It is funny that someone would comment on my strength to air my "dirty laundry", yet I have been a writer for many years and my story has been heard often. I am not ashamed of my past, nor do I let it dictate my future. As I said before, I refuse to fall and stay down; I will claw and fight my way back to me. It is the only way I can live.
Part of my childhood I did not mention was the fact that I was sexually abused by my great grandfather from the time I was seven until I was ten. I did not even understand the term "victim", I just thought I had done something very wrong and it was never to be discussed. Well, at twelve, I decided it did need to be discussed and went to my aunt and uncle with my story. They cried for the little girl, hurt so badly in so many ways, so young and innocent. I remember looking at them as they quoted words of encouragement through their tears and believed something would be done and he would pay for the pain.
This never happened; instead it was hushed and never talked about again. At least not until I took control and began to shout it from the rooftops. Finally my family began to listen, and hopefully I stopped some of my younger cousins from ever feeling the shame and filth that comes with that violation. It was not much longer after I fought those who loved him to believe in me that he passed away. But the point is he died with everyone knowing the horrible things he had done and it was all because I refused to continue being a victim. Somehow I knew, even at that young age, I had the power to change things, to destroy the demons and to restore my power over me. It was during this time I began a prayer I pray to this day. "God do not ever allow anyone to take away my ability to love and to trust another, no matter what they do to me, grant me this one gift, and I can survive all." He answered and has until this day.
At twenty eight I was looking for some new volunteer work and went to the Catholic Volunteer website. Searching through the site I noticed a need for RN's everywhere and suddenly became aware. I had found my calling and knew what was meant for me in this life. It made sense; I am a caretaker, taught at an early age. I have a voice that people hear and a strength that can bear all. I was studying social work and immediately changed my major. I applied to the RN program at NOVA and somehow made it through the waitlist, getting accepted immediately.
At first I became leery at my decision; I was an English major, not a Math or Science major. How was I going to defeat my weaknesses in this area, I couldn't do it in high school. Once again, the answer came, just do it. Believe in yourself and fight. So I did, making it through all of my science prerequisites with a 4.0. One girl asked me how I got it and I said, "I don't know, I just do". I sailed through and grew more confident with every class passed. It was exhilarating, feeling as though I had finally come into the light of me.
I began nursing school in the fall of 2003 and all was going so well, but He had other plans. On September 14th I was pushed into my apartment and raped, violently. I remember the beginning, dark hair and a grayed face, and the end, waking covered with semen and urine, bruised and bleeding. I then did everything I knew was wrong. I took all of the clothing I had been wearing, including my jewelry, put them in a plastic bag and threw them in the dumpster. I showered for so long my skin was raw and red and then I scrubbed the place I had awoken.
After of all of that I entered the darkness. I did not return to school, dropped all of my classes. I stopped answering the telephone and did not leave my apartment. I began taking Xanax constantly to try and breathe, but even that was not helping. For two days I lived in the dark with the Xanax and myself. Finally on the 16th, I called my work hotline and just cried. I was pretty incoherent and she referred me to the Prince William County CSB to talk with someone in person. I still had not said what happened to me.
I drove to the CSB office and met with a counselor, again completely incoherent and unable to speak the words. She was so worried about me that she TDO'd me to Prince William Hospital. (Temporary Detainee Order) A sheriff drove me and I was still popping the Xanax like candy. Once at the hospital I decided I wanted to smoke, the Sheriff had other ideas. I ended up fighting a 200 pound man to the point I was put in handcuffs and carried into a private room due to my escapades in the main waiting area. A nurse entered the room to take my blood and urine, cleared me medically and I entered the psychiatric facility. I still did not say a word about what had happened.
Later that day, in the psychiatric ward, I was throwing another fit because they would not let me smoke, until the psychiatrist wrote the order. I guess he figured it was the only way I was going to quiet down. It worked. Well until they told me I could not wear my own clothes, then another fit, another order, and I settled back down. It was the last of my temper tantrums for the time being. I met with the psychiatrist that evening and still refused to repeat what had happened to me. I simply said I did not know what was wrong.
It was only when my Godfather came to visit me the next day that I finally told him what had happened and only because he thought I had an abortion and tried to kill myself because of it. I could not let him think that. He held me for awhile and the pain eased a little. Too soon he had to leave. It was my birthday and there was no celebration, I was too empty to even care.
Finally after a few groups and some private sessions, I began to wake, and the darkness receded. It was then I reverted back to the old me. Help those around me and I don't have to think about me. That is exactly how I spent my time there. I threw all of my energy, my passion and my love into the people there, which I knew might never experience light again. I don't know who I touched and who I didn't, but when my time was done, I left hoping for them, forgetting me. I went back and dropped off cigarettes to those who could not afford them, a calling card to a woman who had no one to help and some cash for a man leaving with nothing.
Some may look at my ability to throw myself into others and leave my pain behind as an escape, but there is no escape, all that happens still remains inside of you. The thing is you don't have to let it stop you from being what you are meant to be, who you are meant to be. You don't have to concentrate on your pain, your circumstances, your anger, your hurt... You find a positive outlet which deals with each of these but in the right way. By wallowing you are simply staying the victim, forgetting creation. I don't escape; I create, allowing me to dictate the circumstances, how I handle them and where they lead me.
Arriving home was terrifying and again I felt as though I could not breathe, so I escaped into sleep, yes this was escape. The only time I functioned was when Am was there, she was staying with a friend during this time, yet I still managed to do what was necessary to keep her going and not let her know just how great my sorrow was. I thought about it every day and every day became weaker and weaker. I lost my job and didn't care. I did not open the mail or the door. I closed out all of my friends, my family, my life. I existed in hell and only the fire kept me alive.
Finally one day I woke up and knew I had to do something or I was going to die, not literally but spiritually. I guess my strength was too strong to allow this to happen. I contacted a rape crisis counselor and pulled myself from my created haven and went to see her. I only saw her a couple of times before realization dawned yet again. She kept pushing that I remember the rape, the man, the nightmare. This did not feel right and something in me decided on a different path. I would not spend my days or nights remembering him. I stood up and took back the power he had stolen from me. I would not give him another moment of my life. Outside of telling my story, this has remained true.
He took possession of my body for a night, leaving me powerless. I was giving him no more power over me. Once I grasped this, I began to live again. I found another job, brought Amnesty home returned to school and left him in the dark from which he had come. Dreams bring him to me every now and then but otherwise he does not inhabit any part of my day, my mind or my soul. This is the way I chose to deal with the unthinkable and it has been my way of dealing with other horrors in my life. I have not forgotten, I just don't pull it to the surface to look at or try to understand. I am not a rapist and I cannot understand one. I am a woman who again became empowered and continued on my journey of creation.
I took a position as a volunteer for a rape crisis hotline. I speak with women who have been raped, whether it was in the past or just happened. I give them hope for survival. I attend their sexual assault examination, if they ask, and sit behind them in court feeding my strength into their quivering backs. They know I am there, that I understand and that I made it. With most, hope is renewed because of me and my ability to empower them, to make them fight, to make them win.
Not every woman will survive to the point of living again, yet I will continue to touch each one I am able for as long as I am able, and if just one can take back the power stolen in the night, then I have done my job. My job as a human who has suffered, my job as a woman, my job as a creator.
This is what empowers me, my gift to take from my life and give to another. God granted me this and He has tested it in every way, yet although I fall at times, His strength embedded deep within me, pulls me up, teaches me and at times carries me with love. Neither my mother, great grandfather nor this man has been able to take that from me, and there is not another who ever will. Yes, they may steal a moment but they will never steal my life.
Today people find me confident in who I am, strong and seemingly invincible, if only they knew just how that came to be. The greatest part of all of this is that I still have so much life left, so many to touch, so much to give, and I would not know any of this, had I not lived the life I have. Good or bad, we are given the lives chosen for us, with this we can live as victims or we can stand up, empowered, as women and create.
Thursday, November 29, 2007
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
Continuing On
I left you last with a quote regarding victims and creators. I feel this is one of the most powerful analogies I have found in my search for understanding the empowerment of women.
Part of becoming empowered, "to promote the self-actualization or influence of", is to decide against victimization and choose creation. You cannot always stop a situation which will result in your victimization, but you can stop the victimization from continuing beyond the act or circumstances. You can choose to create, to focus on where you want to be, what you want to come of the situation and how you can take back you, entering into empowerment.
You have to stop the victimization, walk away, get out of the darkness of defeat and find the light of strength. It is within all of us, but what we choose to do with it is where victims and creators separate. Victims stay in the situation, feeling powerless to change anything, or are sometimes just too weakened and have no will to do anything other than survive. Creators don't want to survive, they want to live.
Another story from my life which led me further down the path to womanhood and away from staying in the victim pool.
I attended a business school shortly after Amnesty was born in order to get some sort of job skills in order to raise my child. I was not going to depend on welfare, or a man. Both of which would have led me right back to victimization. To being dependent on outside sources which may or may not take care of the both of us.
After the end of my year at school, I found a decent job in Washington, D.C. and started my adult life of work and raising my child. Well, unfortunately the job was not enough to cover the great expense of my small family and I had to find a way to supplement my income. Now comes the victim. Feeling as though there was not much that I could do, because of lack of skill or education a friend led me to what would be my new life for the next four years. She introduced my to "dancing" and I became a stripper. I guess I was lucky that I had the ability, but I had no idea what I was getting into.
I felt as though I was right back in my childhood, with drugs and alcohol surrounding. Yet, I kept on going. Telling myself that I was doing it in order to give Am the life I did not have. It did not take long for me to realize that in this business, there is no you. There is a character that you play and there is no one who cares about the person behind the character. Those men wanted nothing except a face and a body in front of them. Soon enough I was lost in it. I was simply a face and a body. I was no longer Tracy, intelligent, strong, loving.... Just a face and a body.
For the second time in my life I stayed away from the drugs, and for the first time away from the prostitution. I went to work, made my money and went home loathing every cent, as well as myself. The funny part is I did nothing to change it. I just stayed stagnant, hating every part of it, including me. I fell into a depression I could not get out from under and I just continued to sink.
As I have said before, I have been blessed with many people in my life who eventually get me back to the right place and it was here, again, those people entered my life. My friends saw the change in me and started to call me out on it, knowing I would then begin to think and would follow with action. Sure enough it worked. I already knew I hated this profession, that it was not even close to who I truly was and I was ready to stop the craziness. I pulled myself up once again, found my strength, and realized my potential.
I slowly began to make changes working less at the club and soon found a perfectly good job waiting tables which I could do on the weekends, while I continued my office work. It took longer to stop feeling sorry for myself and find the woman who was still there, just a little buried.
I began to see a therapist and she was able to show me that the job did not make me another person, I chose to become another person. Aaahaa... Another very important lesson in empowerment. Things do not make you, you make you. It took some time, but I finally got back on the road and instead of taking the bad with me, I took the lessons learned from the bad and began to create again. I chose to use my mistakes in the positive, not to put myself down because I fell, but to praise myself because I got up.
Falling is not the problem, refusing to get up is!
References:
Merriam-Webster. Merriam-Webster Online. Retrieved November 27, 2007, Web Site: http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/empowerment
Part of becoming empowered, "to promote the self-actualization or influence of", is to decide against victimization and choose creation. You cannot always stop a situation which will result in your victimization, but you can stop the victimization from continuing beyond the act or circumstances. You can choose to create, to focus on where you want to be, what you want to come of the situation and how you can take back you, entering into empowerment.
You have to stop the victimization, walk away, get out of the darkness of defeat and find the light of strength. It is within all of us, but what we choose to do with it is where victims and creators separate. Victims stay in the situation, feeling powerless to change anything, or are sometimes just too weakened and have no will to do anything other than survive. Creators don't want to survive, they want to live.
Another story from my life which led me further down the path to womanhood and away from staying in the victim pool.
I attended a business school shortly after Amnesty was born in order to get some sort of job skills in order to raise my child. I was not going to depend on welfare, or a man. Both of which would have led me right back to victimization. To being dependent on outside sources which may or may not take care of the both of us.
After the end of my year at school, I found a decent job in Washington, D.C. and started my adult life of work and raising my child. Well, unfortunately the job was not enough to cover the great expense of my small family and I had to find a way to supplement my income. Now comes the victim. Feeling as though there was not much that I could do, because of lack of skill or education a friend led me to what would be my new life for the next four years. She introduced my to "dancing" and I became a stripper. I guess I was lucky that I had the ability, but I had no idea what I was getting into.
I felt as though I was right back in my childhood, with drugs and alcohol surrounding. Yet, I kept on going. Telling myself that I was doing it in order to give Am the life I did not have. It did not take long for me to realize that in this business, there is no you. There is a character that you play and there is no one who cares about the person behind the character. Those men wanted nothing except a face and a body in front of them. Soon enough I was lost in it. I was simply a face and a body. I was no longer Tracy, intelligent, strong, loving.... Just a face and a body.
For the second time in my life I stayed away from the drugs, and for the first time away from the prostitution. I went to work, made my money and went home loathing every cent, as well as myself. The funny part is I did nothing to change it. I just stayed stagnant, hating every part of it, including me. I fell into a depression I could not get out from under and I just continued to sink.
As I have said before, I have been blessed with many people in my life who eventually get me back to the right place and it was here, again, those people entered my life. My friends saw the change in me and started to call me out on it, knowing I would then begin to think and would follow with action. Sure enough it worked. I already knew I hated this profession, that it was not even close to who I truly was and I was ready to stop the craziness. I pulled myself up once again, found my strength, and realized my potential.
I slowly began to make changes working less at the club and soon found a perfectly good job waiting tables which I could do on the weekends, while I continued my office work. It took longer to stop feeling sorry for myself and find the woman who was still there, just a little buried.
I began to see a therapist and she was able to show me that the job did not make me another person, I chose to become another person. Aaahaa... Another very important lesson in empowerment. Things do not make you, you make you. It took some time, but I finally got back on the road and instead of taking the bad with me, I took the lessons learned from the bad and began to create again. I chose to use my mistakes in the positive, not to put myself down because I fell, but to praise myself because I got up.
Falling is not the problem, refusing to get up is!
References:
Merriam-Webster. Merriam-Webster Online. Retrieved November 27, 2007, Web Site: http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/empowerment
Thursday, November 22, 2007
Life changes, I guess a blog can too!
I must admit I have met a lot of amazing people during the trials and tribulations of my life and have been so blessed by each and every one. I will admit I did not expect to find it here, in a class I barely know, from a teacher who obviously, just as I was called to nursing, was called to teach. I don't know how we can work it out and it was an incredibly difficult decision to drop the class so close to the end, but if we can work it out and you have the faith in me, I guess I need to find it myself.
So no more dating, I think I know something so much more important I need to get out there. I am a huge advocate of the empowerment of women and work for several volunteer agencies to promote just that. It is something I can easily write about now have a renewed sense of maybe why I really am in this class.
The story begins a long time ago when I was a child and being raised by a drug addicted mother. I had three younger brothers and sisters and by twelve it was my job to try and raise them. My mother would often disappear for days at a time while she was high and sometimes there was no food, sometimes no water and even no electricity. My home was filthy, trash filled the floor and the mattresses were bare and dirty. This is how four young children lived. We did not have Christmas or Easter, there were no pretty clothes or nice bedrooms, no hugs and no kisses and of course no father. We were on our own.
As sad as my childhood was, I had two roads ahead of me. I could give up, leave school, use any of the drugs often lying throughout the house and try to fill the void through sex, which is often where young girls go to find "love". The second road was to push through, leave the drugs and sex alone and get to school every day to become something more than what would have been expected of my childhood. I chose the second road, devoted myself to school, my family and staying away from the horror of a life addicted. To this day I have never done a drug, rarely drink and have been with only my husband and one other man, who fathered my child.
Of course I still had so much pain to deal with at such a young age and I had to find an outlet before my resolve weakened. It was then I became involved with the Community for Creative Nonviolence. I took my pain and focused on those who were suffering so much more than I. At CCNV I began to tutor the homeless men for their GED and although I did not have much success because of the transient situation, I still was there and giving my all. I was sixteen years old. It was here I learned not to judge those who took a different path, and to accept all people as human beings and I learned a lot about me and who I was meant to be. I was going to help, to change the world in some small way, however I could. I continued with them until my graduation and then moved on due to the birth of my baby girl.
Amnesty was born on March 20th, 1992, the first day of Spring. This was one time I veered off my path and made the mistake of giving my body and heart to someone who never deserved either. He cheated on me for the nine months we were together and still suffering from serious issues with insecurity, I stayed, thinking finally someone loved me. It was at this time I met two people who were probably the most instrumental in getting me back on the right path. My Godparents. They took in a young pregnant girl and again showed me the road I had discovered and lost in my youth. I left him and began a life with my new baby, promising her life would never resemble mine.
As I was debating on names for my child, I found Amnesty. In it's base sense it means to be forgiven a past and to be granted a second chance. She was truly my Amnesty and the name was chosen. God could have given me anything from this man, an STD, possibly HIV, even death after he hit me with his truck, yet instead he granted me my Amnesty. I have never strayed from that memory or that path since.
Between Amnesty and my Godparents I learned what love really meant, that it is selfless and without condition and I slowly entered woman hood. Between my work with CCNV, my child and my Godparents I began to learn the difference between choosing between victimization and empowerment. I chose to be a victim with my daughters father and now it was time to become empowered as a woman, leaving the little girl victim behind.
So no more dating, I think I know something so much more important I need to get out there. I am a huge advocate of the empowerment of women and work for several volunteer agencies to promote just that. It is something I can easily write about now have a renewed sense of maybe why I really am in this class.
The story begins a long time ago when I was a child and being raised by a drug addicted mother. I had three younger brothers and sisters and by twelve it was my job to try and raise them. My mother would often disappear for days at a time while she was high and sometimes there was no food, sometimes no water and even no electricity. My home was filthy, trash filled the floor and the mattresses were bare and dirty. This is how four young children lived. We did not have Christmas or Easter, there were no pretty clothes or nice bedrooms, no hugs and no kisses and of course no father. We were on our own.
As sad as my childhood was, I had two roads ahead of me. I could give up, leave school, use any of the drugs often lying throughout the house and try to fill the void through sex, which is often where young girls go to find "love". The second road was to push through, leave the drugs and sex alone and get to school every day to become something more than what would have been expected of my childhood. I chose the second road, devoted myself to school, my family and staying away from the horror of a life addicted. To this day I have never done a drug, rarely drink and have been with only my husband and one other man, who fathered my child.
Of course I still had so much pain to deal with at such a young age and I had to find an outlet before my resolve weakened. It was then I became involved with the Community for Creative Nonviolence. I took my pain and focused on those who were suffering so much more than I. At CCNV I began to tutor the homeless men for their GED and although I did not have much success because of the transient situation, I still was there and giving my all. I was sixteen years old. It was here I learned not to judge those who took a different path, and to accept all people as human beings and I learned a lot about me and who I was meant to be. I was going to help, to change the world in some small way, however I could. I continued with them until my graduation and then moved on due to the birth of my baby girl.
Amnesty was born on March 20th, 1992, the first day of Spring. This was one time I veered off my path and made the mistake of giving my body and heart to someone who never deserved either. He cheated on me for the nine months we were together and still suffering from serious issues with insecurity, I stayed, thinking finally someone loved me. It was at this time I met two people who were probably the most instrumental in getting me back on the right path. My Godparents. They took in a young pregnant girl and again showed me the road I had discovered and lost in my youth. I left him and began a life with my new baby, promising her life would never resemble mine.
As I was debating on names for my child, I found Amnesty. In it's base sense it means to be forgiven a past and to be granted a second chance. She was truly my Amnesty and the name was chosen. God could have given me anything from this man, an STD, possibly HIV, even death after he hit me with his truck, yet instead he granted me my Amnesty. I have never strayed from that memory or that path since.
Between Amnesty and my Godparents I learned what love really meant, that it is selfless and without condition and I slowly entered woman hood. Between my work with CCNV, my child and my Godparents I began to learn the difference between choosing between victimization and empowerment. I chose to be a victim with my daughters father and now it was time to become empowered as a woman, leaving the little girl victim behind.
One of the fundamental differences between the Victim Orientation and this one [Creator] is where you put your focus of attention…For Victims, the focus is always on what they don’t want: the problems that seem constantly to multiply in their lives. They don’t want the person, condition, or circumstance they consider their Persecutor, and they don’t want the fear that leads to fight, flee or freeze reactions, either. Creators, on the other hand, place their focus on what they do want. Doing this, Creators still face and solve problems in the course of creating outcomes they want, but their focus remains fixed on their ultimate vision.
References
Emerald, D. (2003-2007) The Power of Ted. Retrieved November 22, 2007, from ThinkArete Web Site:http://www.thinkarete.com
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
Goodbye For Now
Unfortunately I am unable to complete this course and have to say goodbye.
Last February my fourteen year old daughter was in a car accident which almost took her life. She was ejected from the car on impact, through the sunroof, and then when the car finished flipping it landed on her. She was pinned for 57 minutes from the time the rescue team arrived on site. They actually had to dig her out from under the car in order to save her.
When I arrived at the hospital I was told she may not make it and to call the priest and my family. Three days later she started to breathe on her own again and was extubated. From there her recovery was long and difficult, but she made it, and every day I thank God for that. After a twenty one day stay in the hospital we finally came home, with her in a wheelchair and unable to do anything for herself.
I left school ten weeks before my graduation and stayed home to take care of my daughter, without question or regret, and I thought we had finally made it. She started to walk again, learned to take care of herself, went back to school and this year was even able to return to dance. I really believed we had made it through the most horrific experience of my life, that is until she was recently diagnosed with Post Traumatic Brain Injury. Now I know we still have a long road ahead of us.
She has soft tissue damage to her brain which can last for a month, two months or forever. There is no definitive answer. She has lost her short term memory, has difficulty recalling information, cannot think in sequence or with logic and is often disoriented, dizzy and confused. She has had to be taken out of school part time and is receiveing home bound instruction. I know she will be okay, God had his chance to take her and chose not to. He obviously has big plans for her.
Anyway I am still continuing in school, but have dropped my classes down to the only one I need to finish this Spring and graduate. Right now my daughter has to be my priority and dating is the last thing on my mind. I guess serious is where I am supposed to be.
I will leave you with one last update, Todd and I are doing great. He is really amazing and has been there through everything, always making me laugh when I want to cry. So maybe you don't need six months or even eight weeks, maybe it just happens when it is right.
Well good luck to you all and take care. For those of you with children, never forget to hug and kiss them everyday, because you just never know. The night of my daughters accident I dropped her off with a hug and an I love you, I also spoke with her an hour before the accident, again saying I love you as we hung up. For that I will always be grateful.
Tracy
Last February my fourteen year old daughter was in a car accident which almost took her life. She was ejected from the car on impact, through the sunroof, and then when the car finished flipping it landed on her. She was pinned for 57 minutes from the time the rescue team arrived on site. They actually had to dig her out from under the car in order to save her.
When I arrived at the hospital I was told she may not make it and to call the priest and my family. Three days later she started to breathe on her own again and was extubated. From there her recovery was long and difficult, but she made it, and every day I thank God for that. After a twenty one day stay in the hospital we finally came home, with her in a wheelchair and unable to do anything for herself.
I left school ten weeks before my graduation and stayed home to take care of my daughter, without question or regret, and I thought we had finally made it. She started to walk again, learned to take care of herself, went back to school and this year was even able to return to dance. I really believed we had made it through the most horrific experience of my life, that is until she was recently diagnosed with Post Traumatic Brain Injury. Now I know we still have a long road ahead of us.
She has soft tissue damage to her brain which can last for a month, two months or forever. There is no definitive answer. She has lost her short term memory, has difficulty recalling information, cannot think in sequence or with logic and is often disoriented, dizzy and confused. She has had to be taken out of school part time and is receiveing home bound instruction. I know she will be okay, God had his chance to take her and chose not to. He obviously has big plans for her.
Anyway I am still continuing in school, but have dropped my classes down to the only one I need to finish this Spring and graduate. Right now my daughter has to be my priority and dating is the last thing on my mind. I guess serious is where I am supposed to be.
I will leave you with one last update, Todd and I are doing great. He is really amazing and has been there through everything, always making me laugh when I want to cry. So maybe you don't need six months or even eight weeks, maybe it just happens when it is right.
Well good luck to you all and take care. For those of you with children, never forget to hug and kiss them everyday, because you just never know. The night of my daughters accident I dropped her off with a hug and an I love you, I also spoke with her an hour before the accident, again saying I love you as we hung up. For that I will always be grateful.
Tracy
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