Letting GoAt the beginning of the pandemic, my small family found ourselves living in a rental close to Lake Hollingsworth. At the time, our only respite from the confines of our tiny rental (Prison? Oasis? We weren’t sure at the time...) was a daily walk to the Lake. Our walk invariably took us past a house that I fell immediately in love with. Something about the house drew me in. Although the house was perhaps a little past its prime and needing a little sprucing up, it seemed obviously well loved to me. Fast forward a few years… an estate sale…. at THAT house… I had to go of course… and I am so glad I did! It turns out the house was the childhood home of a friend. Who knew? Her parents bought the house 50 years ago and lived in the house for the rest of their lives. My friend Teri and her brother spent their childhood overlooking Lake Hollingsworth. This was home, no matter what else was happening in their lives, this was the place they could always return. As their parents grew older, and she and her brother’s lives got busier, the weeds took over a bit in the flower beds… the carpets were cleaned a little less… the kitchen never got an update… Now they face the heart wrenching decision… what to do with Mom and Dad’s home? The estate sale is over. The furniture is gone. The family portraits and Mom’s tchotchkes are all divvied up. How do you let go of the home, without letting go of the memories so embedded in the foundation? My beautiful friend Teri made the brave decision to allow me to attempt to chronicle it for her. To try to capture a little bit of the raw emotion that this season of life inevitably forces on so many of us. As we moved from room to room, she recounted some of her most precious memories. This is her story.
Words ProjectWords. They have such power. To elevate, to empower, to assure, to comfort... or to belittle, to undermine, to destroy. I recently met three amazing women who are survivors of domestic abuse. This series illustrates their individual journeys to erase the words that were used to try to control them, to squelch them, to destroy them, and to redefine themselves with words that celebrate their beauty and strength. This is not my story, it is theirs. They have granted me the gift of sharing it, with hope that it will help others. Vanessa's Story
Caitlin's Story
Back in 2013, I was in a relationship with a boy I thought loved and cared for me. After a short while, I became homeless with him and cut off from my family and friends, relying on him and his family. The verbal abuse started small but quickly became an everyday, all-day experience. The name calling, the belittling, the constant questioning even when I wasn’t doing anything wrong, took its toll. Knowing how bad I burned bridges to be with said boy, I had nowhere to go, so I stayed. Each day I stayed, I started to believe him. I also didn’t think it was that bad because he wasn’t physically abusing me, right? Until, I got pregnant. At that time, I got help and got back on my feet. Fast forward to today, I am happily married to a man who truly loves me and respects me. He has shown me what true love looks like. I can’t deny that I don’t still struggle with not believing those hurtful words, but every day I am better and stronger.
Kayla's Story
My story starts out with me meeting a man I fell absolutely, 100%, head over heels, in love with. He was amazing, he treated me so good, he was a great father, a great provider, and we wanted to spend the rest of our lives together. We ended up getting pregnant and getting married during the pregnancy so our baby was born in wedlock. I had our beautiful son but like most women I went through postpartum depression. My husband was overwhelmed with work and dealing with me, no sleep, and trying to find time for us and his new job as a truck driver. So, he turned to using meth to stay awake. I had no idea and he started acting weird. He became very suspicious, started calling me names that he's never called me before, and eventually led to physical abuse. I didn't find out about the drugs until about three months of going through this. I had him put in jail and I stayed by his side. He started using again and the beating started to get worse. And he started hitting me in front of the kids. I figured out that there was nothing I could do, and the only way to keep me and my kids safe was to leave. I still live with the emotional scars and some physical scars as well, but I have overcome my situation. And I am so thankful that I have an amazing support system with my friends and family.
Bonds that Heal....
I just want to say thank you so much to these three brave women. I am honored to be able to help you tell your stories.
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