They are rarely ever really fully seen--these fleeting, forever 
haunting ghosts...

Most of  my life I have thought of "it".  That moment in time whispers stubbornly on the fringe of my subconscious demanding my soul give credence to the reality of what was and is, until I must say it out loud for fear of what happens to me if I don't.

And so I tell "it"...

I was just 13.  A very naive 13 at that.  An incredibly trusting 13-year old girl born in a very small town where everyone knew every one's business.  Or so they thought.

It was my mom's 3rd of 5 marriages and my step dad was an alcoholic.  He was also abusive.  His brothers and dad were what would now be deemed as perverted and predatory in the way they acted and spoke around females of all ages.  Including me.

In my naivete' I neither understood nor wanted to know the meaning of the words they spoke, the way they looked at me.  I knew I felt fear and disgust and very unsafe around them and made it a point never to be alone with or physically close to any of them.

Until the day my step grandfather groped me as he hugged me just a mere foot away from others in the room.  I pulled back wanting to cry out loud but instead managed to remove myself from his grasp without anyone becoming suspicious of anything wrong.

But "it" was already done. That one defining moment of my 13-year-old naive life.  It lasted only seconds but changed who I was and who I would have been. It forever changed who I was as a young girl.  It forever changed who I was as a woman and how I still sometimes initially respond to the touch of a man--even my own loving husband of 36 years.

I told no one. Who could I tell?  My mom would tell my step dad that his father had molested me. Even if she believed me I knew what that would mean since I had no choice but to live in that household.  I did not tell my sisters assuming he would not repeat what he'd done to me with them.  I did not know what sexual predators were and back in that time and place no one in polite society really did.   Or if they knew they did not speak those words out loud.  

I also grew up in an era where we were continually told to dress modestly so we would not give boys any "ideas".  And I heard more than once in my teen years that many times girls are raped because they asked for it by dressing a certain way, as if males were not more than mere animals that couldn't help themselves.

And so for over 40 years I told no one and imagined "it" was just an incident of the past that could not possibly have any place (or lasting effect) on my present or future.

But those fleeting ghosts continued to haunt me, always turning the corner staying just a few steps beyond my mind's eye. 

Until 7 years ago when I finally sought help for issues I did not know were directly and inextricably tied to "it" and two other inappropriate incidences I had endured as a young woman.

That help finally forced me to realize that these events had not only changed who I was and would be, they also affected my relationships and all those who loved me because they too were robbed of the me who never would be.

 And I know now that besides the survivor and perpetrator, there are many "invisibles" or victims of molestation and sexual predation.  Simply put (if there is such a thing in this situation), anyone closely involved with the survivor or predator is also affected on some level by the act, some more profoundly than others.  That means the lives of family, friends, loved ones, colleagues and others are also forever changed once the truth is known.

And I finally know and have internalized that this event, or any life event does not have to forever define me.  It's an event, not a life sentence. I did nothing to cause it. "It" is not who I am.

But most of all I know there is truly only one way these ghosts can begin to finally be exorcised from one's soul.  Exposing them to the bright light of the truth where no ghost can ever survive.

Shepherdess Blog

Copyright 2017

Jackie Deems

Thanks Giving

 

Fall is here and the hint of the coming bitter cold Winter winds nip at the edges of my weary soul... 

It's been a tough year. My husband continues to work 2 very low paying physically difficult jobs after losing his career of 30 years due to downsizing. 

There's an occasional tease of a new higher paying career just beyond his reach that continually slips through his worn arthritic fingers.  These opportunities prove never more than imaginary.  And each time his hopes climb high for what could be--only to be dashed on the icy cliffs of despair.

Though he puts on a brave face the stress of it all is aging him.  He looks 10 years older than the calendar reveals him to be.  He is quiet, more solemn and I watch and pray and encourage.  But he is wounded. His worth, as is the case for most men, is forever entwined with what he does for a living.  And though it's only Fall I feel Winter is already here...

Most of the time we fight the would be prevailing bitter winds together as we look towards what is next.  What is next?  Hopefully another day for us both. But even that is not promised.

And we've learned to laugh at things that would not be funny to most. The laughter helps to hold together (at least for a moment) the frayed edges of 2 very weary souls.

I have also humbly learned to thank God for what He has so graciously given us here on earth:

A home to keep us warm

Food to nourish and strengthen

Dear friends that come alongside us

Encouragement when we most need it 

Kindness when we least expect it

Unexpected blessings

Strength to face each day

Hope for tomorrow

And all these things are enough.  More than enough. For they can't be snatched away by any earthly foes because they are God-Given.

And so, we bow our hearts and souls to God and say,

"Dear Lord, thanks for giving".

Shepherdess Blog
Copyright 2017Jackie Deems

I Married A Stubborn Man

I married a stubborn man!

He stubbornly...

Believes all colors and patterns match when it comes to clothing.  He's color/shade blind and it's oh so very obvious at times.

Brushes (in a very specific way) his almost nonexistent hair so it grows "properly".

Insists I put away (in the correct place) anything I use in his workshop while he leaves things in the house he uses lying  wherever they happen to land.

Will not try new food--ever. 

Exceeds the speed limit because he says the posted speed is really just a "suggestion".

Believes white socks can sometimes be worn with dark colored shoes.

Refuses to admit he forgets things. 

Makes up his own words and claims they are legitimate even though they are not in any dictionary known to man.

Insists on doing things his way even though my way is clearly superior.


I married a stubborn man!

He stubbornly...

Goes to work when he doesn't feel like it.

Does not walk away from our marriage in those times it would be much easier than staying.

Puts up with my family drama.

Puts up with my drama. 

Says he would marry me all over again and that he would not want to go through this life with anyone else.

Knows when I need a hug and when I don't.

Has my back no matter what.

Would give his life to protect mine. 

On October 19, 1981 (and after only 3 months of long distance dating) I married a stubborn man.  And, I thank God--at least most of the time--He gave me this stubborn man.

Shepherdess Blog
Copyright 2017
Jackie Deems