PEOPLES

IMG_5650(purchase here)

Dear Human Peoples of Earth,

Please, please, please, please – I IMPLORE you to stop pretending as if abuse is an anomaly.

Stop the *SHOCK* *DISMAY* and *GASP* ing

This is keeping us from finding appropriate prevention, appropriate support and appropriate resolution.

If we continue to believe that lie that abuse is truly an anomaly, then we are willing to receive the lie that each case is SO super unique and has special circumstances and exceptions to what we humans would accept as being humane.

“THAT would NEVER happen in my house”  “What a disgrace”  “Can you BELIEVE that someone would do that”  “What kind of sick person does those things”  “How could she get involved with someone who would do something like that”  “I would NEVER allow/stand for that behavior”

Abuse is NOT an anomaly.

Look around you right now, or think about when you were at car-line (for school pick-up or drop-off), or at a coffee shop, or a concert, or at the grocery/book/homegoods store…

Count the adults around you.  (I cannot bear to quote the statistics on children)

 

If you reached more than ‘3’ in that count, then

you know someone who has been abused.

 

Sexually, emotionally, physically, financially abused

 

1 in 3 women have been a victim of domestic violence (either as a child or adult).

1 in 6 men have been a victim of domestic violence (either as a child or adult).

That is a helluvalotta us.

Once we stop speaking in hushed voices about this, and stop pretending as if we are unique in our situation, we can rise together to stop this unacceptable inhumane cycle.

Do you know who is winning right now?  The abusers are winning.  The lawyers are winning.  The courts are winning (we are in there a LOT every single day – we are probably their biggest money maker, like in history HUGELY BIGLY).

 

Do you know who is losing right now?

We are losing.

Our children are losing.

 

It is the ingrained shame, secrecy and belief that abuse is an anomaly which perpetuates abuse.

 

Abuse has been going on from the beginning of time, and will always exist in some fashion or another.  Because humans are human and humans have an extraordinary ability to dehumanize each other.

 

It is our challenge at this time in human history to no longer remain in a haze of believing that abuse is anomaly.

It is our challenge to prepare future generations on how to recognize abusive behavior.

It is our challenge to prepare future generations to be held accountable for self-regulation. 

It is our challenge to hold space for those who have been abused and teach them how to take back their personal power. 

It is our challenge to hold abusers accountable for their actions – to call them what they are – to call abuse what it is.

 

Abuse has been normalized by being maintained in secrecy, perpetuating the lie that it is unusual, and then normalized again by semantic manipulation.

“you are remembering that incorrectly because your anxiety is so out of control”

“we aren’t forcing your child to stay at supervised visits, but we strongly encourage them to build a relationship with their absent parent” (then force the child to visit with the parent, despite the parent’s yelling, throwing, threatening or erratic demeanor at the visit which is noted and observed by professionals who then determine the visit as “successful”)

“you must respect that all parents have rights to their children”

“he didn’t hold a knife to your throat, or threaten to kill you, so it really does not fit the definition of rape”

“if we investigated everyone who threatened murder, everyone on facebook would get arrested”

“she is allowed to parent in the style she sees fit” (she bribes your child with candy, toys etc and belittles/insults you to your child)

“he only hit the child one time, so it does not warrant further investigation unless an absolute pattern has been established”

“you have 15 staples in your head because of your relationship with him, he has no violent history with his children, and should be given equitable access to them” SURfrickinPRISE – here is a novelty to consider: children are not equitable property, they are people too.

If you intentionally harm/abuse another person, it is likely that you are going to intentionally harm another person.  Power and control is the bottom line.  Believing that another human is “less than” and somehow deserves “less than” treatment.  The only way to stop an abuser, is to call them out on their behavior, and provide consequences.

Abuse is abuse is abuse is abuse.

Let’s stop silencing our stories.

Let’s stop pretending that abuse is something else or that it does not exist in our realm.

Let’s stop doing that, human peoples.  PLEASE and Thank You

 

Love, Ms. Herisme xoxo

Finding Power

IMG_5632

Stuff I’ve Never Told Anyone: Finding Power in the Shadow of Shame

Ms. Herisme (that’s me), has a tiny piece in print, as a contributor to this book.

eeeeeeks! 

The other contributors are varied in their stories of power and shame.  I encourage you to read all of them.

If you are so inclined, please consider purchasing this book and reviewing it on Amazon.

All profits from the sale of this book go to House of Ruth, Maryland (support services for victims of intimate partner violence/abuse).

Stay tuned, there is more coming soon!

Love, Ms. Herisme xoxo

 

What She Could not Say

IMG_5094

You are a ridiculous caricature of excessive vapidity

I honor where you are in your life.

You are a textbook narcissistic power and control parent

I honor where you are in your life.

Your undertones of intimacy with me are uncomfortable

I honor where you are in your life.

You embrace and incite unnecessary drama purely for attention

I honor where you are in your life.

You need a level of support that I cannot provide

I honor where you are in your life.

Because I truly feel the statements above reflect

the most difficult people surrounding me,

and my intentions towards them,

I feel that I must examine what pieces of me they are reflecting.

I am a ridiculous caricature of excessive vapidity.

Please honor where I am in my life

I am a textbook narcissistic power and control parent.

Please honor where I am in my life

My undertones of intimacy with you are uncomfortable.

Please honor where I am in my life

I embrace and incite unnecessary drama purely for attention.

Please honor where I am in my life

I need a level of support that you cannot currently provide.

Please honor where I am in my life

I cannot see all of these things (other than the support needed) in myself, but I know they must be there.  Some version of them at least.  Maybe I AM feeling some feelings other than terror and fear.  I would prefer to feel joy, love, and contentment – maybe those come later (?).

Have you ever spent time turning your “You” ‘s into “I” ‘s ? Embracing empathy? Or, more vapid self reflection?  Ack!  I am not sure.

It doesn’t feel good when reflecting today, living in a swirl of dysfunction.  I hope that I can figure out how to stop the cycle for my sweet bear, SonHerisme.  Or at least allow him the opportunity to contentedly thrive with overall personal satisfaction, feeling embraced with functional and appropriate love and support…

Love, Ms. Herisme xoxo

A Dime a Dozen

One of the most stark realities of going through the court system

with: divorce, protective orders, contempt of court, po violations, victim’s coordinators, witness coordinators, parent coordinators, parent evaluators, visitation monitors, social workers, Child Protective Services, therapists, Circuit Judges, District Judges, States Attorney’s Office, Best Interest Attorneys, Attorneys, Masters, Mediators, Detectives, Police Officers, Sheriff’s Officers, discovery paperwork, interrogatories, copies of every bit of paperwork that may potentially define you (bank statements, mortgage statements, medical records, bill statements, daily activity logs etc), and reiterating your story a bajillion times to everyone and anyone, as if you have never told it before…

it is F’IN exhausting, uber full-time and you are not one bit unique from thousands of other women and children trying to extricate themselves from an abusive situation.

 

We are a dime a dozen to all of those professionals.

They see us multiple times a day.

 

We are overwhelmed and out of balance because our situations are so real and unique to us.  This belief that we are unique, is a great lie that we tell ourselves.

We are not unique.

 

Do you know how many women you personally know who have been sexually abused, emotionally abused, physically abused, financially abused? I challenge you to ask in your family, or your closest friends, if you cannot think of anyone off the top of your head.  I guarantee that you know someone who has been abused.

 

We follow in the tragic footsteps of countless women who have gone before us.  Some in situations where they found justice and survived.  More in situations that bent towards whichever way the current power and control swing was going.  Others ending up dead as a result of abuse.

 

As we continue on this great human shift away from a patriarchal society, which I believe we are on (another post, another day), I hope that we all continue to speak our truths and share our stories loudly – even when we have no hope for justice, even when we have no hope for safety.

 

This is our war and I am betting that, despite losing battles here and there, we win the long race.

 

We are a dime a dozen, but each of our dozen wield mighty and powerful voices, deceptively couched in that lowly dime.  We are slowly building, stack by stack, until we outnumber those lone one-in-a-million voices who attempt to stop us.

 

I am cheering your truth on!  Good job, YOU – go, YOU, GO!

 

Love, Ms. Herisme xoxo

pssst… Donate to your local domestic violence shelter today and reach out to a friend today

The SURFy-ness of me

IMG_3324

And so it has been a while…

 

I started a new therapy.

It is hard.

It is physically hard and thinkingly hard.

I hope it will be worth it.

 

My parents have been experiencing significant health issues.  My mother spending her time in a local hospital and in my care (at my home).  My father spending some of his time in my care, but most of his time in his own care (in another state, in my parent’s home) because that is how he rolls.

 

My sweet bear, SonHerisme, continues on with his own bittersweet  growth and development.  He is eight-years-old. He is growing his luscious hair for his buddy with cancer, or to be a “real Jedi.”  It all depends on which time of day you ask him about it.  He thinks it is hilarious when people (adults) think he is a girl.  We wear the same shoe size.  GAH ACK BLAG*&^%$#!

 

MrexH exists far away, elsewhere.

 

I am a single parent.

 

I am a generationally sandwiched caretaker.

 

I am unemployed.

 

I use an iPhone AND I accept food stamps/Medicaid *GASP*

 

Not intriguing/sexy enough for you?

 

How about the following:

 

Instead of trapping you in my web of positive spin of myself, I’ll begin with faults and we can grow our relationship from there.

 

SURF (Single, Unidentified Race, Female) – the worst kind (according to When Harry met Sally – look it up, it’s now considered ‘classic’), as I am high maintenance who believes she is low maintenance, so good luck with that.  I also cannot fake orgasm like Meg Ryan (again, When Harry met Sally – Nora Ephron is always worth it).

I do not understand feet on pillows where your head should be, or street clothes purposefully on a bed where you sleep.

I do not trust most commercial dining places.  I would rather eat questionable yogurt from the bottom of my purse, than a salad from Ruby Tuesday Longhorn Applebees Fridays Outback Cracker Barrel Macaroni Grill allotherplacessimilarexactlythesameinnature eateries.  I love America.  I love workers.  I am afraid of our food practices – like a-fear-t afraid in a way that people are afraid of snakes.

In a similar, but stronger vein, I am afraid of any incarceration.  Which leads me to believe that I was a terrible person in many of my past lives, which caused me to be horrifically incarcerated in many of my past lives.  Therefore, I acknowledge the possibility that I am sketchy at best in this life. I also wish you luck with that.

Zoos and baths worry me and I avoid them (I do shower, I’m not that naturally minded).

Microfiber is disgusting – stop gifting it!  I know that my house is a freaking mess, but I will not use your microfiber cloth anywhere EVER, so just stop. Please and thank you.

I love piles and piles and piles of books.  Books are my comfort food. (currently reading)

About every week or so, I drag my sheets across my wood floors as I take them to the basement, and otherwise behave as if my floors are self-cleaning.

I like responsible open fires, hyggelig (Danish, now I’m showing you how cool I am), notecards, water/sauna/swimming/lakes/oceans (I know it is ironic since I detest baths), books, animals, cooking, traveling, writing (duh), being outside in nature (not Jay Gruen level, I go gently), live music, live performances of almost any kind, thinking, listening to my sweet bear, seasons, and wind (not that kind).

I am an out-of-the-box problem solver in more than a resume filler way.  For example:  Need a birthday gift for a young person/neighbor/classmate AND your vintage auto-clutch baby blue VW accelerator pedal popped off, again?!?  No problem!  Purchase a Barbie/large Action Doll from Target and unwrap it from the packaging.  Re-wrap the doll in remnant fancy tissue paper/gift bag (from the microfiber gift you recently received), place gift bag in backseat of VW.  Take the unbelievably irritating and strong twisties that were holding the doll in the packaging with you as you yogic twist yourself into a position to see the accelerator pedal.  Wrap the twisties around the accelerator’s hook coming from the floorboard.  Carefully jam the twistie wrapped hook through the loop on the bottom of the accelerator pedal.  Twist that twistie as tightly as you can to prevent the hook from escaping the loop.  Carry on driving your VW with acceleration confidence in style, and deliver the doll.  Viola!

 

Be sure and recommend me to your friends, now that you know how absolutely dreamy I am.  If they speak softly, or not at all, I’ll probably like them best too.

 

The bottom line is that this SURFy is tired and wondering if everyone else is too.

 

Love, Ms. Herisme xoxo

From One (seriously amateur) Critic to Another (world renowned, Pulitzer Prize kind)

img_3658

I also like to think about things other than my own situation (surprise!).

A friend of mine reposted the following quote from Philip Kennicott’s FaceBook page:

“After all, I am not seeking to be reconciled with worthlessness, but what I do seek is the most ruthless war…It is not a question of convincing other people and winning them over; it is a question purely and simply of extermination…”

American politics, circa 2016? Fascist leader, circa 1939? No, Richard Wagner, in 1849, in a letter to a friend and ally about the composer’s forthcoming writings on opera and society. It’s bracing re-reading Wagner’s writings, coming face-to-face with his ugliness and mental instability. But this mentality, this idea that it’s not about persuasion but victory, not about advancing an argument but defeating the enemy, exists in many fields of human endeavor, especially those that are intricately bound up with the marketplace and competition. Humiliating other people becomes more satisfying than actual success; sadism replaces the productive, emulative force within capitalism. Applied to politics, its natural end is anarchy or fascism, with the former a way station to the latter. I suppose no one is innocent of the pleasure. Even children might acknowledge that in fact it was never about staying up an hour past bedtime. It was about defeating Mom and Dad.

 

My response to her Kennicott repost:

ah, yes, humans being humans… yet somehow we always find it surprising and disappointing. I suppose it is disappointing, considering how long we have been around as a species, knowing how similar and cyclical we are. However, I do believe that we are uniquely poised at this time in history, as in no other time, to tip over into a whole new, primarily peaceful progressive era. At no other time in history have we had so many educated people of all sexes, races, beliefs, who are able to connect and communicate quickly and without many barriers. I am not suggesting that the tipping part will be easy or without serious turmoil, I do suggest that tipping over into something positive and unprecedented, is a great possibility, more so now than at any other time in history. The end ttys xo

 

 

How are you feeling about the future of the United States of America, considering the recent controversial elections?

 

Or our collective global futures?

 

I am so curious because I recognize that I live inside of a series of concentric bubbles, which can make it quite difficult to see things from other perspectives.

 

Love, Ms. Herisme xo

ps. I wish I had added a response to Kennicott’s comment about children wanting to defeat Mom and Dad. I disagree with that statement. It implies that children are able to process their frustrations in terms of “other” and I do not believe that is developmentally possible in the majority of children.  Children protest bedtimes for a number of reasons – most of which can be traced to fear and being in control of themselves, not a malicious intent toward their caregiver or parent (no matter HOW FRUSTRATING we as parents experience those moments – they are NOT about US).  My further 2 cents on the matter J xo

Brain vs Stomach

enhanced-buzz-20761-1354137106-4

This is an epic showcase showdown…

 

Confession #703

I like to cook stuff.

I like to eat stuff.

 

Food hates me SO much, but I adore it.

 

I adore everything about it.

I like researching it.

I like planning for it and around it.

I like going to the market and finding the perfect it.

I like cleaning it.

I like chopping it.

I like cooking it.

I like setting the table for it.

I like sharing it (or not).

I like eating it.

I like cleaning up after it.

I like leftovering it.

I like reinventing it for the next time (or not).

 

Food and I have never seen eye-to-eye, or rather, body-to-body.

I think that food should nourish all of the senses. 

Food thinks that my body, in particular my stomach, is a stupid dumb jerk that it does not want to spend time with, and so it begs to escape that hell-hole as quickly as possible.  It does not even take time to phone a friend.  It just wants out asap.  If it cannot be accommodated, then it tells my body to punish me further (hives, headaches, nausea, fatigue, cramping, inflammation, super fat storage, intestinal upset, etc – you know, the usual).

 

I do have some allergies and sensitivities, and I avoid those triggers as much as possible.  However, these nasty side effects of my eating can occur even when eating something I have successfully eaten before.

 

It’s anxiety.

Anxiety makes my stomach a hell hole for food.

 

I want my stomach to be a healthy respite for food.

I want my body to enjoy the experience as much as my brain tells me that I do.

 

Our stomachs have been compared to being our second brain – and mine certainly lives up to that description.  Anything my brain rejects because it is too scary, nasty, unpleasant, or terrifying, I know it sends away to let my stomach deal with it.  My brain is Scarlett O’Hara making clothes out of curtains, and my stomach is always “tomorrow,” when Rhett leaves, Scarlett is childless, broke, and the house is crumbling.

 

What I am trying to say is that I like cooking a big turkey, and I missed out on doing so for Thanksgiving.  I’m going to cook one for Christmas Eve.

 

I am also trying to say that I have found a new therapist, and will begin Somatic Experiencing to heal through this process.

 

I hope that my stomach can learn better communication with food, and not piss it off so much.

 

I hope that my brain can more effectively deal with situations and processing emotions, so that it may communicate appropriately with my stomach.

 

If you see me in clothes made from my curtains, please feel free to call me on it.  If they are green velvet with gold tassels, please contact my mother asap.

 

I hope that you all are handling the holiday season well (for those ‘in’ it).  Expectations, internal and external, are sometimes difficult to reconcile with reality (hello, anxiety).

 

If you are not moving well through the holidays, please find support for you – you are worth it!

If you are finding the season hopeless and desperate, please call a national hotline:

Domestic Violence Hotline 1.800.799.7233

Suicide Prevention Hotline 1.800.273.8255

Love, Ms. Herisme xo

Disposable Emotions

original (775)

Parent/Teacher conferences happened last week at SonHerisme’s school.

This is one of the very, very extremely, limited times parents are permitted to see inside their children’s classroom, or the inside of the school environment at all.

Our school has very exacting leadership.  A militant Montessori, some might say.

The school is the domain of children and teachers, where families and parents are not permitted or included.

The conferences are strictly scheduled in 15 minute increments, twice per school year.  During two scheduled weeks during the school year, 20 minute opportunities to observe your child’s classroom are offered, but only to one parent at a time, and only if you secure the time slot before the other 100 or so parents.  There is also a 15 minute opportunity to join in your child’s classroom for their Walk-Around-the-Sun (Montessori birthday celebration).

Why are we still there? 

The teachers and parent community are unusually wonderful at this school.  I helped to build the school, as a founder.  While I am not on the same page with the leadership of the school, I am not currently in a position to help facilitate change, and the broader community of the school has been indispensable to us.

Also, despite having a horrific introduction into formal schooling (we were homeschooling prior to attending school), I was not in a position to even move SonHerisme into a different classroom.  My every move and breath was being questioned and picked apart by my attorney, SonHerisme’s attorney, and MrexH’s seemingly never-ending series of attorneys (each of whom firmly believed they were going to catch me doing or being something awful, so that they could vie for MrexH’s position with the court system – because that makes TOTAL SENSE when you are looking at a mentally ill person threatening to kill his family, with a history of abuse…yup, totally).

Anywho, the school leadership blatantly told me that, if asked by an attorney, therapist or social worker, they would not support my request to remove my child from the destructive abusive classroom situation he was in, or to change his school environment.  The school leadership’s position was that I would be harming SonHerisme’s education if I chose to school him differently. The school leadership is considered an expert on the subject of my child’s education, not me.  This felt like a threat to our safety.

The school leadership described me to SonHerisme’s attorney as an “over-protective” “hypervigilant” mother…  UM, YES because MrexH wants to KILL us, perhaps…?

This communication between SonHerisme’s attorney and the school leadership cost me countless sleepless nights, loss of trust in the leadership, and probably close to $1000 in attorney’s fees to explain myself – never mind the hours of my time in communications with those attorneys, our therapists etc, that most assuredly took my time AWAY from a confused and hurting SonHerisme who just desperately needed my presence and assurances.

The school environment we entered had an entirely unprepared incompetent teacher and was rampant with extremely poor  aggressive violent behaviors and bullying.  Most of the 30 children that were in that classroom 2014-2015, are still trying to normalize and catch up to their peers – even the half of the class that removed their children due to this horrific school situation.

While that particular teacher was not permitted to return to the school the following school year, the damage was done.  And I remained confined by the threats of attorneys and the attitude of the school leadership, to keep my child in that environment.

Those of you reading this and thinking, “This would never happen to my child!  Unacceptable!  I would pull my child out of there in a heartbeat and give them a piece of my mind!”

Be my guest. 

Walk my path.

(but holy bejeezus, I hope NOT) 

Have multiple attorneys threaten you with the safety and well-being of your child.

One threat: to send some stranger, in a van, to your home to physically remove your ptsd anxiety ridden child, and force your child to spend time with his abusive clinically psychotic father (who wants to murder SonHerisme and Herisme), if you make any questionable decisions or moves.  You know, because it turns out that, according to attorneys and potentially the court, it’s probably ME that had the problem – you know because of my anxiety about MrexH, and I am too overprotective and hypervigilant.  Yeah, that was the REAL problem here…

Anyone want to revisit the misogynistic bullying culture of outrage discussion?

Good times.

And so, you move those feelings to somewhere else (dissociation much?), and wake up in the morning to take your screaming crying frightened child into, what you KNOW, is an abusive school situation, and you leave him there because you’re fairly certain no one is going to murder him in a public Montessori school with a tough-as-nails, protective school secretary, watching the front door.

The unknown social worker in the van transporting your child to his psychotic abusive father is what you are avoiding.

Once that teacher was not invited back to the school for the 2015-2016 school year, new teachers arrived, and a new school secretary (the previous secretary made an extra effort to introduce SonHerisme to the new secretary and let him know that the new secretary knew how to keep him safe too.  I truly appreciated that!).  The school leadership divided that classroom of children into smaller groups, so that they could have a chance to normalize into the environment.

So far, so good, in terms of the classroom dynamics shifting and allowing education and positive learning to take place.  Of course, this is only as far as I can tell from observing my child outside of school, as no parent is permitted inside, except on the occasions listed above.

However, the recovery is taking extra time for us because not only did we have to move through the tragedies of our home environment, but also the severe tragedy of an abusive school environment 2014-2015, as well.

Which brings me back to the school conference, now that there is context for what comes next.

The consistent and patient teacher SonHerisme is in his second year with (multiage Montessori classrooms, he has not been held back), shared with me that SonHerisme confided he was worried sometimes at night because his dad wants to kill him.

Holy Fduck (D-)

At a follow-up meeting about extra educational support for SonHerisme, his teacher shared that SonHerisme told his peers in a classroom discussion about sad things in everyone’s lives, that his dad wants to, and tried to, kill him.

Holy Fduck (D-)

When the class discussion moved on to how to deal with the saddnesses, SonHerisme’s response was, “you just forget about it.”

Disposable emotions

Dissociation

Or, SonHerisme is growing, changing, and starting to forget somethings and remember other things in a different, maturing way.

I hope that my lessons to SonHerisme are not that the primary processing of emotions includes dismissing them, disposing them.

I want him to be able to acknowledge emotions,

process them,

move successfully and healthily through the strongest of them,

to live his long, healthy, full, fulfilling and safe life.

Maybe I am too good at dissociation and disposing of my own emotions to know how to guide him through this.

Thank G-d, and the generosity of SonHerisme’s therapist,

his therapy continues weekly.

Obvs I need to be in therapy – which takes private insurance – which takes money – which takes an income – which requires employment.

In time.  I feel that I will get there.

In the meantime, thank you all for your patience.

If you know me irl and know our school, please be kind in your judgements of them and of me.  Challenging extremely unpleasant circumstances tend to bring out the worst in everybody.

Love, Ms. Herisme xo

ps. yes, it continues to be difficult for me as an adult to process what has occurred.  I cannot imagine how these situations have formulated SonHerisme’s young little being. *spirals into worry*

Madame/Madman President

img_4775

I awakened last Wednesday morning, as most of us did, a little shaken by the outcome of our presidential election.  Not primarily because of the WHO, but primarily due to the deluge of outrage.

 

Did we really have NO IDEA that our country was poised to make a bad choice?

 

Did we really have NO IDEA that a significant segment of our country is fundamentally misogynistic, bigoted, racist, power-hungry?

 

Did we really have NO IDEA that either way the election turned out, about half of us were going to spiral into outrage, and the other half into bloating gloaters?

 

REALLY?

 

C’mon people.

 

Have you spoken to your neighbors?

Have you reached out to the lady next to you in carline?

Have you volunteered at your local domestic violence shelter or homeless shelter?

Have you, or anyone you have ever known, been a victim of domestic violence?

Have you ever known someone who has tried to separate or divorce from a domestic violence/abuse situation?  With children?

 

If you have been in an abusive relationship, tried to divorce or separate, and have children, then you know what to do now.

 

You know how to handle this situation, because you have dealt with it before.

Power and control,

through bullying, misogyny,

bigoted/racist speech –

been there, done that.

 

Our courts condone this type of behavior every single bojingle jangle day.  Ask around, we’ll tell you all about the reality behind the curtain of American Happy.

 

We have already worked through our outrage, shock and dismay at realizing the truth of our culture.  We are all sorry that the rest of you are just now being smacked in the face with it on a grand and public scale.

 

We know what to do next, and it isn’t “move to Canada!”

 

This is what you do.  Do what you CAN do.

 

I can prepare breakfast.  I can make healthy choices to fight my cancer.  I can work with attorneys/therapists to keep us safe and healthy.  I can inform myself about local, national, and global issues.

Talk to your neighbors with respect and compassion.  Talk to your family with respect and compassion.  Take care of your family.  Take care of your neighbors.  Turn your frustration into informed action and spread love all around yourself.

Inform yourself about what is happening socially and politically in your community.

Hold your communities’ elected officials to their commitment to represent you.  Volunteer for a community committee.  Thank those who serve on community committees.  Know your Congress people.  Know your Senators.  Know what they stand for and communicate with them about what you stand for.

 

Engage.  Empower.  Encourage.

 

We’re in this place together.

 

If we continue to turn our cheeks, spew rhetoric, or close our eyes and our ears, this, THIS, THIS is what happens.

 

Dear Adults, we NEED to do better.

 

Know your community.  Respect each other.

 

Know more and make better decisions with that new knowledge.

 

You are important, not more important that anyone else, and you are loved.

 

Love, Ms. Herisme xoxo

‘A’ is for Attention

img_4816

Attention!  Attention!

 

Attenzioni!  Attenzioni!

 

Achtung! Achtung!

 

Mind the Gap and so forth.

 

Karmic disclaimer: This post is not here to invoke unwanted connection or attention.                     This is an expression of exasperation and disgust.

 

I wanted to title this, “A is for Abandonment.”  Then I thought, MY G-D, WHEN will I STOP sounding so sour and dour and gloomy doomy? Blech yuck blah UGH

 

My life is one of mostly comforts and the love of a sweet SonHerisme.  And, despite the current political tensions, we are poised in a country of overall general comforts, the likes of which have never been experienced in the history of mankind.

 

Yes, my family loves me and supports me.  We are supremely blessed and I am unimaginably grateful.  I live in a time and country of possibilities.

 

Here is what is weighing on me – a shackle that I seem unable to displace.  Perhaps I am not meant to displace it.  Perhaps I am meant to carry it for this lifetime, for whatever reason.

 

MrexH’s family has, for undefined reasons, chosen to abandon SonHerisme.

 

It is so painful. 

 

Not just the loss, but the utter lack of communication or contact for SonHerisme, who is unable to understand the ridiculousness and arbitrary selfish behaviors of adults.  Especially from those whom he loves and have professed to love him.

 

I understand that this is perhaps because they believe that I am the most horrid and awful human to have ever walked on earth.  Some days I believe that myself.

 

However, given that maybe I am a horrid awful terrible person, my G-D, wouldn’t you want to make sure that the young child I am taking care of, is okay?  Wouldn’t you want to send him a reminder that you are thinking about him and sending him your love?  Not even a damned f’in birthday card, people…  NOTHING

 

The last contact SonHerisme had with anyone from MrexH’s family, was in November 2014, when they came into town, unannounced, to attend one of MrexH’s trials.  They telephoned me and requested to see SonHerisme. I agreed.  They hugged him and promised him they would keep in touch with him.  They never have.

 

MrexH’s sister suggested that she bring SonHerisme’s cousins for a visit in the Summer of 2014.  They never came, they never wrote or explained, they never have.

 

Over the Summer of 2014, MrexH’s sister and mother, sent SonHerisme a generic birthday card, with their signatures only.  SonHerisme was turning 6-years-old.

 

Since that time, nothing.

 

There are a thousand explanations. 

And there is NO explanation.

 

Every once in a while, SonHerisme wonders aloud about his absent cousins, his absent grandparents, his absent uncles (one has since deceased), and all of the other relatives from MrexH’s family.

All of them *POOF* disappeared from his life without regard or explanation.

 

To bring you up to speed, or as a reminder, currently:

There is court-ordered ‘no contact’ between SonHerisme and MrexH, for safety and health reasons.

I send weekly updates about SonHerisme to MrexH (cc: attorneys & representative from MrexH’s residential facility).

We have a court-ordered BIA (until April 2017) who represents SonHerisme legally.

We have a court-ordered parent coordinator who facilitates any contact between MrexH and SonHerisme (to date there has been no physical contact since early September 2014).

(and, YES, this all costs me $$$$$$$)

 

July of 2016, our court-ordered parent coordinator, believed (based on information from MrexH – completely unreliable since he has a severe mental illness, yet that is what we have to go on) she might be able to arrange contact between MrexH’s family and SonHerisme, and told both SonHerisme, and me, about this potential.

This has never happened.

 

This is a deep pain in my soul – knowing that this group of people have somehow been able to rationalize absolutely smashing and abandoning my child’s heart.

 

That they are able to do this,

reinforces that they are all unsafe and unhealthy people for us.

 

I currently cannot imagine a scenario where I could be convinced that any reintroduction to any of them, would be healthy or safe for us.

 

SonHerisme has other cousins, other grandparents, a broad community of support.  They love him, and demonstrate their love for him consistently.

My prayer is that, other than possible curiosity as an adult,

SonHerisme will have enough in his life that this utter abandonment does not leave permanent holes,

just informational scars.

 

Love, Ms. Herisme xo

 

ps. I do have thoughts on the political climate to post in the next day or so {hugs} all around