Well there is nothing more uplifting then a day at the ocean! Beautiful ride along historic Route 101 along the Pacific coast.
I started this blog basically as an outreach to others who have been lost in the chaos.
Back in the late 60’s early 70′ there was no terminology describing domestic violence. That wasn’t even a term. Not battered women-nothing except wife beating. Which wasn’t a very pleasant term for the victims.
Of course this has been going on since the beginning of time and pretty much was ignored. It was a family affair. “Don’t hang out your dirty laundry”. Learn to be quiet.
Police were instructed to just break it up. No one was arrested and victim were left to their shame. Church’s did not support a women. And my church the Catholic church was against divorce. I cant say I ever even thought of going to a priest.
There were no domestic violence shelters. My own mother told me to “learn to be quiet”. I was young, 18 with a baby. The baby was the son who was taken by a knife to his heart. I won’t even go into that.
So I stayed. I was thrown down stairs. I had my head held in the kitchen sink. He ripped off the towel rack in bathroom and threatened me. I was miserable and had no one to turn to.
My friend knew but she never said leave. I didn’t know about social services. We lived in the “country” farms etc in upstate New York. I did have a friend whose mother had her arm broken by her father. We thought nothing of it. “Oh there goes old lady ….going to the hospital” Crazy.
So I stayed. Ashamed and humiliated that “my husband” would hurt me. It must be me. My parents won’t help.My friend won’t help. So I will just be quiet.
I know this is way to depressing. But it has a purpose. To reach people or women in particular that have faced challenges and think that they are alone. This blog is to connect the possibly lost!!
It isn’t all dark. I went to Oceanside beach in California and it was theraputic. Love the ocean!!
At the time my son died I was still working on getting my life after divorce on track. This did not help. At the time I had just started at State University. I continued going to class. I continued working. But going to work and dealing with the public was just too much for me to handle. I went out on partial disability from my job. But I continued school. I didn’t take a full load, but dropped a class. It kept me going. Having a goal. The three daughters remaining struggled along. I changed their school. But they didn’t adjust and returned to school in the community. I had wanted them to be away from everything where their brother died.
My oldest daughter went to live with her father. I think. To tell you the truth I am not sure. Everything was in a fog. She has never spoken about her brother and didn’t allow me to speak of him either. I remember driving to class and being almost transported. I should have told my professors what had happened. Because my grades tanked. It’s just a blurr. I had no family in California. My parents had both passed away in my twenties. I was an only child. My sons friends were there for us. Especially his best friend since he was four years old. That was comforting. So it was a pretty lonely road.
They arrested the man who murdered my son. There was a trial. He was convicted of second degree murder and given 27 years to life. We all attended the trial. My oldest daughter needed to testify. The judge had to clear the court of the gang bangers because they were yelling at my sons girlfriend calling her a bitch. I lost it and had our DA have the judge ban them from the trial. I don’t even remember what the murderer looked like. We all gave our victim impact statements. He was gone. Things were pretty rough financially. The victims fund payed for my sons funeral. They also would pay for counseling. The girls didnt want to go. I went to the psychiatrist and had anti depressants prescribed. I didn’t get counseling. I don’t know why. My aunt died six months later and we all flew to New York. We stayed at her house in the Bronx and got to see my cousins and my children’s fathers family. She left us money from insurance her sale of the house and bank accounts. Which helped our financial situation. But our psychological situation was dire. I had been pretty alone after the divorce and trying to get on my feet. I wasn’t working when I divorced. The twins were only one and a half when I left and then my father died. He left me house.insurance etc and I lived in his 2 bedroom home in the country 50 miles outside of NYC. I stayed with the kids for six months but decided it would be brutal in the winter and would have to build on to accommodate six people. So I left and returned to our home in San Diego. I rented out his house. By now the twins were three and Megan the middle was four. My oldest Jerry was ten and my oldest daughter Claire was eight.
Not all doom and gloom. Actually at my oldest daughter’s hometown with my two grandchildren.