Mornings Gift

Mornings Gift

Only a breath away,
darkness blankets
your quiet heart
Hands tremble
to awaken your soul
Awaiting the light of day
to open sleeping eyes
Lazy smile
We once again
begin

Angela Minard 2008

~Today is Angela Shelton Day~Report IT!

~Today is Angela Shelton Day~ Report IT!
We will all Report IT on the same day.

The Report IT Campaign is a nationwide state-to-state rally to report sexual violence and abuse on the same day! It was created to raise awareness on the vast under-reporting of sexual assault including rape, incest, and abuse.

~April 29, 2008~ hailed Angela Shelton Day.
People nationwide will show up at their local county courthouses on April 29th! Together we will break the silence and the cycle! You can fill out the online form anytime on or before April 29th.
This IS NOT an official police report!
Thank you for Reporting IT!
Share where you'll be Reporting IT on Upcoming Events!
Need to talk to someone?
Free, confidential - 800-656-HOPE
History of the Report IT campaign

In Angela Shelton’s award-winning documentary “Searching for Angela Shelton”, she surveyed women in the US with her same name. As she began interviewing other Angela Sheltons, she found that 70% had been victims of rape, childhood sexual assault and/or domestic violence.

Shelton’s latest endeavor is a book, Finding Angela Shelton, which is in stores now, through the Meredith Publishing Company. The book tells about how Angela was faced with her past, how she dealt with it and coped, and how she healed.

As He Sleeps

As He Sleeps

Beneath these stairs
I can hear
him breathing
deeply sleeping
Beneath these fingers
I can feel
each rise and fall
a warm caress
I lay my head
upon his chest
Secretely hoping
he opens his eyes
and will see
how alone
I must be
while he dreams

Angela Minard 2008

Grandma's Arms

This is my beautiful niece, Emily, in a rare moment of stillness.





Grandma's Arms

Asleep
in Grandma's arms
Not quite an angel,
though she twinkles
with charm

Golden eyes
for a moment
in time
dreaming
of heavenly music
divine

If you listen
very closely
you may hear
the chiming echo
of her laughter
in your ear

Angela Minard 2008

Happy Birthday, Emily

Love Always,

Aunt Angie

Only A Dream

Only A Dream

I open my eyes
so angry at you
for leaving
Angry that you
would make me
take the wheel
while spinning
out of control

Leaving me
all alone
on this dark
elevator
Up and down
searching
everywhere
but
you are
gone

I know
what you want
but
I'm not ready

I still
have a story
or two
to tell

The days
turned into
weeks
then months
It will only
be a few
you said

I'm angry at
him too
The bastard
left me
with handmade
costumes
unworn

It's all okay
I lied
and never
cried

I was
Swimming
in lake water
with no bottoms
and having to run
to a place that wasn't
my home
You weren't there
and sometimes
Oh, sometimes...

I still

feel

naked

Angela Minard 2008

Something About The Sky

Something About The Sky

There is something
about the sky
this morning
as I look beyond
the glass
Something
about the sky
that reminds me
of the past

The nervous anticipation
of a child waiting
waiting
for something
something
to begin

What it is
I do not know
but
it sets my mind
to spin

Round and round
with arms
outstretched
wide opened
and reaching

finally
falling
to the ground

I close my eyes
beneath the clouds
that swirl
inside my head

Angela Minard 2008

Fun Times At Work

Work has been great this week, and I have really enjoyed the kids even more than usual. They just make me smile and laugh every day! We had a really great time at Job Olympics, and the kids did great work. I was so proud of all of them.

~Here are some of my fun kid stories from this week~

I was making homemade silly putty with a student, and I couldn't remember the recipe, so I asked one of the paras in the classroom. She told me that it was 1 part glue to 1 part liquid starch, so we tried that, but it didn't work, so I looked it up on the internet. It was 2 parts glue to 1 part liquid starch. When the para came back into the classroom, I was teasing her for giving me the wrong recipe. The student looked right at her and said, "You idiot!" Too funny.

I brought in a small pop up tent for one of our students who likes to have some quiet time to herself. She is also quite tiny and much smaller than any of our other students, but that didn't keep one of the largest of our boys out of it!


I just love my job!

A Haircut Scare

I had my hair cut after work yesterday. The last few times, I have gone to the local beauty school because it is so cheap.(nine bucks!) So anyway, I had a lovely shampoo, like a mini massage really; it was that awesome! I'm all relaxed as I sit down in the chair with my hair dripping down my neck, and I tell the soon to be stylist what I want. Her eyes look very worried as I explain, and then she says, "Wow, I have no idea how to do that haircut, let me go and get my teacher." Yikes, and holy shit!, I think to myself. Maybe I should jump right up and run out to the safety of my car! Luckily, the teacher comes over and says that she loves doing this particular cut, so she does it for me while the "student stylist" watches and learns. I really like it. Short and easy!

It has been beautiful weather the last few days, and I'm starting to feel better. I had a few hours of sleep last night, and even though it wasn't much, I still feel very refreshed. I'm more centered and connected to myself today. It is strange, but when I'm struggling, I feel like I can't breathe. I had severe asthma as a child, and well up into my teens, but it tapered off after I had children. I rarely have problems with it anymore, but suffocating to death is a deep fear of mine. Today I can take a deep breath, and let me tell you, breathing is good!

My Six Word Memoir

I tend to be easily intimidated, so my immediate reaction when I found out that I had been tagged to write a six word memoir was, "No way!" I also have a problem with saying "No!" I actually love reading memoirs, which also explains my addiction to reading blogs, so I thought that I would give it a shot.

Characteristics of the memoir form: by Dr. Beth Burch, a professor of education at Binghamton University. It is from her book, Writing For Your Portfolio (Boston: Allyn and Bacon, 1999).

... explores an event or series of related events that remain lodged in memory

... describes the events and then shows, either directly or indirectly, why they are significant
-- or in short, why you continue to remember them

... is focused in time; doesn't cover a great span of years (that would be an autobiography)

...centers on a problem or focuses on a conflict and its resolution
and on the understanding of why and how the resolution is significant in your life.



~ My Six Word Memoir ~
by Angela Minard

Worried child growing weary finds strength.

Dreamer has tagged me.

Here are your instructions:

1) Write your own six word memoir
2) Post it on your blog; include a visual illustration if you’d like
3) Link to the person that tagged you in your post, and to the original post if possible
4) Tag at least five more blogs with links
5) Leave a comment on the tagged blogs with an invitation to play!

" My Chosen Ones "

1. Jessieh from jessiehspeaks
2. Jenny at artconstellation
3. Lumina over at lovespeakes
4. Marcella at abyss2hope
5. Jeanne over at diggingmeup

I Remember

I Remember

I remember the small, white purse
that I carried with me
as I boarded the plane
Dr. Pepper flavored Lip Smacker
tucked inside

I don't remember coming home
forever changed
Did I sit by the window?
Were there tears in my eyes?

I can still remember the bedroom
A dirty mattress on the floor
Running and running
from windowless walls
into my darkest
of August nights

I don't remember why it was
I took on all of their shame
I don't remember turning twelve
Was I somehow to blame?

I do remember
this one thought...

Did they even know my name?

Angela Minard 2008

The Willow

Here is a poem to start off the week,
in honor of my willow tree.
May she rest in peace.

The Willow

Beneath my willow tree,
I dream a fairy dream.
The whisper of a gentle song,
and I can hum along.

Beneath my willow tree,
the tickling branches sway.
The weeping arms
in shadows play,
and I can drift away.

Beneath my willow tree,
quite hidden,
soul unseen.
The rhythmic pulse
of night descends,
and I can find
sweet peace within.
Beneath my willow tree.

Angela Minard 2007

Job Olympics

I have a cough that will not allow me to get much sleep, so here I am, writing, whining, and complaining! Really, all things considered, I'm not in a foul mood at all. Yesterday, it actually felt like spring here in Kansas, and today we are supposed to have more of the same. It's about damn time! Everything is in full bloom, and if I know Kansas, next week it will either be in the upper 90's or the trees will be covered in a thick coating of ice. Oooooh, don't I have a positive attitude?
This week is going to be busy. Roman, our youngest, has his first baseball game of the season this evening, and it should be a beautiful night to sit outside and watch him play. I'm looking forward to it.
Work is going to be full of excitement as we prepare for Job Olympics which will be held on Thursday. Job Olympics is an activity for highschool students with special needs. They practice job related skills such as sacking groceries, stuffing and labeling envelopes, towel folding, hamburger wrapping, silverware rolling, vaccuming, etc..., and then on the day of Job Olympics, they compete with other highschools in the area. It is a lot of fun for some, and not so much for others, depending on the students disability. It can be a little overwhelming for our students with Autism, as it is a noisy and chaotic environment. Nevertheless, we will be preparing them for it. I can hardly believe that we only have five weeks left of school before summer break. What a year it has been!
Well, speaking of work, I need to start getting ready for this day.
Hope everyone has a beautiful week.

After Dinner Conversation

Me: "I'm full."
Husband: "You just ate dinner. Full is good."
Me: "It doesn't feel good to me."
Husband: "It is better than being hungry."
Me: Silence~(Thinking) No. It is not!

I still equate hunger with being good, clean, perfect...
Full is bad, greedy, gluttonous...

I wonder, "Will it always be this way?"

"When does recovery start to feel good?"

All That I Want

It has been a very rough week,
of which I will write more about soon.
I wrote this poem last year.

I long to feel the joy that comes with freedom.


With Abandon

I want to drift
through lavender fields
The petals so soft
like the fingers of children,
laying hands on my face
Bringing their kisses,
the sun bursting lips,
the warm blush of roses

I want to twirl
and spin in the rain
The pelting of tears,
the pin pricks of pain
Barefoot laughter
dancing in time,
to the dripping
rhythm and rhyme

I want to sing!
Pounding keys,
plucking strings
A melody rising,
resounding within
Staccato, fortissimo,
the march of my heart
Beating wild,
abandoned,
alive

by Angela Minard 2007

Unexpected Visitors

I thought that I would start out the week by sharing a poem that I love.


~The Guesthouse~ by Rumi

This being human is a guesthouse
Every morning a new arrival
A joy, a depression, a meanness
Some momentary awareness
Comes as an unexpected visitor

Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they're a crowd of sorrows
Who violently sweep your house
Empty of its furniture
Still treat each guest honorably
He may be cleaning you out
For some new delight!

The dark thought, the shame, the malice
Meet them at the door laughing
And invite them in
Be grateful for whoever comes
Because each has been sent
As a guide from the beyond

Translated by Coleman Barks

Believe, Believe, Believe

Deep inside, there is a part of me that believes that if I tried hard enough, I could somehow go back in time, changing the past forever. I'm certain that this magical thinking is what keeps me from reaching a state of acceptance, and yet, if only... Maybe this is why I struggled with the meaning of this quote that my therapist sent me. "Acceptance is giving up the hope of having a better past." I e-mailed my therapist about my frustration and confusion, and here was her kind reply.

"We Cannot Change Our Past....we can only accept it and realize that the good, the bad, and the un-notable all helped to form us.....in your case it helped to form a grown woman who has compassion for others, a desire to help, an ability to not judge and a strength that is sometimes enough to strike others in awe.....your voice is there ....it is just taking a break.....believe, believe, believe."

Thank you G.C.

Between Here And There

There are times when I feel frustrated with my perceived lack of progress, or of taking a step backward on the road to recovery. My nutritionist is always reminding me that the recovery process is rarely linear, but full of peaks and valleys. Today I read this post by Lumina, at http://lovespeakes.com, that made me feel so much better about being "stuck" in a valley at the moment.

The Time Between Creations, by Lumina

"What you perceive as a void or lull, is nothing more than the space between creations. While it may feel as though time is being wasted, there is no such thing. You could not waste time if you tried, for you are always creating. You may not always be aware of the process, but it exists whether or not you are actively participating. The time between creations is just as important and just as magnificent as the manifestation itself. If you could remember to honor and celebrate the space between, this “black hole” you perceive can instead become a white light. Sit in what feels like nothingness if but for a moment and breathe. Be thankful that you do not always have to be moving whether forward or backward. It is okay...it is OKAY to be still. Embrace this stillness; this quiet. Learn to “turn off” so that you may be “turned on” to life and love when it appears. Enjoy the “in betweens” for they are but the promise of what lies ahead."

Nothing But Empty

I had therapy and saw my nutritionist last night, and today I am utterly exhausted. Two nights in a row of insomnia and racing thoughts, so excuse me if I meander about, aimlessly. My therapist thought that it might help if I could write about my disconnected feelings, so I tried...

Write a poem
she said
about what goes on
in your head
Nothing
but emptiness
filled with white noise
I can’t find my shadow
I can’t hear my voice

I couldn't find anymore words though...

Food has been difficult, but I'm pushing through for the most part. I'm full from the moment I begin to eat, and I find it hard to breathe. I remember feeling this way so often during my stay at Renfrew. The fear of feeling.

Therapy Homework

"Acceptance is giving up the hope of having a better past."

My therapist sent me this quote today, and told me to think about it, so here I am...thinking. Sometimes, the more that I think, the less I understand! I guess I've been thinking that I needed to accept the past in order to move forward, but maybe that is what actually keeps me from moving forward? How does one improve upon the past? Is that possible? Ahhh...such confusion!

If anyone has thoughts on this, I would love to hear them:)

A Disconnect

There is really no other word to describe how I feel other than blah. I’ve had a cold, and the weather has been overcast and rainy. I’m lacking energy and motivation, and also frustration with myself for feeling this way. Ever since the flashback I had two weeks ago, I have felt a disconnection with myself somehow, as if I am floating somewhat outside of myself, if that even makes any sense. I haven’t had any flashbacks since then, but I wonder if it is because I’m in some weird semi-dissociative state. Even when I am sleeping, I feel as if I’m half awake. I’m hoping it will pass, and I will feel better soon.

What else has been going on? Let’s see...I finished working on journal # 2800 last week. Dave wanted to contribute to the journal, which I was excited about, because he really chose to come along with me on this journey, and has shared so much of my pain. He drew a magnificent hummingbird on one of the front pages, and it is absolutely beautiful and perfect. He mailed it for me on Friday, so Jessieh should get it today or tomorrow. The traveling journal is on it’s way!

In other news, my oldest son, Christian, had his first car accident Friday evening. He and a friend were out driving my PT Cruiser and someone sideswiped him, and then took off. Thank God, no one was hurt, besides my beloved cruiser, which now has a good sized dent on her passenger side door. She is going in for some cosmetic repairs on Thursday, and hopefully will be good as new. Christian will be driving the mini-van from now on! I have a feeling that these teenaged years are going to take quite a toll.

From Victim To Survivor~RAINN Online Hotline

You're Not Alone

The Willow Weeps

When I was a little girl, a friend of my mothers' had a weeping willow tree in her back yard, and when we would visit, I loved to take along my dolls and hide beneath the long, draping branches. The rustling of the leaves would whisper along with my make believe play, safely camouflaged amongst the dancing greenery.
I remember thinking to myself that when I grew up, I would absolutely, no doubt about it; have to have a willow tree in my very own yard. And then...I grew up... and when we were pregnant with baby #2, we bought a lot in which to build a house upon. All that I really wanted for that house was gingerbread trim, and...a willow tree.
She was barely more than a twig when lowered into the ground, but quickly, like our family, she grew, providing a cool, canopy of shade over the boys swing set.
I cried one winter, staring out the back window, as her branches cracked under the weight of a relentless Kansas freezing rain. The next spring, I watched and waited... breathing a sigh of relief when I saw tiny new buds lining the lemon yellow branches that swayed in the breeze. Seasons passed, and she was lush and vibrant, resplendent and strong.
We had a late frost last spring, nipping the tender shoots that had just burst forth, and she bravely limped through the hot and humid summer. Yet another winter has gone, and as a new spring approaches, her naked limbs hang grey and lifeless. My poor, sad willow tree.