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  • There are so many things happening at once that the only thing they have in common is that they are happening to me.

    I have taken big mouthful bites off of life and I am struggling to chew them up enough so that they don’t choke me. I am trying, I really am, and I feel a little whiney and self-indulgent, like I should just go to bed with a cup of tea and box of tissues.

    In 7 days, I am going back to post-graduate school. I will be surrounded by mostly young women, and the occasional middle-age fleck, just like me. I am scared. How will I do the work? Find childcare so that I can go to class? Balance the job that I already have? The big push to get scholarship applications out the door and decipher financial aid. And most importantly, be an available mom to my four greatest blessings, my children.

    Then at the end of the month, I am due back in court… for, like, the hundred millionth time with affairs that need to be settled from a 3 year divorce.

    But none of this is what is weighing me down. And I hate what is weighing me down.

    Last Friday, I received a series of texts from my ex-husband. In these were threats that he will sue me if I do not take down pictures of my children on my blog and on Cowbird. He was concerned about their safety. By the way, out of the year and half there are only 5 posts out of 70 on my blog and none of them have my children mentioned by name, not even here…we don’t even share the same last name…go figure.

    Who am I to him that he thinks he can even issue threats to me at 8:30 on a Friday morning? I told him to go right ahead, if he felt that to be necessary course of action.
    It’s about control. Which is what it has always been about. Control, maybe tinged with jealousy of my getting on with my life in a beautiful, meaningful way.

    More directly to the point, I am getting these texts and he’s telling me that I am a mom, and how dare I should say such inappropriate things or take inappropriate pictures, I think the exact phrase was “puking myself all over the Internet”.

    After our separation, I had nightmares. The nightmare went like this: big hands would come up from my bed and hold me down and cover my mouth. Try as I might, the only thing that would come out was a muffled scream no one heard. I eventually died. I died not from lack of food, oxygen, water but I died from not being heard, and received. A person can die from never being heard, did you know that?

    Off and on, at times when I am challenged to speak my truth, in whatever form, I have dreamed that dream again. I am dreaming it again.

    But I have decided not to go back to that place. I am not going back to that place, that silent place. I’ll take my chances.
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