One Woman Army

Silence

I was a consistent blogger, but I’ve been absent as of late.  This is due to the chaos that has been happening in our lives.  I’m knee deep in trying to save my daughter’s life, combating  a lawyer whose power seems to be far reaching as he pretty much represents the majority of our county government, who has used officers of the law to bully and intimidate me… and it goes on from there.

Girl Power

This small phrase has always annoyed me for some unknown reason.  I have never believed there’s a special power that comes just from being female.  I worked my ass off as a teenager, often times working full or overtime while still attending high school.  It wasn’t power, it was growing up poor that gave me the drive.

Survival

Then things changed… I managed to survive an abusive marriage.  I didn’t come out of it unscathed.  I divorced a lawyer who managed through deviant means to keep my children, including my daughter, who I had before I’d ever met him.  It’s not like he won a custody battle, he manipulated me into signing documents after I hadn’t slept or eaten in days.  I have been fighting to right that wrong since it happened.

But surviving his abuse was only the first step.  Getting out alive was a miracle.  It took me nearly a year to find myself again, to find my strength and to discover what ‘girl power’ really was.

Not my Daughter!

There have been dozens of reports made to the Department of Child Services (or CPS depending on where you’re from,) about my ex being abusive to my children.  There have been six separate investigations, but he’s a lawyer and good at manipulation and he’s managed to weasel his way out of trouble every time.

My daughter finally managed to record him.  She thought she was free.  She was wrong.  Several things have happened that I’d love to tell you about, but after being forced to sign a confidentiality agreement by DCS, I cannot.  But let me tell you this, it’s so convoluted and contrived that I don’t even believe it and I’m living the nightmare.   I can only hope my baby girl survives it.  But I’m still fighting, fighting for her, fighting for her sanity, fighting for her freedom and yes, even fighting to stay in contact with my children.

What Survivors Do

Surviving an emotional terrorist was no small feat.  Watching my daughter fall to pieces was far beyond heart wrenching.  To top it off, I’m now facing criminal charges of “custodial interference” for trying to rescue my daughter.

So, what do I do?  Loads of people have told me they don’t know how I’m keeping my sanity, how I’m managing to do anything but curl up in a ball and sob.  Well, first, that won’t get me anywhere.  So, I grabbed my dry erase marker, opened my curtains and made a story board.  I’m now diving into a new novel, partially inspired by our situation.  I’m surprised I can concentrate but the only thing to do when my children are not with me is to focus and continue on with my life.

It isn’t easy… it’s a constant struggle not to pick up my laptop and whip it across the room.  It’s a struggle not to grab a baseball bat and take matters into my own hands.  I’d also love to grab a bottle of vodka and drink until I forget my own name, but that won’t get me anywhere but a massive hangover and a day of recovery.

Marching On

So, despite the daily frustration of living with two men (my hubby and adult son) whose opinions on home cleanliness vary vastly from my own and despite the battle I’ve waged to save my children, this one woman army is marching on.

When a good plan goes wrong

 

This week I started with a plan.  I started with determination.

We are getting ready to list our house so I’ve been packing all non-essential items.  I cleaned and cleaned and… my son told his friend our house smelled “like a flower’s ass,” which is about the best compliment you can get out of an 18 year old boy.

Then, I sat down to take a break and check my email.  All of the sudden it started to smell funny, like bad perm solution.  I started walking around the house sniffing to see what had happened and then… I heard it… the waterfall.

I ran down the stairs of the basement to see a geyser of poop water coming out of the pipe in the ceiling.  HOLY HELL NOOOOO!

Our city has a combined sewer system.  When we finally got some much needed rain, 3 inches fell within an hour overwhelming the storm drains and it backed up into the basement… where my children’s rooms are.  I wanted to scream… instead I found my husband’s rubber boots and waded through turds and dirty water to unplug everything.

It took 2 1/2 days to clean and sanitize everything.  We lost a couch, a laptop and a monitor.  I did more laundry in 2.5 days than I do in 2 weeks.  Because I spent about 18 hours a day in the basement, all the cleaning upstairs went to … well undone is what I’ll say.

I’ve kept a sense of humor about the whole thing, but it’s time to get back to work.

Have you ever had a plan fall to crap?  How did you overcome the challenge.

When shit smacks you in the face

You may notice – I don’t talk about me much.

Personally, I’ve been dealt nearly every form of cruelty this world has to offer, or at least a large portion of it.  I’ve suffered abuse at the hands of tyrants, starvation in order to feed my child, poverty and damage suffered at the hands of those that would call themselves friends (haven’t we all?)

But recently a child has been brought into my life.  Well, he’s not a child.  He is 18.  His story – makes my heart tear in half and cry rivers of blood laden tears.

I met his father a few years back after my divorce.  My mother set us up on a blind date.  It was sort of like oil and water.  He was one of the sweetest people I’ve ever met, but painfully shy and, I didn’t have it in me to drag a shy person into my bold bold life.  There was no chemistry either.  But I remembered his story.  He had custody of his boys, who were the world to him.  The mom was… well, not deserving of the title mother.

Turns out the man I met died in a car accident and the boys he loved so much, wound up in the hands of the woman who didn’t deserve them.  Not only was she taking the Social Security money that was to care of the boys, she charged this young man rent.  Not just a little to teach him responsibility – she charged her high school son $400 a month RENT!

Now this young man, like most 18 year old boys is a bit cocky, and uses foul language (I can’t hold that against him.)  But my daughter being enamoured with him, and his inner strength brought him into my life.  So I started communicating with him.

When things got bad for the young man and he moved in with friends who are charging him $200 a month and he was getting some of the SS money that was meant for him.  He’s poor, he’s hungry, he has health issues with no money or insurance to take care of him and he barely has enough clothes.

This poor boy had already got kicked in the nuts by having 3rd degree burns on his hands as a youngster, a mother who doesn’t love him the way she should and a deceased father.

So, here I am… feeling his pain and anger.  He has finally set his pride aside and allowed me to help.  Now, I’m not wealthy, we’re sort of making it… barely, but I have a plan in motion to help him with his heart medication (and any other medical attention he may need) and I’m going to help him get a license so he can get a job.

Want to know how determined this young man is?  He’s PAYING to home school himself.  Instead of spending money on something fun, or more food than Ramen Noodles, he’s paying to finish high school.  That’s maturity, determination and has earned him a mountain of respect from me.

Like me, he doesn’t want sympathy.  He doesn’t like to talk about all the things that are killing him physically and emotionally.  I don’t talk about it either – because it seems to give it more power.

But it’s taking its toll.

I generally don’t talk religion either – but I’m praying God gives me what I need to help this child.  I think, for once in this young man’s life, he deserves to have someone think about HIS needs. I have 2 kids who already need me…who I’m fighting for as we speak.  I was born with strong shoulders.  I can help this kid.  I can.

This has nothing to do with my books, writing or marketing.  You will notice there is no “Donate” button.  I’m not asking for handouts.  Whatever your faith, say a little prayer, do a rain dance, poke a doll – or whatever for “Brad.”

Side effects of NaNoWriMo

One week of NANO down.  I have to say that it wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be.  I found my motivation, my ambition and HELLO MUSE!

To further my elation, I’m making friends over at the NaNo site.  Or rather – they are referred to as writing buddies.  One, in particular has actually inspired a character in my book.  This is why I love meeting new people.  You just never know when someone will inspire you.

I have very strong feelings about NaNoWriMo since it is my first year.

Pros:

You sit down and write and nothing else.  That’s right – no editing.  Don’t even think about it, that way you can reach your write goal.

You are introduced to other writers and seeing their progress brings about my competitive nature.  Hey, it’s not my fault.  I’ve been in sales far too many years not to want to squash the competition.

There is a community (which I love community) and a network of people to help keep you motivated, focused and on track.  What better situation can a writer have?

Cons:

You can’t edit so when you see a plot hole formed – you can do nothing.  Highlight and move on.  You’ll have to fix it later.  That sucks ass.  There are no NaNo police that will come back to check your laptop to see if edits have been made, but you’ll know… and kick yourself.

You don’t want to do anything but write (and the dishes are piling up.)

The dog has to pee and she’ll loudly remind you that if you don’t get off your ass and open the door, you’re going to have to stop for far longer to shampoo the rug.

Oh – and you look something like this.

  

Nano & an Icon

Since diving into NanoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) a few days late, I didn’t have much time to create a story.  So I did something a little crazy.  I wrote a novel, approximately 180,000 over-written words.  It’s been a story I tried to rewrite several times, but would become frustrated with and quit.

I sat for an entire day with an open excel spreadsheet open, making a timeline and changing it.  Who was my protag, what do they want and why, blah blah blah.  Then when I started writing, I didn’t follow the spreadsheet at all.  Of course, I did, because I’m a pantster.  This little hitch in my giddy-up is why this novel has been a challenge to boot.  I actually think my problem is that I have two novels that I’m trying to smash into one.

Either way, I’m trying to change my tune.  Any changes that come as a result of me becoming a pantster are being added/amended to my timeline.  I need to be certain there are no major plot holes this time.  The challenge with NaNoWriMo (at least for me) is that you’re not supposed to edit as you go.  Just write the damned novel already!  Hence the time crunch of a month.

In other news, we’ve lost an icon, maybe not in the literary world, but in media nonetheless.  Andy Rooney died at the age of 92.  I truly enjoyed Andy’s clever reporting and wit.  I enjoyed watching his commentary despite the crazy eyebrows that would certainly distract most.  What made Andy popular is exactly what I liked about him.  Andy said what he thought, despite the fact that it could be racy or cranky at times.

Andy is an icon, an artist.  Rest in Peace Andy.

Kicked in the balls?

Life has a way of doing it… to us all.  And while I may not have my own set of man-berries, some days it certainly feels that way.  I feel knocked down, kicked and all around abused.  Eh – it happens.  Even to those of us who strike back.  Shit just GETS to you sometimes.

I’d love to be like the MC in my book.  She’d just do some crazy muay thai move to the S.O.B. who made her feel that way and belittle him until he cried running home to his mommy.  Alas, I’m not a former CIA Agent and I have no tactical trickery up my sleeve.

What I do have is loving friends and family who are keeping my spirits up.  Those that know I rarely, if ever, show any vulnerability… it’s a self-defense mechanism and hey – it works for me.

What else works for me when I feel like I’ve had a size 14 planted firmly in the lady-berries?  I find something that makes me laugh.  Not just a cliché, laughter truly is the best medicine!  So here is what makes me laugh –

The Chili Cook Off Joke (truly a must read!)

Tawna Fenske almost always brings a smile to my face.

Almost any Robin Williams stand-up routine.

And here are some giggle worthy pics!

How I spoiled Christmas

I couldn’t wait to give my daughter her birthday present.  She turned 15 (when the hell did I get old?)  My husband bought her a guitar for her birthday.  This is what happened when I came up from behind her and put it in front of her.

She was so excited she nearly threw her ice cream cake, she’s clutching the pillow.

Caught up in the her excitement – this is how I spoiled Christmas.