Here and Now

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! 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, childho...

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

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 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 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

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...

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 m...

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 Wo...

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

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

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, ...

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?"

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

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

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.

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 lig...

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.

"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:)

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...

You're Not Alone

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 sig...