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Quiet Hovel & Swiss Cheese

/ Laurie / Leave a comment

Ok, so I tend to stay stuck in the silence much longer than I need to. And its not the good kind of silence, instead its the overbearing, weigh me down, allow me to begin to feel a little sorry for myself sort of silence. As I sit in the self created little hovel, wailing alone. I am reminded that I know better. Yet, I get up in the morning, knowing I should do more (wanting to do more). Like jumping on the yoga mat, a treadmill, anything that would be “good for me” and my health. But, that would take getting up sooner than 30 mins before my work days starts and barely doing that sometimes. It’s simply been easier to not go to bed at night, staying up to watch another episode of a show that I have most likely watched a dozen times already… or starting a new show, and even though its only “so-so”, feeling vested after a season, that I just have to finish it.

Which brings me to the more honest realization that it is truly too easy to just sit there and not go to bed, too easy to allow the silence once again, to surround me; allowing that silence to grow louder every day. And as a recovering alcoholic, this practice is indeed a dangerous game. Because I know better, I know better for the 101 thousand reasons, and even though I have no desire to drink; I have a lot of really bad habits that come spiraling into view when I get to the place I am recently, the warm little hovel that has been my intermittent home these past few months.

I am thrilled to share, err admit; that this is merely self-discovery, once again… I can pinpoint the when, where, and who of it all. It used to make me so angry, that I allowed then myself to stay stuck in a moment that wasn’t going change; that was what it was and trying to think about having a different outcome, expecting different results, is merely the insanity that I know all to well.

Its all to easy for me to blame the other people, places or things… when I start to feel squirrelly. But, if I am really listening to the spinning wheel in my head, because the squirrels are running at 101mph; I know better.

I know, that I am the one to allow the situation to be what it is, in allowing my magic magnifying mind to manufacture all sorts of situations; including being angry or frustrated, sad, or overwhelmed. All the things, all the feels, is all about me, and I have to remember to own that.

I am so thankful that just a few days ago a dear friend reached out to me and asked me to help her be accountable. Because when it boiled down to it, I needed that too and I told her so. I am happy to be there for you, because, sadly I need the same. I had completely let go, and not in a good way; I had completely let go of what, that part of my life offered… the fellowship that was created, the serenity that was created, and it had become to easy to just say “screw it”.

So because of that conversation, I took off the mask that I had put back on after years of not wearing any mask at all… wearing that mask made it easier to live in the masquerade I was trying to emulate, so that no one would guess that there was still something wrong. Because Laurie was still doing what Laurie needed to do. And for the most part I was, I worked, paid my bills, and got through a given day. But… I stopped doing the other things, the other things necessary things for me, as an alcoholic to keep me healthy and whole.

I love swiss cheese. And that is basically what I created in my life, was a block of swiss cheese. I kept falling into the different “holes” of nothingness; the voids of silence that those spaces, or lack of space create. I just wallowed in those voids. It took getting a really good nights sleep, which I haven’t had in weeks; to wake up feeling good, but even more so, thankful; so very thankful for my life and my health and for what I know I can have, it I simply just use the tools of the program.

I have often used the expression, when discussing the “spiritual toolbox” of putting my toolbox in the back of the closet, thinking I didn’t need it any longer. And once again, I have been proven wrong; because once again, with just a little prodding… I dragged it out and opened it up once again. Those tools can be profound and cumbersome; but oh so necessary for my sanity, and those around me.

So the first of those tools, I pulled out and brushed off the bit of dust that had started to gather was to talk/text another person in this program daily; getting out of self. Then, with the encouragement of my dear friend, to share the gratitude I have in my life. Next, it was time to leave the hovel for more than family or church, and plug back into the fellowship that the program has so often encouraged me.

So I took the proverbial leap and even looked for a new meeting to go to. I found one close to home and got into my car and was on my way. I was a little nervous when I got there, I always am when going to a new meeting, first time encounters not my strong suit. But as I entered the room, I saw a familiar face and I knew it would be OK. There was some fun football banter before the meeting started and it was good to laugh and be apart of the sort of togetherness a meeting can bring.

Within moments, I was reminded of what I had been denying myself; something I enjoy. More importantly, something that allows me to thrive in the silence that sometimes fills my mind. God certainly works in unusual ways, but once again, He allowed me to be exactly where I needed to be; where He needed me to be. The topic was just what I needed to hear, and even allowed me to share where I was in my recovery, allowing me to share my truth.

I even stayed after the meeting and spoke with that familiar face and another woman, something I rarely do at any “new” situation. It was wonderful, to continue to share, to feel a part of the fellowship again, even in a brand new setting. For the first time in quite some time, I feel energized, alive in a way I have not felt in so long, as I continue to battle the not always seen demons in my life.

I am so grateful to be able to knock down the hovel and keep the swiss for my crackers at snack time… to put away the mask and remember the woman I see in the mirror each day, is pretty OK. To remember that self-care is important and to allow myself to revel in the place I find myself once again… the comfort and serenity of the fellowship that has saved me more than once in my life. I am looking forward to creating new relationships, new friendships with the like-minded people that like it or not, are my tribe.

Unexpected Gifts, from Unexpected Places

/ Laurie / Leave a comment

I am sitting here in my oldest daughter’s house, enjoying the peace and quiet, that is until Peyton, their dog starts bellowing at something outside and my heart jumps inside my chest! It’s been a nice evening, as I spend some time with him before heading home for the night. The kids are out of town for the weekend and I will actually enjoy a little “staycation” here tomorrow night thru Sunday and keep Peyton company and out of trouble. It will be nice, I can watch the football games I would miss at home and just enjoy the “feel” of being away from home as Open Enrollment has started this week, and it will really start to get crazy as the days go by in the weeks to come. I love my job, but for the next two months, I will be thankful for extra coffee and lots of OT!

Speaking of being thankful, I am still so filled with gratitude and have been really left without words. Roughly five or six weeks ago, my van decided to finally give me the last it had to offer and left me stranded on the interstate on a Saturday afternoon when it was 98 degrees out! Thankfully I have roadside assistance and they were quicker than the 50 minute estimate given in my app and after dropping off another car, took me home. I had visited with my mom while waiting for the driver, all just to kill the time, so what happened later that week was truly wonderful and such a blessing. We text pretty regularly now, but on Thursday, she asked me to call her. I did so after work and that was when she told me she wanted to gift me her extra car. I was stunned and did nearly start to cry. So much brokenness and pain that had been between the two of us for so many years, and now through our simple gestures of morning hellos or afternoon I love you, we our rebuilding something that perhaps we never really had before and it is through that reconstruction of our tattered relationship that we are finding something new.

It would be a couple weeks before I could make the 2 1/2 – 3 hour trip to be able to pick up the car, as there were family engagements on this side of the state, but it would be worth the wait to have something to drive again that I could travel more than 1-2 miles from my apartment. So this past weekend, Saturday morning, my son and I hit the road and made the trip to see my mom, his grand mother, that he hadn’t seen in years. It was a fun drive, laughing together and listening to music, and we almost made the entire trip without a stop – but mom has a weak bladder and drank too much water 😛

Once we got to my mom’s she gave us both hugs and we sat and had lunch together. It was nice to visit and it was nice to hear her talk about some of the things she is doing now; that she is getting out of the house for church and lunch with friends. I hate the idea of her being by herself most of the time, because I am too, I know what it feels like, what an empty room sounds like, how the absence of sound can affect you. Its only been five months since my step dad has been gone, and I know that it leaves an odd empty place for me, I can’t imagine what she must still feel, after spending over 40 years of her life with him. I was able to bring her a really lovely garden stone with a cardinal on it to have in her garden, as that is one thing I am so very glad she still enjoys doing, and it will continue to keep her busy each and every summer. She seemed to really like it and said she would wait until next year to put it out, and again committed how much she liked the cardinal.

We were there for about an hour or so, but with the long drive we did need to head back and so we said our goodbyes, I thanked my mom again for her generous gift and that I appreciated it more than I could express. She simply said, she had prayed about it and that was what God wanted her to do. That too made smile, made my heart happy. Because isn’t that all any of us want to do? The next right thing, which we would hope is what God, or Jesus, or Whoever you may call your own High Power would want you to do? As I drove home, I was filled with a sense of connection once loss, but now tethered once again, and the young girl lost and unseen, was always there; she just needed to step out of the darkness to be seen and heard. Even if it is only to whisper into the night, I’m still here and I love you.

As the Silence Fades

/ Laurie / Leave a comment

As I sit here listening to the gentle humming of my cat’s purring I am reminded that my world has become less silent in recent weeks. Yet, is it the awakening world around me? Or my own awaking that brings such sweet sounds to my once hushed existence? Being lost in the shroud of depression – having crawled deep inside myself. Deep into the self dug pit and desperately pursuing a livelihood of attempting to conceal myself from anyone not necessary to my immediate world. Barely surfacing for air and eating even less, I was barley surviving and doing my best to simply camouflage myself amongst my day by day world; merely getting by.

But as we all know, my “getting by” was getting me nowhere and I am so grateful for that fact. I am also always and forever grateful for the mysterious way that God works in our lives, how He has worked in mine. From bringing me to Omaha almost 9 years ago, to all that I have been through in the last 2 years. My plan vs. God’s plan were once again quite different, and even with some of the recent struggles… I would ask for them again, because they are truly what strengthens us. We are reminded to “Be thankful for all of our storms, because without them, we would never know how truly strong we are.” This is indeed so very true, and I thank God each day for how strong I am, and for being with me, through each and every storm. I don’t know about you, I keep childishly wanting that straight line to the finish, and He simply knows that’s not the path… But, when I continue to trust, and to truly step out in faith, HE is there and the fruit of my efforts are more than seeds in my hands.

Seeds that are blossoming into beautiful plants that I no longer destroy. (I used to have a black thumb, but I am happy to announce I have 6 beautiful healthy plants in my home) Today there is a beautiful plant beginning to blossom where there was once was so much brokenness and a silence that was deafening.

It brings a smile to my face when I receive a morning text from my mom and we can talk about simple things each day, like Husker VB or college softball, two of the things she enjoys watching. She sent me pictures of her flower garden, each photo, each text helping to chip away at the long held silence… helping us find our way back to each other. We would talk about going for walks, and as we got comfortable texting, we could start talking too. Hearing her voice, knowing how long it has been; decades of brokenness and never the right time or way to say or speak… so it simply kept being unspoken. Until our recent tragedy reminded me that it’s never too late, and as my brother so simply stated a few months ago, “it doesn’t matter anymore.”

And he was right, I/we could hang on to all that was, or wasn’t and get caught up in the woulda/coulda, or we can simply move forward and enjoy the time we have and share the moments we are given and choose love. That’s what I choose to do moving forward, to love and to try to be a good daughter; because when I needed her most, when I needed her to protect and take care of me, she did 110%.

Then there is the beautiful blossoming that is occurring with my writing, after being quiet again, but continuing to feel that familiar pull; to hear the quiet whisper within myself, “It’s time to tell your story.” Meeting women who share my experience, my pain. Finding true healing after all these years. Finding healing again, after all the loss these past two years. Having that healing and loss lead me back to my journal, with this need to actively pour the words out of me. Often flowing like a ballad or lullaby – soothing, healing as they left my heart and soul and found their way to the paper; waiting to be fully shared with all the other broken but healing souls who they reach.

So it was with intention I took the steps that allowed myself to be vulnerable. Questions were asked and answered, and I said YES! Today I can reveal I am writing with purpose and I have a collaboration that I will be a part of and I will be reaping the rewards of trusting in Him and walking by faith and allowing songs of hope to be sung in the silence.

Strong and Silent

/ Laurie / Leave a comment

Nearly three weeks ago, I received an early morning text from my younger brother. Which is a bit out of the ordinary, because we don’t talk a bunch. He said he wanted me to know he had been up early reading, my sister-in-law had directed him here, to my blog and he had read it all. He told me “the good Lord made you a talented writer and you need to tell your story” He also told me he loved me, but those words, the latter of his sentence, brought tears to my eyes. They were words that I thought, wouldn’t have believed he would ever say. I simply could have NEVER have imagined him saying, and I was indeed overwhelmed.

You see, I love my little brother, who is not so little any more, very much. We were very close growing up and he was always much more of an “older” brother in the way he acted, he was very protective and when we were both in trouble, he always had my back. We drifted apart when our parents divorced the summer I turned 14. I stayed with mom and he lived with dad, but I’m getting ahead of myself… let’s get back to why my hearing my brother telling me I should share my story moved me to tears.

Well, because my story, my TRUTH, which is also our story, is a hard story to tell, an even harder pill to swallow. Which I suppose is why I have continued to sit in the silence and this unbearable holding pattern, waiting for something, SOMEONE to give me the signal to move on; to move forward, outside the dark and quiet void. So for years I have waited in the void, rehashing old demons, creating and battling new ones; shedding armor only to put on more. All the while, quietly waiting to tell my story, to be given the opportunity to speak my truth.

The summer I was 12, was the summer my story began; or at least my most vivid memories. There was a day, that there had been an incident, and I was on the stairs crying. My brother came in and found me, he was 10 and being a pest and wouldn’t let up until I told him why I had been crying. He didn’t believe nothing and whatever else I must have told him, so I told him the truth… he freaked out, called me a liar and ran to his room. He took a nap and he forgot it all, because he never sad a word. So I decided right then and there to never say another word, if my own brother didn’t believe me, why would anyone?

So that Monday morning, in one quiet gesture, in a loving text, my brother gave me the nod to move forward – forward in the final phase of healing from the trauma I endured so many decades ago. Its like I have finally been given the permission to get up of the stairs in that old farmhouse where it all started. As if I have been sitting there ALL these years and now I am finally FREE! No more softly weeping, unable to move, afraid to do so; because if I did; the walls would come tumbling down around me.

Today, I am good, truly, my wounds are healed. I’ve been thru therapy, twice; and after 20 years of self medicating with alcohol and drugs, and basically marrying my father three different times; I found recovery, including out-patient treatment and started seeing myself differently and moving forward there were much fewer self inflicted wounds. Its been another 20 plus years, living life sober and today I know make better choices and I am living a life I am much prouder of. I still have struggles, that comes with life. But today, I know much better ways to deal with them.

As previous posts have revealed, the last two years proved especially difficult as I experienced more loss and grief than I could have imagined, and I did get caught up in the void, the isolation of that staircase, sitting there, alone and crying and just lost in the sadness. I used to pray on that staircase, and to my naïve and traumatized young self, I simply thought that God either didn’t hear me, or worse… didn’t care. Today, I know better, with FAITH, even in my sadness and sitting on those stairs again, I prayed, asking God to help me through.

So while there can be strength in silence, I am here to say, I have been silent for far too long. And if my not so “little” strong and silent brother can give this tortured writer the gentle and encouraging nod that I have been waiting for… if as I standup and start to walk away, I can hear the quiet rumble and feel the trembling around me, as the walls do come crumbling down. When the dust settles, I turn to see that the stairs are all that remains. Someone still sits there and I take a step back, raise my hand to shield my eyes and I see that it is 12yo me. She lifts her hand to wave and she smiles, and then she walks away, a skip in her step, nothing to fear.

I turn to do the same, maybe not skip (my 58 yo back and knees would not agree) but walk, away from the wreckage of my past, trudging along on a beautiful new path, that is filled with it’s own uncertainties, but today I am more than strong enough to do what needs to be done, including shatter the silence and stand strong.

How We Can Heal in the Silence

/ Laurie / Leave a comment

Hello again, I could start by apologizing for my lengthy absence, and its not that I am not sorry, because I am. I wanted to write and I did do some private journaling, its just that the darkness and loss continued to be so overwhelming; that sharing my voice simply wasn’t possible until now. And then I was finally navigating the numerous losses from December 2023 to May 2024, once again God took home two more angels, and my heart fell back into the ache that far too many people know and understand. That familiar darkness washed over me, inviting me in again, and I obliged.

What happened next was the unexpected fellowship I found amongst 12 veritable strangers. We met in a room at the church, each Wednesday night, for 3 months, 13 weeks if we’re counting specifically. And I do want to count each and every week, because it was on those Wednesday evenings, even on the nights when I couldn’t go… (my final loss came shortly after the Greif Share class began, when my Stepfather passed) that I found a new sort of solace that I had not yet found. Even with therapy and time that had passed preceding walking into that room on the first night.

Amongst The group was the husband and daughter of my dear friend who we all lost over a year ago, it was so wonderful, to share in such an intimate way with them; to be able to let my friend’s daughter know how much her mom loved being a grandmother. We both were new to having grandchildren and loved sharing our newest photos with one another. The couple who just recently lost their son, I only knew their faces because they set in front of me during our church service. The beautiful words he wrote at the end of his life and they so graciously shared with us. The love and grace and heart that was poured into this young man, by them and God, was such a comfort for us all. The two strong widows, women my own mom’s age, newly placed in this “new” role… it was with their quiet grace and the sharing of all the “firsts” that I was able to know where my own mother might be, since I don’t live close. It has been through the unfortunate loss of my stepdad, that my mom and I are closer that we have been in years, maybe even ever. I try to text her daily and call her once a week to talk to her, and that is a big change to where we used to be. A healing for us, as we heal from losing him.

There are the others in the group, and as a whole, every week, there was always something big that was experienced by one of us; some turning point, letting go, moving forward, that we could share and be vulnerable with one another and share where we were in the moment. But it was the ones I mentioned above, that I will forever feel connected to, thankful for and they helped through this part of my healing journey. I am forever grateful for the prayer warriors I know every single one of them are, as I continue to pray for them all, now that are sessions are complete. God created something special with our group, and I will forever hold them all in my heart.

Healing is indeed a process and we must go to Him, in all our uncertainty, all our failures, with all our short-comings and ask for His assistance, His forgiveness. Yet, if you are anything like me and you get caught up in the defects and short-comings; our sins, you may not feel worthy of forgiveness. And if we feel that way, we need to stop, immediately! Because that is the enemy telling his lies and we need to not listen and better yet, we need to tell him to shut up!!

But I get it, I used to live there, in that Valley of Unworthiness; the land of This is My Fault. So I just set there in silence, dealing with my consequences, instead of trying to learn a better way. Instead of asking, “God please help me” I had prayed so many times as a young girl, and He didn’t respond, so I finally gave up. If He didn’t help me then??? Why would He help me now? That’s when I began to learn a lot more about His will and timing.

This morning I read the following two statements about God’s love for us:

“Looking through the eyes of love, He already see us as we will be when His work is done.”

“The removal of our defects/sins (leaving holiness) is God’s will for each of us”

When we learn to understand this, believe this, we can be certain He will guide us, assist us, heal us, in His time, if we are asking and looking to Him for His direction.

What I learned in this extended silence, is that it isn’t empty… it’s full of answers.

Listen for yours, in your own quiet space.

OK God, I Hear You

/ Laurie / 2 Comments

Hello again, I know it’s been another bit of time since I’ve written. But… I did say this journey may be silent. The road these past few months has been busy, life busy as we all can expect, and as I have shared before, I don’t always adjust to that well. Busy can be distracting and it certainly has been. And per my usual fashion, I tried to use my distractions as a way to hide, managing to stay away from the pit this time (progress) but, simply not feeling that I was/am ready for the task that God keeps placing before me.

Disclaimer: Its not like this task is anything new. It is not a surprise by any means. In fact, He has been preparing me for this task for nearly forty years. Forty, considering we have just started the Lenten season, I am sitting here once again, silently saying, “OK God I hear you.”

You see, I’ve known for quite some time, that one day, I would share my story. I just never knew the when. That was His timing, and it has become very clear recently that the time has come. I always wanted to wait until I knew I was strong enough. I have also worried about who in my immediate family, might not want the story told, but again, it’s my story, my truth and its always been something that I have needed to do. The later, the fear factor, has had the biggest hold on me, but God isn’t letting that be an excuse anymore.

Sharing a life story, my life story, a story of survival is easier said than done, especially when four decades have past and I spent two of them in active alcoholism. Yet, what led me to the alcohol and drugs, the thing that were dark enough, that filled me with so much pain and shame. Alcohol was only thing I thought could make that dark and ugly feeling go away, even if only temporarily… that is the story that must be shared.

So I find myself firmly grounded back in my sobriety, walking this silent path hand in hand with my God. Today I have the most beautiful and intimate relationship I have ever had with the God who never left me, even in the darkest moments as a child, even when I cursed Him and turned my back and walked away. It is today, back in this beautiful relationship with my God, my Father, my Friend, I am not only reminded how whole I am, but how strong I have always been. How strong He made me. Strong enough to share my story, from the depths of my soul, even if its a little scary, even if its difficult.

You know how they say God has three answers to our questions, Yes / No / Not Yet? Well I have been saying “Not Yet” to God for awhile now and He just keeps laughing at me. Laughing at me by, putting a reading or verse or TV show or something, anything in my direct attention to say, “Do you hear Me?” I can only look at all these coincidences, “Godwinks” and say “Ok God I hear You.”

Guide me Lord, may the words I use be the words that others need to hear. What each hurting girl/woman needs to hear…

  • I can close my eyes and be silently transported back forty years to a living room in an old farmhouse in the county. I am lying on my stomach on the floor to watch TV, along with my brother. My dad and his girlfriend are sitting in the armchairs. We are watching one of those made for TV movies. It is about this young girl, (my age) who is being sexually abused by her father. I lie there unable to make eye contact with anyone, holding back tears. My dad’s girlfriend is making comments on what she would do if… he is silent. I can’t leave the room. At the end of the movie they provide a phone number, I memorize it. I tried to call it once, but he walked in on me…

So here I am, now it’s my turn to relay a message of hope to the next generation of the broken and hurting; to the girl or woman who is trying to find a way to hide her own pain and shame. I didn’t get to use the phone number from that movie, but the message from it did give me enough courage to find a way to finally speak up, and I got help. Yet, for so many years I continued to feel broken, used and ugly. I believed that was all anyone would ever see. It took a few decades and God patiently waiting for this prodigal daughter to return to Him, and once I did, He revealed to me, that my brokenness, the flaws I kept trying to hide, are the some of the most precious pieces that He used to make me ME. His Light shines through those cracks and flaws, through the broken pieces of me, like “Kintsugi” celebrating the flaws. In the program, it says, “We will not regret the past nor wish to shut the door on it.”

Today I understand and celebrate that my past is just that, the past. I try and live for today and I thank God every morning and again every night. I am learning to enjoy the silent moments He offers and to listen and respond into the silence.

Radio Silence & Brutal Honesty

/ Laurie / Leave a comment

Here I go again, all prepared to start off this entry with an apology for why its been four months since I have written and my only excuse is… I have no real excuse. Living alone has been a weird adjustment, and even thought I have been doing it for nearly two years now, it took me not having the dog to be responsible for, to see how it really changed and affected me. I no longer had to take him for walks, so I should have the extra time to get back into my yoga, meditation, and better yet, more time for my writing. Right? Right?? Wrong! I merely had more time to park my procrastinating butt on the couch and binge something on Netflix or Hulu and if I am being brutally honest, it was often something I had probably already seen before (more than once)! I kept saying “Ok Laurie, this is the day, I will start my new routine” But then something weird would come up and overturn my applecart and I couldn’t restart the next day but instead, have to wait an entire week… because I couldn’t possible start something in the middle of the week, now could I??

But that’s my thought process, the broken part of me, thinking that I have to start at the beginning of the week and can not start something the middle! I also had issues with my health (my migraines), new grandchild (welcome Conrad David) and moving to my new apartment. I’ll admit I have been the queen of excuses in my past, but if I allow that again, then I that means I am am falling back into old patterns; which in turn just might be taking me down a path that sooner or later, could certainly, if I am not aware – lead to a drink.

Recovery, and living life here in it, can be a difficult road. Because once we defeat the disease, we also have to learn to daily live life on life’s terms and sometimes, sometimes it is loud and ugly and I don’t know about you, but, there are times when I would much prefer to run to the comfort of the warm, dark pit that I used to hide in;when things were not going the way I liked, where in the moment… I had the illusion of comfort and safety.

I spend one evening a week with two different groups of women, both who love me unconditionally as I do them. We lean on each other and simply help each other try to live life in the best way possible, the second group of women and myself are studying a book which shared the Portia Nelson poem:

An Autobiography in Five Chapters

Chapter 1
I walk down the street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I fall in. I am lost….I am helpless.
It isn’t my fault.
It takes forever to find a way out.

Chapter 2
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the side walk.
I pretend I don’t see it. I fall in again.
I can’t believe I am in the same place.
But it isn’t my fault.
It still takes a long time to get out.

Chapter 3
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I see it is there.
I fall in….it’s a habit…but my eyes are open.
I know where I am. It is my fault.
I get out immediately.

Chapter 4
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I walk around it.

Chapter 5
I walk down a different street.

Today, I have too, learned to walk down a different street. But it took time and some days, that street is lonely and quiet. It is on that quiet street that I find myself listening for His voice, guiding me further down the street, this street of unknowns. I need you here, He says. I have people for you to meet ahead, people to guide and travel with… I smile as His voice is always so comforting, so familiar, all I will ever need.

Join me on this silent journey, He will fill our hearts with all we need.

The Silence That Nearly Killed Me

/ Laurie / Leave a comment

Each fall, each late September, early October, as the beautiful golden colors erupt; reds, yellows, oranges, golds – crisp, bright, bold. These colors are instead eclipsed by an overwhelming darkness. An immense and heavy void that weighs me down–pinning me back in time to moments that won’t set me free.

My heart would ache, physically ache, to the point that I literally thought that I might die, at the time… I wanted to. So each fall, for those few short weeks, I would trudge through the void, live in the darkness, at one with the silence. Until, it was silent no more. The fallen leaves would have lost their brilliance, now simply dull and brown. Crunching under foot, as I would walk along, the darkness fading to grey, the skies are themselves once again.

Through the recent completion of grief counseling, and understanding my loss, something I had never addressed; I brought a lot of things to the surface, without even realizing it. In doing so, I left myself open for easier access to old memories and having said memories trigger old feelings.

Within a brief period of time, the same incident happened twice, but it was the second incident that had me traveling back in hyper-speed fashion to an event nearly 27 years ago… My three oldest children were 3, 2 and the youngest just a few months old. There was a knock at the door-

What would happen next is all such a blur, but if I close my eyes I can see it in my mind, watching it replay like a silent movie. I would tell my two older children that we were playing a game, a “game” that consisted of seeing how quickly we could put all our necessary belongings into large hefty trash bags (we had no boxes) and put them outside before we go to Grandma and Papa’s house. We would play this “game” while the Fulton County Police looked on, so I had them go outside and put the baby in the swing and started packing.

I decided my little game excluded anything that belonged to my husband and tossed all his belongings into a spare room as I proceeded along, mumbling and cursing under my breath. I was so angry and embarrassed. One of the officers approached me, trying to say I could not leave the belongings I was throwing into the separate room, our friend who had arrived with him and his partner intervened, I heard him say he would take care of it. I simply looked at the officer and said something about “he didn’t care enough to make sure he paid our bills, I don’t give a shit out his stuff” and he nodded and backed away.

I don’t know how long it took, how quickly it takes one person, a mad (literally crazy and angry) woman to throw clothes and dishes and pictures and the things that within five mins you deem important into trash bags, but I got it done. The officers there, nor my friend, were not allowed to help me. I got all the kids favorite toys into the toy box, which they did carry outside for me. And when I said I was done, they barred the door shut and drove away. My friend loaded up the back of his truck with all our things and took the kids and I to my in-laws, my husband was still at this moment in time, MIA.

Once at my in-laws, we had a very frank conversation, “this is what he does” they said to me. They also told me when I had “had enough” they would help me get home. Home was Nebraska, and I know they were saying this because they would be leaving soon themselves, as they were preparing to move to Florida and my support system would be gone if something like this happened again. I merely smiled at them, stuck in denial and so blindly in love with their son. I told them I wanted to give him another chance. I would confront him about all this, his using, make him get help, but I wasn’t ready to give up on him. They said, OK, but I saw the worry, the disappointment in their eyes.

When my husband came home that night, to his parent’s home we did talk, he was full of regret and remorse, and full of promises to do better… he promised to get clean.

The next few weeks were pure chaos, he was gone either looking for work, working, or “at a meeting” and I really wanted to believe him, but all to often things didn’t stack up and I was just overwhelmed with the kids. His parents were often gone to Florida house hunting and their house was on the market and constantly in “stage” mode. Thank goodness they didn’t judge parents about screen time 30 years ago because my kids watched a lot of movies! It is the only way we could assure we kept grandma and papa’s house clean.

One of the last weekends at the very end, his parents were gone again, he was out working, this time supposedly on the house we would be living in when his folks moved. His new job included a house if he did some work on it before we moved in. So he was working on our house and I thought it would be nice to have a romantic dinner before his folks got back. I put the kids to bed early that night, and I as I sat there waiting for him, our dinner getting cold, my mind wandered back to just a few weeks before.

In all the weeks, even before the evection, since the baby had been born, I had felt so distant from him; this man whom I knew from the depths of my soul was indeed the love of my life, my soul mate, the one person who had seen the most broken pieces of me and didn’t care… who in fact had fixed so many of those broken pieces, but now, now he was breaking me in new places and I didn’t understand why? One evening we set there in our dimly lit living room, “borrowing” electricity from the neighbor’s outside outlet and he lit up his little pipe in front of me as he set there drinking another beer. By this time, he had stopped hiding it from me, and in that moment, all I wanted was to join him. To crack open a beer of my own and take a drag, or two, or three… but then something happened, the spell was broken, it was no longer silent. My youngest child, my sweet baby girl was crying from her bassinet, and I know God intervened, reminding me I had a baby to feed and care for and on that night I didn’t drink or use.

Instead I fed my child and was silently angry, quietly resentful to the man who sat across the room from me, oblivious to our presence. Why did I have to be the responsible one? Why did I have to be the one to do all the right things and he go to do whatever he wanted? Did he even care about what happened to us?

I would wake later that night, just after midnight, my fire nothing but embers, fueled with new anger by my memory/dream. I looked in the driveway, to see it empty, no surprise, and simply went to bed.

The next morning, my sleeping husband would be lying next to me. I would get up, check on the kids and walk the dog. My husband was supposed to bring home some boxes for me to be able to pack up our few belongings, as his parents were moving in less than two weeks. I walked around the car, we had one of those old long panel station wagons. When I got to the end, I saw the rear window rolled all the way down and the back was empty, I sighed, because I knew what was next- some sort of story, a lie.

I went back to the house, woke the kids, fed them breakfast, and then sent them outside to play, putting the baby in the swing and then and went upstairs to wake their father. I kicked the end of the bed and yelled at him asking where were the boxes. When he didn’t respond, I hit his legs and asked louder, where are the boxes, cursing and using his name. He sat up mumbling and rubbing his eyes and said they were in the car. When I said they were not, mentioning I had been out with the dog. He then started to tell me about how many he had gotten and a couple we bigger and he had to put the rear window down so he could get them all to fit, and maybe some of the fell out. By this time I think I threw an extra pillow or something at him because I am so angry at him… why was he lying to me?

He just sat there staring at me, I was crying, I told him I was scared because his parents were leaving and I was worried where we would be living in two weeks and sometimes I even wondered if there really was a house. When I said that, his face changed and his eyes dropped away from mine. When he looked back up there where tears of his own and he was mumbling, but he said that there wasn’t a house, yet… but there might be. But we could rent a hotel room for a few weeks while he figures it out, while he keeps looking.

I LOST IT!!! I asked him if he really expected me to live in a hotel room with three little children all day long for even a week, let alone week to week… until he figured it out???

I told him I needed to check on the kids and suggested he go to a meeting, to talk to someone about his priorities. Before he left the house that morning, he must have said he was sorry at least a dozen times and told me that he loved me and the kids a dozen more. I know, I love you too, I told him, which I did, but the truth was I needed him to leave so I could call his parents – I had finally had enough.

So this extended entry has been cathartic as I uncovered one extremely concealed resentment, one so gracefully disguised for the past quarter century. There is a saying that if you tell a lie long enough (especially to yourself) you will begin to believe it. That is exactly what happened to me with my ex-husband, the father of my oldest three children. He was the love of my life, my soulmate, my best friend. I was so worried about my children having a negative memory in their minds when it came to their absent father, so I created this picture-perfect image. Always, saying “He was a good father, a good husband, a good man, the disease took him away from us.” Over and over and over, when people asked, that was my only response… rote, robotic, and in doing so, I forgot how it really was. I forgot how broken and ugly it was, how angry I was in the end.

The truth is our sweet little family was no longer sweet and life as I knew it had been shattered. That life would/will never be the same and it is time I put those memories away. The man I once loved more than anything, will always have a place in my heart, he gave me my children. But by getting stuck each fall, by living in that void, in that dark silent place; I was keeping myself from the beauty of the true sunlight of the spirit and all the beautiful songs that can be heard when we allow ourselves to be still and listen.

UnRaveled

/ Laurie / Leave a comment

I’m feeling bit muddled these days, completely lost in my thoughts, certainly lost in their silence. So many of these thoughts are tethered to a particular relationship, bond to memories that I hold dear. But these memories seem to me, all I have to cling to.

It is this relationship, years in the making that I want to understand more; understand better, I want it to be a more significant part of my life today. Yet, today that does not seem to be possible, because the relationship that used to come so easy, that was perhaps once something I took for granted, is now almost unattainable.

So, it is now when the questions come. These are tough questions that I must ask myself. How? When? Why?

I need to, I must; take the step back, to look back and examine myself, asking myself those tough questions. I must try and decipher through my harried and troubled past, especially focusing in on the past few years, in order to determine how did I let this happen? When did things truly start to unravel? Why didn’t I try to stop it? Where did it all go wrong? Did I see that the cord was starting to fray? Was it subtle, or was it glaring? Did I make any effort, or simply turn a blind eye?

Today I have learned, today I understand; that I need to ask myself, what was my part in the unraveling. What did I do to create the inner turmoil that I struggle with in the most quiet moments of the night? How did I contribute to the darkness that exists in the deepest parts of my heart and soul, where that unravel was created, where there is so much unrest? How is it that I couldn’t find a way to simply reach out into the slowing growing void, before it outgrew both our reaches? Thus, finding ourselves at a place, unable to allow our fingers to intertwine, unable pull the other to safety. Our lives continuing to unravel, and in the darkness of the void, remain unseen and unheard.

Today I look across the void, slight reflections of light surprise me; tiny glimmers of hope. Hope that perhaps in time, the void can be filled; the cord tightened and reinforced to bring us close once again. Creating perhaps, a suspension bridge across the void, allowing us to meet in the middle of all that vast and vacant darkness. Then, once again being brought to a common point, allowing us to fill the void together, speaking our individual truths. And with each spoken word, each healing expression, the void will indeed fill with sounds of encouragement, love and healing.

Once again, breaking the silence.

Forgive me, I got lost in the silence.

/ Laurie / 2 Comments

I need to start with the disclaimer that I intentionally chose this name and wanted to start this blog as a continuation of my previous, which had been My Nearly Empty Nest, in which I had chronicled my life as my older children were leaving home and heading out into the world. This left me with their younger sister as she would wrestle the likes of middle and high school.

Life, as we all know has a funny way of taking us down paths we don’t expect. That guiding power, that isn’t us… my higher power, whom I call God, has always had different plans for me. I being a stubborn, and often defiant firstborn child (to name a few of my defects) doesn’t always listen. I still tried to do things my own way, to come up with my own fix. Trying and retrying the same thing over and over and over again… ah, the insanity of it all.

Needless to say, God did indeed have bigger plans for me. So in the fall of 2017 He ever so lovingly nudged me, by allowing a series of very uncomfortable events to push me to just reach out for council and I instead was provided an open door. It was then that my then 15yo daughter and I would leave the only home she ever knew in a small rural community, to the bright lights of a big city. It was here, that we, my daughter doing so first, found solace. I watched this young girl, so broken and damaged from her previous environment, begin to thrive… she had finally found her place. She excelled in the classroom, extra-circular activities and even finished all required classes a semester early, doing all of this during a pandemic! She is now in the second semester of her sophomore year at college, where she continues to thrive and works hard and perusing her dreams. She once was the little caterpillar that perhaps maybe even got knocked of the leaf it tried to attach to, but God placed her on a firmer branch and allowed her to stay safe and warm, to thrive and grow until it was time for her to spread her wings and fly.

I told you that God had bigger plans for me, and our move to the “big city” allowed me to find something that I didn’t realize I had even lost, that is until I found it once again. Because of my job, I couldn’t move immediately with my daughter, and the time separated from her was difficult. But what was more difficult, was packing up the chaos that had been my life in that little town for nearly 18 years. I found myself trying to pack and being overwhelmed, trying to downsize, purging a lot of things for the sake of my sanity. I would love to be able to say that I took things to our local thrift shop or to the Goodwill that was 20 miles away, but sadly I took most of the things I didn’t keep to the local dump. It wasn’t worth anything to anyone and it simply needed to be done, little did I know there would be internal purging in the months to come.

The first year was a time of settling in, getting used to all new things around us and trying to learn to manage in the new environment. It wasn’t all sunshine and roses, but it was an improvement of our life the year before, and for the first time in a long time, it had promise. Yet, in the midst of all the adjusting, trying to manage the changes, I knew I needed help; some comfort from the only true safe place I knew. It was a place that was easy to find, as easy as pulling out my phone and doing a google search… but more about that later.

I want to end with a follow up to the above mentioned disclaimer. The name of this blog, this platform allowing me to toss my words onto… is now about the silence that surrounds me when I take the time to truly listen to what He might be trying to tell me. Another disclaimer, fully honest, I don’t always listen well, as He has been quietly telling me for some time now, months really, that I need to be writing. You see as much as I have loved sharing my real-life happenings, sharing the joys and accomplishments of my children over the past years with past sites. For years, I have known, without a doubt, and especially once I finished my degree in 2020, that I need to share my story, to write the memoir of my survival of the abuse I endured as a child and teen at the hands of my father. I have been silent far too long, it is time to speak up, to share my words, my heart and soul; so that I might just maybe help one girl, one woman who is still hurting from the same pain and hurt. Perhaps buried and never spoken, silent.

Join me in the silence, that it might be broken.