Love. Love. Love. I grew up in a town that neighbored Muttontown. Mom’s birthday on Thursday? Can’t wait to see the artwork. Also, are you going to write about playing dead? I need details, please! xoxo
Scroll the comments, I did a nutshell version as a response to the same question earlier. It was a brutal situation and I hadn't planned on elaborating in dirtygirl diaries, but I may. It was actually the first piece of published writing I had, in a literary journal, which looking back, is surprising because of the content. This is one of the few events in my life I have never found any humor in. The only thing that saved me, was having him believe I was dead. To get him out of my house, after I escaped, I had to turn someone else who'd made his living killing people before we'd met.
I was in an active shooter situation 2 years ago on 2/17! Swat, many, many police AND gawking neighborhood. It was wild. No one hurt except apt he set fire too.
yikes! The whole active shooter training we get now, as regularly as fire drills is some statement on the condition of the world. Glad everyone came out okay!❤️🙏🏼
The playing dead story is less a story than it is a cautionary tale. I wrote it up a little bit under Leslie’s comment. it was pretty brutal. Thanks for reading. Needless to say, even though I write about that stuff in the other publication, DirtyGirl diaries, there are parts of that life I do not miss at all. And it was a package deal.
I wrote that story so many years ago, I hadn’t planned on letting it go again in dirtygirl diaries, but I might. it was pretty horrendous. Someone I thought was a friend, at a time in my life I did not choose friends wisely. I don’t think I thought about it at all at the time I just knew that he wasn’t gonna stop trying to kill me until he was sure I was dead. So I just stopped fighting. He kept hitting me, but I had stopped responding. He tried rousing me. I didn’t respond. I just played dead. He passed out on top of me before he could rape me. I stayed there for I don’t know how long till his breath was regular, and slipped out inch by inch, and ran ran out of the house wearing nothing but a raincoat. Barefoot, I just ran. That was Sammy in a nutshell.
Whoa wow that made my heart start pounding just reading that. I cant begin to imagine How terrifying that was.
And yes some scary or awful things that happened to me were definitely life lessons- for example “ok you made it out this time, but you better trust those warning signals more so you don’t go there again”. My dad, who had the most dry sense of humor, would call stressful/traumatic/absurd experiences “character builders.” Indeed
Yeah. I could have gone with a little less character building, a little more common sense. But, we’re all here to tell the tales and laugh. Or at least, understand *grace*
Without a doubt. It’s like the rational mind can put a positive spin on things, but the reptilian mind takes over when you sleep and lets the monsters out. Any memories of childhood events that became life lessons?
Not exactly the same, Jodi, as this was accidental rather than my parents doing something deliberate. But I thought of the recurring dreams I had for many years about being on a bus going the wrong way, unable to get home and a feeling of abandonment.
I described the dream to my mum when I was an adult and she reminded me of the time we’d been going to the hospital for me to have a cast removed from my arm when I was nine. She had lifelong heart problems and she became ill and faint as we walked up the hill. A stranger called an ambulance, which took us both to the hospital, where she was admitted. I had to go to my own appointment alone and then make my way home on the bus.
At the bus station I caught the circular route the wrong way round, so didn’t recognise where I was and the money I’d paid wasn’t enough to get me home. I don’t remember whether the driver took pity on me or turfed me off early, but it was a scary episode. I blocked the details from my memory, but it came out in my dreams!
Paradoxically, I enjoy journeys where I don’t quite know the end point and wandering around places not quite sure of where I’m going! I am relatively unflappable. But the being helpless and alone when my mum was ill has definitely left a mark.
Love. Love. Love. I grew up in a town that neighbored Muttontown. Mom’s birthday on Thursday? Can’t wait to see the artwork. Also, are you going to write about playing dead? I need details, please! xoxo
Scroll the comments, I did a nutshell version as a response to the same question earlier. It was a brutal situation and I hadn't planned on elaborating in dirtygirl diaries, but I may. It was actually the first piece of published writing I had, in a literary journal, which looking back, is surprising because of the content. This is one of the few events in my life I have never found any humor in. The only thing that saved me, was having him believe I was dead. To get him out of my house, after I escaped, I had to turn someone else who'd made his living killing people before we'd met.
I was in an active shooter situation 2 years ago on 2/17! Swat, many, many police AND gawking neighborhood. It was wild. No one hurt except apt he set fire too.
yikes! The whole active shooter training we get now, as regularly as fire drills is some statement on the condition of the world. Glad everyone came out okay!❤️🙏🏼
Yes tell the playing dead story. I loved this-residence and imagination are born!
The playing dead story is less a story than it is a cautionary tale. I wrote it up a little bit under Leslie’s comment. it was pretty brutal. Thanks for reading. Needless to say, even though I write about that stuff in the other publication, DirtyGirl diaries, there are parts of that life I do not miss at all. And it was a package deal.
And now I am anxiously waiting to hear the story of when you had to play dead…
I wrote that story so many years ago, I hadn’t planned on letting it go again in dirtygirl diaries, but I might. it was pretty horrendous. Someone I thought was a friend, at a time in my life I did not choose friends wisely. I don’t think I thought about it at all at the time I just knew that he wasn’t gonna stop trying to kill me until he was sure I was dead. So I just stopped fighting. He kept hitting me, but I had stopped responding. He tried rousing me. I didn’t respond. I just played dead. He passed out on top of me before he could rape me. I stayed there for I don’t know how long till his breath was regular, and slipped out inch by inch, and ran ran out of the house wearing nothing but a raincoat. Barefoot, I just ran. That was Sammy in a nutshell.
Whoa wow that made my heart start pounding just reading that. I cant begin to imagine How terrifying that was.
And yes some scary or awful things that happened to me were definitely life lessons- for example “ok you made it out this time, but you better trust those warning signals more so you don’t go there again”. My dad, who had the most dry sense of humor, would call stressful/traumatic/absurd experiences “character builders.” Indeed
Yeah. I could have gone with a little less character building, a little more common sense. But, we’re all here to tell the tales and laugh. Or at least, understand *grace*
Lord you have been through some things! So glad you are here to tell the tales - and make art out of them.
I hestitate to say the day got crazier from there. Maybe I will add it to the @thedirtygirldiaries
Thanks for the restack love, Juel! 💕
It's interesting how those childhood experiences can both foster resilience/independence, AND fuel our nightmares!
Without a doubt. It’s like the rational mind can put a positive spin on things, but the reptilian mind takes over when you sleep and lets the monsters out. Any memories of childhood events that became life lessons?
Not exactly the same, Jodi, as this was accidental rather than my parents doing something deliberate. But I thought of the recurring dreams I had for many years about being on a bus going the wrong way, unable to get home and a feeling of abandonment.
I described the dream to my mum when I was an adult and she reminded me of the time we’d been going to the hospital for me to have a cast removed from my arm when I was nine. She had lifelong heart problems and she became ill and faint as we walked up the hill. A stranger called an ambulance, which took us both to the hospital, where she was admitted. I had to go to my own appointment alone and then make my way home on the bus.
At the bus station I caught the circular route the wrong way round, so didn’t recognise where I was and the money I’d paid wasn’t enough to get me home. I don’t remember whether the driver took pity on me or turfed me off early, but it was a scary episode. I blocked the details from my memory, but it came out in my dreams!
Paradoxically, I enjoy journeys where I don’t quite know the end point and wandering around places not quite sure of where I’m going! I am relatively unflappable. But the being helpless and alone when my mum was ill has definitely left a mark.
Of course! Such a moment of powerlessness! ❤️