i make no excuses about who i am! love me, hate me, just read me!

Saturday, November 27, 2010


When I was googling Thanksgiving eve for apple pie baking times at the bottom of the page I was on was an advertisement that kinda caught my eye. I actually went to the ad for The Colorado Meth Project, it had vivid PSA's showing the varying phases of methamphetamine addiction,  the ad that caught my interest was a john leaving a room and paying the girls boyfriend with a baggie of meth, it shows the boyfriend entering the room and the girl and he, both relieved that they have their high for the time being. WOW was all I could think. The next PSA I clicked on shows a son returning to his mothers house and him stealing from her, she catches him in the act and let me tell you I was flooded with emotions of sadness and anger and hate. Hate for the drug that has played an integral part of my families life. I was very naiive about drug use, and only ever tried marijuana a handful of times and rarely drank, even as a teen and young adult. So when my love became addicted to methamphetamine in 1993 I was not prepared for the fallout that would happen. He never did his drug use in front of me and never even offered it to me, which I thank God for. It would have been very easy to get high with him and become addicted instantaneously as he did. The catch phrase for the Meth Projects which exist in a handful of states is "Not Even Once" the target for these PSA's are teens but these should be seen by everyone. I tried to find out if one existed in California, Central Cali where I live is synonomous with the phrase meth capital. Sadly as of yet these PSA's are not shown in California and no Project exists here but it should.
Children of meth addicts have a high rate of becoming users themselves and in California that is doubled. Kids think meth will make them happy or loose weight, or that they don't really see it as a harmful drug. What they don't realize is that it makes you an addict the first time and that you are more likely to participate in more risky behaviors, such as unprotected sex, violent behavior and higher instances of getting into trouble with the law.
My children have witnessed their Dad when he was high in state of paranoia, saw him as he was hiding out from his family with other users, watched as he became someone they did not want to know anymore. They have seen his violent comedowns and they have seen him take his paycheck when he had jobs or valuables from us so he could get high. I think that because I did not use their chances of getting involved in drug use although high, are also lessened by the fact that they despise the drug and what it has done to them and their family. We talk more openly about things also, not all families do. I know the reality is that my kids will and have experimented with illicit drugs and or alcohol but I do believe that having an open and honest relationship is key when talking to your kids about anything.
My love is a newborn at being clean and sober and has suffered a lot of the effects of long time use. I know he became an IV user within the first year of his addiction.We have discussed his addiction numerous times through the years. He tried to quit numerous times and this time may not be his finale with the drug but it is the closest he has ever been to success for any lenght of time. I am proud of him, many are doubtful that this is the end for him and understandably so. I can only have hope that it is the end for him because it is for me. I will not sit by again and watch it destroy him. I will move on and just yesterday someone told me I needed to let him go. But that is my issue I am addicted to him. I have given up trying to fix him, he must fix himself and I must continue the positive work that I have made in my life. We do want the same things and we do want our family to heal, is he scared, am I? Of course we are scared, will we let that fear control us? I won't, I cannot speak for him. I always asked why he could not just quit, and I have asked former users that I know well now about their use and they all said the same thing. They don't know why, but it was an indescribable high that kept them coming back for more. Through info provided by The Meth Project I can see why;  methamphetamine creates higher dopamine levels in the brain. Dopamine is a neurotransmitter that regulates functions for attention, cognition, movement, and also for pleasure. Meth users experience12 times higher dopamine levels than sex alone would stimulate in your pleasure transmitter. Now that is a tangible example to me.
 I will not ever give up on someone I love as I have said in prior posts, but I won't let someone destroy my spirit again either. It is a high wire that I walk, being in love with an addict and most people tire of the same old story. My story is not finished. Neither is his.Will we write it together? Statistically speaking NO is the answer. But speaking from my heart, I hope so. There I go again with Hope the most powerful invisible force in the world.
If you or someone that you love is addicted to methamphetamine educate yourself to the reality that is addiction. Check out these sites, and I would also urge that if you live in a state hit hard by the meth epidemic send The Meth Project link to you government representatives. Taking action creates change and change creates hope for the future.

Friday, November 26, 2010

why i blog....

I blog to talk about things that maybe others won't. I blog to make you feel uncomfortable with the  things that you thought you had no opinion on. I blog to make you look at the other side of the coin. Sometimes I get a reaction or create a feeling in you that you don't even want to acknowledge is there. I blog to tell my story. It is not some edited version of my life that I put before you it is 100% real. Blogging has been a release for me, a way to share, a way to look forward to putting my spin on the world I live in. I have had a lot of reactions to my words, comments or thoughts that others have left or said via someone else and that is a good thing. I don't look to be well read or liked I don't need that kind of validation. I validate me.
I often blog about my family because they are in my immediate world and I often blog about things that are very personal but I do so with the hope that it will create insight. Maybe a different way for a reader to identify with.  My love and my lovees all know that I blog about them and they have been very supportive in my efforts. I hide nothing from them. I often blog and add links that I think are helpful. I think that is an important part of the type of blogging I do. How do I classify my blogging. I just classify it as "real life" blogging. Sometimes I  fluff blog or blogging that is just for fun. But it is really apart from the real me. I think I am at my best when I blog about something that really strikes a cord in me or raises a passion in me.
I have been told I am the type A personality... if that is outspoken and forward, prone to argument and debate, confident and controlling, authoratative and informative then I would say I am a type A blogger.
I am used to rubbing people the wrong way... I usually do then they get to know the real me and they kinda either hate me or love me all or nothing and that is how I weed em out with my radar.  Hah seriously that is how I write either you like me or you don't and I am fine with that. I love free speech and I love blogging so I hope that you will keep on reading.
 Just wanting to show my gratitude during this Thanksgiving season.

Monday, November 22, 2010

My Post is Syndicated On main page.....PLEASE SHARE

Hey everyone thanks for following me one of my posts that is very important to me is on you can read it at this link. please retweet this and share it on this post means so much to me and if one person can identify with it then what I and my family have been through was not in vain.
Wishing you all a safe and wonderful holiday, love the ones you are with because tomorrow is not promised. 

Saturday, November 20, 2010


A headline in my local newspaper spurred this post.... "Fresno State University Student Body President Reveals He Is An Illegal Immigrant", yes it is true Mexicans go to college and do exceedingly well.  Pedro Ramirez, 23 graduated from his highschool as a Valedictorian and went on to FSU. He is pursuing Poly Sci and Agriculture as his dual majors. And apparently he did all of this despite the fact that he is an illegal being from Mexico means you only come to the US to work in the fields, or in a Mexican restaurant. I have mixed emotions about this situation, I am Mexican American. My Grandfather came here from the same town Pedros family came from, Jalisco Mexico. My grandfather came to the US and did so legally, by coming here to work and then sending for his wife and family later. He wanted to make a better life for his 10 children, and he did. He was a contractor for the Santa Fe Railroad and did fieldwork, all of the children except my Mother who was the youngest did this backbreaking work. Sons served in WWII and Korea, they were proud to be Americans. My Uncle Manuel died in the War. My Grandfather owned property and did well for being an uneducated man. All of my aunts and uncles spoke perfect English but my grandparents never learned it fluently. They were all successful productive members of society who went on to have their families. They were never on welfare,  or received assistance.

I am feeling torn because while I applaud the efforts of Pedro to make a good and positive impact on the world it leaves me feeling, like maybe my daughter who is going to Community College may be passed over for something she, as a legal citizen is entitled to. In the state of California there is a law that allows illegal immigrants to receive aid for college. Pedro claims he did not know that he was an illegal alien until he began to apply for college. I can see that as viable. But when he did find out he continued to keep it a secret well into his college career until this week when an email was leaked regarding his status.

Do I blame illegal aliens for the state of the state in California, in debt up to our necks and no liferaft in sight? No I blame a bunk immigration system and the great governors of this fair state. You know the thing is I consider myself an American, not a Mexican American but just American. So many people that I run into in my daily life, Mexicans from Mexico inparticular think I should speak perfect Spanish because my last name is Gonzales. I speak "spanglish" enough to get by, what they don't know is that I was not taught Spanish because my mother who went to Catholic School was punished with a wrap of the ruler on the hands if she spoke Spanish. It is irritating that they complain about me when I am driving them on the bus, because they think I don't understand what they are saying but I do and it is only when I talk to them in my "spanglish" that they smile and call me Mija.....they don't like my country music, and they don't like that I don't wait for them if they are running for the bus, look I don't wait for anyone if they are not at their stop. Hey I rode the bus for 2 or 3 years and I got left plenty. My perception is that they feel that I think I am better than them or just don't get any of the struggles they have had. Funny human struggles are all the same, does not matter what your color is.

I guess  some of my bias comes from being the victim of identity theft, 15 years ago the IRS came after me for 30,000 dollars in back taxes, because an illegal alien had bought my stolen birth certificate and Social Security card. This was pre-internet and it took me one year to prove to the IRS that this Krisann Gonzales was 9 months pregnant and in college, not working at some cannery in Georgia. I had actual pictures of the alleged Krisann Gonzales and signatures of "her" name, which were nothing like mine. So how is it that HR reps of these companies in question went ahead and accepted her proof of who she was without question? Sad but true big corporations and small alike do not care.

I am all for the American Dream, believe me. What I do not agree with is catering to a set group of people. If I went to China they would expect me to speak Chinese right? So why are forms in Spanish and the city signs (locally) have Spanish as the bolder print and English in smaller print. Why are kids in school learning in Spanish, that is why they are failing state mandated tests, these tests are made for English speakers! Sad but true my child who is part Mexican was being taught in Spanish  when she first enterred kindergarten and did not know what the heck was going on, even sadder my friends daughter whose last name is Martin was put in a bilingual class and she has blonde hair and blue eyes... So are we catering to a certain group of people? I think so. I hate to sound racist or biggoted because I feel so strongly that if you come to America you should be made to follow the rules that everyone else who is a citizen has to follow. I have had many heated discussions with friends and family and my conclusion is always the same. Making a better life for yourself is an inherent right every man, woman, and child should be afforded. That is after all why our forefathers founded this great country. So what about the illegal aliens who are serving our country, should they be afforded the same benefits and rights as a citizen? So many stickey wickets here. This conversation will go on until the end of time. I will agree that this same group of people who a lot of people love to complain about actually help with the growth of the economy, they work  and spend their money,especially locally. I guess the situation is as multifaceted as Pedro is. He obviously want to make a better way for himself, he is a supporter of the DREAM act go to this link to learn more this act will create the journey to citizenship for undocumented students and those who serve our country proudly. I can see by what I have read about him that he wants positive change to come from his story. I can also see that he will probably succeed and go on to a great role in politics or advocacy for people in general. I guess it is just the principal of legally being here that gets me. Thanks Grandparents for following your dreams to California.

Friday, November 19, 2010


My post "I HAD DREAMS AND AMBITIONS THEN I WENT TO JAIL FOR DOMESTIC VIOLENCE" will be syndicated on and I am so very excited to get it out there. My life as I know it is not always what people want to read, but I can't be anything other than real. I am so grateful for my followers and I am grateful to that they post some of my more provocotive pieces. LIFE TRULY IS SWEEEEET!

Monday, November 8, 2010

Are You A Religion Slut/Church Hopper?

Yeah I know I am gonna get some flack for my title, but something got me thinking about my faith and how when I am not practicing it regularly I ask if the religion I am practicing is the one for me. I was born to Catholic parents and really only my mother was a devout Catholic, my Father on the other hand dropped us off and picked us up. I guess he had some issues with God. As we got older my mother stopped going so regularly and the only one of the three of us kids to be confirmed was my older sister. I was only baptized and received my first communion. I remember watching "The Story of Bernadette" with my Mom and wanting to become a nun. I remember the nuns at the Catholic school I went to for a couple of years. They looked so clean and shiny. No makeup, porcelain skin, except for Sister Angelis who looked like the wicked witch in "The Wizard of Oz" except not green, but just as mean. Dressed in off white habits and the gold band on their ring finger. Yes I wanted to be a nun and so did my Mother when she was a young girl. She often told me that she had regrets that she didn't follow her heart.
I loved the ritual of being Catholic the beauty of it all. I disliked the sermons, that made me feel that no matter how many rosaries or prayers I said I would still be guilty of something in Gods eyes.

So as a teen and young adult I did not attend church, not even at Christmas or Easter. When I had my daughters they were all baptized in the Catholic church despite my protests, because it was what my Grandmother wanted. We did not go to church though. My Grandma prayed for us and my Mom always said, "I made my first 7 Sundays I know I will go to heaven....." She did, whether she made em or not my Mom was a saint!  I learned about other religions, Bhuddism, Wicca, and even some Native American practices because my love is Native American. I thought about Atheism and evolution also. I also read the Bible occasionally and when I went through being seperated from my daughters I was reborn as a Christian even though I really did not feel completely in agreement with the Evangelistic Christian values my church had. What I did like was that the sermons spoke to me and that the God they represented to me was a loving and forgiving God. That to sing his praises was done so with joy and jubilation not solemness. I liked that they had lots of opportunites to fellowship and many groups to join. I read my Bible daily and even carried it with me a lot of the time. Its pages are dogeared and highlighted and writing is in the margin. I never had my own Bible until I bought one when I was 34. I went to Church for 4 years or so very regularly on Wednesdays and Sundays, my children liked it to some degree but it still was not the right fit for us. When I got my current job I made excuses. I have gone only a handful of times and have read my Bible only occassionally, but lately the pull to worship has been in me.

I question whether there is a church that is the right fit for me.  I have thought about visiting on Sundays but something has always popped up. So, am I a religion slut hopping from church to church, faith to faith? What am I looking for to be filled up with? What am I not getting?

I had a lot of things make me question my faith in God. My mother suffering from Alzheimers is probably the single reason it is so hard for me to wrap my head around a loving God. My Mom did not deserve to suffer and neither did we her family. I was really pissed off at God for a long time. Boy and he knew it. Remnants still linger. My other issue is that I always hear, "Be faithful to the Lord and the Lord will be faithful to you." The thing is I know a lot of heathens who always seem to be doing way better than I am and they cannot be bothered to even praise the Lord for all of their blessings. I know I know I should lead by example and go to church and be thankful in His house. 

I do have so many wonderful blessings to thank Him for. Just today I was worried about how I was going to get some extra money for my daughters field trip this week and her asking me for more to spend was like OUCH I dont have it. Low and behold I come home rather late today we all did, and there was a check from the PG and E Smart AC program that I signed up for when we moved here in July. A check for 25 dollars. Now that my friends is the Lord working in not so mysterious ways. Ask and you shall receive? I always say the Lord will answer us when we are open and ready to receive whatever it is we need, and that is not on our time but His.

So I am thinking of going to church on Sunday.

Saturday, November 6, 2010


O.K. so I had to go no further than to my dinnertable to get a topic for todays blog.....Do you have time to sit and eat as a family? I try to sit with my kids on a regular basis, lately we have been slacking and eating in the livingroom, or half of us at the table and the other half in the living room. That was tonite, this could account for some of the stains I have seen on my new used couch. So I am sitting there at my table with my oldest lovelie and her friend and my grandson. We are just having conversation that would be deemed small talk between our bites of tacos. Tacos my kids made and I am not doing the dishes either! Usually if it is a week night we are talking about school and how their days went, doing an evening check in. We get into a discussion about how moody my daughter is today and she says "I asked my counselor if I was bipolar once." For some reason my youngest lovelie thought we had shouted her name. I said no, "we said bipolar, but if that is your name...." to which we all burst out laughing. She saunters in and asks to make a grapejuice can of concentrate for my grandson. I said, "sure" and my oldest said, "Why would you ask Mom if you could make it?" Her reply was "I like doing things!" I kid you not I choked on my taco, because this is the kid that will throw a fit and lock herself in the room so she can avoid doing her chores. Then oddly our conversation which was interrupted by middle lovelie turned to virginity. "How can a doctor tell if you are a virgin Mom?"

I was like wow I am eating here. In her case her hymenal ring had been broken years ago by her older sisters big foot when they were jumping on my bed. I checked her and her little undies had blood on them and I rushed her to the hospital thinking she had some devestating internal bleeding. Nope, it was her ring and it had been broken under the weight of her sisters big foot. So for years to come she did not hesitate to tell any one interested "my sister broke my ring" they didn't even know what ring she was talking about!

We continue on about Dr. Oz and something else and as I am taking the last bite of my taco. My oldest lovelie says "Yeah did you know your poop is supposed to sink, not float...." On that note I came and sat at my desk and started this blog. Yes your poop should sink and not float that means you are gassy, by the way.

So these are just some of the reasons we pee our pants eating dinner. I love dinnertime and weekend breakfasts with the kids at the table. It brings back good memories although we did not laugh much at the table when I was a kid because eating was a serious thing for my Dad. Eating everything on our plates was a big deal. I secretly hid greenbeans on the leaf holder under the table. I love feeding my family, it is a way that I show my love. I love watching them eat and them telling me thank you Mom. What is dinnertime like at your house?

I used to love to watch "The Waltons" when I was a kid especially watch as they all sat at the table, it always amazed me how they were such a lively bunch and how everyone seemed to enjoy it. A lot of my kids friends love sitting down to eat at our house and share in our laughter and eat something they have never tried. Cooking things that are not usual for us is something I love to do too. Do you? Once I made Chinese food and we ate with chopsticks. I tried to make sushi California style, but they were too young to appreciate it. I had never made manicotti for them and so I got all the ingredients and made it for my girls and one of their friends and he loved it. We were laughing and having a good time. We ate and cleared the table and it was time for my daughters friend to leave. His mom was waiting outside and as he walked away he farted quite loudly "Ooops you weren't supposed to hear that!" Must have been the cheese. We burst out laughing and to say the least that it is one of my all time favorite dinnertime memories.

Now I want to challenge you to sit down and eat a meal at the dinner table with your kids. Let them help cook. Let them set the table. Try something new on your plate. Turn off the T.V. Turn off your phones. Turn on your ears and really listen to what your kids are saying. Let the conversation flow, get it started if you have to but once they are talking you will find they won't be quiet. You parents should really take the time to listen and enjoy and converse with them because we live in times when not enough parents actually sit down to a meal with their kids. Once you get it going, keep it going. At least on the weekends! Because trust me we all have crazy schedules too, work,  sports practice, youth group, and soon college. I would not ever trade in sitting down to dinner with my family and our friends for eating at a five star restaurant. Besides you can't pee your pants or fart there.

Thursday, November 4, 2010

aaaaaghhhhhh i hate my kids......ok, only sometimes

There are some days that feel like nothing I ever do will be good enough for my  kids and then there are some days I seriously want to run away....Usually I say I am gonna run away to the circus, and wear those great circus lady panties. I remember watching "The DivineSecrets Of TheYa Ya Sisterhood" and ViVi's breakdown, and I felt a knowing in my heart that a person can only take so much. How much does it take to break. To break your spirit, your hope, to loose your dreams. You know the dreams you had as a young girl when you were still green enough to believe in dreaming big. I still dream big and maybe that is why I have no follow through.... the one thing I have been constant at is blogging usually at this time when the house is quiet and I am struck by something in the day that has happened.  So the thing that happened  recently was an argument with my middle daughter the other day and she said some really hateful things to me and I ended up having that mini breakdown and really hating who she was at that moment. Silly of me I know, because she is soooo like me and usually the things we despise in others is what we hate in ourselves, right? OUCH.....Well two days have passed and she treated me quite human today and that was nice, the her I love.

I find it funny that people say I love my children and would never hate anything about them.....they are LYIIIIIIING! Those are the people who go off of the deep end.

I hate a lot of things about my kids, here is my list of what
I hate....
1. laziness, no i mean LAZINESS!
2. rolling of the eyes, oh my God my head woulda been smacked off my neck if I did that to my Dad or Mom.
3. sighs and "Whatevers!", really you want to have the last word? I am the Queen of the last word in this house!
4. calling me "smart one" when we are disagreeing, it is the tone in which she says it with... I am the smarter one in this house after all.
5. whining, not so much anymore only when it involves cleaning the toilet or washing dishes..
6. swearing! wow is that how I sound?
7. manipulating.. UGH!
8. using veiled threats that they are gonna run away, please let me pack for you.....
9. saying that they hate their family and wish they could leave, hey let me call my friend at CPS she will set ya straight.
10. disrespecting the fact that I am the grownup in the house I AM because I said so!
11. saying I never do anything for them, this usually involves something of monetary value and since I have none well we have not even shopped this school year.
12. saying I love their sister more, puhleeze this one is as old as dirt.
13. telling me I am a loser because I drive a bus for a living, you aren't saying that when you are spending the fruits of my loser ass.
14. not being ready for school, practice or anything of importance unless it is to spend my money!

Wow.... I could go on but then I realize these are trivial things and that they have been to the same school of hardknocks as me and that they are products of their Dad and I. Poor Kids! They dont have much to work with! For all of the things I hate about my kids their are millions that I love!

I love...
1. the freckles on my daughters nose
2. the way middle lovelie laughs like Elmo, she was 3 or 4 when Tickle Me Elmo came out and I worked at Wal-mart and hid one in the dog food aisle so I could by it for Christmas.
3. when we are sitting at dinner and we all laugh at the same thing and 1 of us ends up peeing our pants..
4. the way they stand up for eachother if someone is messing with one of them.
5. the way they set no limits for themselves, like playing football or wrestling with the boys..
6. how I know when they are lying, it really is in the eyes.
7. how I know when they are telling the truth, its in the voice.
8. how I know no matter how bad it is they always will come to me because they trust me, they might be afraid at first but one will intercede as a messenger for the other...
9. watching them sleep even if drool is hanging out of their mouth.
10. getting their hugs, oh it feels so good.
11. getting their kisses,except when oldest lovelie has not brushed her teeth, her breath reeks of elephant piss at the zoo, seriously a mixture of hay and piss.....
12. holding my hand in public, which we swing back and forth like when they were little lovelies..
13. how we can all sit on the couch and cuddlebug to watch a movie, scary ones are best for this....
14. how they still go into my bed and think we all fit on it, ugh hello! You just didn't come outta my vagina...
15. how they thank me everytime I cook them dinner, especially once after we ate pizza for almost a week....
16. how they love my cooking...they loooove eggplant parm and my tri tip and enchiladas and well everything I cook... Unless it is something with tofu.
17. the gap in their teeth....too funny, two have 50 cent gaps.
18. their differences...
19. their sameness.....
20. when they tell me I was right and they should have listened to down, two to go.
This could go on forever but you get the picture.

The hurt that I felt that day was because I did want more for myself before I made all of the bad choices I did. Saying that I was "just a busdriver" hurt because I so want to be more than that and I am really trying hard to do just that. I think I am a good Mom, and I know that things will get better moneywise. But maybe it is not the money spent on her that my daughter wants, maybe its my time she wants. I am so proud of my girls they have come so far, my child that was getting C's D's and F's is getting A's and B's. My oldest will start college in January. And even my baby has great grades and is well liked at her school. They don't get in trouble, or do drugs, or drink, or a do lot of the things kids today do. So ok maybe I am doing something right. I guess all I have to do to remember this is look at my kids. Gonna go pat myself on the back now!

Wednesday, November 3, 2010


I was syndicated on
October was domestic violence awareness month. My month for domestic violence awareness was September. It has been 9 years since I was arrested for attempted murder. It has been nine years that I have lived with the choice of that fateful day, September 2, 2001. How do you go from a good girl who has never ever been in trouble other than a traffic ticket, to walking into a jail with your loves blood on your shirt? The tumultuous road that led up to that day was paved with good intentions and I had a bright future ahead despite the fact that I stayed in an abusive and codependent relationship too long. I fell in love with someone who did not love themself, that is where all of our problems started. He was a bad boy and mysterious and beautiful and I was naiive even though when we met he was 18 and I was 25. I was the proverbial good girl, I still lived with my parents. Worked full time and had ambitions and dreams and he was just someone I was finally going to have sex with, because despite all of the whispers and gossip in highschool I remained a virgin. It was not supposed to be me falling in love with him or he with me, it was supposed to be a fling.  The kind of great romance you tell your grandchildren about. Instead I found myself in a situation that I did not like, there was something about him that needed rescuing and something in me that needed to be needed. We were destined to a fate that neither one of us saw coming.
I found myself pregnant and him in another state. I did not know that he was absconding Youth Authority Parole and I did not realize the depth of his issues until it was too late and I was in another state away from my family and away from everything I knew. I never witnessed any potential for violence from him. He became angry when I told him I wanted to leave and return home. I decided to stay because that is what I learned from my parents that despite any problems you have you tough it out. Not to mention that my father would not have let me come home. Although we eventually did return home and that is when our nightmare began. It was during this time that my love became addicted to methamphetamine and a cycle of drug use and physical and emotional abuse started. The cycle stayed in tact for 8 years and 3 children later and jobs lost, and jail and prison time and welfare and instability. I left him several times but always went back even though he had infidelities and lies about his drug use. In this time I too learned to be abusive and became addicted to the cycle of domestic violence, you fight, you argue, you provoke, you get physical, you actually inflict some physical or mental and emotional warfare on your love, and then when they break you are in control, finally you feel remorse. After that remorse comes the honeymoon phase when there is a period of calm and you are happy and content. Then the calm before the storm, and waiting for the bottom to fall out because inevitably it will and the chaos that is domestic violence starts again. He is not the monster here, I want to make that clear I will not villify him. I too was just as responsible for the life I lived and the danger I put my children in. My violent tendencies only flourished under his maltreatment and my uncontrollable anger. His drug addiction became bigger than our domestic violence lifestyle and it came to an abrupt and all too predictable finale on that September day.
 I remember all that led up to it and I remember being ready to confront him on what I assumed was another infidelity. I remember needing diapers and waiting for him to bring my car home so I could go and get some shopping done. I remember needing new clothes for a second interview with Sams Club, and getting papers filled out to become a Girl Scout Troop leader. I remember making plans to finish up my AA in child development so that I could go on to become a kindergarten teacher. He saunters in smelling of beer and ciggarettes and I knew that I needed to get him out for good. The volcano woman that I would soon become was dormnant  no longer. We began to argue and he yelled at me and I remember my middle lovelie telling him to leave me alone, she was all of 5, soon to be 6 at this time. I see in slow motion as he picks her  up and scolds her for getting into an "adult" conversation and I saw her little feet leave the ground. I ran and picked up the biggest kitchen knife I had. I remember motioning towards him and his eyes being as big as saucers filled with fear, as I told him to leave. Somehow we ended up in our room and all I know was that the very tip of this very big knife hit his neck and it was like a poke. When blood came out it was not gushing or pouring out, it came out in bright scarlett drops. I knew that I was not going to be a teacher anymore and all of my dreams left me and I sunk slowly down the wall onto my bed and crumbled under the weight of what I had just done. That is when I saw my middle lovelie in the doorway of my room and my love rushing in a blur before me. I snapped out of my shock and saw that he needed medical attention and drove him to the hospital about a mile away. Leaving my three daughters with the neighbor who had heard it all.

As I drove I remember saying "see what you made me do!" and I remember him saying "I love you" and telling me to say he fell on the knife. I told him how stupid that was and to shut up! I drove into the emergency room and ran and got a nurse, a girl who I had gone to school with, telling her my husband was stabbed. She calmed me down and he was whisked away into a back room. "Who did this?" she asked and I said, "I did." It was not long after that a police car arrived and this idiot of a cop came and basically said that I was not scared of my love that I was the aggressor wasn't I and I started it. And I told him I have nothing else to say to you, and he said you will go to jail, and I said matter of fact, "well then take me". I was mad, that I was not the victim in his eyes, my love had given his alias and none of his domestic violence arrests were showing up. A younger officer felt compassion and gave me respect and sincerity when he spoke to me. My love did tell them he fell on the knife and I could hear him calling my name. I just wanted to disappear into complete nothingness, because surely not existing was going to be better than anything that awaited me.
I cried and tried to sleep for the first two days of incarceration and I remember the shackles that I was wearing and how they clanged on me. I had a public defender and a clean record going for me. My lawyer John Garvin was very real about my situation. My kids were placed in foster care with my sister, my husband barely survived surgery. I severed his carotid artery with the tip of that knife. He had open heart surgery to repair a lung and food duct that was damaged when they replaced the artery. He was in a precarious situation and so was I. I was originally charged with attempted murder and before I went to my final hearing my lawyer presented a plea deal to me or the option to risk going to court. I say risk because I was looking at doing 7 years in the State Prison for Women in Chowchilla a town away. The other thing I had to factor in was waiting until December to have a court date and the possiblitlity that having a jury trial could go either way because jurors do not want to be deliberating someones fate when they should be Christmas shopping. My other option was the plea of no contest and five years probation, and being released after serving less than 30 days. I had already missed my middle lovelies 6th birthday. I went ahead and took the plea felony domestic violence. My love and I were both released on the same day and he actually called the jail and told an officer there to tell me to pick him up. How crazy was that? I wanted nothing more than to get away from him I was afraid of him. Everyone that heard what had happened said he got what was coming to him that he deserved it. I thought that it was going to be me not him and I came to realize that neither one of us deserved any violence we comitted against one another. Family violence is an epidemic in this country. Not just intimate partners but sons and fathers, mothers and daughters, siblings. What creates violence? I believe violence is a learned pattern of behavior. So I had to take a good look at myself.

I went through so much that year that followed my family viewed me as a failure, I had no one to turn to at times. I perservered through homelessness and found two jobs.Went to counseling and anger management classes. I did end up seeing him we were both trying to reunify with our daughters but my relationship with him was not the priority and it shouldn't have been. Getting my daughters home was. He ended up using again to numb the pain from his surgery first oxycontin and then back to meth. He had not learned that meth is what destroyed our lives. I did whatever CPS and the courts asked and my girls came home. I saw him on and off during this time and he told me that he never blamed me for anything. I still loved him after all. I still cared about what happened to him. 9 years later he was still using and at times he stayed with me but it was always short lived because his addiction was his love. I still put my daughters through a lot of unnecessary drama by dealing with him when he was in his addiction. Last year I stopped communicating with him and moved and changed my number with strict instructions at my job that no one tell him anything about me. I know that it sounds so twisted to you, to hear me say I still love him, but I do, because for all of the terrible times, there were good times between us too. There was love between us that no mere mortal except our very close friends could fathom. My love made one last request to see his kids and so I let him and this time I noticed that he was not chasing me down that he hung on their every word and there was a sadness in his eyes as he saw what he no longer had, his family. The next day he was arrested, he asked for help. He went into a facility for drug rehab and has been clean since May of this year. He has made great strides in his progress. Will it be enough? We know it is one step at a time, one day at a time. We have both grown up in so many ways.

I am not saying domestic violence is something that you grow out of on the contrary the more you live it, the more you know it, the more insidious it becomes. To me change is possible and souls are resilient. Today we know what our triggers are and we know that it is work on both of our parts. I and my daughters have had ongoing counseling.  I hate when media says "he" is an abuser and therefore a "bad" person. I was violent too. You don't think women can be violent?  Go to the womans prison and listen to their stories. It can be learned for us too. I say there are two sides to every story.

Not every family can heal from domestic violence most people must leave a situation, but where there is hope and love and a willingness to change, then all is not lost. I would never tell a woman to stay in a relationship that was violent where she feared for her life or her childrens well being. There are a lot of agencies and help available to women and men who want to make a change in their lives.

Almost every day I see women being released from prison and I say there go I, but for the grace of God. I wonder what their stories are? I wonder if they know that change is possible. I wonder if they still have hope? I know I did the right thing taking that plea no matter how much it limits my choices career wise. Besides the only real thing limiting me, is me. This was something I had to go through to get to where I am now. Where am I? I know myself better now than I ever have, and I love myself more now than I ever have. I know I have to be realistic and not fantasize about what my family is or will be, but they are my family and for all of our dysfunctions we are stronger than most! I cannot predict the future but I will say that I am a realistic optomist when it comes to my love. His addiction fueled his violence and his violence fueled mine and my violence taught my daughters that violence is acceptable. By seeing our lives change hopefully our daughters will also learn that violence is not acceptable. Are you willing to break the cycle? If you or someone you know is experiencing domestic violence in their lives check out these links  and or call the  national hotline number 1-800-799-SAFE (7233) or TTY 1-800-789-787-3224.

Tuesday, November 2, 2010


My boss made a remark to me the other day, and I have been pondering it quite a bit. He (jokingly?) called me an "authority on everything". That comment was like a burr stuck on my sock, just rubbing me the wrong way! I later that day asked him how he knew that I was just that? He said because I let everyone know everyday. Now at this point I could have made a seriously rude comment to him that could have crossed the insubordination line but I chose to smile and say, "I am so glad that someone around here is finally acknowledging that I am an authority on everything!" I walked off with a smile on my face and some pep in my step. He guffawed and his assistant manager giggled. I really meant it when I said that to him, just as I am sure he meant it when he made that comment to me. Later that day I told my kids what he had said and I told them my quick thinking retort. They thought he was a dick. I told a dear longtime friend and she said some men in positions of power are usually threatened by a confident woman. Yah I know this.  I have been sitting on this all weekend. Do I come off as a know it all? Its kind of an odd thought I suppose but I am a very confident somewhat articulate woman. I was not always this way.

It developed out of my need to survive. I survived being a middle child, not being good enough in my fathers eyes because after all I was not the son he wanted, he told me this in an intense argument we had when I was sixteen. I have survived the ridicule of bullies as a young blossoming woman. I survived the terrible preteen and teen years when I thought I was not pretty enough or popular enought to fit in. I survived highschool. I survived my first heartbreak. I survived getting fired from one of my first jobs. I survived getting pregnant out of wedlock. I survived my loves drug addiction and infidelities and subsequently I survived the domestic violence cycle that I became addicted to. I survived going to jail when I stabbed my love in one of our domestic incidents. I survived when I had to admit that I was responsible for my own part in the life I had lived to that point. I survived my mothers illness with Alzheimers and her death during this time. I survived being away from my three lovelies when I fought to get reunified with them. I survived getting them back. I survived being homeless and hungry. I survived my oldest lovelie's teen years, and I survived when she told me that she was pregnant. I survived when I quit jobs with no others lined up. I survived giving my fathers eulogy after he refused to see me before his death. I have survived all of the let downs and disappointments and upsets that I have caused or been a part of in my life. I am still a work in progress and as I like to say I am scaling the Great Wall of Motherhood and Gammahood and Womanhood. I am who I am.

My friends think I am this "strong" woman... its so ironic that they don't see me in my quiet alone times. Times when some memory will flash and make me feel less then, and alone and forgotten and unimportant in the scheme of things. I survive those times too.

Do all of these things make me an "authority". Yes, they do. I am an authority on my life and the things I have been through that have brought me to this place of enlightenment and self awareness that maybe others do not or ever will, achieve. How sad for those that can never look at all of the failings they have had and realize that there is a reason they are where they are. Choice, what a great word. We can choose to sit in our heap of misery or we can choose to be an "authority". I like the wisdom I have accumulated in my life so far.
 I cannot wait to get some more!