TW: Religious Trauma

I was a "born in the convenant" LDS Church member. And I was active and open with my Church leaders from the time that I started reporting to them to the time that I left the LDS church. 

This included the abuse that I was a victim of from the time I was seven to the time I was eighteen. 

I kept trying, though - both with the reporting to my chuch leaders and the activity that my brain told me I needed based on indoctrination.

I didn't go on a mission - for females, it wasn't a requirement of the church for me to go on a mission in the States or abroad. Instead, by the time I would have been sent on a mission, I was married, but soon to be divorced. That did not make me the best candidate for a representative of #The_One_True_Church, so I did not go on a mission. 

But I was abused. And I reported my abuse - not to my parents, by to my bishops through the time that I was abused. 

Again - that was ages 7 to 18. I didn't report the abuse that occurred from 7-13 until I was being checked into a hospital to anyone other than my bishop. Even my mother - who was committing me - didn't know about the abuse and got to hear the details during the inttake interview. I was 15. The only people I had told up to that point were the bishops that interviewed me and asked about my sex life and masturbation practices from 12 to 18. 

Let me tell you: sex in any form - self-pleasuring, rape, or consensual sex - do not allow you to have a #temple_recommend in the #LDS_Church. The only way that I was able to participate in any temple ordinances was to say that it wasn't happening at the time. 

And, while the LDS clergy are not trained in the literal seminary, they are appointed with "divine dicernment" that allows them to ask minors about their sexual and masturbation practices. Do I have trauma surrounding this? Absolutely. I refuse to let any of my children join any church until they are legal adults (when I no longer have any say in their choices), because of the things that I endured in the LDS Church.

Sure, I stayed an awful long tyime. Even longer than my last sexual assualt and even the birth of my first child, but I refuse to let *ANY* of my children be told that they are at fault with *ANYONE* hurts them: me, their dad, their other family members, their friends, their schoolmates, the friends of our family - *ANYONE*. *NO ONE* is allowed to hurt my kids the way I was hurt. No one. Period. 

Don't try me. 

I will *gladly* end up in a prison cell to protect my kids. Don't try me. I don't play those games. They will not hurt like I do or wonder what it was all for. It isn't for any good reason. No one is protected. It doesn't matter what the perp says - no one is protected. 

Tell someone. 

Tell me. I will stand next to you. No matter what. I will be there. I will believe you. I will hold your hand and you. I will be your strength, because everyone need that. 

Memory Lane

Today Momma would have been 73. She died 9 and a half years ago and I miss her every day, but these "anniversaries" are so hard for me. What would she be like with the grandkids. The ones that she knew (from the younger generation of kiddos) will be 12 this year. The younger set of grandkids turn 8 this year. And they are all so different, so unique, and so .... amazing. Would she be as pleased with them as she was with the two year olds that she knew and spent so much time with during their early lives? Would she love the younger three as much as the older two? Does she now know the one in the middle that never took a breath in this world? Would she be proud of us, her children?

Oi..how I miss her. I want to hear her voice, the shake of her laugh, or even the edge of her voice when she's a little upset with us. I would take the hard edge over nothing every single day. 

I remember one of the days the spring before she passed where she and I were sitting together, talking while Blueberry watch The Backyardigans. I don't remember the specifics of the conversation, but I remember her being so unabashedly happy. So proud of the boy that her grandson was growing into. 

I remember the call, just weeks before she passed, when she called me and I was at work - I was a school bus driver in Havana at the time and not driving, but at the bus barn itself and Mom told me that my great-niece, Lindsay, had died. She was under 10 years old. I feel bad that I don't remember her exact age at the time, but I remember being heartbroken for her mother and father. And I was so grateful that I hadn't had to deal with that kind of loss.  If only I had known then that I only had another two weeks with my mother. And only one week before our 6-hour a day conversations would come to an end because she was in so much pain. 

Today, my heart aches. Today, I remember the good and the bad of our relationship and I want to hold them close, no matter how painful. I simply don't want to lose the connection - the only connection - to her that I have left. And I don't just ache for my relationship that I've missed out on with her because of a heart attack and doctors that didn't pay attention, but for the relationships that she could have had with all of her children and their children...the lack of a future of that relationship makes me ache with sadness for myself and all of us. I wish I could tell her that I love her, that I appreciate her, that I talk to my children about her every day. That my adopted family talks about her and what she means/meant to each of them all the time. 

I just want her to know that she is loved for now and always. 

Every year, for her birthday and the anniversary of her death, I try to do at least one nice/kind thing in the world. It doesn't make the loss better, but it lets me feel like her memory, her influence is still lingering in a world that changes every day in oh-so-many ways. I can't bring her back, but I can keep her with me in my heart and soul.

May everyone have a conversation about twitching mussels, bees, and all of life with someone that means so much to them. 

Happy birthday, Mommy. 

Sometimes I Wonder

iLet's start this off and just say: I know that I'm a horrible mother.

I sometimes wonder what it would be like if I didn't have children. If I didn't have to constantly insert myself in their arguments or battles. If I didn't have to prevent myself from taking my medication for insomnia so that I can ensure than none of them do something awful while I'm asleep - especially when I am on vacation with them without my nesting partner. 

Part of being a parent is accepting that there are times that you are going to get less sleep or that your sleep may be less restful at times than you would like. That is part of accepting that you are going to be a parent, but parenting a high needs child is especially difficult and those times are even more frequent. 

I have insomnia, so I don't sleep the way my body needs and it is frustrating for me to sleep even with medications, but there are times that I take my medications and my HN child gets up and does awful things. When I am solo-parenting (like when I am on "vacation" without my partner), I feel like I can't take my sleeping medications because I can't trust that my HN child will sleep - well or at all. Even when I think they are asleep, they may be faking it so that I will take my sleeping medication and give them an opportunity to do the thing(s) that they have been prohibited from doing while a parent is awake. 

I realize that being a parent will include days that you don't get the sleep that you need, but I am frustrated and wondering (guiltily) what it would be like to be childless so that I can feel comfortable and not guilty for sleeping when my body can and I need it rather than just when my body allows it (which may not be a time that I am able to based on necessity). 

I want to be able to put my kids to bed and not have to worry that they will be getting up after everyone is asleep to sneak treats or do things that they know they shouldn't/aren't allowed to normally. I want to be able to say that I have a time that I'm not "on-duty" so that I can recharge. But I can't. 

At home, the times that I am "off-duty" mean that my partner has to be doubly vigilant and I end of stressing over every shout or yell or cry despite the fact that I am supposed to be resting. My partner also notices this with their "time off" and has taken to having time out of the house a couple of times a week to make sure that they get time to reset. I, on the other hand, am an introvert and cannot handle time out of the house for very long and don't enjoy spending time with people regularly. The only exceptions being with my partners, but they also have children and I have to be "on-duty" with their children as well as mine, so it doesn't feel like a re-charging period for me. It's frustrating, but that is the truth of the matter.

Maybe I should have ignored my urge to have children - I never considered that they would turn out like my brother and require 24/7 attention with no down time to prevent trouble and mischief - even for sleep - but there you have it. 

I love time with my family, and I love time with my siblings, but I am tired. I am exhausted by the trouble that comes with going away, especially without my nesting partner. And I am tired of being "on-duty" even when I'm supposed to be able to get some rest. It leaves me wanting to cry for hours to purge the excess feelings and emotions. 

Why is parenting this hard?!

Lay Offs & Planning

I feel like it doesn't matter. Nothing we do matters in the end. 

Yesterday, I was told that I was being let go from the company that I've worked for for the past four an a half years. Their reason was "performance" during this meeting, but they let the third shift LOs know a couple of weeks ago that they would be letting people go based on their availabilty and the availability that we provided to them during our consequent meetings with our TLs. No matter that I've had the top 5% of performance for the past 9 months. Not matter that I've been working my ass off for this company for the past 4 and a half years. No matter that I've consistently had the top 10% for performance since I started. None of that matters becuase the availability that you have iss more important than how you've preformed. 

It doesnt' matter that I've worked my ass off for the company because I don't have open availablity. 

I am angry, and frustrated, and feeling let down. I want to cry, but there are no tears left to cry. 

Bugs - The Sicky Kind

It started with the Husband. He started feeling poorly on Monday. He was finally feeling mostly better by Friday. Thursday, one of the twins had it and stayed home from school, but she was better by the time Friday morning rolled around. Friday evening around 19:00, the fever and fatigue hit me. And I basically slept for the next 48 hours with very little interruption except to imbibe water and bread. I ended up calling out on Saturday because I couldn't manage to even sit up for more than 5 minutes. Sunday rolls around and by 7 I'm mostly feeling better, though stuffy. I can sit for extended periods, but I'm definitely weak. Tiny Terrorist got it, though, and has spent a good portion of the day sleeping on the sofa or cuddling with me in my bed. Poor Auntie got it, though, and had to call out for the night. Gonna be an interesting night at work. :P No big deal, though, I've got this! *flex*

Anger

I am angry. 

Let me repeat that to be clear: I am ANGRY!

Roe v Wade was overturned last week. I found out when I got up for the day and my husband said, "If you don't want to be angry, avoid Facebook for a while. I'm sorry. Is there anything that I can do right now?"

That night, my girlfriend - a relationship which is not considered "traditional" and which may come under fire soon as well - made me a shirt for the emergency protest at the courthouse the next day. It was a hanger that said "never again" along the bottom. She wore a shirt that said, "Ruth sent me". 

This decision is one that starts a slippery slope in the United States. With this decision, abortions are no longer a federally protected right for women, something that has been protected for us since 1973 when the Supreme Court case was won. Now it is up to each individual state to decide whether or not they want to protect a woman's right to end a pregnancy for any reason - medical, personal, financial, etc. Now, for the first time in 50 years, states can say, "I don't care that you were raped or that your fetus isn't viable. I don't care if you risk death carrying this fetus to term. I don't care if you are financially, mentally, or emotionally capable of carrying and giving birth to a child. You have a bundle of cells in your uterus right now that might, someday be a person that we can profit off of, so you will have to make sure that it makes it to birth." The government doesn't care whether these cells will kill the living, breathing, fully-formed person that has them inside of their body like a parasite. They only care that this bundle of cells be born because "all lives matter." 

But those lives only matter while they are in-utero. They only matter when they are cis-gender, white, and financially secure. The poor, the POC, the trans, the "others"...they don't matter. And it makes me ANGRY.

My mental health has not been the best the past few months. There have been a lot of stressors that have made things interesting and difficult for me, but this takes the cake. I thought that I was turning a corner. I thought that I was coming out of a tunnel and that my mental health would be getting better. 

I can't tell you the last time I was able to sleep without nightmares without being passed out drunk. I can't tell you the last time that I didn't feel like the world - my family and friends - would be better off without me in their world. But now, I am angry. *SO ANGRY!* I want to tear down buildings and systems and governments that are telling me and my daughters that we are not as important - as living, breathing, and fully-formed humans - as a clump of cells that might become a human at some point. I am angry that if that clump of cells is "spontaneously aborted," aka: if the uterus-holding-person miscarries, we can be charged with MURDER. 

I am angry.

This country was started - after we forcefully took it over from the Native American tribes that were here - because a group of people wanted the freedom to practice religion, the way they wanted to without the government telling them the "right" way to practice. It was a country that was supposed to give people - its people - the right to practice any religion that they chose, in the way that they chose without the government deciding what was the appropriate way to practice. Now, because there are Christian facisists in office - an office that isn't even elected, but appointed - they they can decide that ALL people should live by their standards, ideologies, and ideals. 

They won't even take a stand against guns that are being used to murder hundreds of living, breathing, and fully-formed, human children every year while they are AT SCHOOL, but they are willing to tell a person with a uterus that their rights are second to the clump of cells that they developed. They aren't willing to make the people that produce the sperm interact or provide for those cells, but they are willing to tell the person that provides the home for XX months and the egg that provides half the required cells that they HAVE to carry that fetus, that clump of cells, to term or they will be charged with murder. And, if they are charged with murder, they are a felon that can no longer vote. The person that provided the sperm, though? Oh, "they were just there. It's not their fault that this person got pregnant" - despite the fact that without the sperm, there would be no clump of cells. "The uterus-haver should have kept their legs closed and this wouldn't have happened."

I am ANGRY. 

I worked HARD and I CHOSE to have my daughters (twins). I carried them as long as I could and I was so happy to have them. I was LUCKY, because I was able to see a doctor and midwife practice that was only too happy to make sure that my mental and physical health were taken care of. I was LUCKY because I have a partner that was not just happy to be having children, but that I wanted to have children with them. I was lucky that we were able to find support that we needed, when we needed it, to get us through the pregnancy and the first several months post-partum. I was LUCKY. 

Not every person with a uterus is that lucky or WANTS to be in the position that I was in. They may not be ready for pregnancy and childbirth for any number of reasons. And that is fine! There are so many children in the world - hell, even just in the US, that need to be adopted. Deciding that you are not ready to carry and give birth to a child - for ANY reason - is perfectly acceptable. It is YOUR body. YOU know what you can handle. YOU know what you are willing to provide, give up, take, etc and the GOVERNMENT shouldn't have a right to tell you that you have to carry a parasite because THEY believe that that parasite has more rights as a POSSIBILITY than you do as a REALITY!

I am angry. I don't want my daughters to grow up in a world where they are considered incubators. I don't want them to have to go through the things that their grandmothers went through to get the rights that we *had*. I don't want to leave them in a situation where they are seen as less than the amazing, wonderful, bright lights that they are. They may decide that they want ALL the babies - and that is fine. They may decide that they don't want to have ANY babies - and that is fine. They may decide that they just want to adopt or foster - and that is GREAT! ALL of that should be THEIR choice, though. Not the ruling class. Not the upper class. Not some person that thinks that they are divinely put on the Earth to decide what happens to others. 

The Aging Process

I work third shift. I tend to get up at 17:00 and then I'm up until after I take the twins to school (Monday through Friday), which puts me in bed around 08:30 every day. On Thursday morning, one of the twins said that she didn't want to go to school because she just wanted to snuggle in bed with me, so I told her that if she went to school, I would pick her and her sister up from school and we could snuggle on the sofa during tech time and into the evening. That was acceptable to her and she got ready for school without further complaint (and had a great day). 

Because I had said that I would pick them up from school a couple hours before my regular wake-up time, I didn't take my sleeping medication and wasn't tired, so I didn't sleep. Not long after I got home from taking the girls to school, I realized that I had another reason to stay up: Husband Extrodinare and I had an appointment to see my oldest's home advocate on a video conference. (Neither of us could remember the time, though, so we had to get clarification. I actually had the time written down differently in THREE LOCATIONS: 11:00, 13:00, and 14:00. Why? Because I'm amazing and Past Abebi was fucking with me.) The home advocate let us know that she had the time written down as 13:00 on her calendar and asked if that was still good for us. It was, so I set the alarm and settled in to watch Adolf Titler (my baby sister that lives with us and works with me) play some Animal Crossing. 

While she did that, I journaled and went through tarot readings that I'd done for my tarot journal (I treated myself to the Writual Planner with stamps last year and it is wonderful) but hadn't actually written down interpretations for. (If I'm doing a reading before work or on a break while at work, I don't always interpret the reading because I just don't have the time.) I also scrolled through WAY too much Facebook. >.< Unfortunately, I couldn't get my brain to cooperate, so I couldn't actually read anything. :(

At some point, Adolf Titler switched to watching one of the shows on Netflix that she is into right now, Alias Grace. For someone that was already dealing with an anxiety issue triggered by a photo of an older gentleman at a doctor's office (thanks for the trauma, Dad!), this show - even though I wasn't actually watching it - was triggering me and I had to ask her to turn it off and do something else. 

13:00 came and Husband Extrodinare and I joined the Google Meetings video chat to talk to the Home Advocate. She brought up something that we had been talking about since before the IEP meeting when it was *officially* brought up: moving the oldest to a local ED classroom as a trial to see if he is ready to be re-integrated into a regular school in our town instead of an ED school about an hour away. We both have concerns about moving our kiddo back to a local school, though, because we haven't heard the best things about the ED classroom in the school that we are closest to (from a parapro that worked at both of the local schools). The home advocate suggested that we request a visit to the ED classrooms in the area that Blueberry would be attending to see if we liked them ourselves and whether we thought either of them would be a good fit for Blueberry. (I think that is a great idea and didn't even know that you could make a request like that. I thought that, if you were in the area that a specific school covered and they had the type of classroom that you needed that you didn't have a choice whether your child attended that school or another.) We also requested something from the home advocate and Blueberry's current teacher: could they please send examples of the academic work that Blueberry has been working on recently home so that we could see what he is learning academically as well as the emotional and social things that he is learning. (The school that he attends now doesn't send work home as they keep it all in a binder to keep track of what each student is working on and how they are doing academically as well as socially/emotionally.)

After the meeting, Husband Extrodinare went back to work and I got ready to go pick up the twins. Adolf Titler went back trying not to die after taking pain killers and muscle relaxants because she'd hurt her back trying to get the battery out of her SUV. (Poor thing. :( )

When I left to go get the twins, I discovered that even though I'd left 20 minutes before school got out (we only live about 5 blocks away), there was a line of adults waiting to pick up their kiddo that was THREE blocks long. I handle drop-off every morning and don't tend to leave the house until 20 minutes before drop-off starts, sometimes only 10 minutes, and I had NEVER been in a line this long in the morning. I pulled over (instead of getting in line) and had an anxiety attack. I sent a message in our group chat that said there were WAY too many cars here for me to feel comfortable and I wanted to cry because the line just kept growing. Adolf Titler laughed and Husband Extrodinare said that he usually parks a block or two away and walks up to get the twins instead. (Note: Neither of them were being malicious. They didn't realize that I was *ACTUALLY* having an issue.) 

About 5 minutes before school let out, I started driving home to tell Husband Extrodinare that I couldn't do it. I didn't have any anxiety medicine with me because I don't keep anything in the van and I had left my purse (which has the medicine) at home. I didn't think that I was going to need it and I was only driving 5 blocks, so I didn't think I'd need anything from my purse.

I was a block from home and I turned back to the school, did some breatheing exercises, and got in line. 

I have to hand it to the school: they have got it down pat. Despite being blocks away when school let out, I was out of line with the twins buckled into their seats in less than 10 minutes. I took longer than Husband Extrodinare ever does, but I was home before Blueberry usually gets off the bus, which was amazing to me when I think of how long that line was.

The twins sat on the sofa and floor next to me and played on their tablets for tech time. It was calming and I was back to being ok pretty quickly after getting home. I was *DEFIUNITELY* feeling loopy, though, and I couldn't eat anything. (I hadn't eaten in more than 15 hours and I'd only been able to eat 2 small chicken strips when I ate then.) I was trying really hard to think of something, anything, that I could eat that didn't make me nauseous just thinking about it, but I couldn't. >.<

At about 18:30, I couldn't do it anymore and told Husband Extrodinare that I couldn't make my brain function and that I felt like I was to the pass-out or throw up stage of drinking. He told me to go to bed and that he would have the twins come to snuggle me for a couple hours after he got them ready for bed. (He's the best.) He even made the bed with my new weighted blanket and I went to sleep *SUPER* fast. 

Unfortunately, though, I didn't get good quality sleep that night. The weighted blanket kept slipping down and because the fan was on, I was freezing so I kept waking up. I also couldn't remember how to disable my alarms before I went to sleep, so they kept going off through the night to remind me to take my ADHD medication which woke me up. When I finally got up the next morning to take the twins to school, I was still feeling fuzzy-brained and I was starving. Husband Extrodinare asked me if I was in pain, because I'd been making noises on every exhale from about 01:00 that morning in my sleep. I told him that I wasn't hurting or anything, but that I'd gotten really poor sleep and that I couldn't wait to go back to sleep. 

Adolf Titler and I took the twins to school, got breakfast, and went home. I ate some of my breakfast and fell asleep on the sofa doing that. Around 11:00, Husband Extrodinare woke me up to let me know that he was heading out to get the twins (early dismissal) and that I might get better sleep if I go down to our bedroom. (He had remade the bed with both of our regular blankets and the weighted blanket after I'd told him that I was too cold the night before when the weighted blanket would slide down from the other blanket on the bed. <3 ) 

Around 18:00, Husband Extrodinare came down to let me know that he had gotten me a two cheeseburger meal (extra mustard) with a Dr. Pepper (no ice), if I wanted to come get it. He made sure to tell me, though, that I didn't have to come eat it right now since I'm usually not hungry when I first get up, but I was starving again, so I ate it all (unusual for me). At 19:30, just before bedtime, I went back to bed to read because my brain was working enough to do that. At 20:00, I got the kids ready for bed and went to snuggle with the twins and set an alarm to snuggle with Blueberry. 

At 02:55 I woke up. Wide awake and clear-headed. I drank some water and then went to the office to keep Adolf Titler company. I wrote in my journal, did my daily tarot reading (which I missed doing yesterday), and got something to eat. I finally feel human again and I'm so glad that I was able to get up when I did so that I would have a better chance of getting my sleep schedule straightened out before I start work tonight. :P My over-30 body and brain need more than 2 small chicken strips and no sleep to function!

Did this turn into a ramble-session? Yup. If you made it this far, you deserve a trophy! Blessed be.