I am sitting in the truck watching flickering lights moving quickly across the fields. Flashlights on their heads, flashlights in their hands, walking up and down the rolls of venders in hope to find the most valuable treasure that’s ever been selected. Rushing to pick it up before anyone’s finds it. It’s still dark, they run to beat each other for the find. Collectors, flippers, merchants, hoarders, they come in all different shapes,sizes. After the sun comes up, another group will start arriving, tire kickers, bargain hunters, hipsters, others bored, looking for something to do, spend a Sunday amazed about the many pieces of collectibles that people bring.
Its hard work, being a vendor at the flea market. It is not simple or easy, one of the most tiring activity you will do. First, you must select what you want to sell (in other words, what you want to give up and possibly lose forever), that’s when the struggle begins. The sorting of “stuff” sweaters together, pants, leather from cloth coats, bowls, light fixtures, shoes, boots, purses, it never stops, only when the truck is full.
Watch the weather, get the perfect location, set up the tables, presentation is everything. Now, we just wait.. and not for long. 2, 3, 4 and more shoppers appear at once. How much for this? What would you take for this? I don’t know, what do you think?? Will it fit? Would you take $$ , let us think about it..we love it! That routine would go on for hours. Great sales, things sold that was a surprise! What a day!! Exhausted, but pleased. Extra cash, big hug and a high five.
My Post today Has been quite painful to write. I’ve written today’s words to help me heal. They say you have to tell your story to get past the event. The victim needs to tell the story to heal, but what about the Mother?
I am not posting this to hurt anyone, rather, maybe, just maybe it may help someone that is experiencing the same.
So here it goes….
Suddenly, my life took a turn. I woke up one morning and was thrown into a whirlwind of fear, doubt, hatred, revenge..One of the loves of my life has been damaged, weak, unrecognizable, and afraid. I should have been there, paid more attention, seen the hidden signs, but I did not. I believed the excuses for the unexplainable. Then suddenly, it became clearer, one revelation at a time. Weeks would go by slowly without really understanding why his behavior wasn’t addressed.
I heard each frightening story one at a time and relived them in my mind. I carry the burden of her screaming for help and no one answering the call. Ignored the broken window, door off the hinges, car windows shattered, black eyes, broken nose. I never see her anymore, where is she? Why didn’t she leave? Then ,the call came that he tried to kill her in an auto accident. I saw the pictures, it was real.
I hate him, I wanted him arrested. He is crazy and delusional. He can’t get away with this. Look at the presents, why would you spend so much money on someone you want to kill? He is obsessed, he is scary and controlling. He should not get away with this. What can I do?? I have to fix this, can I? I have to find the path to rid the hate from my heart, I am not that person that hates. I must find a way to rid him in my thoughts, and one day look back on this as a tough time in our lives and come through this with wisdom and an awakening /awareness of others and their struggle. No more judging .
I watch a TV drama, some mindless story of action, fights, strong men and beautiful women. When suddenly the strong man takes the beautiful woman and starts choking her, she is gasping for breath, struggling, crying , begging,grabbing his arms to pull him back but he is too strong, she passes out and he releases. She is still alive. He leaves and no one is there but her. What I see was my daughter’s face on this actress. It was her struggling, not a stranger, but my daughter , alone, crying, and afraid. She suffered this alone, I was not there. No one was there, but he was there.
Statistically,one in four women are battered. They are our neighbors, women that we talk to every day, women that are keeping a secret from everyone. We need, as a society, to pay attention, don’t judge their decisions, reach out to women that are mothers, sisters, daughters and friends. This insanity has to stop. It destroys families and scars the children that witness the abuse.
What are we going to do??
What can we do? The victim is never believed. It must be her fault. Why did she not tell anyone? why did she stay? She’s not perfect. He provides her a car and a home, dinners out, lots of presents, and vacations. She probably was a nag.
Women can be another woman’s worst enemy. They judge, brag about their own perfect relationship, hide everything that’s not perfect and pretend all day, that they are happy and loved by the best man in the world. They resent the woman that tells their truth. Please don’t talk about it anymore. It is embarrassing to hear her stories, no one wants to hear them. We are sorry, but get past it.
I guess it is just one step at a time. Small victories, until the huge victory happens and then we are vindicated. He will be outed for his true self someday and that day will happen. When?
When women are treated equal, I am afraid that it’s only in our dreams!
I am a older woman and lived many lives, A daughter, wife, mother, grandmother, and a manager, owner of businesses, I have lived a full life with hardships and much happiness. This Presidential campaign has opened my eyes to what has always been present in my life.
I am admitting now for the first time, I have laughed off remarks that were truly offensive. Ignored , “dont make waves”, you need the job, he didn’t mean anything about it. You dont deserve to make the same salary as he does, he has a family to support. I realized that I accepted it as a normal way of life for a woman. You dont want to seem like a “bitch”, demanding, you just want to be liked, I knew they respected me, right? I worked hard, my accomplishments were impressive but I was still the woman in the office that poured the coffee.
That’s the mentality that women my age have learned. We are survivors. I remember , 8 years ago, how surprised I was that our racist nation would nominate a black man. It was a great moment.. but still a woman did not deserve the nomination. A disappointment. A woman is still pouring the coffee.
That’s why this election is so important. Women need to be heard. And I want to be heard and I want all the young women to speak out, step forward and let your opinions be known. Stand tall , speak directly and precise. Your day is coming!
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