School's In

Today started out all kinds of wrong. Actually, it began last night. I began to feel anxious about today because I start my spring semester and have to drive to a different city  for classes. No big deal because it's only about 20 minutes.The problem arises when I am left wondering who's going to ENSURE my son does his homework those three nights a week? Who's going to make sure he cleans his room, brushes his teeth and takes a shower? Who's going to make sure he actually took his night meds? Then there is what is he going to eat, my sister can't cook. Don't get me wrong, I know my sister and mom are going to to take GREAT care of him but they're not me! No one has my touch when it comes to Avi...

He's on the spelling team for his school- competition is this Saturday. So with me having class until after his bedtime leaves me with only two days to study with him. No how the competition ends I am going to be proud of him! But deep inside I will feel like it's somewhat my fault if he doesn't place.  Thinking about that makes me want to puke! And cry. Then puke again.

I attended the police academy during the second semester of Avi's kindergarten year. That went on until the first semester of his 1st grade year. That was Monday-Thursday until 9:30-10pm and on Saturdays until 3 or 4. After that I started working at the county jail- night shifts from 6pm til 6am. That took it's toll on Avion and me. I hated that job because of the time it took away from my child. It made me a depressed and angry person. I was hateful. I cried numerous times in the bathroom at work. I felt as if I had neglected him and failed him as a mother (after all, I was the only "parent" he had). There were times where I didn't sleep for days because I'd get off at 6am, take him to school, watch tv, go eat lunch with him, drink coffee, go back to work, get off at 6am, go to his soccer games, take him for a victory treat, go back to work, get off at 6am, get him (and myself) ready for church, go eat, go back to work... I literally felt like I was running on fumes. I made it a priority to not miss any games, field trips, or class parties- and I didn't. But I was numb inside.

After getting a job at the school and becoming a MUCH happier person I vowed to never be away from Avi again....

But now I'm here. I get off from work at 3:30, head to class and be there by 4:30. Missing practices and some basketball games that occur during the week.Staying up all night studying and getting up at 5:30 (or earlier) to do it all again. Ironing uniforms and making lunches. Planning classroom parties and cheering Avi on from the sidelines in soccer games....

 I know that in the long run this is what's best for me, for us. I am actually looking forward to obtaining that degree in a field that I truly love with all of my heart! But something inside of me hurts. Something inside of me is sad. Something inside of me cries. The only thing I can do is pray that we both make it through this semester with our sanity. My child is smart so I know that his intelligence will continue to amaze me... it's me that I am more worried about. I take my duties as a mom serious, even more-so because I am a "young mom" and statistically I am not supposed to succeed. I don't expect anyone else to take care of my son, never have and never will. I don't like having to depend on others to help me. But as the Bible says "pride comes before a downfall" so I am pushing my pride aside and letting God work in our lives. I know that He has great plans for my life so I have to trust that. And I do. I just pray that these anxiety attacks go away or at least lessen up a little bit :(

Stay tuned... I'll let you know how this whirlwind of a semester turns out! 

Little hands make BIG impacts

When I lost my job at the sheriff's office, I felt like my whole world was ending. A month later I was given an opportunity to work with kids. After studying criminal justice for 6 years, getting  two degrees and my basic peace officer certificate I was unsure, but I needed the money and it was a source of income. Little did I know that the Lord had bigger plans for me in this job. MUCH BIGGER...

Over the past year and a half I have encountered some of the most amazing precious children EVER. I didn't think that it was possible to love another's child (outside of family) as much as I do these students. They make me smile. They make my soul happy. What started off as a job will eventually become my career. I don't think the students (or parents) know just how much I love them! 

Over the past year I have invested so much time, money, and feelings into these small people. By allowing me to help them, they actually helped me. Helped me get through a difficult time in my life when I felt unworthy and unwanted. But they've wanted me and at times "needed" me (and vice versa). I enjoy the "death squeeze" hugs they give, the never ending stories they share (that would go on for hours if I didn't stop them), their laughs, smiles, and faces. 

I've enjoyed the gummy bear science experiments, cupcake fraction lessons, shaving cream spelling quizzes and Thanksgiving feasts with pilgrims and Indians. I will never forget that and hope they never do either!

In December I had to tell them that I would no longer be apart of their day to day lives and that broke my heart just as much as theirs. I feel as though I am letting them down and walking out when in fact I am simply taking night classes so that I can become a teacher and possibly make an even bigger impact on lives. It still hurts...

My prayer for them is that they never give up on their dreams. I pray that the Lord wraps His hand around them and molds them into the some of the greatest adults ever! I see so much potential in each and every one of them and I pray that they see it for themselves. I cannot wait to see the amazing things they will accomplish as they grow. 

I hope they know that I will FOREVER be a fan cheering them on!

Two Birds, One Stone

2014 has finally arrived. I didn't make any resolutions because after a few weeks they are forgotten. However, I prayed that the Lord continues to work on me and in me. I pray that He helps me stay on the path in which He intends for me to go down... even if that means cutting certain people or things out of my life. 2013 was a good year for me but I know that 2014 will be better...

All throughout 2013 I prayed for patience. Let me tell you, that wasn't an easy prayer because the Lord really made me wait on things. I also prayed that He showed me my purpose. Often times I find myself so frustrated because I am not where I want to be but then I have to step back and take self out of it and realize that I am where He WANTS/NEEDS me to be. One thing that I learned in 2013 is that my writing has helped people. I have had people, stranger even, tell me that my blog post hit home for them or helped them. It made me feel good inside. So as I enter into 2014 I am praying that even with my busy schedule I find time to sit and write about experiences to give someone somewhere relief. I think it's fitting that my first post of this year be something good (because that's how this year will go, I've claimed it!).  What I am about to write about may make some people mad but I'm okay with that. It's something that has made me mad, angry, down, depressed, hurt, pissed for years. I've held those emotions inside, never letting ANYONE in because I didn't want to seem weak. I AM NOT WEAK. But if you keep something covered up, it never heals and I am ready for healing. I am ready for freedom...

When I was younger, much younger, my innocence was taken away from me by someone who very well knew better. Someone who was never supposed to cross those lines. You know what I mean by innocence, so I don't have to go into detail. After that happened I took that memory and hid it away, locked inside my mind with my mouth sealed shut. Years later someone (who went through that very same thing with the same person) brought it up. She asked if I remembered and I played dumb. I didn't want anyone to know, didn't want anyone to look at me differently. When my parents and grandma asked me about the incident (the "someone" finally told) I still played dumb. Never spoke about it. Didn't want anyone to know about it. I felt that in some way it was my fault. That my 7 year old self was to blame for him doing what he did. Truth is, it wasn't my fault, or anyone else's- BUT HIS. My only fault was holding it in. I should have told when it first happened. I should have yelled. I should have screamed. I should have fought harder. My grandma went to her grave with that lie that I told her when she asked. One day I found myself sitting in one of my criminal justice classes, in a discussion about molestors and I became so pissed off that I had held on to that secret for so long, that I had harvested so much hurt, pain, anger, hate because of that person. Then my anger turned towards my mom, my dad, my grandma, and my step-dad for not seeing what I had went through. They should have known, whether I told them or not. It took me a while to come to terms that it wasn't their fault nor mine. I was 7. I was afraid. I was confused. I was a victim. I was a child. I was not at fault. In that class we seen videos about a father doing that to his daughter and a guy asked the teacher why hadn't the child just told. I went home and balled my eyes out because it's not that simple. When you have someone tell you that if you tell on them they'll kill the one person that means so much to you, you tend to believe them, especially if you're 7 years old. Until this very day the mention of his name makes me pissed. I cringe. I want to throw up. I'll admit, I wanted him to die or at least feel some of the pain that he made me endure. He'll never know what I felt, not only that day but the years that followed. He's where he should be, where he can't hurt anyone else...

One of my ex boyfriends used to abuse me. It was never as bad as the stories that I had seen on TV or read in my law books, so I didn't think it was worth telling anyone. Nevertheless, it was abuse. He would physically hit me, as well as being emotionally and mentally abusive. I remember thinking I didn't deserve better and everything that was happening was somehow my fault or what I deserved. I fought back, but that only made it worse. One day I knew that I could no longer take anymore and left. I told myself that no matter what, no woman deserves to go through that. No woman deserves to go through even a second of what I went through. I learned that if he hits you once, he'll hit you again. If he calls you out of your name, it will continue. You will eventually allow that to become a cycle and unless you leave it will become your norm. I let the fear of being alone and raising my son as a single parent overpower me being able to walk away after that very first time. That's not love. A person who loves you will not put his hands on you. He will not laugh at your dreams. He will not tell you that you're ugly or worthless. He will not go to another woman to get what you can give to him. I reached my breaking point and left... you can too!

As bad as I want to hate them, I can't. As hard as it is to forgive, I have to. I walked around for years with hatred inside of me aimed towards those two people. While I was getting upset when someone said their names or I seen them, they were walking around feeling nothing. So who was really hurting by my anger? I was. I was getting flustered and hot headed by my lack of forgiveness, not them. Forgiving them is for me and me alone. You may not understand it, heck I still don't at times. But what I do know is that each night I pray that the Lord forgives me for my sins and He can't do that when I have no forgiveness for those who hurt me the most.
I don't want you to read this and think "poor girl". I'm not a weak person. I am not weak! I don't think of myself as a victim. I am a survivor. I could have easily allowed those circumstances, as well as others, dictate my life until there was no more of me left. I survived both of those incidents and I came out on top, or at least that's how I feel. I know that most people who go through those things succumb to much worse things, like falling into the trap of drug abuse, alcoholism, prostitution, or they end up with their abuser. Not me. I fought internal (and external) battles for years and by God's grace I won. I am finally free!