OCTOBER - National Domestic Violence Awareness Month

October is National Domestic Violence Awareness month. I think it gets lost sometimes in the other “awareness-es” of the month…

Breast Cancer Awareness

Pastor-Clergy Awareness

National Pizza Month

National Liver Cancer Month

Dyslexia Awareness

National Bullying Prevention Month

National Cyber-Security Awareness Month

And the list continues from there.

(http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_commemorative_months#October)

Each of us has our own place from where we have come, and I can think of at least one person who would appreciate the above categories being brought to the attention of the world.

Bullying prevention and domestic violence kind of go hand-in-hand, if you ask me. Abuse is bullying, and bullying is abuse.

I’m listing some websites that I hope helps someone here. And, as I’ve said before, if you are in an abusive relationship, I hope you consider your options. If you are the one abusing someone else, I hope you consider getting help.

http://womenthrive.org/DVAM?gclid=CMLT0-axo7oCFUkV7AodJlYARw

http://www.evefoundation.org/?gclid=CLXC1cm0o7oCFS8S7Aod_REAzg

http://www.ncadv.org/takeaction/DomesticViolenceAwarenessMonth.php

http://dogtime.com/pets-and-national-domestic-violence-awareness-month-october-2013.html

We can have a better world, but it has to start with us.

Homeless in October

(This is a reprint from my other blog at Reading, Writing and Life)

Have you ever been homeless?

I mean the kind of homeless where you don’t have any place to call your own. Where you don’t even have a friend’s sofa to sleep on at night. Where you can’t even take a shower, or curl up in a blanket to get warm.

Homeless.

Looking at me now, you would probably never guess that I was actually homeless for a period of time in my “former life.” (My former life is when I was a young adult involved in a violent and abusive relationship.)

I lost my job because I called in sick too much.

I was very good at my job, but I called in too much.

After I was fired, I went back to a part-time job working for a stationery store at the mall for $3.35/hour. I worked four miles from my apartment and didn’t have a car. I walked home alone in the dark. And after I couldn’t pay my rent, my grandma was kind enough to take me and my boyfriend (who wouldn’t get a job) in to live with her in Oklahoma. As much as I loved her, I’m glad it didn’t last long before I was offered a job back in Kansas.

His mother let us stay with them for a couple of weeks because I had a job. I got up early, walked to the bus stop, got off the bus near work, and then walked another 3 blocks to the bus stop after work, and took the bus back to their house each night.

I was too proud to call my parents and ask for help.

I was too proud to walk away and say I was wrong about him.

One Friday night, after I got off work and got back to the house, his mom told me we would have to leave because her husband didn’t want us there anymore. Apparently, my boyfriend (her son) slept all day and didn’t make any attempt to get a job. That’s the way he was.

She later said she hoped I would call my parents and go home to get my life back on track because she knew he treated me terribly.

Most of our stuff was in storage.

Anyway, that night, as we were walking down a busy street with everything we had in our hands, on our backs, etc., he blamed me for our predicament, hit me in the head, and pushed me down onto the ground. On concrete. And I was crying because I was hurt, it was cold, I was exhausted, and I wondered how I would be able to keep my new job if I couldn’t even take a shower.

After spending the night running from barking dogs and anything/one else that was running around outside that night, I made a couple of phone calls… One to my sister (who was engaged), and one to one of my best and oldest friends. I didn’t tell either of them I was homeless. I was too embarrassed.

Anyway, we had a friend who let us stay with her and her family. They weren’t wealthy at all monetarily, but they gave what they had. And I appreciated it. They let us stay long enough for me to get a paycheck. And a place to live. It was only a week or two.

So every year in October, I think about the homeless people out there. I think about those people who are cold and wonder where their next meal will come from. Those people who don’t have blankets…or coats…or showers. Or anyone to love them. Or any hope.

Jesus loves those people! In fact, he gravitated towards those who were needy. He loved the sick and destitute because they needed Him.

And I needed Him.

There are people out there who think Christians are “crazy” for their beliefs, but I can say, without a doubt, the only reason I am alive today is because Jesus had a plan for my life. He would never let me go, and He protected me from worse things than those I willingly walked into. And He even rescued me from those.

I am so grateful for all I have been blessed with.

The story about me being homeless is true. It happened almost 30 years ago, October of 1985.

One thing I try to do, though it’s becoming increasingly more difficult at times, is remember that every person is going through something. While they might lash out at me, they are probably going through something that has nothing to do with me.

Just a reminder to all of us – Be grateful for what you have today because we are not guaranteed tomorrow.

Let’s be an encouragement to each other and help where and when we can.

Hebrews 3:12-13 – “See to it, brothers and sisters, that none of you has a sinful, unbelieving heart that turns away from the living God. But encourage one another daily, as long as it is called 'Today,' so that none of you may be hardened by sin's deceitfulness." 

 

Copied from Reading, Writing and Life

A few years ago, I started a big project in writing a book about domestic violence and how it affects a family. Sure, it's fiction, but the message is reality.

I had the first installment complete and published on Amazon Kindle. But after the second installment was written, and after going to a writer's conference and speaking directly with Chip McGregor (of McGregor Literary Agency), I started working on a revision. And instead of having two installments completed, I now have one... which is over 75,000 words. I have been working on it 15-20 minutes at a time on my lunch hour (lunch 30-minute break), but I worked all day yesterday on it. I can really tell the first part is almost perfected (because I have edited so many times). The second part still needs some polishing, but I plan on submitting to a publisher again.

In light of that, I'm going to add a little excerpt from the book right here.

-------------------------------

“Hello?”

          “Um, hello… Is this Annie Phillips?” The male voice on the other end asked.

          “May I ask who’s calling please?” 

“Well, this is Ben Marshall. I’m looking for Annie Phillips, the sister of one of my employees.”

          “Who is your employee?”

          “My employee’s name is Piper Phillips, and she left this number to call in case of an emergency, Ma’am. If you aren’t Annie Phillips, I’m sorry for bothering you.”

          “No, Mr. Marshall. I am Annie Phillips.”

          “Ms. Phillips, I’m calling about your sister.”

          “What happened? And, call me Annie, please, but is Piper okay?”

          “Ms. Phillips, um, Annie, that’s why I’m calling. Piper has had some, let’s say, struggles, lately, and she gave me explicit instructions to call only you if I hadn’t heard from her for a period of time… and that time has passed. I’m sorry that I really don’t know what else to say. All I can tell you is that she hasn’t been at work all week, and I haven’t heard from her, either, and that is what’s concerning to me.”

          “Well, why didn’t you call me before today, Mr. Marshall?”    

“Annie, please call me Ben. I am only following Piper’s instructions, and I’m sorry, but she had specific requests.”

          “Okay… Mr., Ben… Okay… Alright, Ben, are you telling me that my sister is…missing?”

          “Well, yes, Annie, I am telling you that I believe that Piper is missing. I don’t know that for sure, but I haven’t heard from her for a week, and it appears her cell has been disconnected.”         

          “Ben, I’m going to have to call you back. Please give me your number… Is this your cell phone number, or is it a work number?”

          “This is my work number I’m calling from, but I will give you both numbers.”

          Annie thanked him for his call, told him she would call him back in a few minutes, and they hung up.

          Think! Think!

 She didn’t even know where to begin.

          Just then, the doorbell pierced the silence, Chuckles barked excitedly, and Annie walked slowly to the door. Trying to compose herself, she unlocked the door and opened it to see Spiderman and couple of ballerinas.

          “Trick or treat!” They screeched.

Annie attempted to smile and mindlessly threw some candy in their bags. After the kids ran back to their parents, she closed and locked both doors. She went back into the kitchen and leaned on the cabinet.

What happened to Piper? What should I do? My cell phone! Where is it?

 Chuckles had followed her and now lay by her feet.

          She grabbed her purse, found her cell phone, and dialed Patty’s number as fast as she could. When her sister said “hello,” Annie couldn’t utter any words before the sobs started coming from deep inside.

          “Pip? What is it? Pip, you’re scaring me.”

          “Okay… Okay…”

          She explained the story Ben Marshall conveyed to her when he called, and then she asked what they were going to do. Of course, Patty, too, was at a loss. Obviously, someone was going to have to make the trip to Boston and search for Piper. 

-----------------------

And that's all for now...

Love Came Down - Jeremy Riddle

Never Give Up

I packed and unpacked my belongings several times that month. I periodically sat in the living room amidst my boxes of personal things and sobbed. There was an outline of my body embedded into the wall. It was evidence of where I landed when he picked me up and threw me… that night I stood up to him.

He was the textbook example of an abuser. But I had not read the book.

During those last few months, he cheated on me over and over again, treated me as a prisoner, and took everything I had. Yet, I had been afraid to be alone, and I stayed with him for several years because I thought he might change. I hoped he would, but I found only God can change the hearts of people. No matter how much love I showed, the forgiveness I attempted to give when I learned of his unfaithfulness… nothing would ever change his real feelings towards me.

That summer, not many days after the hole in the wall was carved, I went home on my lunch hour because I felt like something was wrong. I was also very close to moving out, even though my possessions had been unpacked again. He wasn’t there when I arrived that afternoon, which was a relief, but also nerve-wracking. He had a habit of disappearing without calling when he was involved in questionable activities.

I walked into my bathroom, only to find someone else’s hairspray. I stood there and stared at that bottle for a few minutes while my mind was processing this betrayal. The bottle was the “final straw.”

After my decision had been made, the afternoon was a whirlwind. I called and talked to my boss and took the rest of the day off work. My parents loaned me the money for a deposit on the apartment I’d already looked at the week before. Mom picked up my dogs and laundry. Dad paid for a moving service and a security guard. And we packed it all.

The next thing I knew, I was sitting in a beautiful apartment not far from my office. It was really perfect.

Except my heart was breaking.

No one quite understood the agony and grief I suffered for many months after leaving my abusive husband that day.

I think women who are mistreated by the men they love have difficulty putting into words the depth of their heartache. And there are those who judge women harshly when they go back to abusive men. I wonder if it’s because they don’t truly understand the courage it takes to walk away from someone they love. They had hopes and dreams for their marriage, just like other girls whose marriages aren’t abusive. They try to see beyond the hard exterior and violent and cruel actions into the heart of a hurting soul. Unfortunately, they can get pulled into the relationship again if they are too compassionate.

That happened to me. I was drawn back in several times before I was able to emotionally let it go. Guilt, shock, concern for him… it almost destroyed my life. He could have killed me more than once.

I am so grateful he didn’t!

You see, when I became involved with him at age 18, I had given up on my belief that God had a plan for my life. I wanted to be married and have kids and a good life. And I didn’t want to wait. That seems foolish now.

Almost a year after I moved out, I stopped going out to bars with my friends. I realized I was looking for happiness in things that were fleeting, and I needed to get my life in order.

So, I went back to church. I also began attending college, speculating and dreaming about the future. And I started believing again.

I met my husband in April of the next year, and we were married four months later. We have been married for 22 years now. We have a beautiful life, were blessed with five sons and too many blessings to count. We have had our share of problems, like all married couples do, but no matter what has happened, he has never raised a hand to me.

If I could go back and give my younger self some advice, it would be this: Try not to be impatient, keep praying, don’t stop believing in God’s plan for your life, and don’t ever give up on your dreams.

Newer Blog

I don’t use this blog much anymore. However, if you’re interested, please feel free to visit my other blog, http://readingwritingandlife.blogspot.com/. 

I am still very passionate about helping those victims of relationship violence, so this blog will stay open. There might be occasions when I still write posts, but for regular posts, visit my other site.

Thanks for reading!

Around the Next Corner

During National Novel Writing Month a couple of years ago, I wrote a novel about a family affected by domestic violence. It was pretty good, but I lost it in the big computer crash of 2010. It was upsetting, but I figured there was a reason for it.

Night after night, when I went to bed, the story of Piper Phillips continued to play over and over in my mind. Finally, one night, I got up at midnight, pulled out my laptop, sat in my old comfy rocking chair for three hours, typed furiously, and Around the Next Corner was reborn.

I finished it, edited, sent it to three friends for review, and changed some things based on their suggestions.

Then, I submitted it to a publisher. They immediately offered me a publishing contract, but I had to pay a fee, which I couldn't pay.

So, I sat on it for a few months, mulled it over, and submitted queries to a few agents.

Rejection after rejection came, which I hear is "normal."

So, what do you do with a story you really want to tell? I can tell you what I did. I published it on Amazon Kindle. You see, this book doesn't revolve around me at all, but it tells a story about a girl who gets involved with an abusive man and what happens because of it. It also revolves around the love and support of family.

I hoped by writing this book it would help someone in an abusive relationship and know that she can have a good life.

Changing Your Thought Process

It's been almost 2 years since I wrote on this blog. Intensely personal, it was painful at times reliving the memories of the past. But one thing is true... If I would not have changed my thought process, I might have ended up dead.

Yes, I'll admit that it took a very long time to recover from the emotional wounds that he inflicted on my life. The dreams are few and far between now, and I'm grateful. I relinquished my power to him for too long, and it resulted in giving me a broken heart, along a physical ailment that flares up when it's cold outside.

HOWEVER...

To say I'm grateful I had enough courage and strength to get out of that relationship doesn't even begin to describe how I feel today.