Growing up Audhild

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  • I love being a parent but…

    I love being a parent but…

    I love being a mom. People tell you they would die or kill for their kids. When I had my kids, I realized there is nothing I wouldn’t do for them. I wanted to give them a life I never had. I want them to be loved, safe, kind and happy.

    The absolute worst part about being a parent is you want to protect them from everything, but you can’t. Learning that your child was hurt, has a disease, or a disorder is really hard to get through. Yes, these are different circumstances; but all are heartbreaking for not just the kids but the parents too. You can’t take it away so they don’t have to feel it. All that you can do as a parent is sit on the sideline and give them all your love.

    My daughter broke her arm two years ago. She had to have surgery to stabilize the break. The worst part about this situation wasn’t seeing my baby with tubes and wires attached after surgery. It was her face when she asked for her father. My daughter wanted him there. At her plea I called him at 3 o’clock in the morning. He said he was at an amusement park and couldn’t leave. The hurt in her face when I told her he wasn’t coming was unbearable.

    This year we found out she is neurodivergent. All of my children are. It is not the diagnoses that bothers me. The special differences in their brains are what make them the amazing little humans they are. They will have to face more challenges in this world. They will have to work harder just because they have some extra spice. I have teachers ask me how to help my kids. I may be wrong but I feel like their degree would have taught them these things.

    My oldest son is ADHD and Autistic. This school year he has been through four teachers. The teacher he has now reached out to me. She asked how she can better support him in the classroom. The irony is last school year he started out with an I.E.P. The school said he didn’t need it. I disagreed. I said he would benefit more from the supports he had. I was voted against by my ex, the faculty and my husband. This year they need my help to teach my son. I am trying to get an advocate to help me re-establish an I.E.P or 504 plan for him.

    My youngest is also Nero-spicy. He hits his head and sucks on his arm. no one can figure out why or how to help him. I am afraid everyday he is going to break his ear drums. His arms have hickeys all over them. I requested a psychiatric evaluation convinced he has turrets. The psychologist just diagnosed him with an emotional dysregulation disorder. That still doesn’t explain his mannerisms. So we had a genetics test done that told us he has a gene that is the cause. We were referred to a geneticist who we have been on the wait list for about five months.

    I love being a mom but it is truly the hardest thing I will do in my life. My kids mean the world to me. I feel like I am always fighting something or someone for my children’s best interest. I would do anything to take their pain away if I could. I tell them I love them everyday. I do my best to make their spiciness normal. While it is so hard to be a parent, I wouldn’t have it any other way. I love my kids more then I can explain. I do everything I can to make sure they have what they need. But man it sure does hurt sometimes.

  • Stepping Out

    Stepping Out

    Daily writing prompt
    What experiences in life helped you grow the most?
    View all responses

    Like everyone I can name many experiences in life that helped me grow. I want to tell about one specific time that I am very proud of. It caused lots of pain and controversy in my family.

    I was born into an abusive home. My father would beat my mother or us kids whenever he was angry, which was often. After twelve years of marriage my parents finally divorced. The unfortunate part of an abuser is they never truly let go of their victim.

    My parents war didn’t stop it transformed. Instead of screaming and hitting; They turned to the court with custody battles. Every few months, my parents were back in court fighting for custody of us. They did things like calling child protective services and requesting drug tests for the other parent. They also told us the other parent didn’t care. All because my dad didn’t want to pay child support to my mom.

    When I was sixteen I was living with my mom in Denver. One day my sister and I got into a fight. I can not remember what the fight was about. Usually my sister would start the fights by coming into my room and start tearing me down with her words. Saying things like “why are you so stupid?” “You’re so boring, like a prude or a nun.” She would say this because I wouldn’t have sex. She also said, “No wonder you won’t have sex. No guy wants someone so fat and ugly.” Her comments would even extend to calling me names like “whore” “slut” “bitch”.

    My mom though always excused her behavior because my dad beat her when she was nine. He beat me from the time I was an infant. It was different because I was used to it. My fight shifted from my sister to my mom. I felt like she was neglecting my feelings. She was letting my sister get away with her hurtful words again. I basically pointed out her lack of care for me and accused her of favoring my sister. She slapped me across the face, told me to leave her house and never come back. So I did.

    I packed what I could carry in a backpack and went to my best friends house. I was there for three days when my dad called her parents. I told him what happened with my mom and sister. He said he would come get me. The next day I was at my mom’s getting my things ready to leave with dad. My dad pulled up around noon, my brothers and I got in his car, and we left.

    After arriving at my dads house I talked with him knowing how he liked to take mom to court. I told him I was tired of the courts and the battles. I asked him not to file for custody of me. I was even brave enough to threaten I would make him regret it. What my parents didn’t know is I was looking into emancipation’s as a teenager.

    About two weeks after living at my dad’s, my mom called me. She is spiteful. She told me dad had filed for custody the same day we moved in. Upset that my dad didn’t listen to me. I know shocker. I confronted him face to face. He confirmed what my mom said. “We have a hearing next month.” I was angry! I told him I want to speak to the judge the day of court. My dad supported my request and sent in the papers.

    The day of court arrived, I just turned seventeen. The judge took my parents into the court room to hear their stories. I sat right outside the courtroom. silently on a wooden bench, the floors were decorated with a green tile pattern. I was so nervous. I looked at the tiles. I recited in my head what I was about to ask the judge. “I want an emancipation from my parents. I want an emancipation from my parents. I cant continue letting them keep me in between them.”

    After what felt like hours, The door to the court room finally opened. I thought “here it is the moment I have been waiting for! I’m ready, I got this, Deep breath, breath.” The judge called me in. As I went in everyone left. I ask the judge “where did everyone go?” He said “I wanted to have this conversation in private. Now, what did you want to talk to me about?” I took a deep breath and said ” I want an emancipation from my parents. They fight all the time. When they were married it was physical. Now they use the courts, keeping us kids in the middle. I don’t want to do it anymore, I can’t do it anymore. This effects my health I want out.”

    The judge understood. He asked ” how old are you?” I told him “Just turned seventeen. Why?” he responded “well in a year you will be eighteen. That is the age you are legally considered an adult. I will not grant you the emancipation. Instead, I will place you in someone’s custody until you graduate from high school. Is that a deal?” I agreed “deal!” He said “I need a list from you of five people that will be willing to take you in.”

    I left the court house that day feeling excited. Even though I didn’t get the emancipation I wanted, I still got away from my parents. After conducting interviews and investigating the people on my list I was placed with my moms sister Grace. My parents were angry. Mom said she was hurt at what I did. My dad called me to tell me I wasn’t his daughter anymore.

    I spent two years with my aunt and uncle. They made me feel loved, safe, and cared for. They supported me, pushing me to graduate. I found a relationship with God I had never known before. I discovered a strength I never knew I had. I also found a family that did more for me than my parents did. They taught me what real love looks like. When I was choosing my first husband I wanted a relationship like my aunt and uncle. I chose the wrong man. Still, I did find the one for me based on what I saw in their relationship.

    My decision also opened my moms eyes to what they were doing. My mom stopped fighting. My youngest brother was left with my abusive father. A few years ago he expressed how he felt abandoned by all of us. Even though my dad isolated him from us. He was angry with our mom for not fighting for him. I understand how he must have felt. I told him it wasn’t her fault. What he went through was painful, but it would have been more painful if my parents continued their fighting. After I explained what happened he understood. when he turned eighteen he moved in with our mom and has a better relationship with her then our dad.

    Today I am a better person for the first choice I made for myself. My mom eventually forgave me after I explained why I did it. My dad last year said he is still very hurt. I know he will never understand, he can only see the pain it caused him. I’m not sure he will ever change. That’s okay because out of all the major choices I have made in my life. No one can convince me it was a bad choice. I got away from my parents neglect. It helped me build more healthy relationships. I became the first of my siblings to graduate. I am a better person for it.

  • It’s The Little Things

    It’s The Little Things

    We take the little things for granted sometimes. Or we don’t realize how much they actually mean. Until someone shows us either in a negative way or positive. Today this reality hit me right in the face.

    I have talked about my ex husband and his repeated unfaithfulness. It is very stereotypical of me. I left that relationship with more trust issues than I had when I went in. Unfortunately my now husband gets the butt end of. Some days are worse then others.

    Last summer my husband reconnected with an old friend from high school. He was honest and open with me I really had no reason to worry. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t worried anyway. I wanted to be better, than my past, than his ex, my ex, and any other girl. Knowing I had no reason to worry I chose to ignore my nagging urge to snoop.

    I talked to my therapist. She said I should still talk to my husband and find a comfortable ground for us both. But with the “Let them” movement I thought I would just let him do whatever. Yeah I know its not healthy. I also didn’t think it was healthy to be bothered by my husband talking to another woman.

    In December I finally got the nerve to bring it up. I ask him what he would do IF I ever ask him to stop talking to her. He responded he would just stop. I decided to be honest. It was making me feel uncomfortable. I was fearful of repeating the same heartbreak my ex-husband put me through. My now husband reassured me he loves me and is faithful but he would stop talking to her.

    Fast-track to today. I got curious and ask about his friend. He told me he stopped talking to her in December. I was surprised! When I ask that I was just needing reassurance on what he would do. He took it as me asking him to stop talking to her. Not only did he stop, he never responded to her when she messaged him. Not even to tell her of my insecurities.

    When I ask why. He said “why would I? Its non of her business.” again I didn’t understand. I thought about it more. He didn’t ask me why, push for an explanation, or get defensive. So again I asked. Why? His response? “Why do I need to you said it makes you uncomfortable.” That was all he cared about. He didn’t care about her feeling. He didn’t care about my insecurities, or blame them.

    I thought back to ALL the times my ex-husband was caught talking to another girl. He would promise nothing was happening. Any time I would find out otherwise or have that unceasing feeling of him being unfaithful. My ex would tell me I was being insecure, selfish or not trusting him. Another one was that he would tell me he would stop. Then use an excuse “yeah I will tell her I can’t talk to her anymore.” usually highlighting me being crazy as the reason. If it was a girl who didn’t know he was married, he would hide the conversation. Then he would pretend he ended it.

    After today’s conversation with my husband, I realized a good man prioritizes his woman. He is more worried about the feelings of the woman he loves, then someone else. Asking him not to talk to another woman is not about control. Him stopping no questions, comments, or arguments, is respect for his woman. Asking him to stop talking to another woman is NOT asking to much. If he has a problem it is a red flag that if he isn’t cheating he does plan too.

  • Blast from the past!

    Blast from the past!

    It is 2:12 am. My husband and children are fast asleep. I on the other hand can not sleep. Some nights your brain can’t just drift away to dream land. You just continue to run through memories from a life time ago. You know the ones that make you look at yourself and ask some hard questions.

    I honestly can’t tell if its PTSD or just one of those things people do. Tonight’s show that is replaying in my mind? My greatest regret…my ex-husband. I somehow ended up thinking of when we got married at just 18 and one really bad night.

    I moved out to North Carolina to join him in the army. We had our first place together. I knew there would be nights he had to work late or have to leave for however long they said. But that wasn’t the case. He was supposed to come home. I had no calls letting me know he would be late. Eventually I went to bed. I woke up I think around two or three in the morning and he still wasn’t home. I called so many times worried he was in an accident.

    I called the battery, they said he had left after formation. Its so hurtful when even his co-buddies knew why he wasn’t home. I knew it too I just didn’t want it to be true. Of course when he came home I confronted him. I don’t remember what his excuse was. I never did find that out from him, but I knew.

    It wasn’t long after that I found out that I was pregnant with our daughter. I also found out a few months into the pregnancy that he was on Plenty of Fish. The saddest part was that wasn’t the first or last time he cheated. I ask myself all the time why I didn’t leave sooner? I even catch myself wishing I had before we had children. Leaving would have been easier. I wouldn’t have to hurt my children by the things they witnessed at the end.

    Why didn’t I leave? I wanted to make it work, we made vows. In the early years he would beg on his knees for me to stay. He would promise to change. Promise to never do it again. I would believe him and for a few months he would, then I would catch him again. At the end he got abusive. He would do anything harassment, gaslighting, manipulation, violence.

    I wish I knew why I’m sitting here at almost 3 am. I’m writing about my ex and the traumas he left me to sort through. When I have a good man laying next to me asleep. I count myself lucky that I found a man who is truly good to me. My current husband and I have been going on four years. He has been faithful to me everyday. This is the problem with mental abuse. The hurt isn’t visible and takes years to heal.

    Here is to healing and moving forward. I hope anyone who is reading this and is in a toxic relationship leaves. I hope they find the person who truly loves them. Even though it is easier said then done.

  • So Much To Say So Little Time

    So Much To Say So Little Time

    Daily writing prompt
    What advice would you give to your teenage self?
    View all responses

    What would I say to my teenage self? There are so many things I would say. First, I would tell her to slow down and to focus on school. College is an option. Broken hearts heal. Use your brain. Most importantly, she is loved.

    First things first. You are so smart in more ways then you know. I know life is so hard and you didn’t get the childhood you deserved. You still need to slow down and enjoy being a teenager. I know you think you know everything but you don’t. You will miss the time you had. Instead of deciding to take care of everyone else. I know these years are going to be hard but you must remember to love yourself. Take the SAT you will want to go to college someday. That boy that says he loves you does not know how to love. Be brave enough to walk away.

    Speaking of boys, that hurt you. He is not the only person to break your heart. Like I said this time is full of pain. You learn so much about what love looks like. The downside is it doesn’t seem to stick. He is the ticket out but that wasn’t really love. You will also find who really does love you and who doesn’t. You will be ok I promise.

    Think farther then what you feel, not everything is what it seems. You are so smart, I wish I was there to tell you everyday. You are wiser than you know and better than the people who leave your life. You will reach your destination faster if you use your brain. It is more logical than following your heart.

    Finally, you are so loved. by your best friends, Your aunt and uncle, Mom and most importantly…Me. It will be hard to believe that most days. You must remember that You are loved!

    There are many things I would change if I had a chance to change it. Even if it was talking to my teenage self. If I had that opportunity this is what I would tell her. I hope that she would listen and make the changes I wasn’t brave enough to make.

  • …And then he walked in

    …And then he walked in

    In the spirit of the holiday, I thought I should share our love story. It’s nothing special or romantic, but it’s perfect for us.

    In 2021 I left my husband of ten years. I had endured cheating, emotional abuse, psychological abuse, sexual abuse, and physical abuse. I didn’t realize it but I had checked out of the relationship in our first big split. so after ten years of a really toxic relationship, he said he was done. So I filed for divorce.

    After two weeks of starting the grieving process, I got Tinder and started talking to guys. I honestly felt sexy and wanted for the first time in many years. I matched with Drilac (obviously not his real name). We hit it off. We talked day and night, through video chats, messages, sharing our likes, strengths, weaknesses, everything.

    After talking for a while, we decided to meet up. He worked two jobs. One of his jobs moved him around on the weekends. My job kept me busy by moving to different locations every week or more. The night we agreed to meet, we were within a 15-minute drive of each other. We got off work one hour apart. After work, I hopped in my car and headed to his location. I will never forget the look on his face, the excitement, and the fireworks.

    The moment we were in each other’s arms was exciting, passionate, deep, calm, and happy. We held onto each other tight, kissing and talking in between breaths. After a few minutes of P.D.A I noticed some guys watching us and asked to talk in the car. Once we got in the car we talked for a little bit. Then we decided to get in the back seat. We spent until about 3 o’clock in the morning talking. We both had to be at work in three hours. So, we eventually went back to his place. We didn’t sleep at all that night.

    When the time came to get ready for work, we got up and got dressed. I half expected not to hear from him again. This was after all supposed to be a fling or one-night stand. I was okay and ready for him to disappear. I was so excited when he didn’t vanish. I got a text from him later. He said that he was exhausted but loved the night we had together.

    From that night forward we talked every day. I saw him at least every couple of weeks. Our talks became deeper. By the time a couple of months had passed, I had fallen in love with him. Just before Halloween, he had some problems with his apartment so I invited him to move in with me. From then on we have been inseparable. He is my best friend, my biggest fan, and the love I feel lucky to have.

    Today we have a strong relationship. My kids all love him. My ex-husband has even accepted him. He is good to my kids. He helps me with my PTSD and pushes me to be better. We don’t fight we have discussions. He will not talk to me when he is mad until he is calm enough to talk. I support him like he supports me. I give him the space he needs and encourage him to find what makes him happy. We balance each other. We are life partners.

    An important point I hope that you, the reader. Takes from my story is this. Any time you are being hurt, abused, or mistreated. Walk away your perfect future could be the man of your dreams. It can be you growing, healing and loving yourself. Whatever it is…the first step is walking away.

    The Happiest Valentine’s Day to you!

  • Aftermath

    Aftermath

    I see a lot of people talk about what it’s like when abuse is happening. Don’t get me wrong, that is incredibly important. Every warrior needs to tell their story. The stories help us understand how the abusers work and how they catch someone in their web. If you were raised with abusive parents it doesn’t take much. We are drawn to the chaos like a moth to a flame.

    What we don’t talk about is what happens after the damage is done, and how to start the healing process. Where do you even begin? Does it start with forgiveness, or does it start when you decide you deserve better? I am still learning how to heal. There was a time though when I had to stand up and say enough. I got into therapy. I am working on the process. It’s going to take me a long time to undo a lifetime of changes my brain made to survive.

    Going through the healing process is hard. You are changing the chemicals and processes of your brain. The parts I personally have had a hard time working through are my triggers and negative thoughts. Therapy isn’t about helping you take away the damage. Healing isn’t about forgetting either. Therapy is about learning techniques to manage the triggers and worst days. Healing is about accepting the pain and the past you can’t change, then moving ahead as a better you.

    Healing is also very lonely when you learn the patterns and the red flags. You learn your worth. No one is worth letting that go again. The people who you once considered friends and family disappear when you set boundaries. Some of them are asked to leave because it’s just better to continue life without their toxicity. I see families and I wonder what it’s like to have a supportive parent. I also think about what it’s like having a sister who is also your best friend.

    I haven’t been capable of holding a good conversation with my father in years. I also haven’t talked with my sister since the year before I left my first husband. Just because they share my bloodline does not mean that I have to talk to them. They also don’t get the chance to hurt my children like they did me. That was a painful choice. It leaves me wanting those connections that I can never have with them. So I chose to protect my children and raise them around the people who love them like I do.

    When you are going on your healing journey you will lose friends and family. The trade-off is the peace and comfort you feel no longer fighting them every day. Letting people leave your life also allows you more room to grow into the person you want to be. To me, this is worth it. I have learned so much about who I am without toxic people in my life.

    Choosing to love myself cost me relationships I thought were going to last my whole life. It also made room for people who really do love me. I found the love of my life and my first healthy relationship. I found new friends who became my sisters in life. I found a love for learning. I intend on returning to college and completing a degree that makes me happy. I learned that I love to write. I discovered a whole new me. The healing journey is hard but it’s so worth it.

  • Introducing me!

    Introducing me!

    Where to start? What is better than a proper introduction! I am…me! I’m kidding I go by Audhild. I am a mother, wife, daughter, sister, and…warrior. I am still wondering, how I go about talking about all the things I think need to be said. I call myself a warrior because I am healing from the aftermath of abuse. I didn’t have a childhood, I lived in a war zone. Not the Afghanistan type but the kind that is created by the people who are biologically programmed to protect you. That’s right my parents were in a domestic abuse relationship. This is heavy for the first post. I want to talk about domestic abuse, childhood trauma, and even life today. That is my plan for this blog.

    Warrior….What is a warrior? The Google definition is “a brave or experienced soldier or fighter.” when people talk to me about my past they always refer to me as a “survivor”. By definition in a way they would be right, here I am, I am alive. Although, I don’t agree with being called a survivor. I have physically survived my trauma to tell you about it today, but not in a mental sense.

    When a person is continuously subjected to trauma, the chemicals in the brain change. The brain enters a state of fight, flight, or freeze. Adrenaline is pumped through the body to respond to the threat. When this happens every day it causes the brain to get stuck in that survival mode. The long-term effect makes it harder to regulate the stress hormones. The hippocampus is the part of the brain that handles long-term memories. continuous trauma also affects the hippocampus causing problems with memory retention. Along with the prefrontal cortex the place where the brain processes decisions and impulses. In all, the entire brain is greatly changed by long-term trauma.

    The most important years for brain development is childhood, more specifically infants up to five years old. These are the years when the brain is at its most vulnerable. When a baby is subjected to trauma and abuse it causes the above to be lifelong. People who are born into these homes struggle with self-esteem, anxiety, depression, social situations, and relationships. We create entire personalities in survival mode. I know much of who I have been. In social places, I act based on what I think is necessary. I do this to avoid being screamed at again. I also get uncomfortable when I see people fight and will avoid conflict by any means possible.

    I survived my childhood physically, yes. The mental lifelong changes I unknowingly created while in survival mode, tell me different. The child I was did not “survive”. I fought every day to live to the next day. On my worst days, I still fight. I battle the flashbacks and the thoughts of getting hurt so someone will care. I worry about when my husband will leave. I watch people’s movements, words, and tone. I am not a survivor, I am a warrior.

    Today I go to therapy every week. I am healing one day at a time. I work hard every day to give my children the safe and loving home I never had. They don’t know it but they are teaching me how to love and be loved. I did not realize how much they had picked up the best pieces of me. They have also picked up some of the negative ones. I am consciously making efforts to change, making them and myself better than I was. I still have a long road of healing but I know I am better than my parents.