Tag Archives: healing

by

How You Can Help Moore, OK Tornado Victims

**UPDATE**

If you live in an area that is taking physical donations (emergency supplies, etc.), please note that rescue items are getting soaked because of all of the rain. As a result, rescue volunteers and Moore residents are looking for plastic totes. You can purchase one of these at Walmart for as little as $5. Please consider adding one of these to your donations. 

I am not a victim in the recent tornado outbreaks.

But I do live in Oklahoma. I know just how scary those sirens are. How your heart feels like it’s going to beat right out of your chest, and all you can think to ask for is that it misses you, and that if it does hit, that you and your loved ones make it out alive. Because, in the end, that’s all that matters.

The recent outbreak of storms happened just hours from my home. The day of the Moore tornado (and the entire evening before), we spent hours watching the television, waiting to see if the storms passing through our area would develop into something more dangerous than some heavy rain, wind and hail. We made sure that everyone had shoes on, just in case. My husband and I had to work on remembering to use our calm voices. We distracted the kids with frozen pizza for dinner. We watched a movie. All the while, I kept checking my phone for updates.

But again, we are safe. Our home is safe. We didn’t experience anything worse than a good old thunderstorm and some wind.

I wouldn’t call us lucky because I don’t think that this has anything to do with “luck.” But I do know that we cannot even begin to comprehend what life is like right now for those in Moore, OK. Some lost their children. Some lost their homes and belongings. Some lost everything. They’ve lost their sense of safety and security. Some victims may be haunted by the sounds of sirens and winds that sound like jet planes for a long time. Some may be haunted forever.

Right now, there are people helping. Volunteers are helping victims try to piece their lives back together. Cities all across Oklahoma are gathering donations. The Red Cross is already involved. But what has touched me even more is that there are people outside of Oklahoma looking for a way to help. Though they may never have even heard a tornado siren in their life, they can imagine for a moment what it must be like to lose everything in a matter of seconds. They are reaching out to help in any way they can.

  • Shelly Crane, NY Times and USA Today Bestselling Author is donating 100% of proceeds from Wide Awake to the Oklahoma victims.
  • Jennifer L. Armentrout is holding an auction with some pretty awesome book titles. Highest bidder gets the prize and she’ll match the winning bid and donate all funds to the Moore victims.

There may be more out there, but this is who I have so far. If you know of any other authors (or even just amazing people doing some amazing things to help out), please leave the information in the comment section or contact me via Facebook.

People will be talking about the Moore victims for a while, but it takes years to rebuild a town, to rebuild lives. Some will never be the same, even after they’ve replaced the material items. If you want to help, these amazing authors are giving fans a simple, easy way to do so. But you can also make donations to the American Red Cross. They take any amount, and every little bit helps.

by

A Story of Survival – Linda

Image courtesy of FreeDigitalPhotos.net 

For quite some time now, I’ve wanted to do a post about how domestic violence can affect a child until long after the abuse is over. Unfortunately, I wasn’t sure how to approach the subject; since my children are all minors, I feel it is my duty, as their mother, to protect their privacy. Thankfully, I found a wonderful friend that was willing to share her story. Everyone, please give Linda Smith a warm welcome!

Hi, my name is Linda Smith. I am 64 years old and an adult survivor of child abuse.

From day one, my birth, I lived with the dysfunctional and destructive behaviour of my parents. My father was an emotionally abusive alcoholic and my mother was an enabler, in the sense that she let it all happen. So basically, I spent 19 years living in an abusive relationship with my own parents. I had no way of escape, I was a captive victim and the main target.

Aside from the emotional abuse; there was my father’s drunken disasters, such as: driving drunk and causing accidents, hitting a pedestrian and then leaving the scene, becoming involved in bar room brawls, being beaten and robbed of his weekly paychecks. All of this added to the ongoing family stress and chaos. Our finances were in shambles for many years.

I never knew what normal was, I never fully understood the concept of love, I never knew what it was like to have a normal relationship with my parents. And most of all, I never knew who I was as an individual. Our personalities develop in the first 7 years of our lives; my first 7 years involved abuse and brainwashing. I was literally told who I was and what to think.

Experiencing emotional abuse from day one, meant that I learned to numb or stuff my emotions because they weren’t accepted in my house. If I cried, I was too emotional; if I was happy or excited, I was told to tone it down. No matter what mood I was in, I was lead to believe that it wasn’t accepted. So, I numbed my feelings; and they stayed numb. It also helped in numbing the pain I felt inside.

Abuse doesn’t stop with the abuser. Emotional abuse leaves open wounds that can last for years….to a lifetime. The memories just don’t go away because of adulthood. Ongoing abuse is the programming of our psyche on how we view ourselves and the world. It also breeds mistrust. We are set on a track of destruction because our self-esteem has been destroyed and the emotional debris is killing us inside.

Anxiety and fear from abuse rapidly turns into a multitude of illnesses and disorders. In my case, due to prolonged abuse, I suffered from major depression, C-PTSD, Depersonalization Disorder, OCD. And to add bad to worse, my first husband was an abuser. So add two and a half years more to the nineteen years I had already experienced. Compounding emotional damage.

Disorders didn’t show up in my life all at once. It was gradual and progressive. One thing sort of begat the other. And before I knew it, I was in the midst of full blown internal chaos. I had no control over my life anymore. So, I put myself into cognitive therapy at the age of 39. I had no other choice if I wanted to survive. It took perseverance, hard work, and 25 years to finally feel normal. I was in therapy for 25 years and on drug therapy for 15. (I’m still taking medication.) It was the best decision that I had ever made for myself. I completed my therapy March of this year. I will need the occasional return visit now and then. But I have peace of mind now, self acceptance, and the pain is gone, washed away from me forever. I am free.

It only takes one abuser to cause a lifetime of pain, but it only takes one person, each of us, to start the healing process. It’s a decision each of us have to make for ourselves. It’s a gift we deserve.

I am a survivor.

Thank you so much, Linda, for sharing your story.

I hope that your story, and your site, inspires others to make the decision to stop the cycle of domestic violence. I hope that all victims, current or former, seek healing – be it on their own or with the help of a professional – and discover just how beautiful and deserving of love, safety and respect they really are.

If you’d like to share your survivor story, please email me at cathygivans@rocketmail.com; it could help others realize that they’re not alone. You don’t have to share your real name with readers; I fully understand how important confidentiality can be when dealing with domestic violence situations. Thanks again for stopping by and I look forward to hearing your story.

by

You Are Beautiful

Five years ago today, I met an amazing man. Over the years, he has given me a soft place to land when my heart was hurting. He’s reinforced the beauty of me when I allow myself to doubt. He has loved every part of me, even when I’ve felt I was being unlovable. He took on a woman with baggage – three children and a history of abuse.

But this post isn’t really about him. While he is especially wonderful and amazing, this post is meant to celebrate the woman I had come to be the day he met me. While I’ve certainly changed drastically since that day, I can’t help but stand in awe of that woman.

Less than a year before that, that same woman had spent her days fearful and afraid, beaten and abused, isolated and alone. She allowed every ounce of that hurt and pain into her life, yet she failed to recognize that she had the power to change it. She was never truly a victim. She was an enabler.

It took a long time for her to see it, but when she did, she knew, at that very moment, if she didn’t leave the situation she was in, there might not ever be another chance. With nothing more than three children and the clothes on her back, she found her way across town and into a shelter. At that shelter, she learned that love didn’t come from any external source, but from within. She learned that she could survive and that being a single mother wasn’t half bad. In fact, it was wonderful, amazing, beautiful, empowering and uplifting.

I’m still a bit neurotic at times, I panic over things I shouldn’t, I curse way too much, my house is almost always a mess, my laundry piles up until I think it will grow legs and devour my children, I allow myself to get distracted from the song my soul sings, and I have an abrasive personality when the wrong line is crossed. But I am beautiful. I always have been. And so are you.

No matter where you are in life, no matter what you believe, no matter what your imperfections or past. You. Are. BEAUTIFUL. If you remember nothing else, believe nothing else, let those three words sing true in your heart today, tomorrow, and for eternity.

by

Life is Short – Make Memories

This week has been a very difficult one for me. I took on work project that I really shouldn’t have, spent days concerned that I had made a huge mistake on a client’s website, only to find out that the problem was easily solved, and I have had to dig my heels in hard and heavy with my professional writing. This, unfortunately, has left little time for the things that matter most in my life: my husband and my five amazing children.

Of course, on top of all that, there’s the cooking, the cleaning, the house repairs…AAAAAHHHH!!! It’s all enough to make a person go insane. What’s worse is that I haven’t even touched my book in weeks.

Now, before you run away and never return to my site because I sound like a compulsive whiner, let me just say that there really is a point to all of my complaining.

Life is short.

Right now, I am reading Lillian’s List by Bradley Salters.

My mother died at 46.

I am now 31.

My oldest son is now 14.

I have been married to my amazing husband for almost 5 years.

My baby is now 2.

Too short.

The point I am trying to make is that we get so caught up in the day to day hustle, bustle, frustrations, conversations, entertainment, complaining, working, and everything else that fills the hours of our days, that we often forget just how short life is.

After my Mom died, I told myself that I would never, ever forget just how short life can be. But that was more than six years ago. Life continues. Jobs continue, raising children continues, house work and chores continue. Yet, amidst it all, a life didn’t continue. A life that was important, precious and special to me and everyone that it had touched.

So, this reminder is probably more for myself than anyone, but I wanted to share it with you as well….

Life is short.

Too short.

Have fun, make memories, let the dust bunnies lie, learn to say no to commitments that monopolize your time, make someone laugh, be gentle with yourself and others, say a kind word, smile at a stranger, hug, forgive, take a walk, hold hands, dance in the rain and find ways to make each moment of this too short life count.

Make your life count because to someone else, you are that special life, and those moments will be cherished, treasured and missed, long after you’re gone.

by

Old Memories Create New Life – Glycerine and Chapter Five

Writing and music – they go hand in hand for me. And as I dig into chapter five of Broken Home, music creates a connection to the raw emotions  and grittiness needed to bring my characters to life. All of my works are completely fictional, but they are based on very real emotions; emotions that I once buried for the simple sake of survival. Had I not buried them, I might not have survived. Now, as my characters cry out for life, those feelings, those experiences must surface.

It is a healing process. Trauma does funny things to us. It changes us. It causes us to withdrawal, bury and remove ourselves from the incident. But those experiences aren’t meant to be buried forever. They are meant to heal so that we can, once again, become whole. So we can learn, grow, flourish, blossom into the beautiful beings we are meant to be.

My dear friends, if you have trauma or have a painful moment you’ve buried and left to fester under the surface, I invite you to bring it to the surface in whatever way works for you. When you are ready. And if you find that you’re not ready or the pain becomes too much to handle, put it away for a while. Healing happens in layers and with time. Just don’t forget that it only happens with intention.

I also encourage you to seek out professional help, especially if you find yourself stuck. We all get stuck sometimes. We all need help sometimes. I attended nearly a year of domestic violence counseling and it helped me tremendously, and without it, I don’t know that I could have found a way to break the cycle and face my demons.

I’d also like to remind you to be patient with yourself as you tread down the winding road of healing. It took me four years to look at a photo of my abuser. That very first time sent me into a panic attack, but afterwards, I found the hold he still had on me – a hold of fear – diminished a little. My heart still races a bit, but I don’t break down and cry now when I see his photo or hear a song that reminds of that time and place. You can do this too. You can heal. You are allowed to heal. You are so worth it.