Some families do not realize what they do to one another; they are unable to see their own dysfunction.
I was in an abusive relationship, once. Not my first.
However, the plot thickens. See, getting someone to listen to me about my abusive ex was difficult. It was made harder because my ex was very close friends with my step-mother. That made for some very uncomfortable family gatherings.
Eventually, when the abuse got to be so bad that my two very small kids and I had to go to an abuse shelter, my step-mother was having coffee and socializing with my abusive husband. Why? because, wait for it, in their eyes, he was good and I was wretched.
In the mean time I could not have a civil relationship with my step-father...because he didn't want any confrontation with his wife, nor her good buddy, my abusive ex.
Are we having fun yet? Heck no. I ended up having two incredible kids with the guy; which he later resents. His resentment, selfishness and overt sexual problems add fuel to his already abusive nature.
So eventually in the attempt to get as far away from my unhealthy family and my abusive ex the kids and I end up renting a room from a family friend. We were in his house less than two months. The friend turns out to be even worse than the abusive ex husband...in fact the friend, who wasn't really a friend, crushes the skull of my 7 month old son. Son almost dies. And at the darkest hour of my life the same dad and step-mom who cannot be bothered with listening to me about abusive husband are nowhere to be found in helping in this even worse situation.
When the ex came in with a dozen roses and said he was going to take the kids, that he never wanted, away because I had introduced them to a maniac, if I didn't agree to re-marry him, guess who was supportive of me re-marrying him? yep, those lovely parents...because abusive ex was a golden boy and I should have counted myself lucky to have his affections once again.
I could not make this stuff up...and a novel based on these incredulous scenarios is out there selling, called:
That's why I am here.
Stay in touch,
Michelle (aka Shelby)
The single greatest influence in her life was the remarkable time spent with her paternal grandmother; it was under this influence that she thrived. Her grandmother introduced her to not only fine Literature, but also the Arts and the Opera. And it was beloved grandmother who told her that if she wanted to be a great writer she must first learn to be an avid reader.
Early adult life would be peppered with indecision, failings, and the haunting of things not learned in childhood. But as is the case with most sincere artist, out of the angst of life came a great capacity for creativity.
Shelby considers her writing a gift...a joy, a tremendous responsibility, and something that helps to define her life.
She lives in picturesque Western Washington with her family and disabled son.