Feeling a little Green...

My crew saw Wicked (again) last weekend thanks to Mimi and Pops and an epic Christmas morning. And it was fantastic. Practically perfect. And there is one scene in that show that always gets me. (Technically there are a lot, but only one that makes me cry). And I honestly thought I was going to make it through this time. I was wrong. When Elphaba hits that last verse on Defying Gravity I feel the wet trickle down the side of my face. Every. Single. Time.

Since the show I’ve begun to think about why. Why does that one scene get me every time? I mean, I’ve seen lots of theater. I’ve seen my own kid killed on stage (a lot!) And I’ll admit – I cried then, too. But I’ve seen a lot of really moving, fantastic theater that doesn’t make me cry. So why that scene? And then it hit me.

I really identify with Elphaba. Like a lot. The only thing I’m missing is a little green tint to the skin and magical powers to read some long forgotten secret language, but other than that, Same. Stay with me.

For those of you that don’t know, I can sum up Elphaba’s character… quirky, passionate, do-gooder that is often misunderstood because she is strong and different than others. She is rejected by people and her intentions often misconstrued and twisted so that the world thinks she is evil.

Y’all – I’ve literally had that happen to me. And it’s hard. I have always been liked, but often not included in the inner circles. I am often left out of festivities and celebrations. And there are a lot of people in this world that just flat don’t like me. But I think it is because they don’t know me. Not the real me. They know a version of me that may exist for a second or a minute, but they don’t know the real me. And I’ve spent a large part of my adult life fighting the urge to let that destroy me.

I lived with a girl in college for 7 years off and on. We knew as much about each other as any two people can know about each other. She is still one of my best friends. And people used to ask her why she was friends with me. She was reserved and, well, good. I was wild and wicked ;) But she always told people “If you only knew her like I do, you’d know she has the biggest heart around.”

We encourage our daughters to become strong women, but when they actually grow up and become strong women they are labeled a Bitch. Or callous. Or aggressive. Or rude. Or a million other names I’ve been called over the years. And just because you are strong, it doesn’t mean those things don’t hurt. Every time it chips away at a little bit of that strength. And where strength used to be a callous begins to form.

My gift in this world is service. It is my love language, and I will give every last ounce of strength serving others. A lot of my time these days is devoted to my children, but I am also head of two non-profits. Not for a resume builder or so that I can toot my own horn, but because serving others makes my soul feel alive. That number is actually down. I think my max was 4 non-profit boards at one time. And I gave myself fully to every position. And even in giving of myself people twist that into a horrific world view of me.

And when people spread lies, or even worse, those you love don’t stand up to the lies, it chips away another part of you and another callous emerges. And another. And another. And another. There are people in my everyday life that I know for a fact do not like me. I’ve ever done anything to them, but they do not like me. And they are involved with my kids so I kind of just have to go with the flow. But it is hard. Another day, another comment, another chip, another callous.

(WICKED SPOILER ALERT!!)

Until finally you are with the Wizard and you lose your mind and the world explodes and all of a sudden monkeys are flying all around.

And the thing that gets me is then people stand around and look at the circus and wonder how something like that could happen. How on earth could she just explode like that? I mean never you mind that she is a single parent and sole provider for her family of three that was up until 11 last night sewing elastic on pointe shoes because she knew her daughter’s heart would be broken if it wasn’t done. Oh wait, Toto – I’m not sure we are talking about Elphaba anymore.

I get judged when I want to take a day and spend with my family (Seriously – I’ve gotten messages about not doing my part recently) and I get judged for doing too much. Or I get judged for doing things the wrong way. I’m a rule follower (to a fault) and I get judged and criticized for following the rules. So at what point is it ok to just say “Screw It” and become the person everyone thinks you already are? #mamasaidscrewit

My plea for you today would be to think about how you treat people. And not just on the surface. Think about how you truly feel about them and whether or not it is warranted.  Think about whether your actions toward them and your interactions with them make their day better or worse. And if the answer isn’t better, maybe think about what you can do to change that.

I guess for me winning is not becoming the person they think I am. Winning is going to be every night with a clean conscience knowing that what I do each day is enough for me and my kids. And winning is knowing that I have a purpose in this world, and despite what anyone else thinks about it, I’m fulfilling it. But every once in a while it does seem appealing to Fly Off the Handle and grab a broom…

Something magical

It’s Sunday morning at 6am. My kiddos are about to celebrate the biggest decisions of their lives, and I can’t help but revel in where our lives are in this quiet before they wake up and our day starts.

Back up to last January 1. The start of a new year. One for me that didn’t begin with my kids because they were here and I was on a trip with the man who had told me he wanted to spend the rest of his life with us. So when things ended less than a month later the night of my birthday party, I was considerably shaken. When I found out he had lied to my children I was furious. And then for several months I was lost. I wasn’t sad. I wasn’t overly happy, but I didn’t know how to move forward with a life that was so different than the one I had expected. Than the one I had been promised.

But then on Memorial Day something happened. We found out that Braden had gotten a part that he’d worked really hard to get and I cried. I cried because he was so excited. I cried because he was so happy and I cried because he was so proud of himself. I was proud, too. His theater family was proud. It was a good day.

And it seems like from that day something magical has happened. This block that I couldn’t seem to get past quietly faded away and we began living our best lives. And I truly mean that. We’ve had an amazing summer of travel, both together and apart. One kid won a national championship. Another is rocking all 4 of his pre-AP classes in his first year in middle school. Then there was this little thing where they were both on the national news, and a little project that started in our living room has exploded into something that none of us could have ever seen coming. There is genuine excitement when one member of the family has a good day.

We took the vacation of their lifetimes, possibly mine. And there were moments when I kept thinking it just wouldn’t have been the same if anyone else had been there. We’ve got plans. Just the three of us. And we talk about them all the time.

And this morning my kiddos are going to confirm their infant baptisms in front of friends and family. Like I said, the most important decision they’ll each ever make. I’m so excited for them!

And then one will run off to dance and after brunch the other one will spend time in the kitchen making meals for his business before heading off to rehearsal. Yes, we are probably the busiest we have ever been. And probably about to get busier. But I wouldn’t change a single moment.

I’m pouring my whole self into my kids and into our family these days and it has honestly been the best summer in a while. Not to say there aren’t hard times. And I certainly still take time for myself every once in a while. But the subtle change of only living toward the future that is ours has somehow made all the difference in the world. We wake up each morning and thank God for being safe, and healthy, and happy. And I think anything that happens on top of that each day is just gravy. And these days the gravy is so good!

Buying their way to paradise

Something I started last summer was making my kids help out paying for stuff. I know that sounds harsh, but really it isn’t. When you’re a single parent (who gets no support from the other parent…) that has active kids, paying for stuff is something that frequently occupies the forefront of my brain. I work a full time salaried job, so it isn’t like I can pick up extra shifts for OT money. I work Verizon and do fundraisers as they are available, but all of those things take me away from my kids.

So last summer I tasked Braden with earning half of his money for Space Camp. And Braden’s Bites was born.

 

And it has been hugely successful for him. Last summer he paid for church camp and his deposit for Space Camp. This year he is poised to pay for his Space Camp deposit and his deposit for a trip to New York in two years. He also paid for part of culinary camp.

Now Amelia is on board as an employee of sorts. She wanted to go back to American Pageants nationals next summer. Guess what kiddo – you’ve got to earn it. Sleep over camp at Family Farm? That’s right. Your money. Dallas Cowboy Cheerleader camp? You guessed it - her money. But they’ve both been lucky that we have some super strong supporters of Braden’s Bites that have supported them over the past 14 or so months and allowed them to be able to make choices to go places.

But the reason I bring all of this up today is because time and time again I’ve been told by camp counselors, instructors, etc that my kids are some of the most engaged kids each week at camp. I firmly believe it is because they now fully comprehend how hard it was to work to be at that camp. Telling a kid that a camp costs $250 doesn’t mean anything to them because they can’t grasp that amount. So what mom – it’s just money. Having them work to earn the $250 is an entirely different story. It also has allowed them to truly have some once in a lifetime experiences that I just wouldn't have been able to afford otherwise.

 

Same thing with their spending money. They each have a stash of money that has come from birthdays, Christmas, or in Braden’s case the tooth fairy (8 teeth this summer!) that they use to purchase things they want. When we are at a store or on vacation and they want something I very simply let them know that purchase is a “their money” not “mom’s money” purchase. More often than not the intended purchase goes back on the shelf. I’ve even started doing this with non-school clothes for Amelia. Again, it may sound harsh for an 8 year old, but I promise this girl has more clothes than she could ever want to wear. So if she really, really wants something, I let that be her decision (as long as it falls within the boundaries of what I’ll allow her to wear). But I see them taking care of those purchases and really using those things more than if I just purchase something for them.

 

So, next time your kids ask to do something or buy something maybe consider making them work for it. And I mean really work for it. If chores are an expectation at your house, don’t pay them $10 to take the trash out unless you normally would.  Maybe allow them to pick up some extra chores or visit with neighbors about doing yard work, etc. We’ve had several friends raising money for trips, etc and I will always try and support those kids because I fully believe so much that they get more out of it that way. And for any of you wondering, Braden and Amelia are in the kitchen working for every single Braden’s Bites meal service. 9 times out of 10 I’m only there in a supervisory role. So double bonus – they are learning responsibility, but also how to cook!

You want me to do what???

I’ve often joked about locking my kids up (Amelia) or giving them away (both) when they become teenagers. For various reasons, because let’s face it, teens are by far and large not the most pleasant age group. But seeing as how locking them up is probably frowned upon, and I’ve already put too much time and money into them to give them away, I guess I’m just going to have to keep them and take the teen years as they come.

Which also means you have to take the pre-teen years. The big child turned 11 in March, which means he is officially a pre-teen. Gulp. That also means the day I have been dreading since the pee stick popped positive is coming. That’s right… I’m going to have to have “the talk”. Now, honestly when he was born I thought I wouldn’t have to be involved with his because that should be a dad job. But here I am rocking the single mom life, so my job responsibilities include those of mom, dad, Santa, the Easter bunny, and the tooth fairy, so….

Back up to a year ago at Braden’s 10 year old visit. They asked me if I wanted him to get the Gardasil vaccine. Not gonna lie, it took my breath away. Why are they asking me to have my 10 year old vaccinated against STDs???? And then it dawned on me – some kids may need it at age 10. Then I think I probably cried a little on the inside. But we passed last year because I wasn’t ready to make the decision yet and because he had to have booster shots at 11 anyway so now Gardasil for the 10 year old. Fast forward to yesterday and they asked again. And again I had no answer. I immediately texted a mama friend in the healthcare profession that had a boy to ask her opinion. I asked the nurse her opinion and at the end of it all I just couldn’t say yes. Y’all – I’m by no means an anti-vaccination mom. I’m of the opinion the more the merrier, but there is something about this one that I just can’t get on board with yet. I think it has to do with the fact that in order to need it my child has to be sexually active and I just can’t reconcile that in my head with the sweet blonde headed 11 year old boy in front of me.

Braden is a super smart kid, but not advanced in the ways of the world. He is very innocent. He’s had a sweet girlfriend for 18 months and they’ve never so much as held hands. Which is perfect for 10 and 11 year olds. They see each other at theater events, laugh and giggle a lot, and that’s it! They don’t call or text each other or even see each other at school. It’s the perfect first “relationship” for his age. And he has a wonderful group of core guy friends. They are all good kids and they would rather talk about farts than girls. In my head that is how all 11 year old boys should be. But they aren’t. Some of them are doing and saying things that my child can't even fathom right now. And he's going to be in middle school next year with those kids. 

Which brings me to the next part. I talked to the doctor (outside of the exam room) a lot about what “the talk” needed to look like for Braden. My first question was did it have to be from me? Yes... I tried to get out of it. The doctor was very quick to say, yes – it needs to come from me. And I get it, I am Braden’s most trusted person in the world, so something this important should come from me. Ugh. But after that I’m literally clueless. I didn’t get that talk. I got the girl version. My body changed in very different ways than his will. So this whole thing is very foreign to me. Sigh. But he is going into middle school in a few short months and all of the boys and girls won’t be as innocent as him, so I’d like him to have the facts before he comes home and tells me where babies come from…

That being said, if you’ve done this before, I’d love any advice. I have gotten some suggestions from others, but none from the single mama group yet. But honestly at this point I’ll take any suggestions. What worked and didn’t work for you? Was it you that did it? Also, if you have opinions on Gardasil I’d also love to hear those. Feel free to PM me if you’d rather discuss in private since I know this is a touchy subject =) But short of giving him away to the highest bidder, I’m going to have to do this pretty soon. And I’d like to be as armed as humanly possible. And for fun take a listen to the anthem of my teen years. Does anyone from BJH remember when someone did this in the talent show one year??

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hTWKbfoikeg

What If Millennials owned the Millennium Falcon…

Ok – let me just start by saying, this is probably going to make some of you mad. I would apologize, but #sorrynotsorry.  (for those of you offended by just that statement alone, scroll back in my feed and find the post from about a week back where I talk about being aware that people either love or hate me…)

I’d like to spend today talking about our jobs as parents. Not the whole “this is the best and most rewarding job I’ve ever had”, but the actual requirements and expectations of being a good parent. Not all of them – that would take a while. But our number 1 job as a parent (after providing love and for basic needs, which those really fold into this if you think about it) is… (drumroll)

Make our tiny humans into adults that will one day function in the real world

That’s it! Our job is to teach our kids how to be adults. Period. Anything extra is gravy! We all hope that our kids are awesome and win all the sports and get all the scholarships, but at the end of the day our job is to teach them things. I’ve covered some of this in blogs before, but we need to teach them things like how to be graceful winners and losers, rising above conflict and disappointment, how to schedule a doctor’s appointment, how to order food at a restaurant, how to listen, how to be respectful, how to manage money, how to manage time…. The list literally goes on and on. Think about all of the things you do on a daily basis with no input from anyone. Someone taught you that at some point. Either by their actions or their words. So we have a very large job ahead of us. Our job is to teach them how to cope with life when we are not there.

And after seeing the first of the so called millennials begin to hit the job market, let me reiterate what our job as parents is not… Our job is NOT to be our kid’s friend. Let me say that again slowly… Your job is not to be your child’s friend. If your child doesn’t curse you under their breath and tell you they hate you at least once in their childhood, you aren’t doing it right. If you don’t correct them when they are wrong and make them own up to their mistakes, they won’t just magically wake up one day and be ready for adulthood… And people that aren’t ready for adulthood live in your basement. FOREVER. Don’t be that parent that questions the adult when your kid gets in trouble. Ask the teachers in your kids’ lives. It happens all the time. Maybe you are even unintentionally doing it. But don’t be the type of parent that jumps to the conclusion that your child is never at fault. Let me assure you – your kid isn’t perfect. Neither are mine.

Over the weekend I was volunteering at a kids’ rehearsal to help keep the masses under control. Several kids had to be separated because they couldn’t be quiet when told repeatedly to be quiet. Guess whose kid was right in the middle of that group… (I’ll let y’all guess which one… lol) At that same event some of the kids lost some other privileges due to not following directions and treating things respectfully. The next day one of the mamas approached me (after already getting an accurate accounting of the events from another parent) and asked for “my side of the story.” I pointed out that her child’s version of the story wasn’t really what happened, but instead of being mad that her kid lied to her, she decided to stick up for her kid. And to make it even worse she had her kid write me the most passive aggressive apology note I have ever received. I’m all for making your kiddos apologize, but this was basically the kid saying “I didn’t do anything wrong and I’m sorry you punished me for it.”

And the entire time I kept thinking – this kid will never be a successful adult. Because guess what, those kids grow up to be the ones that can’t cope in college. The ones that think daily life is too stressful to manage because they’ve never experienced failure or consequences. Those kids are the ones who will be hired and fired by those of us raised in an era where not everyone got a trophy and if you fibbed to your mama about the severity of a situation, your punishment was 10x greater than it would have been before. And we don’t put up with people who don’t work hard and own their mistakes.  You are not doing your kids any favors by not making them own their actions. I’m not saying lock them in a closet for bending a rule, but sending them to bed without supper every once in a while is not the worst thing. Braden didn’t get to go to his best friend’s birthday party this year because he was grounded. It killed me, but it was the right thing to do.

Which brings me back to the millennials that are now hitting the job market. I don’t know how many of you have seem them enter your workplace, but it has been a little baffling to me. These kids first of all can’t be learning much in training because they can’t be bothered to put their phones down. I mean – what is so important that you can’t pay attention to the people taking time out of their days to teach you? And the sad thing is these kids don’t even get that it is disrespectful. I have no words… Then on the off chance that they actually do put their phones down, they can’t handle the “stress” of working. For real??!! What stress? The ones I’ve heard this from recently aren’t even out of training yet. How are you stressed out? You are literally watching someone else work. I kept thinking what is it going to look like when they actually have to work?

So to answer the question of what would have happened if millennials owned the Millennium Falcon? Well, I can assure you it would not have made the kessel run in 12 parsecs. And on the off chance that one of them actually had the gumption to try, they probably would have died in a fiery crash because they would have been too busy taking selfies and staring at their phones to avoid any sort of asteroids. Just saying. And just for funsies: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UAMyh8DjCrQ&feature=youtu.be

We, the last of the Gen Xers, have the ability to do things differently with our kids. Let them cry. Take away the trophy. And hold them accountable when they mess up. Let them mess up when you are there to catch them, but in order to catch them you have to let them fall! I had a babysitter steal $500 from me once. After I told her mother I was going to the police I distinctly remember her mother saying “I can’t believe you’d do this to her. She could lose her scholarship.” Now this particular girl had stolen from people all over town and it was a hard decision for all of us to press charges. But we thought it was better that she learn from her mistakes here, in a town where she was loved and surrounded by mercy and grace, than to get caught stealing from someone in college. I have often wondered what happened to her and if that moment in her life taught her to do things differently.

Raising kids is hard and there are lots of fine lines. But it is also the most important job that most of us will ever have. Until next time 😉

Happiness is a beautiful form of courage...

Happiness is a beautiful form or courage… This has been my daily reminder for the past 5 days. This has been my return to normalcy. This has been my mantra.

First of all, thank you for everyone who has reached out, prayed for us, or been a part of making us feel safe over the past week. I can truly say I have felt the prayers envelop our family. So please continue to include us in your prayers.

And while the threat will never be gone, with a little sleep and perspective I have retaken control of my life. I will always have to be diligent with our safety plan, but as often as I am able, I will not allow this man to steal any more of our life.

Sometimes the “ah-ha” moments come when you aren’t expecting them. I had several, several people reach out over the past week with offers of refuge should we ever need it. And let me say that knowing we have a safe haven is a wonderful feeling. See in Atlanta, he knew where all my friends lived. And in the beginning I would go to their homes to seek refuge on the nights I needed. But I would lie awake at night, panicked that we would find us and hurt me and Braden or hurt my friends. I found out several years later that the friends we stayed with also felt that same panic. I would never want to put anyone in jeopardy because of my life choices, so eventually Braden and I just started staying in hotels. Sometimes for a week or more at a time. Then things at home would calm down and we’d return. I’m so thankful that Braden isn’t old enough to remember any of that. But here, Brad doesn’t know where any of my friends live, so I truly have safe places to seek refuge when it is needed. I can’t say how comforting that is.

But as I began responding with thanks to all of the offers, I began to realize that I was right back in the place I was for the last two years of my marriage. And I don’t want to live a life controlled by fear. I don’t want to have to run and not be able to be in our home. I want to take back the life that is mine.

But when dealing with a person that has a mental illness, it isn’t always that simple. I have to balance my want to not allow the terror he inflicts on my life to control me with the need to keep my family safe. And when I say it is a thin line, I mean it. I am trying to get to the point where I have enough peace of mind and clarity to decipher what is a real threat from what is just more terroristic behavior. I have to do this without the help of a peace keeping system that is so broken it may be beyond repair.

And please don’t get me wrong. I very much appreciate law enforcement officers and all they do for our communities. I just think the rules and regulations that have been put in place to stop people from abusing the system, create an inability for the police to help stop actual abuse.

But I am, and will always be a strong, independent woman, and will find my own way through things. I will continue to work our safety plan and continue to add to it as necessary. Please continue to lift our family up in prayers, not just for safety, but for peace.

And now I will ask you to do something that may be difficult. Please pray for Brad. Pray for peace for him and for help. On Easter morning I sat in church and prayed for him for the first time in a long time. And it was all for selfish reasons. But I still prayed. I prayed for him because I want him to leave my family alone. I prayed for him because I don’t want to have to be afraid in my own home anymore. I prayed for him because I can’t imagine being the child of an abuser. I can’t imagine having to tell my children one day that their own father wants to hurt them. That their own father has hurt them in the past. I want him to get better, not to be in their lives, but because his blood runs through them. One day I hope to be able to pray for him to have a happy life that he really doesn’t deserve. I am not there yet, but maybe one day I will be.

Every morning the kids and I pray together and our prayer begins with “Dear God, Thank you for today, and thank you for letting us wake up safe, and healthy, and happy.” We are safe, we are healthy, and we are happy, so thank you from the bottom of my heart to everyone who has kept us that way this week and will continue to pray over us in the days to come. Every day I am choosing to be courageous, I am choosing to be happy, and choosing to not let this man take another thing from me.

And to leave you on a happy note, take a listen to this and imagine the kiddos and I heading down Military toward the Royal, windows down, and belting the Newsies soundtrack. Because we do, as often as we get the chance 😉 Now IS the time to seize the day! 

 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sMi8pjRg6YY&list=RDeCwazG_NdbI&index=2

And again, if you are in the central Arkansas area and are in an abusive relationship, please reach out to Safe Haven at 315-SAFE. I sat on their board for years and they truly can offer shelter in the storm. They also have outreach programs and legal advocacy. In Georgia the Partnership Against Domestic Violence is wonderful. Women I had never met showed up in court to fight for my kids and I because I made a phone call to ask for advice. Sometimes the scariest step is the first one, but I promise there are people there to prop you up.

When abuse is not the end...

I woke up at 1:38 am to the shrill ringing of my phone. I fumbled around in the dark, confused because my phone is set to Do Not Disturb at night. I picked up and saw the number and my blood ran cold. The world started spinning and for a moment I forgot how to move. To be honest I forgot how to breathe. Because in that moment it was 8 years ago and I was a terrified victim of domestic violence again.

Let me back up. About 6 weeks ago my ex-husband began harassing me. It turns out that he had only been quiet over the past year because he had been in jail three times in as many states for abusing other women. And he got out the day before Valentine’s day. What began as a request to see the kids quickly escalated to 50 unreturned messages, 6 phone calls, and 15 minutes of voicemails between the hours of 10pm and 6am one night. I blocked him the next morning. Upon receiving notice that he had been blocked, he almost immediately texted from another phone. Annoying? Yes. Did it make me lose sleep that one night? Yes. (PSA- apparently there is an option to allow phone calls through on do not disturb is they are back to back and I had this unknowingly selected. As of 2am today, it is not anymore).  But I wasn’t anything more than mildly concerned because child support had informed me that very week that he was in Michigan.

Fast forward to last Friday. Apparently he called the hardware store where my dad likes to hang out and left a message for my father that he was coming to Arkansas. Along with a phone number. After I digested just how crazy that action was I went into safety planning mode. I didn’t really think he was coming here. He’s made threats before about coming to Arkansas and never shown up. But I didn’t want to be that person that assumed for the best and allowed for the worst. I spent the next 2 days making plans with the school, BGC, and all other activities that my kiddos are involved with so that they knew who is and isn’t allowed to pick my kids up.

I haven’t slept much since then because even though I didn’t think it was likely that he would show up here, it just put me on edge. I think my average has been around 3.5 hours a night. All of the alarms in the world are fine until you actually feel afraid.

So last night, at 1:38am he called me from an Arkansas phone number. As I sit here now my blood runs cold again. Thinking that this man might be close to my children and I terrifies me. To the point where I can’t move or think or breathe. Once I recovered I jumped up to make sure everything was locked and that my kids were where I left them. I then turned on the tv and stared blankly because I knew sleep would be a long time coming. Around 4am my heart rate finally slowed down. And do you know why? I was finally able to come to terms with the fact that I might die that night. As a victim of domestic violence owning that feeling of knowing you might die is somehow comforting. I think because in that moment it is no longer scary. You realize that there is no amount of prep, safety planning, alarms, etc that will keep you safe. If an abuser wants to hurt you they will. So I succumbed to that fact and allowed myself a brief sleep.

Today has been filled with a lot of emotion. First because I’m still terrified, but also because I’m exhausted. I also had to tell my boss in case he comes to my job. I had to tell HR that had to inform the women at the front desk. To have to do that here was an awful feeling because this is a place that has always been free of that violence. No one here knows me as the woman whose marriage ended in a SWAT team. I’m just Lauren, the single mom to them. I am somehow right back in that humiliated place I was when I moved back here 8 years ago.

Another portion of the day has been spent speaking to the Benton Police Department. The young officer that took my complaint was very nice and very concerned and told me what he thought the charges would be. He also advised me to get an order of protection (because you know those stop bullets, right…??). He called back about 10 minutes ago saying that his sergeant said it was a civil matter because every once in a blue moon in these 10pm-6am text messages Brad mentions the kids. I was so disheartened. When all of this went down the first time in Georgia I begged the police to help me. I would call when Brad was holed up in our house with a gun and ask for an escort to get medicine for my kids or whatever it was we needed. I was told on multiple occasions that they couldn’t respond until he actually pointed the gun at me. The cops showed up at my house at midnight once night because Brad had gotten drunk and called them. That was the night he stood on the outside of my bedroom door with a loaded gun while the kids and I were on the other side. The cops told me there was nothing they could do unless Brad willingly surrendered the gun. The next day a mobile SWAT unit and 50 officers were at my house. And the police wonder why victims of domestic violence don’t ask for help? It’s because when they are finally brave enough to reach out the police are often times unable to do anything. But they are super willing to have you go someplace to get that bullet stopping piece of paper... 

So today I am left in a life that I have spent 8 years building with my kids where I don’t feel safe. In a home that we love that I’m not sure at this moment we can stay in, and a system that is so broken the last time Brad was arrested for assaulting a women he paid a $48 bail charge. $48 for a repeat offender of domestic violence against multiple women and at least one child. My heart hurts and one day when I’m not so tired and afraid I know I will beat this, too. I will because the one thing I will always be for my kiddos is there. I will be there for them and in order to do that I must survive.

If you are in Saline County and a victim of domestic violence, you can call Safe Haven at 315-SAFE 24 hours a day 365 days a year. If you are in Georgia, the Partnership Against Domestic Violence is a wonderful organization.