To brighten your day

This little wren is about the size of a 2 year old’s little fist. She comes to my deck every day. She sings right on the corner. The she goes to the water spigot that is next to the deck and sings on top of that. She then goes to the flower pot that I will never move because of her, that fell off the deck and is laying on it’s side. She loves to sing on the tipped over flower pot. Today I opened my window, got my camera and hoped she would pop out from under the deck (where she often goes in the heat of the day). And out she popped! She made little chittering chattering noises and sang a beautiful song. Here are some photos I took of her. I also wanted to share last night’s sky with you. It was magical with SO many colors of purple and blue and orange.

Finally, my daughter asked me to stand in the road so she could take my picture. I wanted to share that too because she said she thought it was like I had been resurrected under the sky. At that moment it felt that way.

*photos above taken by me

*photo below taken by my daughter

No filters or editing done on these. Pretty awesome right! Can’t help but brighten a day

Dark poetry

That white line that never did fade

It’s numb, the line

But underneath is pain every single day.

I was sitting on the deck

Staring mindlessly at my leg

And a fly landed right on that spot

I watched

His feet I could feel them crawl

Around

And then

Up and down that white line!

I couldn’t feel him when I closed my eyes

The nerves were all cut and damaged

I knew it when I first took off the bandage.

But that fly

It bothered me how long he inspected my leg

It was as if he were sure I was dead

The pain ran deep today

Did he know something I did not?

Did he think I was just left there to rot?

I finally shooed him off.

“We need to cut open your strong leg,”

The arrogant Doctor

That Master

Said.

“Whatever you say? Whatever you think is best!”

As I bowed my subservient head.

I didn’t know.

Neither did she.

That it would never heal.

Yet I chose to believe

As before her I did kneel.

She didn’t believe my symptoms at all

She did the biopsy ONLY to prove I was wrong.

Their were no apologies with the bad news.

Their were no follow ups

Just the stamp “Bill now due.”

I got a lovely photo

Of my dying muscle tissue

After 12 years no Doctor can tell me

The real cause

The real issue

I mean all along they claimed I was

“Stressed” or “Depressed” as they handed me a tissue.

And

Turns out

All those things became true

When they destroyed my leg

Like a lab rat

They stuck me in a cage

Sent me on my way

So I sat here today

Watching the fly on my leg

Wondering

What my life could have been instead

Without “you’re a mystery diagnosis”

Rumbling around my head

Oh the regret

My only regret

The fly knows

I’ve become The Walking Dead.

Photos of the day on adventures with the husband

First and foremost their is Bambi! OOOMMMMMGGGGG!!!! I knew I would not get a clear shot because it happened so fast. He was just on the sidewalk with us and then poof gone! But he was beautiful. Just beautiful. I’ve never seen the spots on the baby before!

We saw a rainbow when we left our house and hoped it would still be there when we got to our destination which was a long boardwalk that goes out onto Paynes prairie. The rainbow was there!!!!!!! So exciting. That board walk was NOT easy to get my scooter down though.

On the way back was an alligator ofcourse. Then over the lake we saw dragonflies and flowers and marvelous tree roots. But

BAMBI!!!!

Poetry

The deer said to the little girl,

Hope

Then the black bird

Spoke

The sky said to the little girl

Look above

She looked to the

Mourning dove

The tiny yellow bird whispered

Believe

The white bird then spread her

Wings

The yellow flowers

Shined light

Reflecting the rain’s

Showers

A blue bird sang a song

An owl hooted all night long

The alligator with his deep croak

The brilliance of the 200 year oaks

Reminded the little girl

She would never be alone

The herd. The stallion. My herd. My stallion.

I watched with my husband a herd of wild horses. Two separate mothers nursed one baby colt. One father, the stallion, watched over his herd. He also knew when to let them just be. The two females loved on each other, they also loved on their baby. One mare loved on the stallion. They greeted each other individually and also ran together as a team. We watched them take turns walking across a creek and then running up a hill. The baby bit the dad, the baby bit the mom. Sometimes babies do! The baby was just being overly playful. Eventually one of the mares rested her head on the baby in a way that somehow told the baby, “ ok that is enough of that.” They were a family.

The park ranger told us that a new horse had joined the wild horses. She was not part of the herd and no one knew where she had come from but she was welcomed. She was loved. My husband and I have seen this herd a number of times now, watching them all interact, the baby grow, the new mare integrated completely like she’s always been part of the family. Watching them I couldn’t see one particular horse in charge. The stallion did, at one point when a human got too close, guide them all away and across the water. Other than that, they each watched out for each other. They each respected each other. No one got left behind as they changed positions or directions. At different times a mare would walk off by herself or the baby would do the same. Each had their alone time and their bonding time.

Tonight I reflected on the behavior and love of this family of horses we watched. Their devotion. I thought about the men in my life. My “herd.” To clarify the difference in tribe and herd: I’ve been chastised by some asshole on wordpress for using the word “tribe.” I will still use tribe as I consider the survivors of abuse who have come together to support each other a tribe of our own. We have a wordpress tribe! Tribe has many definitions and I love the tribe of survivors here! I am proud to be a part of a tribe of survivors. My tribe has given me some sisters. When I say herd I mean root family. My father was far from part of our herd. He was a cowardly pathetic follower. The man had no balls. He was just some piece of shit that some how got my mother pregnant and he paid the bills. He didn’t protect. He didn’t guide. He was rarely present. He walked away at the quickest opportunity he could. Abandoned his herd. He never looked back. Their was no stallion in my original family, their is no doubt about that. It was painfully clear as I looked at this herd of horses, I grew up with no herd. No MAN. No guardian. My mom should have had a stallion and then maybe she would have known how to unconditionally love her herd. My mom should have had another mare that knew the truth, then maybe that little baby, me, could have had something of a herd. But no. Our family was no herd.

The only stallion I’ve ever experienced in my herd is my husband. My new herd. I was accepted into a new herd. By my husband, a true stallion in every way. He protects us, he respects us, he honors us, he cherishes us, he guides us, and his love is unwavering. He also happens to have ripped muscles just like the horse stallion. Muscles that have carried me down to the oceans edge and held me when I was having a seizure. His love for his daughter and me, our love, is just like the horse family. We are a few short in our herd. I wish their was another mare for my daughter. I wish their were another baby. But for now our herd is the three of us.

So, here is to my herd, my stallion, and my tribe. May we go forward as best we can in the love most of us had to find on our own because we were not born into it.

*currently accepting applications for new additions to my tribe and herd.😊

https://bethanykays.files.wordpress.com/2018/06/img_0141-1.mov

SoCS: Reservation

I always saw myself as a weak and voiceless victim. Looking back today I saw absolutely no reservations in speaking the truth. In a restaurant I saw the wife of the man who abused me: I confronted her. Told her the truth. I graffitied the waterski jump on our lake with the truth warning other parents and children. I sent a letter to the abuser, dropped it off at his house. I used all the words I knew how to use without any reservation. Here is the problem…I needed one more person with no reservations.

The scenario was this: We lived on Lily lake. Many residents of Lily lake skied on the Gatorland ski team. Every single weekend we all practiced for our ski shows and competitions either at Billy Bank’s house AKA child molester, or the Winkler’s house. After the word got out I was being abused by Billy Banks through my own words, my mother’s words, and my spray painting the ski jump, everyone knew. Each person had a choice. My parents chose to let my brother keep skiing with the team. Each person that knew on that team chose to go on like nothing happened. Had ONE person said, “Lets have a meeting and keep this ski team going but kick Billy Banks out.” Problem solved! Had my parents said, “ We want our son to be able to keep skiing and INFACT our daughter to keep skiing too so they CAN if you kick Billy Banks out.” Problem solved. How hard would that have been to do? You’ve got a man and his family booted out of the ski team and the ski team resumes all activity with an abused girl still able to ski, her family not affected any more negatively than it has been by the abuse. INSTEAD, each person made a choice. They chose to pretend like nothing happened to me. That choice to go on living as if nothing happened to me destroyed an innocent life! Pushed me to suicidal attempts, mental hospital stay, quitting highschool, and living in my car JUST to avoid watching that lake go on like nothing happened to me. I was broken in a thousand ways NOT only because of the abuser but because of everyone else.

My own family, mother, father, brothers, etc, STILL think I blamed them for what happened to me and that that is my purpose here. To cast blame. They blame me for wanting accountability, validation, and the right to FEEL. They don’t get it that seeing my brother a few weeks ago on that ski team’s facebook page tore out my heart. After 30 years none of them get it! If I could go back to that lake right now and jump in the water that gave me the only solace I felt during those times, I would. I understand the draw people have to those waters. I write my blog to show how the actions of one or many can affect an abused child’s life forever. What happens with inaction.

I do not understand their lack of reservations skiing with a child molester.

I will never understand their lack of reservations. Ever.

This was written as Linda’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday: https://lindaghill.com/2018/06/15/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-june-16-18/