Rinse and watch someone else repeat.

You ever get into a mess, a big one, and whether someone else got you there (as in my case) or circumstances made a shambles of things, even maybe you just charged forth into the valley of 300 foibles without thinking it through and…

…well isn’t this one FINE mess?

I know how I got into my mess, well most of it, and I know now that there were other ways of handling my circumstances but at the time, when your IN the quagmire most of us are not stepping back and thinking logically.

My predicament aside, as I will write about that in future should I ever get the courage, it seems that once people know you have been through something, they seem to think you are an expert on that particular circumstance.

I am here to say, that is not always the case.

After all I was shot at once and I would be just as clueless and stuck to the ground if it happened today as I was then.

A former ex tried to strangle me, and I have not taken self defense courses so, I would be just as hapless should that ever be repeated (not if I can help it).

Con folk stole everything I had and got me into a foreign country, okay, on this one I am a little more knowledgeable.

So someone else is in a foreign country, brought there by someone they trusted and were in a relationship with, and they too have no money, freedom and well they are kinda screwed…slight adjustment in circumstances and physical situation.

When you think your faux pas or conundrum is a singular event, not experienced by anyone else, well I realize now that it is a bit big headed.  There are still things that happen to people that are indeed singular and original but that is in itself exceptional and rare.

Other people at some point in time have gone through something akin to what you are or did, slight nuances of difference taken into consideration, and well the outcomes are probably as varied as each of us are as individual human beings.

So when someone asked me for advice for this person who is stuck in a foreign country, no money, no family with money,surrounded by people who do not care or actively got you there and dislike you, with pets that they can’t bear to leave…

…I understand from experience, what they are going through.

54 days ago the people who put me in a similar situation after taking everything I had, including my identity, threatened to slit my throat, and the world was in turmoil.

53 days ago I boarded a plane and arrived back in my own country an emotional, psychological, financial and physical mess.

They managed to take everything I had and I ended up with nothing.

Yesterday a friend contacted me because she was aware of what I went through, and now someone else is going through something similar, in my country.

Well now there is a conundrum.

I still have not worked through everything but my counselor is amazing and very good at seeing things that I did or do not, though I do not need anyone to tell me how lucky I am now, I made it out with my dog.

There is still a woman, in Canada, who is broke, has diabetes, no family to pay for her return to America, no health care, and the person that brought her to Canada (unsure if it was a sponsor or what) is now saying they are broke and can’t even pay for her return to the states with her pets.

Alas I am still broke myself and looking for a place to live, and the basic necessities so I am not much help in financial ways.

I have made suggestions but the person living through any particular hell has to actually take the steps to DO or SEEK things to help them out of the circumstance they are in.

When one is on the edge of a cliff, looking into avast abyss of darkness without a clue of what is below when they step off, many things keep them glued to the mountainside unable to move and fear is rather high on that list, not to relegate shame, embarrassment, vulnerability or helplessness to non existence because they all contribute in their own nefarious major ways, but fear is the bow on the box that needs to be undone first.


To Persevere.


(The above was encountered on the web)


Freedom of Speech is taken for granted.

Freedom of Thought is often misused.

Freedom to be is hard won.


My life is mine.


I admit I did not have any input in being born, that was totally up to the parents.

The 18 hours of labor were not really my “fault” though they were caused by me.

I guess I can accept blame for being too active at 3 for my grandmother, who lasted 1 day with us and moved out because even locking the door could not keep me in the house (it was a hook and an eye and I was creative with the use of chairs).

I could make my own toast at 3 (chairs were marvelous things).

At some point before I hit 4, I (in my words to my mother) “shimmied up” a tree. The fire department got me down as no one else could manage it.  I hope I thanked them but somehow I doubt it.

~Introducing fear of heights?~

I own everything that happened to me, though to be honest, I would much rather not.  I would trade it for fun rides, travel abroad and perhaps a bigger family. Or even utter pure blandness.

I have not talked a lot about what all happened because of other people’s view of me changing and what I say may put others in a very bad light.

I am not alone in those feelings, I know from others I have spoken to about their lives, that it is hard to speak out.

I am not a victim, that word holds connotations that I refuse to accept.

I am not a survivor, because that shiny little word means it is over, done and forgotten.

In various instances either of the above terms may actually be applicable however in my view I persevere.


The dictionary defines the word in the following context:

to persist in anything undertaken;
maintain a purpose in spite of difficulty, obstacles, or discouragement; continue steadfastly.
to bolster, sustain, or uphold.
I think that is a more accurate definition of things from the past.  I lived in spite of difficulty, learned despite obstacles and became myself through it all.
Now it is accepting that, it is my life, not someone else’s.  What I want, need or desire is up to me, not another.
Mistakes are things you do, not who you are.

If someone lies to you, and you believe them, you can blame them for the lie and accept you made a mistake.

If someone takes advantage or cheats you, you hold them accountable for their actions, and accept that you made a mistake.

If someone hurts and abuses you (including sexually), it IS all on them.  Your mistake may be either not saying, telling or sharing it (IF you can) or not leaving (again IF you can).

It is easy to shoulder the blame, allow yourself to be responsible for things you had no control over, way to get out of or change.  After all, it is happening to you, so you must be responsible somehow, right?

You do not always realize there is a place to go, help anywhere (and sometimes there really isn’t) or people that will listen without judgement.

We take it all, tuck it away inside, and carry on, not realizing that the baggage can be what is holding us back from feeling able to be ourselves.

When you learn that being happy, laughing or even being confident, gains you negative, harsh treatment, well you learn not to.

When dreams are not encouraged, expectations however small not met, and you can’t relax because that will upset someone…it changes your behaviour and trickles into your thinking.

You expect the negative over simple things and you don’t even realize it, until someone points it out.

How often do you want to do something, say something or feel something and you tell yourself it’s wrong, don’t do it.  Simple little things, not outrageous or shocking.

Behaviour is so ingrained that you do not realize where it comes from, and with the non anti social type, unless someone points it out and asks, you do not consider it wrong, it just is.

You have a sense of impending doom, a mental, emotional and thus physical sense of disharmony, anger and upset that comes from those around you, and regardless of someone saying it is not directed at you, those feelings are real and you try to fix it or you distance yourself from the issues until the blaze dies down to embers.

Someone is going to think that is a daft statement but if you have ever been around abusive people or situations for extended periods, your senses are a bit sharper towards others, you pick up changes, moods and purely self preservation you react to appease or gain distance.  You can be in another room and your still concentrating on where they are, what they are doing and if they are coming your way.

Until recently I never knew there was a term for describing that in a way, hypervigilance.  I was surprised to find that out.

Now I can shut up and stop writing, it would likely make me safe and secure, hiding again but those memories, the images, they pop up when you least expect it and I am not insane, so I know repeating the same action expecting it to get better is not the answer.

This is change.

Even if it is a small one.

Hopefully no one will think less of me for it.

To my friend…Advice that falls on deaf ears…

…we all give advice at some point to someone who might be listening, but inside their head there is another thought process going on.

They see the wisdom in what you’re saying, but whatever they are thinking either makes your advice redundant, problematic or impossible to follow.

Hey sometimes they are just stubborn.

Okay, I get it, been there done that.

I had people giving me advice and that voice in my head kept saying why that advice was impossible.

I get it.

As you say to me, “He pushed me into the wall so hard, I had to be taken to the E.R.”

I get why my saying call the Police is not getting through.

As you say, “I don’t want to blow it out of proportion.”

Stunned I stop, because I actually said those very words to a female Police officer, while hiding the majority of the bruises under my house coat.

I went further than you did Cath, I actually said to them, it must be my fault, first serious relationship, he got violent and I over reacted.  I am too sensitive. I blew it all out of proportion…my reaction to being hit repeatedly…and called the Police. Somehow calling the Police after being beaten up, seemed wrong, my fault, so much trouble for just me.

I remember their expressions, as they looked at my bruised face.

Ya, like it’s normal to be beaten up.

I get it.

I remember all of it.

You need to call the Police now.

Pointing out why I am right, meets silence.

It isn’t easy, I know it.  I did it. The very first time he grabbed me and shoved me into a wall, I remember the stunned feeling of disbelief that, that just happened.

I went quiet, my mind working out how this could be happening in this situation, with this person…I imagine the look on my face was somewhat a cross between stunned, shocked, scared and appalled.

Of course that was just the opening volley, your new here girl, that’s not all that is on the itinerary.

You can play back every second and think, “I should have”…but it’s hindsight…20/20 and rosy to boot.

Now I know snagglepuss was a far more brilliant critter than I initially gave him credit for, “Exit stage left” not too shabby advice in some circumstances.

I should have left the apartment, gone to work, called the Police.

See…should have…hindsight…all the stuff that followed that could have been avoided. IF he had let me out of the apartment but…I do not know that for sure do I?

However, when I did get out of being trapped in the bedroom with him, and he left, I did call the Police.

Oh yes, he was so innocent that his friends got him out of the city.

Safely away from the Police.

While his friends, some of which were my bosses, decided to stop by and prevail upon me the view of their community and how they are sure it won’t happen again.

So as my friend says, “I knew he had a temper, and I don’t want him to end up in jail.”

I wince because everyone BUT the Police emphasized how important HE was, what this would do to HIM…

…not on the fact that I was pregnant, alone, hurt and scared.

If not the Police seek help and support for YOU.

You my friend are going through chemo for cancer.

Your not listening to me because that other voice, those other thoughts are busy telling you why I am wrong, what this will do, how he will react, what…

…but as I tell you it’s escalating in a negative way, you stop hearing me.

Even as you agree with everything I say.

Well…I get it…even as I will keep telling you to get help and put yourself first, like I failed to do for too long.


For those who are critical of the Police handling of Domestic Abuse, the Officers that handled the above mentioned incident, and others, were looking for him within an hour of their attending the call.

How do I know?

Because people they spoke to while looking for him, called me, as the Police did not tell them why they were seeking him.

I only found out why he was not located after…apparently they had a wonderful camping trip.

Those involved have to be ready to actually DO something before they can really make changes, get help or just get safe.