No More Broken Wings
5/3/11
Concrete Angel
I know it has been several months since I have posted anything and much of that is the direct result of our abuser. Emily has been through some very rough times in the last few months. But I truly believe I gave her the strength of thousands even in her weakest moments. If we could just get her to see her own strengths.
Now I promised from the first post I would share more of our lives with you. The further I get into our story, the more apparent it will be who I truly am. And with that we will be revealed. But I do believe that time will come when it is right. When it is meant to be.
If you have been coming here you know my pen name is Annie and will remain Annie until that time is right. I want to tell you a little more about me. A little more about why I had broken wings. Why I have tried so hard to heal those broken wings so I can fly again. Why I feel I am so close to flying again. But to know all this we must go back to the beginning.
I come from a very large family and even as dysfunctional as we were I knew we were all loved. My mother and father loved me the best the knew how to love me and my siblings. But they both had their own issues they brought to the marriage, they both had their strengths and their weaknesses.
I remember so much of both of them and this post I will start sharing my father with you. He could so strict and so mean. But he could be so protective at the same time. I remember well a time when I was in grade school and we were going to church and I caught another student breaking the school rules. I proceeded to tell that student how bad it was what they were doing and where they would go if they did not stop doing it. Because after all that is what the church taught us. Everyone who did not repent their evil deeds and thoughts would go straight to hell. I was nearly punished at school for that offense and my father swooped in and rescued me.
I can remember those events where he was the loving and protective father. But I can also remember the horrible events where I was scared to death. Where I cowered in a closet or under my bed. Where I cleaned up the vomit. But that is for another post. We must not rush this. Rome was not built in a day. So my song for today is Concrete Angel. Because that was the start of the pain behind the mask. That was when I started building these walls that most find it impossible to tear down.
She walks to school with the lunch she packed
Nobody knows what she's holding back
Wearing the same dress she wore yesterday
She hides the bruises with the linen and lace, oh
The teacher wonders but she doesn't ask
It's hard to see the pain behind the mask
Bearing the burden of a secret storm
Sometimes she wishes she was never born
Through the wind and the rain she stands hard as a stone
In a world that she can't rise above
But her dreams give her wings and she flies to a place
Where she's loved concrete angel
Somebody cries in the middle of the night
The neighbors hear but they turn out the light
A fragile soul caught in the hands of fate
When morning comes it will be too late
Through the wind and the rain she stands hard as a stone
In a world that she can't rise above
But her dreams give her wings and she flies to a place
Where she's loved concrete angel
A statue stands in a shaded place
An angel girl with an upturned face
A name is written on a polished rock
A broken heart that the world forgot
Through the wind and the rain she stands hard as a stone
In a world that she can't rise above
But her dreams give her wings and she flies to a place
Where she's loved concrete angel
Now I promised from the first post I would share more of our lives with you. The further I get into our story, the more apparent it will be who I truly am. And with that we will be revealed. But I do believe that time will come when it is right. When it is meant to be.
If you have been coming here you know my pen name is Annie and will remain Annie until that time is right. I want to tell you a little more about me. A little more about why I had broken wings. Why I have tried so hard to heal those broken wings so I can fly again. Why I feel I am so close to flying again. But to know all this we must go back to the beginning.
I come from a very large family and even as dysfunctional as we were I knew we were all loved. My mother and father loved me the best the knew how to love me and my siblings. But they both had their own issues they brought to the marriage, they both had their strengths and their weaknesses.
I remember so much of both of them and this post I will start sharing my father with you. He could so strict and so mean. But he could be so protective at the same time. I remember well a time when I was in grade school and we were going to church and I caught another student breaking the school rules. I proceeded to tell that student how bad it was what they were doing and where they would go if they did not stop doing it. Because after all that is what the church taught us. Everyone who did not repent their evil deeds and thoughts would go straight to hell. I was nearly punished at school for that offense and my father swooped in and rescued me.
I can remember those events where he was the loving and protective father. But I can also remember the horrible events where I was scared to death. Where I cowered in a closet or under my bed. Where I cleaned up the vomit. But that is for another post. We must not rush this. Rome was not built in a day. So my song for today is Concrete Angel. Because that was the start of the pain behind the mask. That was when I started building these walls that most find it impossible to tear down.
She walks to school with the lunch she packed
Nobody knows what she's holding back
Wearing the same dress she wore yesterday
She hides the bruises with the linen and lace, oh
The teacher wonders but she doesn't ask
It's hard to see the pain behind the mask
Bearing the burden of a secret storm
Sometimes she wishes she was never born
Through the wind and the rain she stands hard as a stone
In a world that she can't rise above
But her dreams give her wings and she flies to a place
Where she's loved concrete angel
Somebody cries in the middle of the night
The neighbors hear but they turn out the light
A fragile soul caught in the hands of fate
When morning comes it will be too late
Through the wind and the rain she stands hard as a stone
In a world that she can't rise above
But her dreams give her wings and she flies to a place
Where she's loved concrete angel
A statue stands in a shaded place
An angel girl with an upturned face
A name is written on a polished rock
A broken heart that the world forgot
Through the wind and the rain she stands hard as a stone
In a world that she can't rise above
But her dreams give her wings and she flies to a place
Where she's loved concrete angel
Labels: About Me, Abuse, Annie, Concrete Angel, Fear, Freedom, Martina McBride, Music, Siblings, Songs Free Us
3/25/10
Hell is NOT for Children - it is for the ABUSERs!
Hell is not for children it should only be reserved for those who abuse children and the people those children hold near and dear to their hearts.
I am back again and hurting tonight. I see many advocates in pain suffering while blogging, twittering, and connecting with other advocates and victims. I feel my story while intense and graphic and something that should never have happened to me or to my children is minor, so very minor.
So I come again to open another piece of my life to you. To give away yet another piece of this monstrosity I call "my life".
Emily again is afraid. Afraid to stand up and afraid not to stand up. Our abuser is terrorizing us yet again. He is threatening to tear up her life, cause her embarrassment. If we stand up and say no more, the embarrassment will be there. If we fold and lay down silent, we are victimized yet again. The situation is so trivial in and of itself, yet it is the small things that will become huge. If we remain silent, we invite more evil and worse events upon us in the future. It is the way of an abuser.
What is causing little Emily such strife? Her school is on vacation very soon and her father is demanding that he have her beyond what has been ordered through the courts. Now if he was not abusive to me, if his current spouse did not assist him in his reign of terror, if he was truly a loving father to Emily, I would have no qualms about him having this time. But sadly, Emily's father is none of these things. And rather than be a good father, he must flex his muscles and show who is boss. And Emily, dear sweet Emily, is torn in too many pieces by another episode. Much like her mother has been over my life. And how to explain to this child without falling into that trap of "alienation" that befalls so many protective mothers and children? How do I explain what she sees and still maintain under the law of our state the bond between father and child, that in all honesty should be his job to maintain and nurture?
Stuck in the middle of this mess is another child, now grown, John. This child was denied relationship after relationship with his biological family due to greed.
And these children need each other. They need to move past the abuses and grow together as siblings. And Emily's father wants to deny this bond between siblings. He in fact feels it is his God-given right to demand and have us acquiese to those demands. OUR feelings mean nothing to him. They mean even less to his new spouse.
So we shall see what the future holds for us. Will Emily be tortured and embarrassed and move one step closer to that ever approaching hell we call forced separation that many protective mothers and children suffer silently in family courts around the world? Will her world suddenly become hell as Pat Benatar says here? Or will I, Annie, be able to save her from that? Can I do something to not only save her but keep all the other Emily's out there safe?
Only time will tell. Until then please pray for me, my family, but especially for Emily and John in the coming days and weeks.
They cry in the dark, so you can't see their tears
They hide in the light, so you can't see their fears
Forgive and forget, all the while
Love and pain become one and the same
In the eyes of a wounded child
Because Hell
Hell Is For Children
And you know that their little lives can become such a mess
Hell
Hell Is For Children
And you shouldn't have to pay for your love with your bones and your flesh
It's all so confusing, this brutal abusing
They blacken your eyes, and then apologize
You're daddy's good girl, and don't tell mommy a thing
Be a good little boy, and you'll get a new toy
Tell grandma you fell off the swing
Because Hell
Hell Is For Children
And you know that their little lives can become such a mess
Hell
Hell Is For Children
And you shouldn't have to pay for your love with your bones and your flesh
No, Hell Is For Children
Hell
Hell is for Hell
Hell is for Hell
Hell Is For Children
Hell
Hell is for Hell
Hell is for Hell
Hell Is For Children
Hell
Hell is for Hell
Hell is for Hell
Hell Is For Children
Hell Is For Children
Hell Is For Children
I am back again and hurting tonight. I see many advocates in pain suffering while blogging, twittering, and connecting with other advocates and victims. I feel my story while intense and graphic and something that should never have happened to me or to my children is minor, so very minor.
So I come again to open another piece of my life to you. To give away yet another piece of this monstrosity I call "my life".
Emily again is afraid. Afraid to stand up and afraid not to stand up. Our abuser is terrorizing us yet again. He is threatening to tear up her life, cause her embarrassment. If we stand up and say no more, the embarrassment will be there. If we fold and lay down silent, we are victimized yet again. The situation is so trivial in and of itself, yet it is the small things that will become huge. If we remain silent, we invite more evil and worse events upon us in the future. It is the way of an abuser.
What is causing little Emily such strife? Her school is on vacation very soon and her father is demanding that he have her beyond what has been ordered through the courts. Now if he was not abusive to me, if his current spouse did not assist him in his reign of terror, if he was truly a loving father to Emily, I would have no qualms about him having this time. But sadly, Emily's father is none of these things. And rather than be a good father, he must flex his muscles and show who is boss. And Emily, dear sweet Emily, is torn in too many pieces by another episode. Much like her mother has been over my life. And how to explain to this child without falling into that trap of "alienation" that befalls so many protective mothers and children? How do I explain what she sees and still maintain under the law of our state the bond between father and child, that in all honesty should be his job to maintain and nurture?
Stuck in the middle of this mess is another child, now grown, John. This child was denied relationship after relationship with his biological family due to greed.
And these children need each other. They need to move past the abuses and grow together as siblings. And Emily's father wants to deny this bond between siblings. He in fact feels it is his God-given right to demand and have us acquiese to those demands. OUR feelings mean nothing to him. They mean even less to his new spouse.
So we shall see what the future holds for us. Will Emily be tortured and embarrassed and move one step closer to that ever approaching hell we call forced separation that many protective mothers and children suffer silently in family courts around the world? Will her world suddenly become hell as Pat Benatar says here? Or will I, Annie, be able to save her from that? Can I do something to not only save her but keep all the other Emily's out there safe?
Only time will tell. Until then please pray for me, my family, but especially for Emily and John in the coming days and weeks.
They cry in the dark, so you can't see their tears
They hide in the light, so you can't see their fears
Forgive and forget, all the while
Love and pain become one and the same
In the eyes of a wounded child
Because Hell
Hell Is For Children
And you know that their little lives can become such a mess
Hell
Hell Is For Children
And you shouldn't have to pay for your love with your bones and your flesh
It's all so confusing, this brutal abusing
They blacken your eyes, and then apologize
You're daddy's good girl, and don't tell mommy a thing
Be a good little boy, and you'll get a new toy
Tell grandma you fell off the swing
Because Hell
Hell Is For Children
And you know that their little lives can become such a mess
Hell
Hell Is For Children
And you shouldn't have to pay for your love with your bones and your flesh
No, Hell Is For Children
Hell
Hell is for Hell
Hell is for Hell
Hell Is For Children
Hell
Hell is for Hell
Hell is for Hell
Hell Is For Children
Hell
Hell is for Hell
Hell is for Hell
Hell Is For Children
Hell Is For Children
Hell Is For Children
Labels: Abuse, Emily, Hell Is For Children, John, Music, Pat Benatar, Siblings
3/24/10
Another victim for you to meet
I am trying to be creative and interesting in my introductions. I am tired and worn out from the life of terror I have lived. I have cried rivers and oceans of tears and the tears never seem to dry up.
So I bring another victim into this fray. I want to introduce you to my son John*. John is a wonderful young man, barely into adulthood stretching his wings and looking for his true love, his place in life.
I will not go into the details of my early life with John's biological father. At 16/17 I had more common sense sadly in some ways than I did with Emily's father. At the first sign of battering and abuse, I walked away, taking what was left of my dignity and pride. Little did I realize that I also took away a piece of John's father inside me. Barely an adult myself I was carrying a brand new life inside.
I reveled in the absolute amaxement I felt when the first movements came from John. The little fists that would run circles around my abdomen. I was so huge and so obviously pregnant. Everyone said I waddled like a beanpole who had swallowed the proverbial watermelon. I had many who proclaimed I would never make it, I was too young, too immature to bring this life into the world. But that mattered none. After living the life I had filled with abuse, I swore I would be different. This little child growing inside of me would never get hurt, he or she would never suffer the pain and anguish I had suffered. Everything I had would be his. And for a few short years it was.
The years of confusion, terror, and abuse I suffered caught up to us however. But that will be in many more posts to come. John is back and while we can never recover those years, we can move on and rebuild from here. John and Emily can build something good and be free from abuse. Maybe......
(see next post)
So I bring another victim into this fray. I want to introduce you to my son John*. John is a wonderful young man, barely into adulthood stretching his wings and looking for his true love, his place in life.
I will not go into the details of my early life with John's biological father. At 16/17 I had more common sense sadly in some ways than I did with Emily's father. At the first sign of battering and abuse, I walked away, taking what was left of my dignity and pride. Little did I realize that I also took away a piece of John's father inside me. Barely an adult myself I was carrying a brand new life inside.
I reveled in the absolute amaxement I felt when the first movements came from John. The little fists that would run circles around my abdomen. I was so huge and so obviously pregnant. Everyone said I waddled like a beanpole who had swallowed the proverbial watermelon. I had many who proclaimed I would never make it, I was too young, too immature to bring this life into the world. But that mattered none. After living the life I had filled with abuse, I swore I would be different. This little child growing inside of me would never get hurt, he or she would never suffer the pain and anguish I had suffered. Everything I had would be his. And for a few short years it was.
The years of confusion, terror, and abuse I suffered caught up to us however. But that will be in many more posts to come. John is back and while we can never recover those years, we can move on and rebuild from here. John and Emily can build something good and be free from abuse. Maybe......
(see next post)
