...greater treasures than Mega Millions...

Mega Millions was recently over 1/2 a billion dollars...
(and at the same time Powerball was over 60 million)

...but get this, a few months ago Jordan learned how to give kisses...(before it was a very hard concept for him because of partial blindness and coordination)

...so now I get kisses everyday...he says 

"you give me a kiss and I'll give you a kiss" and he does...and so how very rich am I ???

(posted earlier...)

So sometimes I get grief about posting a lot about the novel "The House that Silence Bought", about my kids, and specifically about my son Jordan. And whatever. 

Jordan and overcoming abuse was the inspiration for the novel...some of you know that, some not. Please read the novel, we would appreciate it. I used to think that the book would be just a forum for Jordan later in his life; mainly because he has no idea he is disabled. But these days I fear he make make it to later in life. He is nearly 15; but behaves like a 5 year old. That is hard for a parent to face. But what is harder to face is that he is not growing very much. There may be many reasons for this; for instance he is on a lot of very damaging medications. These drugs not only potentially damage his liver, mess up his sleep patterns, but also when conbined seemed to be affecting his growth. So of course prayers and welcome. 

I used to wake up nights wondering what would happen to him after I died. But lately, I am scared for a different reason. I mean I do not know how  much longer I will have him. Reality says, though, that none of know how long we will have anyone that we love. 

So if I brag on my kids...especially Jordan...uhm, get over it maybe...part of it is normal mom stuff...part of it is part of framing his life...and those of us who love him, need that. 

We all spend a portion of our time here on Facebook trying to sound educated, intellectually stimulating and politically attuned...again, whatever...lol...because I for one think life is incredibly short and blessed...and what might make the world a better place is appreciating what we have, while we have it. So when you run out of clever posts, just take a few minutes and brag on your kids, your spouse, your friends...the people you love.

(Jordan ~ the  inspiration for the novel "The House that Silence Bought")

If you need immediate assistance, dial 911. 

The National Domestic Violence Hotline: 1-800-799-SAFE (7233). 

...making love out of nothing...

Buy Now at Barnes and Noble!!!

Purchase Here!!! Tate Publishing

Order on Amazon!!!

Available through Parable Christian Bookstores

Buy at Powell's in Portland / Local Author

(Also being marketed in Internationally in countries like Japan, Sweden, Finland, Germany...!!!)

A portion of the proceeds from novel help support local women's shelters

Michelle aka Shelby Anderson on Facebook

Originally from November 2009 on my Facebook notes 
****************************************************************************




Sometimes chinks in our self-esteem can start simply enough...


And very much like the song goes... 
"its only words...and words are all I have to steal your heart away"... 

If the Bible is correct...there will be no marrying in Heaven...this logic flies in the face of all who think that they will still be married to so and so when they get to Heaven...but the word of God says that is not the case... 

So it started me thinking rather abstractly that the time that we are alive in this life is the only shot we will ever have towards romantic love...and maybe thats why it seems to be such a big deal here on earth...whether is be songs, books, poems, or movies...a lot of people spend a great deal of time wanting for romantic love...and maybe they pursue it so relentlessly...because maybe we are wired with the understanding that here...right now while we live...that this is the only shot we will get at finding that type of love... 

In Heaven we will have God's love...and brother and sisterly love...but the ability to be romanitically sweet on people may not be a part of our existance... 

I often wondered why I was such a gush and a sap if I caught wind of someone being in love with me...or why I fancied that I could not go years with out fancying myself in love...and maybe this is why... 

I fell in love once as a child...that cool chemical, weak in the knees, have a hard time catching your breath around that person kind of love...and I was very young...in fact too young to be equipped enough to know what to do with it...or about it...I never said a word...well okay maybe years later...but where was the adventure in that...? lol 

It never went away...it changed in time...it ebbed and flowed...and had the opportunity ever presented itself it most likely could have bloomed properly...but that never happened...he later became my brother-in-law...I married his very violent, hot-headed brother in 1984. 

And at almost every point that I ever opened up my heart to another possibility...well...it was only because I was so alone in my cowardice about that first love...and so resigned in the fact that I would never do anything about it...that I figured might as well not be lonely in the process... 

And while I can fault so and so for not ever doing this or doing that in whichever of my relationships I chose to ponder...the harshest form of reality was I was settling for those other people because I was to scared to speak my heart. 

Of course to my credit...I was prime to be lacking in confidence...and I suffered horribly because of it through the years...but I should have liked myself a great deal more had I either spoke of it years ago and let the chips fall where they might have...or better still not have talked myself into the parade of other people who followed... 

I was in love with someone else...so I should have been true to myself in so much that I should not have opened up myself to those other relationships...and why? Because in the end they all ended...and tragically to boot. 

So I shout from the roof tops of what is now my somewhat damaged heart...and I say to those that were once young like I was...when you love...say so...risk...even if you risk and fail...it is so much better that neglecting it and allowing it to get trampled by life. 

A clean break heals so much better and stronger than something completely ripped to shreads... 

So my apologies to those that I talked myself into loving...it wasn't true...it was like that excellent Air Supply song..."Making Love out of Nothing at all"... 

And in retrospect I raise a toast to each of you and say...are you very sure that you were not doing the same thing...because some of you were not very respectful or nice...and if you are going to at least attempt love you could start with respectful and nice at least...lol...but mostly I apologize to you...I should not have been where my heart never really was...and I should not have participated at all unless my heart was fully engaged. 

So time to mend..time to heal..time to forgive...one and all... 

And in the end words are all we have to build anything in this life... 

mma

If you need immediate assistance, dial 911. 

The National Domestic Violence Hotline: 1-800-799-SAFE (7233).

Born to unusual, but nice, parents, Michelle/Shelby grew up rather uneventfully, living mainly in the deep south (Alabama). Later she would learn that it was her parents' love for her that not only brought them together, but had kept them together. And so life was ideal in many respects and distressing in others. Eventually though the family did scatter like leaves on an autumn morning. Fortunately she was able to extract a sincere appreciation for love, beauty, and an abiding respect for those who at least try.

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.

Ms. Anderson is a graduate of Oregon State University; and is also currently working on a master's degree.

She lives in very picturesque Central Oregon with her two children. 

Redefining Homelessness

THE HOUSE THAT SILENCE BOUGHT

 

Purchase Here!!! Tate Publishing

Order on Amazon!!!

Available through Parable Christian Bookstores

Buy at Powell's in Portland / Local Author

(Also being marketed in Internationally in countries like Japan, Sweden, Finland, Germany...!!!)

A portion of the proceeds from novel help support local women's shelters

If you need immediate assistance, dial 911. 

The National Domestic Violence Hotline: 1-800-799-SAFE (7233).

Homelessness can be defined many ways by different people. Oregon’s Ending Homelessness Advisory Council’s definition of homelessness includes those who: “…share the housing of other persons due to loss of housing, economic hardship, personal safety, or a similar reason.” It is these definitions that help local agencies determine who gets services.

Recently my two children and I became homeless, displaced and transient. It happens to a lot of people in life. In our situation it was due to an impending divorce. Almost immediately I started rallying together whatever resources I could to try and make a break from the situation. I needed to know what to do next; because what was being offered seemed neither reasonable nor healthy. By most standards I am educated, capable and employable; so I could eventually rebuild a life for my two kids and I. Part of what complicated the issue was not just the children collectively, but I have a son who is partially blind and disabled. So I started making lists as to what all I needed to do to get us out of this situation. So I started calling friends, family members, church members and associates to see what ideas could be put together. Most of our family lived down South, so we were lacking in a local support network.

In the midst of this I mentioned to one of friends that the kids and I might have to possibly stay at The Hope Center here in town, or maybe somewhere in Albany. After more than a few conversations the friend and her husband made the offer for the three of us to rent a room from them. I was so hurt and depleted because of the circumstances that I took them up on their offer; and spent the next few days crying myself to sleep. I was happy we had not been relegated to living in our small car. However, as a mom needing to provide for her two children I felt that the temporary solution, however welcomed, still left us in a very vulnerable and precarious position. Local resource agencies that I contacted for help classified the three of us as being homeless. It was very hard to hear. Words like displaced and transient are perhaps a bit more palatable to accept in this scenario; yet the word homeless was still what each organization said. It was scary to realize that very little separated us from being on the streets; and it was sobering that it could all shift very quickly and without notice. It was only ten years ago, right after Jordan had been injured, we had lived in shelters for six months; and now the memories of such came flooding back.

As individuals we may have different ideas of what it means to be homeless. It is almost as if we think of homelessness in terms of levels. Some levels we are comfortable with, like displaced and transient; and other levels make us uncomfortable. I am not sure that there should be varying degrees of homeless. Our experience has been humbling, stringent and confining. After all, my children and I did not ask for this to happen; and that is true of the bulk of homeless situations. The question then is: should my kids and I have to be living under a bridge in order to get care and compassion? Of course the answer is no.

I write all of this, not just to help people redefine their ideas of homelessness, but also to get people to extend themselves to homeless people regardless of which level of homelessness they occupy. Positions like what my children and I experienced happen a lot more frequently than most people are willing to admit. The homeless are not only living in cars and under bridges; they sometimes have jobs and stand in line next to you at the grocery store.

Only a few weeks back I had notified our pastor that I wanted to be part of the team of volunteers that would be helping down at The Hope Center; and now weeks later my kids and I are struggling with the same needs and fears as other homeless people. We now rely on a handful of dear friends and many strangers. Some people have been very warm and supportive. But some people have told me not to tell people that we are homeless. I guess I should be embarrassed to admit such a thing. That sounds like pride; and pride has no place in this circumstance. Hopefully people will remember that the next time they encounter a homeless person and they are tempted to turn away. Pride and “keeping up appearances” actually helps to facilitate people becoming homeless in the first place.

We became homeless; and it was not of our own making. We needed help; but so too does every other homeless person out there in our community. Perhaps my daughter, my disabled son and I give atypical faces to homelessness; and if homelessness can happen to us then it can happen to anyone.

I would love it if we as a community would shift all of our preconceived ideas of what we think it means to be homeless and just love on those who are. If enough wonderful people in Sweet Home lend a hand to their neighbors or even contact City Council as to how they can help, we as a community can make a difference.

“Without a family, man, alone in the world, trembles with the cold” Andre Maurois

Submitted as a Letter to the Editor...The New Era...Sweet Home...November 24, 2010


Let me know how you are doing.

Michelle

Do Not Minimize

Buy Now at Barnes and Noble!!! 


Purchase Here!!! Tate Publishing

Order on Amazon!!!

Available through Parable Christian Bookstores

Buy at Powell's in Portland / Local Author

(Also being marketed in Internationally in countries like Japan, Sweden, Finland, Germany...!!!)

A portion of the proceeds from novel help support local women's shelters

If you need immediate assistance, dial 911. 

The National Domestic Violence Hotline: 1-800-799-SAFE (7233).

Ok...
Since we are on a angry roll...but we have recently learned that anger can me our friend...let's roll with it...

Do Not minimize abuse. Do Not call it something else. Do Not deny it or its damages.

In recent times women, children...or anyone who has been abused is being likened to having post traumatic stress disorder...after all. next to actual acts of war, abuse is one of the most stressful things a human can live through.

What you are living through is unique to you; but also universal in many ways.

Abuse can be being hit, being beaten, being threatened, being raped, being manipulated with emotional or other types of blackmail, fearing for your life or the lives of your children...and a whole host of things barely covered here...the point is...if you feel you are being abused, there is a strong possibility that you are. And since we know it is not ok...blogs like this were created to help you find the resolve to get out and get help.

Since denial is still so freaking prevalent in my family...many family members will be just finding out about the abusive situations I have been through as they are reading this blog...or my novel about it scheduled to be published soon...

So let's catch the denial bunch up...the denial bunch not only includes the ones who knew and did very little at those times...but it also covers the ones who still deny it today...here's the recap...in case anyone reading feels that I have no idea what real abuse is...and am just a drama queen in search of attention...(you know who you are and you are very sad...)

I have been slapped, slapped to the point of having my eardrum busted, raped (including, but not limited to, sex while asleep), choked, pushed out of a moving car, called every name in the book, thrown up against walls, punched, threatened, forced to watch threatening behaviors, spit at, had things thrown at me, had threatening messages left on my answering machine, held up at gun point, handed a loaded gun and asked to kill someone else, tripped, kicked, and someone abused both of my kids (to the point of crushing the skull of my 7 month old son)...just to name a few things...these things started in 1984...and were not completely eradicated until 2001ish.

There is no slicing any of that into my being a drama queen...women who are abused are not drama queens...they are suffers of abuse...they are suffers of post traumatic stress syndrome...probably suffering a great deal from depression...and may have had issues even before the abuse started.

When a person has been damaged...and repeatedly...and they ask for help...and hep is delayed...not forthcoming...or not offered at all...they will become even more and more damaged...in my case their self-image and confidence are shattered...their judgment takes a significant blow...they begin the downward spiral that is relevant to any other form of co-dependency or addiction...an otherwise bright and capable person can become a shell of once they once were. And the more it is kept in the dark...by the person suffering... by well-meaning family members...the more hideous it all has the chance to become.

In many of these cases the person being abused has a chance to going into therapy...only to find out that they had issues before...and only to find out the reason abuse had become so prevalent was just how much dysfunction had been ignored in their families of origin. Many abused women who are not able to get help...or who just haven't hit their own personal "rock bottom" may even start to self-medicate their pain from abuse in the form of drug and alcohol abuse as well. I was never a fan of street drugs, and I cannot drink more than 2 drinks without being drunk; so I found other ways to self-medicate. I ate. I shopped. I tried to befriend and help people who were even more messed up than I was. But deep down I was hurting from abuse and not able to get away from the destructive patterns and habits. As is the case with a lot of abused women I became just as bent and broken as the men abusing me.

I can only liken it to falling into a bunch of briers and getting cut and injured and being unable to get up out of it. And so to passers by...the people who do not stop and help...well all they hear is a lot of yelling and pain coming out of your mouth. And as they continue to pass by, not helping, you start to yell at them as well because they did not help. In the mean time the injuries are becoming deeper and more severe...pain is causing nausea...blood is pooling...infection is settling in...and in the name of "personal responsibility" you are being faulted and yelled at yourself. The words "emotional nightmare" hardly scratch the surface.

The most important to remember when it all gets ugly...and it will get ugly for almost everyone who is ever abused...is that the only way to stop the pain, get help for the infection, and heal the wounds is to get the hell up out of those briers. If you have family to help...great! Friends to help...great! But do not wait for anyone one else to help you in order to try to get yourself out. It will be painful. It will make you cry and scream. You will be damaged. You will need help from people outside of your circle. You will have to "do the work". You will feel like giving up...but do not give up!

Authority figures, strangers, women's shelters, church members, friends, and a few sparsely placed family members (who actually bothered to take our calls) are the ones who helped us...the other people in our lives felt we were unworthy....to help...to listen to...to redirect...to whatever...

I became someone I am immensely proud of...someone I would have coffee with, you know...

But I could not have become that had I not extricated myself from the briers of abuse...had I not faced the pain...the humiliation...the loneliness...the fear...the lowliness...the frustration...the anger...and all of the other things that had infected my wounds.

I started college from a women's shelter...a very good shelter...I was scared....alone...one of my kids was in therapy...I was in therapy...and my son was permanently disabled...it was not fun...it was hard...I cried myself to sleep on a pretty regular basis...but I got up every morning...knowing I was sane...could become healthy...and could love and provide a better life for my little ones.

Years later I would graduate from college...a PAC-10 university...yeah!!! I was so happy...and exhausted...and overwhelmed...but I did it! My degree will most likely afford me things I could not attain without it...but do you know the best thing it did? I do not care if my degree collects dust from here on out...it afforded me being able to set a great example for those little children of mine...and that alone was almost worth everything...

So I have to say...I AM HERE...YOU ARE NOT ALONE...YOU CAN RISE ABOVE YOUR SITUATION...DO NOT STAY IN AN ABUSIVE SITUATION...GET EMOTIONAL HELP....PROTECT YOURSELF AND YOUR KIDS...AND HOLD ON TO WHO YOU MIGHT BE SOME DAY!!! 

My dreams may not be your dreams...but your dreams are attainable...your wounds can be healed.

Much love,

Michelle

Waiting for The Other Shoe, to Drop

*******************************************

Any woman who has ever been hit might wonder, for a brief instance, afterwards what on earth she had done to deserve such a thing. 

The truth is that I cannot think of a single reason why a man would feel compelled to hit a woman. 

There are terrible stories about women who hit each other and men who fist fight; that is not the kind of abuse I am addressing here. 

I am not addressing abuse in general, but specifically, men who abuse women. 

I am looking at that fiery sting to the cheek, or jawline, felt right after a man has taken upon himself to slap, hit or backhand his wife, partner or girlfriend. 

What, I wonder, told him that that was his only course of action?

The first time it happened to me I was not even 20 years old. I remember thinking that I could not figure out why someone, I thought I loved and trusted. would do such a thing.

The short term damages faded quickly; though the long-term abuse lasted a total of four years. 

But the effects would be felt for nearly twenty years; they now call this PTSD. The short term fix was looking at what I had said or done that contributed to such a thing. 

The longer term look ended up being a self-image so shattered that I began to believe that I must have deserved such a thing.

If a person believes that they deserve such a thing, there is a good chance that they will only attract people who treat then poorly. This kind of destructive pattern is every bit as damaging as the cycles that any other addict experiences.

If you can relate to what I am sharing in even a small measure, please know that you do not have to live in fear.

The first thing you can do for yourself is admit that the situation is bigger than you, and that you need help. 

The next thing to do is to make a safety plan; that you do not share with your abuser or their friends or family. 

You will need to assess your income and resources. You will need to figure out if you can live on your own. You need to know if you can rely on friends or family for moral, spiritual or financial help. 

If you do not have a tight knit support group it is wise to check community and social outreach programs to see what is available. Also know that in some areas there are support groups/therapy groups available for encouragement and sharing even if you have not yet your abuser. Not every abusive relationship has to end, but every abusive relationship does have to change.

(Remember, abusers are very good at controlling and manipulating their victims. People who have been emotionally abused or battered are depressed, drained, scared, ashamed, and confused. They need help to get out, yet they’ve often been isolated from their family and friends. By picking up on the warning signs and offering support, you can help them escape an abusive situation and begin healing http://helpguide.org/mental/domestic_violence_abuse_types_signs_causes_effects.htm#understanding).

Let me know how you are doing,

Michelle

If you need immediate assistance, dial 911. The National Domestic Violence Hotline: 1-800-799-SAFE (7233).