For my unexpected muse...

She's probably one of the most beautiful women I've ever had the pleasure of knowing.

Soft features contrast her true nature.

She represents many stories, an unplanned blog, unexpected healing...

Simple words grouped together, describing the most complex form of art my mind has ever developed.


Creative therapy.


No woman ever plans to marry an abusive man, a life only for the broken spirit.

Strong women don't have that problem.

Strong women wouldn't allow someone to waltz in and take over their life.
Strong women laugh at the thought.

Until they fall for a fucking psychopath.

Of course the tell tale signs aren't always evident at first. For the most part anybody can pass for a genuinely compassionate individual, as long as there's an audience, and when the audience is a strong woman, the show could go on for months. Until one day the audience isn't as much of a challenge, until the audience is a real life person with thoughts and feelings of their own.

Until that audience requires more from the performer than just a show.

Suddenly the performer becomes the director, the narrator, and the crew. Before she realizes the show has taken a drastic turn, she's alone, a captive audience?

For the most part I count myself lucky. I got away quickly, with the help of some angels...a few audience members themselves. No longer captives. Wiser women, who saw what was happening and offered up advice, guided me through the guise of a fucking mastermind.

My freedom angels.

As I'm not inherently religious, I still thank whomever for their presence, for the AppleBees off of Western Boulevard in Jacksonville, North Carolina.

The months following my escape aren't ones I'm proud of, normally I wouldn't admit to anything until that woman possessing such contrasting beauty wrote me a very compelling message. She opened up her life to me. I scrolled down the page on my phone at 5:00 AM reading only what I could describe as my potential story had those aforementioned angels not intervened.

I was the lucky one.

She described those following months as self medication. Only aiding in further self hatred, breaking a spirit once whole.

My heart ached. The lump inside my throat grew larger and I cried out, "You're not! Those things he told you..."

She never shared.

I knew so well the words he spilled on her like acid, because I too had felt the sting of a hateful love.

She spoke of her first love since she left.

She described him as just what she needed, "However it works out."

I could feel the hope she has inside of her, to see her child bond with the heart of a good man, perhaps not the right man, but a really good man.


I didn't want to tell her how it may turn out, how much she'd put on him, how no man could ever carry that burden and how ultimately the only peace she'd find after all of this is within herself.


I couldn't tell her because I'm still searching for that peace. I don't know if I'll ever find it. Perhaps I'm not meant to.


Perhaps I've still got some more writing to do.

Ptsd isn't just for soldiers of war

Last night I was triggered.
"Maybe you should check your meds."
A simple text, sent from my ex husband who decided it was time to pick a fight over the lack of a relationship he has with our son due to him living out of state, that and strained phone calls by two people with nothing in common other than one's intense desire to bond and feel love, and another's to exploit for notoriety.

This was his favorite thing to say to people, that I was crazy, to discredit me, or any statements I may potentially make about the abuse I suffered while with him. This was the most offensive part, that I couldn't verbalize how he'd hurt me without stooping to his level. The amount of mind fucking that went on is unbelievable. I actually believed the shit he came up with. That I was crazy. That nobody else would be willing to deal with me. That he was the one for me, at eighteen, pregnant before I graduated high school, thrown out of my home for being a "slut" and shoved into his father's house while he went off to serve our country, my fault of course, I was the pregnant wife he had to take care of and this was his only choice, the abuse he endured was all for me, I was ungrateful, I was selfish, I was the crazy one to ever question his motive.

I never realized he used sex as a way to demean me. As a way to control me and make me feel unworthy. A way to cheapen me. To devalue me.

A road trip across country to our new home in Camp Lejeune, brand new baby in the back seat, he insisted we have a quickie over the front console sometime after our son fell asleep. I developed a bladder infection the next day because I couldn't use the bathroom immediately afterwards. We spent 3 hours driving around a piece of shit town looking for an emergency room/pharmacy because I had no way of knowing how to handle a bladder infection without a doctor's prescription and was in an extreme amount of pain. He screamed at me the whole time, called me a pussy, told me I was holding us up. Drove like a maniac going 50 in a 25 mile an hour street. I kept crying and blaming my bladder, but the truth is he made me feel like I didn't deserve medical treatment. He made me feel like I'd done this on purpose to gain some type of attention. Both are untrue. I realize now that was his own selfish nature, he wanted the quickie and couldn't be bothered to pull over so his wife could use a restroom to clean up afterwards, then was furious with her for getting an infection. Kind of like when an owner beats his dog for peeing on the carpet, after refusing to let it outside to go potty. When people would ask about our trip he made sure to tell them every time that I'd held us up for 2 days(6 hours) somewhere in Kansas because I was a whimp. This story was told countless times. I see now that regardless if he intended to or not, his story made me feel like a weak inconvenience.

I felt like that our whole marriage.

The stories I have like the one above are endless. I was with him for 2 years, lived with him for 7 months(off and on) and the entire time he succeeded in tearing me down.

Nearly 10 years later he still fucks with me.

My therapist Don told me once he felt like I had developed ptsd over time, through various emotional abuse/psychological war fare that Brad had waged. He felt it was important I handle it, or at least be aware that I've been put through the ringer, and that healing would take time.

So what did I do? I ran into the arms of someone who was bigger, and safe. I then unleashed my crazy on him, jealousy stemming from a weak self esteem, emotional outbursts, mood swings. It took me until now to realize that. We're married. We have a daughter, and even still I'm crying in the shower overcome with rage, at the man who'd hurt me past my ability to verbalize how. My kids are scared. There's nothing they can do but watch me deal with this. Which is why I keep the crying to the shower.

All because of a text.

Alone in my thoughts...

I drive in circles all day, with mindless greetings and careful observation of the road in front of me, there is one thing to consider. How will hours of contemplation change my life?

This is the kind of job that forces one to think, the subject matter is completely up to you.

I could space out, shove all those uncomfortable questions deep down into the depths of my soul, and think about dinner, but I've got bigger fish to fry. 

I'm interested in the things that make people tick, our triggers, and how we get from A to B. I wanna know how one transcends to C.

To understand others I need to understand myself, to do that I must look back.

The day after leap year, March 1st 2012. 

The air is sharp on my skin as I rush to the car juggling books and snacks, fresh snow gathers in-between our walkway and front yard. Surprised to see ice stuck to the windshield, I sigh and scrape off the bare minimum. Four minutes to get kiddo to school down the street. Good, we made it in time, kiss goodbye and off he goes. Time to focus, I'd been up all night studying physics and the final was in two hours. God dammit I have to pee, fairly common being 5 months pregnant but that doesn't change my frustration. Rushing back to our apartment, I start shuffling through my note cards. One last final survey of the land to ensure my prego brain hasn't forgotten anything... 

Note cards? Check. Pencils? Check. Calculator? Check.

Shit. I forgot my phone.

It's in between our bed sheets and I should have left the house 12 minutes ago.

Fuck it.

Scrolling through Facebook newsfeed. Nikki Sojden lost a friend this morning who had a small child. How awful. 

COMMENT:

"I'm so sorry for your loss Nikki, please know I'm sending you all my love during this difficult time. Thanks for reminding me tomorrow's never promised and to cherish the ones we love today."

I should call Addie on my way and see if we're still on for Saturday.

NEW MESSAGE FROM NIKKI SOJDEN: 

"Do you know what happened?"
"What are you talking about?"
"Call me right now...XXX-XXX-XXXX"

Wait who was she talking about? 

The only mutual friend of ours is Addie...

I call Addie knowing she's at work. No answer. Fine. I text her.

"HEY CALL ME ASAP PLEASE".

Nothing.

My heart is racing I call Andrew (her husband) pacing in my hallway. 

Nothing. 

Once more, voicemail. 

My breath quickens.

"Dude call me back right away I'm freaking out right now and I need you to tell me that Addie's okay."

Last resort. 

I text my husband (Andrew's best friend) knowing Andrew will answer for him.

"BABE HAVE ANDREW CALL ME I NEED TO KNOW ADDIE'S OKAY."

My phone rings, it's Brent.

"Hey sorry I'm just having a crazy paranoid moment right now, I need you to call Andrew and have him tell us Addie's okay."

Silence.

"Did you hear me? I need you to have Andrew call Addie and let me know she's okay."

He's crying. "I'm sorry babe."

I fall to my knees.

"No! Addie's okay, just have her text me!"

Still crying. He takes a deep breath and follows with more apologies. 

"We wanted to wait until after your final to tell you. Addie's gone. She died last night."

"What do you mean she's GONE? She's at the hospital? She's not dead. She can't be dead."

A knot solidified in the back of my throat and I can no longer speak. My stomach is on fire and I can barely breath.

No...

I sit there on the floor of my apartment sobbing on the phone with my husband. 

"How? What happened?"

"I don't know babe, Andrew found her this morning and he couldn't revive her."

Gavin.

"Where's Gavin? Where's Andrew?"

"I don't know babe, last time I talked to him he was at home with his mom."

"I've gotta go."

In seconds I was hurling myself towards their house, as if this would all be over the second she opened the door.

Pulling up I see Kathy's car. I run up the steps nearly slipping. 

Knock knock. 

This has to be a sick joke, she's going to open that door.

It was Andrew. 

His face was red and his eyes were empty. We locked eyes and I grabbed him and pulled him close. We stood there crying for what seemed a lifetime.

When I finally let him go I looked over and saw Kathy. Another hug. More tears. I look around searching. No Gavin. He's with Ben and Katie.

This is a nightmare. 

Wake up. Please wake up.

The nightmare continued.

I can't stop crying, I can't stop wondering what happened.

I can't focus on anything and people keep telling me to calm down, "Stress is harmful for the baby."

My baby. Addison's God daughter. 

Braelyn. 

Addie called her sweet baby Rae everyday before patting my belly and swooning at the idea of baby girl. 

"Ours to spoil." She'd say.

The sting I felt when I realized she would never lay eyes on this child... 

I retreat to the shower, at least I can cry there and nobody will notice. Family is flying out. Funeral planning ensues.

Saturday arrives before I know it and I find myself alone in my thoughts staring at the sky.

I'm coming out

This will not make me popular. This will not go well. This is however the conclusion I've arrived to this morning while dropping my child off to Sunday school.

I'm an agnostic theist...or at least that's how I'd label myself if I had to have one.

The things you think of while driving a bus really can be life altering. I witness some of humanity in a way most people wont ever have the chance. I know who the forgotten people of society are. The undesirables. They do offer something I've yet to find anywhere else. They're real. They don't clean up on Sunday mornings or carry on with this picturesque way of living that has been advertised to us through mass media. Their emotions are strong and obvious, granted some of them suffer from mental illness I really can't say the people I've gone to church with in my life are exempt from that same struggle...perhaps they are just better at masking it. The stigma of coming out as an agnostic theist is fabulous, you've got the atheists that argue, "How can you believe in any God?" followed by the Christians who are angry you denied theirs. Awesome right? The black sheep doesn't have to answer to anyone. It's a grey spot but I've spent most of my life in that area of the spectrum, I just happened to arrive to this decision a little later than most. I will be eating my past words however with my family, they won't be happy with this garble, they wont support my decision to stay undefined, well there's a title but it leaves a lot of wiggle room and I'd prefer it that way. My husband's family live their lives for the lord, and his son Jesus Christ. I won't mock them nor would I disrespect their views because everyone is entitled to their opinion. I'm just afraid that this will break their hearts. My little niece Grace has the lord engrained in her heart, she draws little pictures of crosses and gives them to me as gifts, her bedroom wall says she is a child of God. I couldn't be the one to tell her I don't believe in her God, I wouldn't want to wreck everything she believes in. I was raised Christian, but as time went on I realized it seemed inherently WRONG that I(being Native American) was raised to follow a religion that killed so many of my people. My sister's mother was taken from her family and forced into a Christian boarding school just 50 years ago. They tried to kill off their language and disprove their Gods. My grandmother and aunts and uncles all follow Christianity but I simply cannot.

Today walking into church my son was so happy to see his cousin, I'll remind you we don't generally see our family unless it's at a family function which always includes prayer, for childcare(both my husband and I work), or something pertaining to church. It's exhausting and unfair. Why can't we just hang out? Everything is centered around God and their personal beliefs. I remember a time when I realized I was told lies about my husband to get us to go to church. Manipulation to conform to a specific belief? No thank you. I love our family but my biggest heartache is the fact that I can't be one of them without believing in their God. So here I am. Confessing in a blog nobody reads. Honestly it's a huge weight off of my shoulders. It's times like this that I miss my best friend Addison the most, I still can't really bring myself to write about her because I just end up crying and going to bed early. I wonder what she would say to me. I wonder what she would think. I really don't know if I will ever see her again, but I hope so.

Like a BUS

Welcome to TriMet

Let's play catch up.

Started my new job with TriMet a couple months ago and so far it has been a whirlwind of crazy but I love driving and the people make things interesting...

Friday night I was inundated with drunk passengers needing directions and telling me their life stories, thankfully the night flew by until I noticed a beautiful girl hop on at 6th and Alder with tears running down her face. Her boyfriend was clearly irritated and held up their tickets then the two quietly sat in the back. I figured they were fighting so I didn't really greet them like I normally do. About five minutes later at Burnside I noticed in my rear view the boyfriend standing up, she grabbed his arm as if to stop him from leaving when he grabbed her shoulders and threw her back against the wall. I immediately got on the intercom and told him he wouldn't be hitting his girlfriend on MY bus that night and that he needed to leave. He EXPLODED into a rage calling me a C&%*, walking towards the front violently pointing and telling me to drive the ****ing bus. An older gentleman I drive around regularly was brave enough to stand up in between myself and this charmer. Called dispatch, explained he wasn't exiting the bus and that he had thrown his girlfriend against a wall in the back. She denied medical and didn't want to file a police report, he got off after insulting 5 other passengers who came to my aid and that was that. As she got off the bus I could hear her on the phone with him apologizing over and over again.

Tonight as I was coming back from a quick layover on the corner of Ainsworth and MLK I heard a voice coming from the driver's side window, as I peeked out I saw a man in his late 50's laying on the ground! I immediately leaned out my window and asked him if he was okay, he looked up at my and told me to $%^& off...then continued rambling on about nothing to live for and how he lost his day ticket. I tried unsuccessfully coaxing him up off of the street with a day pass. The sun was setting and light flooded into the street, the drivers COULDN'T SEE HIM! I notified dispatch and police then went out and directed traffic around him but for a moment I honestly thought I was going to witness this poor man's death.

So far those are the only two crazy crazy incidences that come to mind. It's unfortunate they're so close together, maybe it's the full moon?

There are a handful of favorites I look forward to seeing regularly, sometimes they'll bring me flowers or treats and I beam the rest of my trip and gloat to my husband when I get home. It's true what one dispatcher told me, every day it's something different, there's always room for surprises. Lets hope the rest of the month calms down, not sure how much more excitement I can take LOL.

Get ready for some advice you don't want (but need)from this little miss right here...

The title should explain it all, I've recently discovered through cleaning out my inbox that people tend to come to me for advice. How is this exactly when I know for a fact my life is anything but figured out? Honestly I'm not too sure, but it's flattering and it leads me to believe I might be on to something...


Normally I consult my best friend Addie before dispensing advice to anyone, because I have a tendency to rant on and on twisting the dagger of truth into an already tender heart. Addie had a way about her, a compassionate thoughtful side that helped me "rephrase" sentences and twist them to fit the situation perfectly. She died 3 weeks ago this Thursday, so I can't consult her about this blog or buffer myself in any way now that my counterpart has taken off to the skies. I will of course write a completely separate post about her and her excellence but I thought this was relevant considering I may step on some toes.

So please, forgive me ahead of time. I know not what I write.


Scrolling through my Facebook feed I noticed quite a few people complaining about their lives, how frustrated they were with drama and liars and felt stuck. At that moment fireworks went off! I realized it may actually be possible these people have no idea the role that they were playing in their own lives. The victim! Seriously? I have heard enough "Woe is me..." sob stories to last a freaking life time and to be honest, it's the most unattractive angle anyone in the history of anyones has ever tried to play.


If you're unhappy with where your life is going, change it. Change EVERYTHING. Start with your perspective, this world has been spinning for BILLIONS of years rotating around the SUN...so if you think for a nanosecond it will stop and shift it's axis around poor 26yr old Jane, you're a nut job. The beauty of this life is that there are a billion different people on this planet who think, feel, dream, aspire, and achieve all without ever knowing your story. Take some time and try to get to know them! This leads me to my next point, once you're done gazing into the mirror while crying over small minded problems, look around.
Who are your friends? What are their goals, do they even have any? Where do they spend a majority of their time? Are they self reflective, motivated thinkers? These answers are a direct reflection of yourself, because my dear sweet Jane...you are the company you keep.


Now when it comes to love and relationship advice I try hard to forget the fact that I'm a woman and put myself in each party's shoes in hopes of coming up with a completely unbiased opinion of the situation. Afterall Dick's feelings can be just as hurt as Janes. Recent events however, have triggered my "I am woman hear me roar" mentality (might possibly be the extra progesterone pulsing through my lovely veins but because I hate pulling the preggo card I'll just say it's sheer passion for my ovaries). With that being said I think one thing is completely clear, a majority of women now a days do NOT have enough respect for themselves. It's actually quite infuriating to see a good woman get walked all over, and I've witnessed this plenty of times (although often times I wont be the one holding my tongue). The fact that some women will overlook everything and do anything for a man unwilling to reciprocate is ludicrous. Wake up ladies! Take a step back and recognize you are an extremely valuable person, and knock that jerk off the pedestal already!

I'm gonna put my pink flag away and say this can also relate to some very wonderful men I know, ones who allow these bloodsuckers to come in, clean house, then take off with every hope and dream he ever had. See, it can go both ways, bloodsuckers, men and women, EVERYWHERE! I've often wondered how I make it through this life with such an optimistic outlook...I know...quite astonishing.


The reality of the situation is that we as people tend to over value our problems and undervalue ourselves. Take the time to appreciate all your hard work, reconfigure anything that doesn't really fit into your overall plan and roll with it...because tomorrow is never promised and you don't want to leave this place without influencing others by your greatness. Believe it or not but you Jane(or Dick, I'm all about equality) may actually leave a lasting impression on someone with amazing potential.