

After that day, things moved rather amazingly. We bought our house, we bought a new car and we went snowboarding every possible chance we had. We enjoyed just being us, but I wanted more, I wanted to be a mommy. Hubby resisted, as most men do in their early and mid 20's and it was ok for awhile. We were having fun and it was good to not have to worry about anything more than the cats and where the most snow had fallen so we could go riding at the best mountain. We fished in the summer, we snowboarded in the winters, we shared so many happy memories and some where along the way I started to grow up, to see that my life was no longer what it had been but it was now whatever I could dream.

If I had not dreamed with this wonderful man, if I had not gone through everything I have, if I had a different start I would definitely have a different end...and this ending is looking pretty darn good. My husband may drive me up one wall, across the ceiling, and back down the other side...and vice verse since I can't deny that I don't drive him a little crazy too....but through all that he is still the man I love, the man I was born for, the man who was created to complete me!

This coming Tuesday we will be celebrating 20 years together. We have been legally married for only 15 of those but I always go by the bigger number because our hearts were dedicated before that paper was signed, before my name changed and it was official. Everyone knew it was going to happen, we were a couple, we were simply meant to be.

Thursday, April 21, 2011

My evil egg donor used to wear this perfume, it was called "Roses Roses" and I think Avon made it (although I am not sure about that) I always liked that smell, it really smelled like roses and I used to like to try to sneak hers because I wanted to smell good too. It's one of those rare good memories that I have. For some reason, it seemed to me anyway, she was nicer when she smelled of roses and perhaps that is why the rose is my favorite flower. I also felt like my life was kind of like a rose, fragile, not easy to care for and full of thorns.  How could someone so evil produce such a beautiful flower as me?  I am the rose, she is the thorns. She used to call me "Little Rose Jenny Deb" I don't know why but I could relate to it because I knew I was the beautiful flower and she was the thorn in my side. I lived on the hope that someday someone would come with some pruning shears and cut me from her vine, they would break off the thorns so I could be handled with care and they would save me. In due time I was saved, placed into foster care, and things got better in some respects. Emotionally it took a long time, heck it's still taking time, but anything was better than the life I had been living my first 11 1/2 years! At the same time I was confused, scared, and no one would tell me anything. The police had told my siblings to not tell me anything about what was going on, they could not let me in on it because they were afraid I would say something to the egg donor and then she would kill us rather than lose us to the state...I have always resented that they did not tell me anything until that morning, I resent that they did not trust me enough to keep the secret that I surely would have kept because it would have meant salvation. I also would have been able to sneak a couple of my prized possessions into my school bag so that they would not be lost to me forever. Even after being taken away and placed into foster care I was not told anything. Big Sis #2 was the ring leader, she would have meetings with the others or with the social worker and they would tell me nothing about what they were talking about. I know they wanted to protect me, but it sucked because what they didn't know was that I had suffered just as they had and I too needed someone to talk to. I remember feeling so liberated and scared at the same time when we had to go to court the first time and I got my very own guardian ad litem and he spoke for me and only me. He actually took me  off to a room all by myself and asked me what I wanted, how I felt, and what I wanted from the court and the system. It didn't matter what my siblings had to say, it was all about me and me alone! I didn't want to offend anyone, but at the same time I was scared of offending them for they had been my saviors, my guardians, the people I looked up to. I felt that they didn't care what I thought about and that I should agree with them simply because they always said they knew best so I asked what they wanted and the guardian told me that what they wanted did not matter, that it was me he was concerned about. It was such an amazing feeling to have someone care about what I thought that it was actually a bit overwhelming. But when the time came and I got to go before the judge and face my egg donor and say that I did not want to go back to live with her, it felt wonderful. When the judge asked how I would feel if my siblings went back to live with her I said I would miss them but that I would never go back so long as I had the choice. I remember a sick sort of happiness as I watched the tears roll down my evil egg donors face when I said those words. I remember the judge asking me for examples of things she had done and as I told him she sat there pleading with me. She cried out things like "Debbie, how can you say these things?" or "I never laid a hand on you, I only loved you" to which I liked to reply "No, you laid belts and metal yard sticks instead" I enjoyed watching her cry and plead for help, I enjoyed her tear stained face, I felt she was getting a taste of her own medicine. When she came to the foster home for a visit I would go to my room and refuse to come out until she left and I would enjoy watching from the second story window and she cried her way to her car, got in, and drove away with tears rolling down her cheeks. Her brown eyes, so like mine, finally feeling the heat of burning tears and all I could think was "Cry and you'll get more!" that's what she used to say so that's what she got, and I enjoyed it. 

Sometimes I worry that makes me just as sick as her, that relishing in her pain makes me just as evil as she. A part of me thinks I should have had more sympathy for her, that perhaps she was feeling regret for what she had done...but sadly until the very last 6 month foster care meeting where my foster parents asked to adopt me....she continued to say that she never laid a hand on me, that she never hurt a single hair on my head. She lived in complete denial of her evilness. There is no way she felt sorry for what she had done if she could so easily deny it. But even still, am I evil too for enjoying her pain? This I can not answer, I can not be certain of  what is correct. A christian would probably say that I am doing nothing but hurting myself but I do not feel pain unless I linger too long on what she did and a way to feel better is remembering her sitting in that court room crying her eyes out pleading with me to stop because in those moments, whether she realized it or not, she was feeling a small part of what I got to feel every single day from her in my early years. But no matter how much I would plead with her to not hurt me, to not hit me, to just stop, she would not and so I made her plead and beg and I did not stop because it flt good. It felt good to watch her suffer and it felt good to release all that pain and have someone finally believe me and not send me back into her evil clutches once more.


Have a great weekend everyone and remember there is life beyond pain, there is hope beyond hope and sometimes it's okay to enjoy watching someone who wronged you suffer.

Tuesday, April 12, 2011 is the end of yesterday, and the beginning of tomorrow is the end of yesterday, and the beginning of tomorrow

Wise words spoken by a wise Big Brother. Big Bro is what I have called him for pretty much forever, although he was not one to carry his heart on his sleeve, he had subtle ways of letting you know that he loved you. I don't think I ever actually heard the words "I love you" come from his lips to my ears or if I did it was so rare that I can't even remember it, but I chalk it up to the fact that he too was hardened by the world  we grew up in. It is those rare moments where he let me know that I was loved by him that I hold onto and remember because truly he is the bravest and most wonderful person I will ever have the honor of knowing! My Big Bro, my protector, my silent hero, a man I will never, ever, forget!

One of my most treasured memories involving him was when I turned 12 years old. It was my first birthday in foster care and the first birthday to get recognized on my day. Up until that year I had to share my birthday with Big Bro because he was born on the 1st of the month and I was born on the 5th of the month. 4 years and 4 days separated us but we had always celebrated together. I was saddened when I went through my day and I heard Happy Birthday from everyone I knew except for Big Bro. He had not even acknowledged the day once and I wandered up to my bedroom to cry. I think that I would have been happy if only he had recognized my day, it was him that I looked up to, him that I loved beyond all others. Hell, at that age I was wishing that my Big Bro wasn't my big bro so that I could grow up and marry him...seriously! I'm so not kidding about that! He truly was my first crush! I loved him more than he probably even realized and he had not recognized my special day. I opened the door and there, sitting on my bed near my pillow was a little stuffed tiger. The note simply said Happy Birthday, I love you! Big Bro had indeed remembered me, he even loved me, he just didn't show it the same as others. He was quiet, he was subtle, he was my hero!

So I will heed his words! I will put them onto a sticky note and hang it on my wall. These words are the words of a very wise man My Big Bro! is the end of yesterday, and the beginning of tomorrow

Thursday, April 7, 2011

Once upon a's the way all fairy tales start, it's also how I often think about my childhood. It wasn't a fairytale, but it was a different world, a different time, and it often feels like it happened to someone else. I am not that small helpless child any longer, although pieces of her still remain inside of me she is not the person I am now. I have grown up, I have moved from victim to survivor, but then again have I really??

Once upon a time there was this little blonde girl who wanted nothing more than to grow up and escape her living nightmare. She spent her days dreaming of being someone, anyone, just not herself. She spent her nights dreaming of flying away. Somewhere around midnight her supposed sperm donor would come home from work and he would have a small bag of circus peanuts with him. He would give those to her in exchange for being quiet while he did unimaginable things. Her tiny body was smothered by his weight, was torn apart and bruised by his desires. He had been caught before with her older sister so he had to be careful to not let the egg donor hear him as he mangled another life. The thing that truly bothered her was that she was never listened to, no one ever believed her.

When she was in first grade she held back at school, she didn't want to go home because she knew what was going to happen sometime in the night. Her teacher looked down at her as she contemplated what she so wanted to say. She needed to tell someone, maybe if she did they could save her. She told her teacher what had happened, how her father did things to her "down there" and she hung her little head in shame. The teacher looked at her kindly and simply said " That's how daddy's tell their little girls they love them." There was no safety there, no one was going to save her that day.

Years later, when she was already in foster care she told her egg donor what had happened...the egg donors response was not what should have happened. It was cold, it was painful, it was just plain wrong! The egg donor looked at the child and told her she needed to stop fantasizing about  things! According to the egg donor, she had caught the supposed sperm donor with the older sister when she was 8 years old and after that the egg donor never left him alone with any of her girls. She claimed she never trusted him after that and he never had the opportunity. Although the little girl explained that it happened at night, when he came home and everyone else was asleep, she would not be believed and would again be told to stop fantasizing. That's the exact word she used...fantasizing...and all that little girl could think was "Why would anyone FANTASIZE about something like this??  How could anyone think that any child, any person, would fantasize about being raped as a two year old baby?" The girl did not understand why the egg donor would not believe her.

The girl was in college and still thinking about that comment from her egg donor. She thought maybe she was wrong, maybe she had just heard the story about her older sister enough times to think it was her instead. She sat down and wrote a letter to the supposed sperm donor, she asked him if he remembered doing it? She asked him if he knew what he had done so very long ago. She waited for over a week for the reply, half expecting it to never come. Finally, one day, she opened her mailbox to find a letter inside. the letter that she had been waiting for was there and finally the truth was revealed. He had written that he did know what he had done to her, that he was aware that he had ruined her childhood and that he was sorry. She stared at the words "I'm so sorry for all I did and I hope someday you can find it in your heart to forgive me" and she cried. She grew angry, he wanted forgiveness? How dare he hope for any such thing! She replied that she hoped he burned in hell forever for what he had done and that he could go to his grave knowing that there would be at least one person in this world that would not forgive him for tearing their life apart! She was bitter and angry, but now she had the proof that it was not a fantasy, it was real and it did happen. Sadly her proof was laughed away and she was again told to stop fantasizing, that the letter meant nothing. The egg donor believed the supposed sperm donor had written what she wanted to hear plain and simple, that it was not possible that it was the truth. The girl ended up trying to kill herself when she realized that even though he had written "I know I touched you in a bad way, I know I was wrong for doing those things to you" she was never going to be believed by the one person she felt needed to believe her. She needed her egg donor to believe her, she didn't know why, but somehow if she believed then it would show that some small part of her loved her youngest daughter.

Luckily the girl was found, she got the help she needed and she grew to realize that the egg donor was simply in denial. This was the point where she was diagnosed with a borderline personality disorder, she was told that she had a lot of stuff locked away and the therapist offered hypnosis to help her discover all that was there...the girl refused, she had enough trouble dealing with what she knew, she did not want to face whatever her mind had locked away from her. Surely if her mind had locked it away it must be very bad and she did not want to face that, not then and possibly not ever. She moved on, began to dream of a life without fear and she found the man of her dreams.

The girl grew into a woman and she knew there were two distinct people inside her. there was  a victim and there was a survivor, she just needed to decide which to be. She chose to be the survivor because that one was the more desirable. Although the victim still comes through every once in awhile, still reminds her that she was a victim once, the woman has chosen to tell that victim that she has nothing more to fear and that she can be a survivor too.


Have a great weekend and remember, when given the choice be a survivor, you don't have to be a victim!

Monday, April 4, 2011

This is why I missed Thoughtful Thursday:

My big Bro knicknamed his car "The Grey Ghost" so I had to ride down the trail with the same name 
 My son and I arrived at the lifts 5 minutes early so we had to wait for the first chair
 He also had to ride down his Black Diamond trail again just because it was a Black Diamond
 He had to get out of our ride in/ ride out condo bright and early
 I think I already mentioned that we arrived early and had to wait for the first chair
 Orion needed to perfect his form, he's so amazing to watch
 He had to go down that Black Diamond trail numerous times...that's him on the top of the ridge getting ready to come down
 We had to stand on top of the mountain again and see the world from a whole new perspective
 As I mentioned before, he had to get out there bright and early hehe
 He had to prove that he was a skilled rider by mastering that Black Diamond trail
 I had to get some photos of him next to the sign for his Black Diamond trail
 I has to see that boy happy and relaxed and carefree!
I'll make it up to you next week...I promise!