...There's something about April.
I logged on today, not having posted for 3 years (about to post my own sob story) and noticed two other very lovely women posting very similar shocking (to selves, and quite possibly to their readers), some major life changes had happened; one a separation & divorce and one a deeply burdensome depression + illness + life affirmation turned positive! I found these to be not only comforting to me upon arrival to my abandoned blog, but also to my heart, during a morning upon which I found myself seeking affirmation and nurturing. It also pained me to know, so many women (many who struggle silently) are working with so much upheaval and while juggling reponsibilities, like children, working deadlines, volunteer projects or plainly managing to get their own selves out of bed each morning and still open their eyes and hearts to the world - no matter digitally or otherwise. I deeply honour and appreciate that. While I do not know these women personally, only through reading their vulnerable and humourous blogs, I feel a kinship. Through the lives of everyday women, interconnected in our struggles and our strength to keep plowing through all the endless dump trucks of garbage, seemingly served on a silver platter with our names on it. lol! But we smile and divvy up our portions and deal with it, by cleaning it up in the best way we all know how. It's a wonder more women do not just give in and give up, I applaud so many of you for this, putting on undergarments and getting out of bed is more than half the battle of an everyday morning.
but i digress... i love ya and you know i do. xxo
Today marks the day, 3 years past, when the unthinkable happened.
*my cursor stands blinking on what to say next, even though I want to claim this story and rewrite it within my own powerful place,...it still slices through my skin like a hot sword.
. . . My beautiful babies, at ages 7 & 10, were taken from me.
This was unimaginable,
to everyone who knew me, who knew us, who loved us.
I am the everything-mother,
the one who worries endlessly, if they've eaten enough, if they're warm enough in the winter and cool and hydrated enough in the summer.
I am the mother who practiced lovingly with both of them, on how to speak, to hug, to be kind, to love others, how to make friends, ride a bike, stay safe, stay clean, eat healthy.
I - Am - The - Mother, who barely slept their entire lives, so that i could check on them in the night at least 3 times, to make sure they had their blankies, toys, windows closed (or open), night lights safely off, check if they needed water or to use the washroom, or stayed up with them all night while they were fluish, stomach-bugging, coughing or just nightmaring for hours on end.
I! Am! Their! Mother! who, while their father disappeared for days, weeks and months on end during their first two years without him, and during the entirety of 2012, took a "parental sabbatical" without word or notice and left me to pick up the pieces he left trailing behind him with wondering and questioning children...
--> WHO, raised these beautiful children into the solid, mature, intelligent, community focused, creative, and kind, loving, souls they are today. No doubt! They ARE everything in a reflection of me, in all that is positive and good-natured, world curious and questioning.
To say this day was unthinkable, was to spin it with sugar and wrap it with a bow.
What followed was the ripping of my heart, through every grater imaginable within the child services system, the family court system, the school board, my neighbourhood, my friends, my social networks and even the criminal court system.
This everyday, hands-on, worry-wart, mother . . . became painted as a monster. Even worse, it was being handed down and fed, to those delicate souls I raised so painstakingly from birth, more and more each day they were not with me.
I was dragged through the policing, legal systems and bail systems, just like every other seedy legit criminal from any dark cornered alley. No matter the woman I was, the mother I am, made a difference in the eyes of the systems that we were taught as children, were there to "protect us". I learned quickly how bleak, endless and what a joke our legal system is. Where it heralds and protects REAL criminals, and blackens and tarnishes the lives of everyday citizens, caught in archaic systems set up to make examples out of good, loving people, twisted into a spiral of nonsense and wrenching hoops to jump and perform through, like dogs in obedience training classes. (although there were no "treats" to be had)
I went through what every woman, man and juvenille has had to endure by these beasts. Removal of dignity, naked explorations for drugs and weapons, digital and ink finger printing, dumped and left in cold, FILTHY cells - sometimes alone for hours without explanation, or sanitary coverage (for women also having their period during these unforgettable times), sometimes with cuffs behind my back pressed against the back seat of a car or hard steel chair or banged around chained to several other women in a court van, racing over bumps and curves like a courier driver - with no sense or care for his belonging or passengers! (some women were brutally injured - some were pregnant and slept on cold concrete, dust and excrement filled floors) Not one of the women I met in those 72 hrs and over the course of 10 months following within courtrooms and programs, warranted any of the treatment nor sentences or charges they received.
My point of view was forever altered, on the Justice system for women, prison's, who is there to honorably serve women within the policing of cities, children services and how families are ripped apart daily and lives never restored to the "calm, easy, normalcy" of everyday living.
I can tell you without a drop, we are now and always will be, constantly hyper-aware of our surroundings, whom we choose to be friendly with, what information we share and how we word and phrase things. All of which, in our case and many others, taken completely out of context and blown wildly on the other side of nonsense without logic or reason of mind.
I had actually thought we were getting on well, and things moving out of our systems - when April 2016 arrived. I did not sleep last night, I tossed and rolled, I had playback of every moment of that treacherous day and what followed, taking every breath out of me for 10 straight months, until I was officially cleared and "charges dropped" (as if nothing happened to my family, the charred parts they placed upon me and my children's tender and soft souls.) I knew, what I had personally suffered through, was not the same as what the children suffered - my son especially, and both equally scathing. My scars are deep and still bloody, they have not hardened and while some days I don't think about it that much, I can't say ANY day has passed where we have all not worried about loosing each other again and we hold each other so tightly each moment we are together (which is a lot, thank god.). My children's scars are loose, but closing slightly.
Neither of us, will ever be the same, ...ever again.
*************************************************
I thought at length about not posting this, for quite some time. But this day crept up on me, I did not even mark it on the calendar in some way this time. It felt longer, like it was 5 or 8 years ago,...and yet it also feels like it happened just last night.
Trauma is deeply personal and yet widely recognized by many - especially those who have suffered in silence. This is my way of reclaiming this trauma, this is my way of loving myself and my children - whom are my absolute everything. Hiding hurts more, so does pretending.
For those who know me personally, this is but -one- in the traumas that have not so gently presented themselves to me over the course of my lifetime. Childhood was not a rosy and bright place, but I prevailed and became the "positive-pants-putter-onner" that I am despite all of that, including this.
When the unthinkable happens, it's time to write about it (or colour, or dance, or scream, or throw couch pillows, or protest or speak up!). I turned to fitness, rest and social outlets - I also cried, sobbed and researched - a lot! Everything matters - putting my feet on the ground and getting a glass of water, even if it wasn't leaving my room, was a huge progression in staying plugged in and alive to fight back and bring my children home. Not one day was easy, they still aren't but they get a tiny bit easier.
*** ---> If you are now or ever struggled with trauma, depression, mental illness or transgressions of any sort while also trying to be the best person, citizen to your community and parent or teacher to children in any way. MY LOVE GOES OUT TO YOU XXOO You ARE NOT Alone. Feel free to reach out here, or to your local community, or people you trust. While i am not a doctor, I am wonderful at listening and replying & sometimes all we need is an anonymous connection to keep us from falling down deep. I AM HERE FOR YOU. Love you! Comment as you wish. ((((big HUGS))) to all who need it today & always. xxo
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