Tag Archives: abuse

‘the keeper’

Sometimes when we read someone else’s words they hit you deep down in your guts directly to your soul, these words did exactly that.  They paused me.  They made me remember my job, “the keeper

I had bracelets made for both my kids, I wear my sons, one day I’ll give it to him but for know I am the keeper of the message “ain’t no mountain high, no valley low” the song I played them so much during a very hard time in our lives, the divorce.  We are years passed that now, however, old wounds die hard and long sometimes so it is just a reminder that through it all, good and bad, they could always count on their keeper

It certainly is the little things that we know to keep this lil sailboat  sailing like a Viking battleship ​

One of our silly videos to fully embraced our motto ​



“I am the keeper.

I am the keeper of schedules. Of practices, games, and lessons. Of projects, parties, and dinners. Of appointments and homework assignments. 

I am the keeper of information. Who needs food 5 minutes before a meltdown occurs and who needs space when he gets angry. Whether there are clean clothes, whether bills are paid, and whether we are out of milk. 

I am the keeper of solutions. Of bandaids and sewing kits and snacks in my purse. But also of emotional balms and metaphorical security blankets. 

I am the keeper of preferences. Of likes and dislikes. Of nightly rituals and food aversions. 

I am the keeper of reminders. To be kind, to pick up their trash, to do their dishes, to do their homework, to hold open doors and write thank you notes.

I am the keeper of rituals and memories. Of pumpkin patches and Easter egg hunts. I am the taker of pictures, the collector of special ornaments, and the writer of letters. 

I am the keeper of emotional security. The repository of comfort, the navigator of bad moods, the holder of secrets and the soother of fears. 

I am the keeper of the peace. The mediator of fights, the arbiter of disputes, the facilitator of language, the handler of differing personalities.

I am the keeper of worry. Theirs and my own. 

I am the keeper of the good and the bad, the big and the small, the beautiful and the hard. 

Most of the time, the weight of these things I keep resembles the upper elements on the periodic table – lighter than air, buoying me with a sense of purpose.

But sometimes the weight of the things I keep pulls me down below the surface until I am kicking and struggling to break the surface and gasp for breath.

Because these things I keep are constantly flickering in the back of my brain, waiting to be forgotten. They scatter my thoughts and keep me awake long past my bedtime.

Because all these things I keep are invisible, intangible. They go unnoticed and unacknowledged until they are missed. They are not graded or peer reviewed or ruled on by a court. And sometimes they are taken for granted. 

My husband and my boys are kind and generous and they love me hard. And this is by far the greatest job I have ever had. But sometimes being the Keeper is exhausting. Because you feel like you’re doing it alone. 

So to all of you who are keepers, I see you. 

I know the weight of the things you keep. 

I know the invisible work you do, which doesn’t come with a pay check or sick leave, is what makes the world go round. 

I see you.

And I salute you.”

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Credit: Lucky Orange Pants


The Clampets, Noah and the Ark

It was so much more than a typical day six years ago.  On the heels of a judge stamping my divorce giving me freedom, releasing both my children and myself from all of “that.”   I stood my ground and got shit done.  The one time in my life that my being so damn stubborn actually worked so well that I surprised even myself.  Twelve days after that very important signature gave me a new lease on life, I was ready to cash that sucker in.   I was a little scared, I cannot say I wasn’t.  I couldn’t show exactly how scared because

 of my children and also for Troy.  He was already worried sick about me.  So were my parents.  It wasn’t that I was anxious we were moving 1000 miles to a place I had never seen, that was a completely different kind of anxiety.  I was scared because just the day before an extremely drunk newly divorced x husband came to say goodbye to his children.  When they were less than ecstatic to see him in the first place, he was wobbly drunk they got scared.  As he left, he turned to me to talk.  I wanted none of it, he was less than a nice drunk most of the time. That moment was no different.  He had told the kids he was heading to rehab again (stay 7 I think) when he turned to direct this conversation to me I think for one split second he looked as though he  regretted the hell he put me through.  Only a split second because the mean drunk pushed that sad man, sad father and sad husband aside to unleash upon me.  Any good feelings were squashed  down to obliterate around him as anger and plain meanness  exploded, while he was surprised I was going through with this 1000 mile move he also promised me he would take these kids from me.  He vowed whatever it took, be it stealing them, he would have them and I would not.

What a great parting gift, huh?

All I had was what.Mr Chow said:

TOODOOLOO!   <- Click or not to see but its kinda how I felt as we pulled away

It has actually taken years to shake that threat.  My kids are big now but it still haunts me.  He was a ruthless man when he was drinking, I cannot convey that as serious as it actually was.  My children haven’t quite shaken it either, I still see it in their eyes when he is around them.  They can’t hide it from me, and in a better world,  they wouldn’t be able to hide it from their biological father.  If he had been a better man he would see it, unfortunately that is not the case.  Troy sees it, he sees it crystal clear and has been able to stand as our fort door keeping it strong and formidable.

  That next morning after this so called good bye, when I got the call as he entered rehab, my own dad gave me the go.  “Get in the car, leave today, understood little girl?”  You see, the threats were somewhat real to my family, we knew this asshole and knew not to trust a word he said.  Once it was confirmed he was there, I pretty much ran and he didn’t know where except within 25 miles of my parents.

 When we woke up this morning six years ago, our day looked chaotic.  It was just as chaotic as it had been the night before. We had pulled over about eleven or so in a town that we did not now our way around at all but we were so exhausted and stressed, we needed sleep.

Looking back, it was no wonder.  We had two cars, a truck full of children’s toys and our clothes looking like the Clampets driving to Beverly Hills.  My car was like a little Noah’s ark.  Two dogs, two cats, a rat, a lizard, two children and me.  That ark was overfilled with chaos!   And an ark it was not.  It was a PT Cruiser.  We stopped half way just because of stress inside that car.  If we hadn’t, we may of been minus and animal or two, maybe a child as well.

 We were literally on the home stretch, to cash in that signature, there was a thing or two that had to happen first….  It is always darkest before it is light ….





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