Micki's Musings

He took my voice again. Today, I prepared for a hearing wherein I was going to present evidence that showed his psychopathy, that showed how dangerous he is, that showed how emotionally and physically unsafe he is around our children. I prepared to protect them. I was ready. And then he took my voice. Again. I sat there for two hours while he spewed his lies across the stand, so thick and ridiculous you could almost see them dribbling down the face of the podium. He got two hours babbling away like he does, talking in circles and getting himself and the rest of us confused. He got TWO HOURS. I got nothing. Yep, at 5:00 pm the judge said, we're done, here's my verdict. Bye. At 5:00 pm the judge decided, based on ONE SIDE of the evidence, that my daughter was traumatized and my son was not, and my son would be forced to see his father without supervision and my daughter's visitation would have to be supervised. Well, partial victory, right? At least  our daughter

Yesterday, I had a monstrous anxiety attack, the longest and most severe I've had thus far. The thing literally took my breath away, took my brain function away, took my choice away. I hated it. I hated every moment of it and fought hard to end it. Not until I gave in and processed and had my cry did it go away. I have anxiety, now. I deal with depression, now. I have to fight harder than ever before to find my happy, to keep my peace, to feel okay. And yet, I still prefer this life, this living, to what I endured the last 10 years. My dad helped me realize that the other day. I was at my parents' house, filling them in on the latest drama, the latest phone calls with police officers, the latest court battles I will have to fight soon. And my dad sat there listening with a slight grin on his face. I stared at him for a minute, perplexed, and then he asked me how I felt about my life. This took me aback a little bit and I thought, "Um, haven't you been listening

I got to practice today. I got to practice ignoring the "I can't." That's one of those lies we tell ourselves all the time. "I can't do this anymore." "I can't handle this life." "I can't get through this trial." All of those lies. I got to practice ignoring them today. When I stop listening to that "I can't," it transforms to "I have to" which becomes "I will" and then inevitably becomes the ever triumphant "I did it!" I did it, today. Despite everything that was thrown at me, despite the lies the adversary tried to tell me, I did it. I made it. There is choice after all and I'm getting mine back. Yesterday, I received an email from my lawyer that the ex was trying to get the court and police to forcibly remove the children from my care to be with him for the weekend. Because that won't be traumatic for them at all, no sirree! This greatly confused me, because I had

This morning I laid in bed long after I was actually awake. I prayed and read and checked my social media, just enjoying the lack of responsibilities that would force me up and about. My children came to join me, and we visited while we stared up at the ceiling, giggling about inside jokes and dissecting the meaning of life (which to my son includes vast amounts of Lego Ninjago anecdotes). We do this sort of thing regularly, my children and me. Each time it happens, I am filled with an overwhelming amount of peace and tranquility. I feel a sense that this is what life is all about; nothing else matters but this space of happy, right here. Those small moments bring such true joy. This morning I reached for that again, and I almost grasped it, but it flitted just out of my reach. I'm still fighting off my cloud of fog. It still follows me just a little bit. It is thinner and farther away, though. I can see and feel more through its filter, but it is a determined little thing. But

You’ve got the words to change a nation but you’re biting your tongue You’ve spent a lifetime stuck in silence afraid you’ll say something wrong If no one ever hears it, how we gonna learn your song? So come on come on, come on come on You’ve got a heart as loud as lions so why let your voice be tamed? Maybe we’re a little different, there’s no need to be ashamed You’ve got the light to fight the shadows so stop hiding it away Come on, come on I wanna sing I wanna shout I wanna scream till the words dry out So put it in all of the papers, I’m not afraid They can read all about it, read all about it - "Read All About It" Professor Green The last decade has been one of secrets for me. It's been a time of keeping quiet and hiding truths. I spent all of my time protecting everyone else from themselves, fearing my own voice, unable to stand up for myself. No more. I'm done stifling my voice, especially out of fear. I wil

So, depression is new. I thought I'd experienced it before. I had a shrink tell me once a few years ago that I suffered from situational depression. I only went to her the one time because she immediately tried to push meds on me and I was not interested in heading that direction. I don't think she was right, anyway, not at that time. I still don't want to go the medication route, but I am now much more sympathetic toward those who do. It's like a fog. Like living inside of a hazy bubble where I can still see and feel and smell and taste, but it all passes through a filter and the color and life is strained away before it gets to me. All the things that used to fill up my tank, so to speak, all the people that used to give me my "fix" just by talking with them, all the things I used to love to do, they just stopped working. I feel a little zombie-ish. Not in the good raccoon Medusa kind of way, either. It's not like the survival mode I used to ent