Rewards From Following Through...

Remember when I mentioned upon meeting my old boss for the very first time, he reminded me so much of the Moron?  Well,  I couldn't have been more on the money.  I'll give you a very quick rundown on the situation.  I was hired to replace a manager at a retail store. That would seem fairly simple enough, except there was all these weird things going on, such as I had to be in to open the store 1/2 hour early (but wasn't paid for it) and close (again couldn't write it down on time sheet), six of us during the day used the same till - but it was only counted at beginning of shift and at the end, we weren't paid for Stat holidays... and the list went on.

Being a single mom in an economy that is, well lets just say less than booming, I dearly needed the money, but I had decided that if I let another person take advantage of me again - without standing up for myself, then I hadn't learnt my lesson.

I talked numerous times with my supervisor, then finally after a month of no headway, told her if things did not change I would have no recourse except to go to the labour board.  I was fired the next day with charges of theft and fraud of the company, and since I was there for under 3 months I was told he could do so without cause.  He presented me with a letter in which it stated I was resigning as a result of my acknowledgement of theft and fraud and that I would not go after my employer nor his company for any monies owing now or in the future, and that if I did not sign the police would be called.  I did not sign, gave back the keys, and left.

I ended up following through and going to the labour board with all the original charges of incorrect stat holiday pay, and reprisal on top of that.  10 months later, a tribunal was held where my employer brought forth 4 current employees that lied and stated that I stole merchandise and came in late constantly.  Here's the thing though, he had no proof (because it never happened), and moreover when the witnesses were questioned, their stories not only did not match up, but no one stated that they actually saw me take any merchandise.

My former employer was told that the burden of proof rested on him under the Act to disprove the claim of reprisal.  In such the rules of evidence applied, and a current employee has more to gain in statements where they are for the employer as they have more likely a fear of losing their job.  No hard evidence was provided, except for ironically, he actually presented the letter which he attempted to get me to sign, and he in fact helped me in ways he at that time could not imagine....

With the presentation of that letter, not only did he corroborate my side of the story, but he hung himself in the process....just like the Moron.  Give them enough rope, and they will hang themselves...
They are so hellbent on getting you back, and believe in their own little crazy world what they are doing is right, that they fail to see how intimidating and just plain wrong their actions are and will be perceived to be.

Today I received the written decision.  I cannot tell you the joy that I feel after reading the 20 page document!!!!  Not only does it make the employer appear to be an intimidating bully, but it awards me with a rather large, hefty settlement :)  One that I truly had no idea would be even part of the equation.  So nice to see the little guy win once in awhile, even nicer to be the little guy that wins :)

Merry Freaking Early Christmas to me :)

A few words of wisdom...

The first step toward success is taken when you refuse to be a captive of the environment in which you first find yourself. by Mark Caine


Things don’t go wrong and break your heart so you can become bitter and give up. They happen to break you down and build you up so you can be all that you were intended to be. Charles Jones


None who have always been free can understand the terrible fascinating power of the hope of freedom to those who are not free. Pearl S. Buck


You teach others how to treat you. Dr. Phil


Abuse survivors ain't no thang but a chicken wing!!!  Suzie Q

The First Day of the Rest of My Life...

My morning of the first day of the rest of my life, went like this.  This day I will remember forever, as it was the beginning of my road to freedom - though I didn't know it when I woke up that morning.

I suppose my conscious self had realized that it was the Lil Pixie's first birthday, and therefore the promise I had made to myself, and her, was up.  Upon her being conceived, I had promised that I would give her father, the Moron, one year to show he was a good father.  I figured I owed her that.  That one chance to be the family she deserved, the one I always wanted.  Turned out to be a pipe dream, but at least I had tried.

After the Moron had left with the Lil Pixie for brunch with the MIL (though I have my own special name for her), I proceeded to clean up the house and get some house work done.  I thought I may as well take advantage of the deserted house, and could use something to take my mind off the strange feeling I had.

It was winter, so we had the wood stove on as it was our primary source of heat.  This was located in our family room, which was quite open.

I was in the middle of dishes and laundry when the Moron came home in the late afternoon.  He had put the Lil Pixie down in the living room (she was still crawling as she hadn't started to walk yet at this point), while he proceeded to empty the hot ashes into the metal bucket from the stove.  I wouldn't have even known he had done so, except after he had finished with the ashes, he started to brush the dog, and put the shedded hair in the bucket of hot coals/ashes and it was displacing that horrible burnt hair smell into the entire house.

When I passed thru the living room (it is between the laundry room and the bedrooms) I very sweetly remarked that the smoldering ash bucket needed to be put outside with the Lil Pixie around, as things could happen so fast with a little one.  Tragedies happen in the blink of an eye, and it was better to be safe than sorry, so I put the ash bucket outside on the front step (surrounded by snow).

I then continued on to the bedroom to continue folding the laundry.  Coming back thru the living room, on my way back to the laundry room, I noticed the ash bucket was back on the ground, infront of the wood stove.  I took a moment to stop and stare at the still smoking bucket, then at the Moron, then slowly made my way up the few stairs to the kitchen.

In this moment time stood still.  In this moment our whole life together came to one point balancing precariously on the edge, and I was standing looking over it.  I knew I had to make a decision, and I knew it would change my life forever...

The Beginning of the First Day of the Rest of My Life...

It was the Lil Pixie's first birthday - a milestone in more than one way.  A year of her life, a year of surviving a tumultuous family wherein she became a pawn, and the fulfilment of my promise.

Unfortunately, the Moron did not become the father I hope he would be.  No miraculous transitions into fatherhood occurred.  His value or understanding of love did not happen, and in my heart, my road was forged.

It began a very strange morning, being awoken by a phone call by the Moron's mother (the apple sure didn't fall far from the tree in this instance).  He got out of bed and took the phone call in the living room. I later learned he also got the Lil Pixie up and was preparing them to go to brunch with his Mother.

I had already gotten up with the Lil Pixie earlier, so was trying to get some more sleep - but there was something strange about the phone call. When I got up, I found the Moron trying to escape (again) with the baby, without telling me where he was going.

I felt different, braver, stronger, and dared asked him where he was going.  When he replied that he had been invited out to brunch with his mom, I asked why I wasn't invited.  Usually I am in the most avoidance of such confrontation, but something just didn't seem right, and with my new found boldness, I attempted answers.

It was winter, so it was just starting to get light out.  I made sure the Lil Pixie was dressed appropriately, as the the Moron seemed oblivious to such things.  Once again I asked why I wasn't invited, where he was going, etc. The Moron just utilized his trusty veil of non-acknowledgement (one drawn from his more immature arsenal of control tools) and was out the door.

I knew something was up... I just didn't know what...

BIG Promises

Before my Lil Pixie was born, I swore that I would protect her.  But I also felt I owed her to allow her the chance to get to know her father - eventhough he was a Moron.  I gave him a year to be a good father.

We split up on her first birthday.

I've struggle with what ifs alot, and this is a BIG one of those.  But everytime I come back to it, I come to the same conclusion.  I chose that decision out of love.  Out of my love for her, and what I felt she deserved.  I believe everyone deserves the love of both their parents, and me being the glass half full kinda gal that I am, went with it, hoping for our happy ending.

Unfortunately in the eyes of the law, this was in fact my biggest mistake.  Having her born in this place, made it her home, thus tying her legally to it.  Thus tying me.  Eventhough I wasn't from there, nor any of my family (in fact almost all my family was on the other side of the country), this was how the law viewed it.

Here is where my real battle for survival began.  Here is where my love, life and steel was tested.  Here is where my own private hell was wrought.

And here is where I found out I truly was a survivor.

Motherhood with a Moron

Morons are huge opportunists.  And they use the most convenient as well as the most hurtful means available to them to make their point.  After the Lil Pixie was born - that meant her.

There were many a time where I would wake and find her gone - no note - no idea where they went or when they would be back.  Constantly keeping me on edge and reminding me of the threats that he would take her away from me.

My very first Mother's Day was one of these lucky days for me.  One important reminder that he was the one who held the control (or so he believed).  It would be 5 years later that I would have to wait to spend my first Mother's Day with her - a notion not lost on me.

Forever the contriver, manipulator and bully.  The anti was upped with her birth, and the price of losing went up tenfold.  But what the Moron failed to realise, was that my resolve and my strength grew with me when she had grown inside of me.  With that growth grew love and a will made strong for the protection of it. 

There is a reason you don't get between a mama and her cubs.  Its funny how you may not always fight for your survival - but put your children in danger and the claws come out.  I may be more of a flight than fight kinda gal, but at last resort and threatening my child - I will fight to the death.

My inner fighter was slowly being wakened.  Fear was still strong, and the Moron played those cards well - but he failed in his underestimation.  In his underestimation of the bond between Mother and child as well as his underestimation of Miss Suzie Q.

Do Morons Make Good Fathers?

Some might argue that how Morons treat their spouses, is not equivocal to how they treat their children.  I for one will disagree.

Some might say that just because they do not treat their spouses with respect, and abuse them - doesn't mean they are bad parents.

I guess it depends on your definition of a good parent. I personally believe that parents owe their children the best possible upbringing.  One that provides them with both emotional and financial security.  Now, I am not talking about providing your children with ipods and tv's and everything money can buy.  What I am saying is that providing them with shelter, good food, clean clothes and good work ethic are important.  Whether you do so with a 6 figure income, or a minimum wage job, is irrelevant.  Paired with the emotional security to provide them with a safe place they can call home.  Safe for them to be themselves, free from physical and emotional harm.

If you don't believe that the effect of spousal abuse has an impact on your children, then maybe you should ask yourself how children learn, and where they gather their information to which they will model themselves after.

Actions truly do speak louder than words.  Children learn from both - but they are little sponges and absorb everything - good and bad.

Morons may want to be good parents, but wanting and doing are often two different things.  Is there a point where you simply lose parental rights?  What if we were talking about criminals, murderers?

I have read some pretty horrible custody trials, and personally have disagreed with many judicial decisions that have been made over the years.

Its a tough call. What are your thoughts on the issue?  Join the debate...

Neighbours, Friends and Families

I am going to introduce a very cool community-based campaign that has been sweeping across Ontario, Canada.  It is known as the NFF Campaign (Neighbours, Friends & Families).

www.neighboursfriendsandfamilies.ca

Neighbours, Friends and Families is a public education campaign to raise awareness of the signs of woman abuse so that those close to an at-risk woman or an abusive man can help.

This is an amazing organization which is targeted at, yup, you guessed it, neighbours friends and families of both the victims as well as the abusers.  Often they are the ones who see the first signs of abuse, but have no idea what they can do to help.  Education is key.  It provides tons of information on how to help the victim as well as how to talk to the Moron.  It is full of information and links, and definitely worth the trip over. 


Give it a try, hop on over and spread the word... Abuse is simply NOT RIGHT.

Fear - Can we Live with it?

I have been thinking alot about the decisions I make.  About the feelings that go into the decisions I make.  About the feelings that go on, when I make a decision.  There is one feeling that is always there.

FEAR

Even when I think that it's not, its hanging out in the background, lying like a tiger, waiting to pounce.  I don't think that I have always been this way, and I have come along way, baby.  But it is still there.  Until recently, I didn't realize just how much fear was really in me.

You know what?  I am tired of living in fear.  Tired of worrying about what may happen.  Tired of not doing the right thing.  Tired of worrying about the Moron.  Tired.

Fear can be paralyzing.  Fear can be crippling.  And fear can keep your senses sharp.

Tell you what.  I have come such a long way, might as well go the distance.  I may not never fully forget what it feels like to be in the clutches of a Moron - but I sure as hell control that I am gonna do everything in my power to never be there again.

Every now and again I get relapses of that fear.  Especially when there are dangerous Morons out there just lurking.  But I am tired of being a Victim.

I can recall that about a year after I left the Moron, a friend's husband said these words to me:
"I have noticed that you walk taller, hold your head up, and look me in the eye when I talk to you now".
How blown away was I when I heard that.  He described me as mouse-like, and I have never forgotten it.  I don't ever want to be that way again.

I cannot control what life throws at me, but I sure as hell can control how I react to it.  And eventhough I may still have fear based reactions - they will NOT stop me from what I need to do.

How do you live with your fears?

Morons Don't just Spontaneously Combust

Boy wouldn't that be something to see?  But then think of the Moronic splatter left for us to clean up...just like a Moron - leaving us with a mess to clean up afterwards.

At the same time, Morons don't just erupt from nowhere.  They usually come with a whole line of Moronic extended family.  At least mine did.

The Moron was more or less from the small spit and miss town we lived in, having grown up there.  Where his sister and his parents lived.  She was a couple of years older that the Moron, and was a single mom to a wonderful little boy. He was such a nice kid.

The sister had always told me such horrific stories of the father of her child - one including him shooting a shotgun after her while she was running down the street.  I was always in awe of her view towards her Moron, and how she appeared to have such a pleasant view of him and insisted he truly was such a "nice guy".

I know now, she was in complete denial.  And that was how she handled her abuse.  I used to think she was such a better person than I, forgiving him and such, for the horrendous things he put her through, then trusting him with their child.  I know now, it was denial and fear, that made her think and do these things.  And even after all that has transpired between us, I really just feel sorry for her.  And saddened that she still, after all these years, is unable to see the truth before her eyes. (More about her later)

There was also a younger sister, who pretty much had disassociated from the family, moved to the BIG city, and started her own life there.  It saddens me to think that even she stooped to their level during the divorce - but, I guess blood is thicker than water.

But the piece de resistance is the mother,  The Queen Biotch.  It truly amazes me the gall and lack of class that some people have.  The apple definitely didn't fall far from the tree - in this case.

I used to actually feel sorry for her, and gave her such latitude, in the beginning.  After hearing the horror stories of how her first husband (the Moron's father) had treated her.  And all that he did to her and their children.

Now I just am saddened and angry.  Sad that she allowed such horrible things happen to her children, and that she had endured such fear.  Angry because she did not utilize the opportunity to develop understanding, healing and growth to overcome her ordeal.  Instead she just perpetuated it.

Angry that not only did she allow her children to be hurt in so many ways (including her daughters to be raped and molested by her brother) but also allow them to hurt innocents, and eventually put my daughter at risk.

Lastly there is the Moron's step father.  Ironically I liked him the least in the beginning, and the most in the end.  He is a simple, selfish, deluded, money hungry tool.  But in the end, what he is to your face, he is to your back.  He makes no excuses for who he is - other than show you up front who he is.  In the end I gotta respect him for that.  Amid a family of people who hide and manipulate under the covers of being the "nice guy", he ironically has earned my respect for being who he is.

What is your extended family like?

Morons are Everywhere

Been back and forth and all around the place with work these days.  Remember I said that my boss reminded me so much of my Moron?

Should have listened to my gut....

Good news I am one job down and hopefully will never have to deal with him again.  Unfortunately I also found out how fleeting some friendships are, especially work ones and those associated with the ole dollar.  I am always amazed how many people choose money over people, integrity, truth...

So one job down - but at least I have two other ones.  It was beginning to be quite tiring to work all of them.  But as a single mom, what can you do?

So I have some really exciting things planned.... so stay tuned...

This last little bit of re-shuffling has taught me I have to go with my gut more, and focus and the things that truly matter to me.


I have a few questions for my readers:

How do you single parents deal with the bread earning/parenting balance?

What has been your hardest hurdle after leaving your abusive relationship?

Do you feel you have a finer tuned Morondar (radar for abusers)?

My FIrst REAL Mother's Day at Last...

Awoken by the tiny pitter patter of little feet, and a dive bomb into my bed, then a zillion Happy Mommy's day kisses; I am reminded of my very first Mother's Day, and how vastly different life is, now.

When my Lil Pixie was born, I was so excited to be a mother.  It was the most amazing thing I had ever done - and I think I have done a few amazing things in this life...

When the first Mother's Day rolled around, I woke up to an empty house.  No note, no clue where the Moron had gone, or my Lil Pixie. Thoughtfulness along with tact and well, a heart, were never things the Moron could ever be accused of by those who truly knew him.

The diaper bag was gone, along with a few bags of my frozen milk (I had enough milk to feed an army).  I knew why the Moron liked that I pumped my breast milk... at least he took some of it with him.  I could be thankful for at least that!!

Dinnertime rolled around, and still no sign of them.  Late that night they came back, her fast asleep.  My first mother's day missed - I am sure part of his plans to punish me something or other.  Many tears were shed that day.

My second Mother's day we were separated too.  The Moron managed to get his court ordered visitation on Mother's day - and once again I was alone on a day that meant so much to me.  Many more tears shed.

For many years, this was what I was left with.  My being alone on Mother's Day.  Even after our huge court battle, he had managed to get his court ordered visitation, flying her across the country, always for this special day.  The Moron's vengeance runs deep.

Never once receiving a Mother's Day present, never once hearing those tiny pitter-pattering feet or receiving those award-winning Mommy's day kisses.  Until today.

Today I have to work, and was feeling a little down.  Down at having to work one of my many jobs today.  As a single mom struggling to make ends meet (as I am sure many of you know) I am laboured with working two fulltime jobs, as well as one part time one.

I was having a small pitty party for myself, until I remembered how far I have come.  How far we have come.  Both literally and figuratively.  I have gained my freedom.  I have a life again.  In some sense, I have been reborn.  And although today is a day made up from Hallmark cards and the flower corporations, it does hold significance for me.

And thanks to an amazing kindergarten teacher, I even went on a treasure hunt for an amazing Mother's Day present.  In the end, life isn't so bad, and the few hours missed on this glorious day, for work, just helps to fund our freedom.

Hope all of you have a glorious and Moronfree Mother's Day - I know I will :)

Do Morons Bear Morons?

This is a question that I have been pondering for some time now.  Being the mom of a little one, and her daddy is a Moron - does that give her greater chance of being one, or choosing one for herself?

Abuse is often the gift that keeps on giving.  You are what you know, and you act out what is familiar to you.

I had a counsellor once tell me that it took 5 generations to break the cycle of abuse. Five. Wow, my Lil Pixie doesn't have a chance...

I'd like to think that I have learned so much about abuse Morons and myself in the process, and am providing her with better tools to make better decisions than I did.  I'd like to think that I am emulating a life of a stronger, more confident, more aware woman.  One that will never be oppressed or be a victim, again.

Perhaps this is just the old nature versus nurture question, dressed up in different clothes...

One of my favourite sayings is; when we know better, we do better.

But must we learn from our own mistakes?  Can we learn from others, as well?

As a mother I can only hope that I will provide my child with a firm foundation so that she can make good, solid decisions for herself.  In the end, that is all any mother can hope for.

On the other side of the coin, is the Moron the result of bad parenting?  Is abuse a role that was played in his life that he emulated?  And at what point does he take on the responsibilities of his own actions - despite his upbringing?

These are just a few of the things that are rolling around in my head tonight, as I fight sleep - more, sleep fights me!

What are your thoughts on the subject?

DO Morons bear Morons?  I would totally love to hear what you feel on all or some of the above...

If it Looks Like a Moron...

I had a meeting the other day with my new boss. This normally would be a painless experience, except that he has such a very strong resemblance to the Moron.

It was very interesting as I struggled with many things. First, trying to pay attention to what my new boss was saying, rather than trying to concentrate on just how and why he seemed so familiar to me.  This ever happen to you?

Try as I might to concentrate on what he was saying, my mind kept wandering to how I made the connection with him and the Moron.  Was he displaying subtle hints of abuse?  Was my super-strength Moron detector, sniffing out some Moroness??

Trying to wrap my head around what exactly was causing the familiarity to the Moron. Yes, there was a bit of the physical resemblance, tall, skinny, balding (Friar Tuck style), but was that all there was?

I guess time will tell, why exactly my Spidey senses are tingling when my new Boss is around.  For once though, I will trust my instincts and go into full alert mode.  Someone has to earn my trust, now.

So, am I the only one that this has happened to?  Has anyone else had this familiarity to one of their Morons? 

Pregnancy with a Moron - Part 5

If you are just joining in, you catch up with Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, and Part 4. Then this next entry might make a little more sense. My nine months of being pregnant felt like years (as I am sure for some of you as well) but mine had a deeper sense of time, as my child (my little Pixie) was forcing my Authentic Self to be seen.

SO, in my last month of pregnancy, everything became crystal clear for me. Sort of like all the illusions of life were gone, and the Pixie was giving me truth goggles.

But all of this was a lot to take in, it's like standing in a fog but seeing clearly. My conscious self wasn't sure what to believe, as I had been told for so many years that I exaggerated everything, and made things up, or blew things out of proportion.

The Moron could see a shift, so he started working heavily on my family. I learned later, that at this time he would tell people that I was starting to lose it. He would call up my family, out of feigned concern, and say that he was "really worried about me" and was afraid that I would cause harm to myself, and ultimately the baby.

Fortunately one person out of all of this saw thru it, and slowly convinced the rest of the family of my sanity.

Along with this new found clarity, I also had all of the hormones whipping around me (like every other pregnant lady).  And it turns out you can get post-partum depression - before - you have given birth. I can remember talking to my father (my parents lived on the other side of the country) and crying because I was so scared and I had no idea how I could support this baby as the Moron had stated it was up to me to provide for the baby.

After all, he was working so hard just to provide a roof over our head, and food on the table, the least I could do is provide meager diapers etc...

I was totally stressed out - and of course on sick leave, and worried about the baby... and I was crying for what seemed to be weeks at a time.

My father at this time became quite worried about me, and had a plan to drive and pick me up and bring me home where I would have the baby there.

At the last minute, I unconsciously shut down and put up a wall for my survival, and once again chose to disbelieve what I truly felt, and forced myself back on the path of denial, and the false belief that everything was just fine.

I was apparently very convincing, as my father called off the trip, and I laughed it off as hormones.  Weeks later my mother arrived on my due date. The night she arrived at my house, I went into labour...

Pregnancy with a Moron - Part 4

So my last trimester of pregnancy was my most action packed one, in more ways then one. I was on sick leave – as per the doctor’s orders – and was getting a little scared. My blood pressure was rising as well as my little Pixie’s inside of me. But considering what was going on outside of the womb, I guess it was to be expected.

The Moron was in full force the last couple of months of the pregnancy. I can only assume it was the encroaching responsibility of a little person, and the increase of $$ it would mean bringing one into this world. Yep, probably the money thing, sad really that the Moron’s nemesis was some printed paper.

As I was resting – as per doctor’s orders – and of course worrying about the health of my lil Pixie, the Moron was trying to get me to get a job under the table. I wasn’t paying my way, you see.

As I was trying to figure out how to make some money (with all of my muscles in my stomach and abdomen – and some I didn’t know I even had – were in agony) the Moron went into the studio and sold things for super cheap. All of my art and creative musings, “ Five bucks, everything for five bucks” he would tell customers.

As I was selling all my prized possessions, and all that gave me some joy (such as my dirt bike, which he threw in my hand painted helmet for free to the new owner) the Moron said we had to sell my car and go down to one vehicle.

Let me explain that we lived about 30 minutes from the nearest town (population 2500) and about 1 1/2 – 2 hours from the closest “real” town (ie working hospital). Being home alone – let alone with a newborn baby – without a vehicle would be absolutely crazy, not to mention unsafe.

The Moron earned a really good income, but it was considered “HIS” money. Up until this point, I didn’t care about that, being a non-materialistic person that I am. I think he just couldn’t overcome the struggle of being out o control of every situation. And let me tell you – babies will do that to you. You really have no control over them, they have their own way :)

I loved my SUV – and I HAD BOUGHT IT MYSELF, but, I had a small amount left owing on it, and no idea how I could pay that off as the Moron refused to help me, and my maternity would not cover that expense as well as pay for all of the new baby stuff. This is what angered the Moron. And the closer I came to my due date, the more outraged he became. With my savings blown from the bathroom, I had nowhere left to turn, and I started to spiral downwards.

I think as the Moron stepped up the Emotional and Financial Abuse, I felt more and more trapped, and realized that this was no way for a child to be raised. I started to see the light. I think the whole time that this little entity was growing inside of me, my innerself was also growing – growing stronger, growing wiser, growing more authentic. I think the Moron could sense me pulling away, could sense something happening on a level he could not understand. But he had to step it up, as losing was not an option for him. The Moron would joke about killing me in my final month, but salvaging the baby – and I would never get to meet her. He would joke about hiring OJ Simpson’s lawyer to get him off.

The Moron’s depression/anger reached its heightened state when he told me that if I ever left him, he would kill me and take the Pixie away from me forever…

This fear that was instilled in me – is still there. That is something that will never leave you, no matter what is said and done. Some things can never be undone. You can live through them, work through them, but it is always there...

Morons Glamorized ?

Have you seen Eminem & Rihanna's music video for "Love the Way You Lie" ?

If you have not heard the song or seen the video - be prepared for some explicit language and an intense tale of domestic abuse amidst a whole load of flames.  The video version of the song stars Lost star Dominic Monaghan and Transformers star Megan Fox.

I am actually a HUGE fan of this song.  If you take away the hypnotic melody and cool beat, and can look past the cursing - lies the domestic violence cycle, in hip lyrics. It's a trendy stand on abuse, and it's about freaking time!

In my view Eminem is a kind of urban Shakespeare, in which he breaks down the cycle of domestic violence in rap poetic prose. And Rihanna's hauntingly sultry voice cuts in with the illiterating part of the trap of how and why an abused victim stays in this type of relationship, always holding onto the lies.



The video has been classified as glorifying abuse by casting pouty, sexy star Megan Fox, of course scantily clad with explosive make out scenes along side a pretty chiseled Dominic Monaghan. Rihanna and Eminem (in a cliche wife beater) also strut their stuff.

Yes, it has been glamorized and even Miss Suzie Q wished she looked that good while being tossed around, LOL.  But seriously, it just pretty much guarantees the exposure of this video, and hence this message, our message, to stop Domestic Violence.

I jest, but sometimes you need some lightness to approach such a heavy subject such as abuse. The stats alone would wear you down and literally make you cry. Harder if you are a parent. But is this the way to go?

I think one of the biggest messages of all, is the fact that Rhianna is the other part of the duet. Kudos to her for not brushing her past under the rug, and choosing to make a stand. Albeit in her scantily clad leather shorts and high heeled boots, but a stand none the less. Showing that abuse transcends race, socio-economic, and class barriers. Perhaps that in itself is a message worth sending.

Is the platform or venue as important as the message? Is it possible that the tweens of this generation can see past the lipstick, and the low cut shirts and chiseled abs to hear the message?

Let's hope so. Perhaps we should be targeting this generation in a suitable media they would understand... Tailor the venue to target the audience. Most importantly, GET THE MESSAGE OUT.

Instead of attacking the scantily clad messengers, we should be promoting THE MESSAGE. But then again, there is no such thing as bad press - so they say. So perhaps the message is getting out anyway.

What are the chances of the next, next generation being Moron Free ? It's a nice thought. This girl might even don some lipstick and some hooker boots to get the message across... yeah, no, not so much.

What do you think?

Married to a Moron

So, I was now married to a Moron. Funny how the earth did not move, nor did the married life seem any different than my former one.  Actually that was not true.  I became even less of a "partner" to this man to whom I was betrothed. If that was even possible.

I was no Domestic Goddess, but I could cook, and my housekeeping wasn't spotless - but I was clean. When I cooked dinner, most of the time the Moron would purposely choose to make his own, as I sat there in awe...

When I would make his lunches for work, the Moron would purposely leave them on the counter, and get mad because how dare I choose to decide what he ate for his lunch.  He would bring canned goods to work.

And come any work function, I was always the butt of every joke.  And there were many of them.... And we would sit down at our table, and we would start to eat, and then it would start...

"... nice to finally get a home cooked meal, eh?"

"... better then the canned crap you eat at work?"

Looking back I can see the cruelness in his everyday, and it is pointless to dissect the why. For it doesn't matter, it is done and over.  More important to me, is the why I stayed, and allowed myself to be treated that way, as I am sure all of you are thinking...

Years of abuse takes its toll, and denial is a warm blanket used to comfort oneself when the truth is too cold to bare. You laugh along, and choose to view the world as you want to see it. Especially when you cannot conceive of the cruelties that others spew, it's easier to give the benefit of the doubt, or laugh rather than cry.

Triggers - Wish I Was Roy Rogers...

I wish my Trigger looked more like Roy Roger's infamous horse. Instead it is countless little movements and feelings that bring me back there, and paralyze me with fear.

As I write this now, I am years away from when I got married. I am years away from my separation, and a couple of years away from my divorce. But the wounds are still there. And just because the imminent danger is not glaring me down ... it is still there. It's hard to move on, from something so painful. It's hard to learn to live again, when something was taken. It's hard to regain, when something is lost.

The nightmare is over, but not forgotten, and even those close to me cannot understand the lasting impression something like that, makes in your life. To describe it in words is impossible to someone who has not been there. To describe the fear of your child's life or the everyday paranoia that was felt, is irrelevant to someone who has not experienced it.

There are the smallest of moments that choke me, when I realize that the fear is still there, lying still inside of me, and may never be gone. The smallest of moves that someone makes, and I am frozen as I am transported back to a place that resembles my Moron's existence - and ultimately my own.

Places and words can transport me back in an instance, even if minutely. Friends and family have no idea of the toll this has taken on me, as in their mind it is over.  They cannot comprehend that it is important to ME that I say goodnight to my daughter, or that I be afforded the duties of being her mother.

What others don't realize is that when you have been fighting for your life and of that of your daughter, then you have a different connection to them, and that certain things are more important to you then if you hadn't almost lost them. I have no doubt that most Mothers like to kiss their babies goodnight and make sure they are safe and sound. When you have almost lost your child, this becomes a little more important, even when the danger fades. Its something normal Moms, can't comprehend, nor should they.

Somethings you just can't get over, you just find a way in dealing with them. Like losing someone important in your life. You can never get them back, instead you find a way to move on with their memory intact.

Part of my healing is learning to find my triggers, and releasing them. But keeping my senses strong. Sometimes it is difficult to decide if this is a trigger, or if this is my spidey senses going off. After years of pushing down my authentic self, in sense my intuition, I still am finding my way listening to it.

But learning to release my triggers, is another way of releasing myself of the Moron's hold. Ultimately you cannot control what someone will do to you. And that is a hard one to grasp, while fear has a grasp of you.

As with all of life's obstacles, finding your way, the journey to the other side, is the important piece. It's the part where you learn and often re-learn the things you need to know. And when one journey is over, another one begins. Life is funny that way. Always another hurdle. So for tonight, I will count this one a win. Sometimes I get caught up in the struggle, sometimes i lose, and sometimes, like tonight, I remember that I am in control. I am in control of how I choose to live, and learning to do it without fear.

Mark it on your score cards boys, another win for Miss Suzie Q.

My Beautiful Beach Wedding - Despite the Moron

So off we went to Mexico. I think a part of me kept hoping for a LOUD and DISTINCT sign that this was a mistake. But no plane crash, no hurricanes, no guests dropping from heart attacks...

It was however a beautiful ceremony, on an absolutely beautiful beach, at a beautiful resort. I am very glad we decided to go this way. Had we had a typical wedding ceremony, I would not have been able to look back on it with fondness. In this case however, there was no "real" hassles (which meant fewer BIG fights) and I could enjoy the sun, the surf, and being with family :)

Probably to the outside world, we looked like a cute, happy couple, getting married on a beautiful beach, surrounded by our loved ones... Ah, to have seen my life thru someone else's eyes...

The ceremony itself was in Spanish, and was translated (rather roughly). Absolutely beautiful. Though, I think it lessened the impact of our union. Looking back, somehow, I think the gravity of the situation was lost in translation. It didn't really seem real, and didn't really seem like a big deal. Because I believe it should be a BIG deal. It is a very important step, and a super intimate bond that is forming.

And as I looked at my Moron, sweat beading from his brow, I didn't feel that impact. I just felt the sun...

I was determined to enjoy those two wonderful weeks there, and I must say I am incredibly resilient, and have an amazing capacity for viewing the world as half full!! Oh, and can't forget my old friend denial, she kept me company, here and for many years after.

My Moron was a moody sort, but I had lots of places to see and people to go with :) And did I mention the food??? To die for! Had lots of that, as there was little happening in the bedroom - if you know what I mean!!! I can be creative with excuses, but somehow stupidly thought this trip, our union, would spice up my desire... not in the least.

I learned later on in life, that loss in sex drive is a very familiar side effect of abuse. And has more to do with your partner than you. If Morons only knew this... they just may change their ways :) Well, probably not...

Money is, and probably will always be, the most important priority in my Morons life, sadly. And eventhough it was my parents who paid for our vacation (our wedding present) I was on a strict budget, and could not buy anything without his permission. But he was an unworldly sort, and didn't know that credit cards worked everywhere ;)

So my beach wedding was beautiful, and the trip still holds some very good memories for me. The Moron however, is in very few of them, amazingly. Funny how that is! The Moron also took all memories of this day (photo albums, wedding DVD, etc) when he left. Why? My best guess is that it held many photos that I had no duplicates of, as they were of and from my family. Vindictiveness rages strong in a Moron.