wordsworth

Ellen: I’m getting ready for bed. Tired?
Thanks for telling me about Steven’s photo. I realized I hadn’t seen it. So, I looked through pages of the Circle F site I hadn’t seen and found his photo.

Anyway, I kept looking and I found this one of you. I hadn’t seen that before today either.
I’m tired. But I don’t want to sleep. I want to talk with somebody.
“The best of us can find happiness in misery” Hmmm. Did you? You must have?
Another line in that song is “I don’t care what you think as long as it’s about me.” Sometimes I feel like I am that self-centered.
Did you notice the T-shirt that said “Everything would be OK if everyone read the instruction manual”?

Did she catch anything?

There’s a movie about a beat poet living on the edge. In the movie there’s a scene where he’s in the passenger seat of a convertible waiting for a traffic signal to turn green. In front of the convertible is another car with lots of stickers on it. The poet says something about the stickers. I can’t remember if he, as a poet, was annoyed with the sticker’s lack of originality, or the automobile owner’s lack of originality. I just remember that I liked the idea of being original, and the idea of advertising my beliefs face-to-face, one-on-one, in action. Speaking with action.
Yes, of course, the correct action, action that doesn’t land me in jail.
Good-night. Dad

Jen –

Here are links to the homework required over the last ten weeks.

Week 2

Week 3

Week 4

Week 5

Week 6

Week 7 & 8

Week 9

Week 10 & 11

Ok so from the beginning—

TERRIBLE!!!!! The first 2 days felt like the 2 weeks had already gone by!!!! I didn’t think i could take it. I didn’t know anybody. I was alone. Usually I have Mattie when i’m freaking out like this but i didn’t this time. All I had was my journal and my music and my books.

I did meet this girl Luce (pronounced like Lucy) Who I started hanging out with in the beginning but now in the end end i don’t like her.

The first week was misery. Everyone in cabin was fighting not all the time but most of the time. The food was good though. Rock wall was ok. Archer said all the arrows were broken but it turn out they weren’t. I only got to shoot one day but that time was still fun.

I was n the beginning ring for riding but we got to trot on the trails. My horses name was Buffy (Like Buffy the Vampire Slayer hahahaha)

Like Fall Out Boy says in their song I Don’t Care “The best of us can find happiness in misery.”

I made some great friends with a few people in the cabin next to me. Steven was a good friend to. His pic is on the Circle F web site. He’s the guy fishing in  the kayak. He’s 18, likes the music i like, and has read the Twilight series(which is coll, i haven’t met a guy that has read twilight before him). We talked a few time in the second week. Also Logan (Who’s nick name is Monkey) was fun to hang with. He is the boy leaning on the yellow railing with the camera.

There was another guy that started calling me screamo because i was wearing my Bullet For My Valentine t-shirt. I told him that they were a band n that they sing screamo (i think it’s really more like heavy metal, you wouldn’t like it i don’t think). He asked if i like screamo and i said some so thats how it started.

If i think of anything else I’ll add it later

Ellen Foley: Welcome home. Welcome back. Tell me everything. Tell me everything you’ve already told everyone else. Then tell me something no one knows. Make it up if you have to. And then keep it secret. With me. For at least fifteen minutes. So that I can feel special. And you can feel special. And we can have what intimacy requires – a unique relationship.

Did you know that intimacy requires a unique relationship? Something special? You knew that, right? Intuitively? Or, did you read about it?

Now. I’d like to tell you something.

This morning I had a dream. I dreamt that I was walking the shore of a lake and on the muddy bank I saw an object dark and textured and spotted and moving. As I got closer and my vision cleared I saw that it was not what I suspected; it was not an alligator. It was a snow leopard. And it didn’t move toward me. It was concerned with me not a bit. It moved instead into the water. And swam. To a small island just three yards from shore. And watching it from the shallows of that small island was a gator.

What do you think? Does it mean I want you to come to my gator island?

The first thing I did this morning was get out of bed. It was the last thing I wanted to do. But I did it. And I did it first before I did anything else. Because, well, I had to, right? I had to get out of bed before doing anything else.

I did the usual stuff, the stuff that’s usual around here. Let Buddy out the back door before changing my night clothes. Got his food ready. Got his pills ready. Got his water ready. And he was definitely ready for them – his food and pills and water – when he galloped into the house from the backyard.

I showered, Shaved. Washed my hair. And then. Around seven-thirty. I had. A huge. Panic attack!

“Oh my gawd!”

Late I realized today the Commissioners of Florida Fish and Wildlife were meeting in Crystal River. And I HAD to be there; Lisa, the current Vice President of the Florida Federation of Aviculture, had specifically asked me to be there. Where ever there is.

Crystal River, as it turns out, is just north of Homasassa Springs. Does that ring any bells? Homasassa is just north of the City of Mermaids. In other words, you shoulda been there. Really. Lots of young gals there this time. Just about every one an animal rights activist. All encouraging the Commission to create stricter regulations that would make ownership increasingly difficult.

But none of that I knew before I got there. And I hadn’t got there yet. Not in this story. Because in this story, at this moment, I’ve just barely got out of bed, after a delightful and mysterious dream, when I was suddenly attacked by a moment of panic. And at that moment I didn’t know what I would tell you at this moment while I fight off the desire to fall asleep. Instead, at that moment, I simply knew that something would happen that would make a good story to tell you. All I had to do was keep my eyes open, the eyes that now so want to close.

Wild flowers around the Okahumpka rest area (an island in the middle of I-75). And a penny squasher insider – I made one for you on my return trip. A large turtle statue outside the town of Inverness. A broken clock tower atop the city hall there.

And quess what? Before I fall asleep, quess what happened at the Commissioners’ meeting? I scored! Really. I was last to speak on the new Captive Wildlife regulations. After forty-one others had spoken, I was last. At six o’clock in the everning, I was last. I don’t know how I got so lucky. And it was lucky, really. Because they remembered what I said afterward – they asked their staff to “Do something about what that last speaker wanted.”  And the staff said they would. Twice the staff promised to do something about the issue I raised. How’s that for Mr. Often-wrong. And afterward, the only woman on the Commission, sought me out and exchanged a few cordialities. Whadiya thinka that! Not like winning the Lotto. But it did sweeten the long ride home.

I miss seeing you.

I hope you’re safe and well. I hope there was nothing dreadful about camp. I hope you’ll tell me EVERYTHING.

Hovering,

Dad

David

This is the post I’ve been thinking about the past couple of days…how do I describe DV class to you so you get the picture. Well, I’ve decided to start out by telling you what it’s not. It’s not a support group…in fact, our facilitator, explicitly told us not to discuss our individual cases with each other. It’s not a place to give advice: Only after you have been a “survivor” for a year over two years can you think about becoming a facilitator/counselor. It’s not a place of promising statistics: 1-5% of abusers can/do recover. It’s not a place to bash your abuser: The focus is on us. It’s not a place I want to go back to: But, I’m glad it’s there if I need to, I can repeat a single class anytime.

So what is it? Length: 1-2 hour class, every week for 8 weeks. Format/Class: The class cycles at 8 weeks, but never closes…so although there were a few of us there for most of the eight weeks, others dropped off (completed), while others joined in at different weeks. There were never move than 10 of us in the class at any one time. We sat in a circle and we listened to the facilitator. She gave us hand outs and each week we reviewed a different topic. She was serious, tough and kind. I was one of the few in the class that took notes. Topics ranged from the Injunction Process to Safety Planning to Healthy Boundaries to Self-Care. I was just looking through my notes now…I’ll share one of the first handouts I received about Harbor House Outreach:

We are honored that you are here with us! We are here to listen. We are here to help you discover what you are feeling. We are here to help you identify your strengths and options. We are here to discuss steps with you. We are here to help you discover you can help yourself. We are here to help you learn to choose and to provide you support for change.

It was difficult for me at times, to hold back from interjecting…to just listen…to be a student…to leave my opinions with me. 

There was time for small talk before and after the meeting…only women attended…young to middle aged. Some had already divorced…some were in the court process…some were still with there abusers…I don’t know that any were on the road to reconciliation. One woman, drove to the location early, drove around for a while to make sure her husband wasn’t following her…her three children were in foster care because of the calls regarding abuse in the home (to her)…she didn’t have a job (he wouldn’t let her work)…etc…etc… I could see her answers…thank God I had…as they say, “some program in me”…she was in the right place to figure it out for herself…and she did…by the end of the eight weeks, she was a different person…she had a job…started to wear a little make-up…had left her husband and was finding out what made her happy…she had also been arrested…apparently she turned on her husband one night when he was chasing her and started to hit him with a 2×4…she had had enough! I didn’t like this part of her story…I was happy that she was finding some happiness, etc..etc…, but when the women in the room nervously laughed at this…I…well I don’t know what I felt…I understood the desire to physically hurt the person (you) who was hurting me…to fight back…but I also felt…haven’t we learned something here…people! Violence begets violence. And, here the group is cheering on the very behavior that they are against…the behavior that got them to the room in the first place! It was weird. But, she found a way to break the cycle for herself and was ordered to attend BIP class. She didn’t care…she was free of it, and it was worth it. I’m feeling confused right now…not really sure where this was going, or why I wanted to relay it to you. Was arresting you my 2×4? Maybe…I can tell you, I wasn’t laughing that night…but it did begin to break the cycle and even with all the uncertainty, fear, anger and tears that night brought…it felt good to be freed.

Well…gotta go for now…birds are calling and so is Camper Ellen. Off to pick her up this morning.

Jen