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My life

I lied to you *kinda*

Hello everyone! 

It was a little lie. Yesterday I told you that I don’t have a video for you but I did. I was just extremely insecure about posting it. I tried to write what I said in this video but the post was constantly looking like an absolute mess because I was constantly jumping from one thing to the next, I couldn’t form a sentence well – it was awful. 

I decided to get over my fear and publish the video I made on Wednesday, a day after I published I am not doing okay again. This is literally me working through my issues on camera, talking about domestic abuse, dealing with trauma and emotions.  

I thought that publishing my first video ever was scary but this is the scariest thing I ever published because I feel very vulnerable. But maybe this is what I need. I need to be open, honest, vulnerable and stop thinking people will call me crazy or make fun of me. If I can’t speak to people directly about this, I will speak to a camera. 

So here’s the link, welcome to the inside of my head:  https://youtu.be/bvoENgpvaIE

I hope at least some of this made sense.  

Sending love and positive vibes, 
Luna 

Latest Poem: Poem #361
Youtube videos: Luna’s channel
Latest Coffee Date: Manipulating the Public Attention
Latest #savingme: Give Women Their Rage Back
Life updates: Step by Step

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Coffee Date

Coffee Date with Luna

Hello everyone and welcome to the first Coffee Date with Luna!

Like my cup says, ALL YOU NEED IS LOVE AND MORE COFFEE!

Today, I will actually be recreating a post I did last year around this time and it’s in regards to being grateful. This year I had a really lovely Christmas with my family which is not something I thought possible 10 years ago. I was very open an honest about my domestic abuse story. My father was an alcoholic and he had mental health issues and he would beat us up, verbally abuse us and the cops were no strangers to us even on Christmas Eve and Christmas Morning. I don’t want to get into this story, I have a few posts about it but it’s important for this now.

So instead of being locked up in a room with my mother and sister with little food to eat and no Christmas tree this year we had two Christmas trees, happiness, freedom, a lot of food and we even went to Church together. I am not a person that goes to church but I know it’s important to my mom and I am happy she got that wish fulfilled this year.

As someone who grew up in domestic abuse and borderline poverty I never thought I would have a job that paid well, an apartment, a bachelor’s degree and all of the other things I have today. To be quite honest, I am grateful I made it out alive from my childhood.

Here’s where my copying of the last year post comes to life. Since the end of the year is close, let’s be grateful. We did this last year, remember?

I would like you to list things you are grateful for in your life in the comments and, for this year’s edition of gratefulness, you can also write down your goal or goals for the upcoming year. Let’s spread some love, positivity, support and gratefulness in that comment section!

I am going to start with the things I am grateful for this year: my family, my jobs, having the courage to pursue a different career path, all of you lovely followers here on Luna, walking away from people who were bad for my mental health, ummmmm… If I have some more, I’ll add in the comments.

My goals for 2020: building a career in digital marketing, working on myself as a person, strengthening our community here on Luna.

Let me hear you now! I can’t wait to read what you are grateful for and what your goals are for 2020. Since, like I did last year, I will make a blog post before New Year with all of your comments, make sure to also leave your blog link in the comment so I can tag you on our Gratitude post 2019!

Sending love and positive vibes,
Luna

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#savingme

#savingme- How Do I Escape?

“Hey, kid! Get me some water!”

A surly, old man shouts from his table. I fill a jug and hurry to serve him before Father gives me the stink eye. I haven’t been performing well lately. Not in school. Not here, in the restaurant. Father owns a small restaurant and earns just enough to provide for the family and to quench his thirst for alcohol. Mom manages the restaurant most of the time because of Father’s incessant hangovers.

Someone shakes my arm and pulls me out of my reverie. Father. He looks at me with eyes full of angst and a wildness that comes from inebriation. I have good reasons to be afraid of him but I try to hide the dread whenever I can. I lower my head and walk to the nearest table, throw away the mushy leftovers from the plates and wipe the table. From table to table, I serve the food and clear the old plates, adding them to the pile I’ll have to wash later. Maybe, Mom will offer to help.

I wish I could get out of here.

I’m cleaning another table when Father calls at the top of his voice,”Patrice, come here!” My pulse quickens and I scurry towards him, legs shaking. What did I do now?

“What. Is. This?” Father asks with an eerie calmness which masks the wrath behind each word. I look up to see what he is pointing at: a greasy table with an oily plate on it and a couple waiting to sit there. I clean the table as swiftly as I can and apologize to the customers for the delay. They sit down, grunting and begin to skim through the menu. My eyes slowly creep up to see my fathers’ and his look of resentment says it all.

He’ll deal with me later. Later when he is drunk and when his anger gets the better of him. He’ll probably hit me and then I’ll cry myself to sleepIt has happened twice this week.

The sun is emitting its last rays and fear grips me as the evening wears on. My hands tremble when I serve the dishes.

I don’t want the day to end. I don’t want the day to end.

Father is nowhere to be seen. He must have gone to the liquor shop nearby. I shudder at the very thought and bury myself with work to prevent my mind from wandering. Mom is preparing the dishes along with Nancy, the other cook. Mom has often tried to stop Father from drinking but that just agitates him more. Mom and Father fight a lot and once, I’d even seen him slap her during an argument. That was the first time I thought about escaping.

Father returns with a bottle of liquor and I gulp involuntarily as my heart starts racing. I serve the dish to the last customer in the restaurant, hands trembling. I accidentally drop ketchup on him and a deep red botch covers his shirt. Fury takes over the customer and he yells profanities at me. To him, I’m just a stupid clumsy kid who can’t get a job done right. And maybe, I am. Father glowers at me and apologizes to the customer for my impertinent behavior.

As soon as the customer leaves, Father clasps my wrist and drags me to our house adjacent to the restaurant. Mom hurries behind us, begging him to stop and calm down.

“Unlock the damn door!” He growls at her. Mom wails as she opens the door, pleading him to be calm.

Once we’re inside, he pushes me forward, takes a swig from the bottle and slams it on the table. Mom pulls me aside by her hand protectively. With clammy hands and tears sluicing down her cheeks, she weeps uncontrollably. Father yanks me away from her and my only protection is gone. I feel…vulnerable. I don’t want to cry myself to sleep.

He shouts incoherently, “What was that, Patrice?!” I stand speechless, motionless.

The couple could have chosen another table. I want to say it. But I can’t.

Coward.

“What the hell was that, you stupidgirl?!”

I try hard to stop the tears from falling. I fail. I know what awaits me and I brace myself before it comes. He raises his hand and strikes my face.

A moment. Just a moment of intense, physical pain and a lifetime of haunting nightmares. A lifetime of suppressing the hurt and distress. Excruciating pain and fierce revulsion boils inside me. Blood rushes to my cheeks and tears obscure my vision, blocking my throat and wetting my face. Mom’s shrieks fill the silence and I just can’t lower my head anymore. I raise my head and glare right into his malicious eyes.

Father slaps me hard again and I fall to my knees, dark strands covering my face. I let out ugly sobs and look around wildly for the door. What am I thinking? I can’t run from home! Can I? How much of a coward can I be?

I try so hard to compose myself, setting my jaw and clenching my fists and I raise my face to look at him. He is about to hit me again when Mom stops him. He yells at her loudly but fatigue washes over me and I can’t hear a word he says. My abdomens feel hollow and my chest has become a tight burden. The tears block my eyes and the last thing I see before passing out is Father raising his hand again. But I don’t feel the strike. All I feel is the need to escape.


Hey guys!

My name is Rashi Singh and I love writing fiction. This is my site and I’d appreciate if you check it out.

https://fictivefinesseff.wordpress.com/

In many households, violence is a method of “teaching” and by teaching, I mean hitting them just because they don’t follow something or enforcing them to do things that they’d rather not do.

Please note that this piece is my story but expressed as fiction.

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#savingme is the column where abuse victims can publish their experiences just to let go and find comfort and support. Maybe it doesn’t feel like much but just publishing your story for others to read makes you strong. You can send your story about the abuse you went through to savingmestory@gmail.com and you can choose if you want it to be anonymous or not. More details here. 

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#savingme

#savingme – Will you even know the real me

Yes, I’ve been run down in life.

Yes, I’ve been beaten ruthless in life too.

Yes, I am stupid.

Yes, I am undesirable.

Yes, I am a screw up.

But, why can’t you tell me something positively amazing about me for a change?

Yes, I’m not beautiful.

Yes, I am hairy, for a girl.

Yes, I am dark.

Yes, I am stupid.

I’m sorry!

But, I’m sorry, I was born that way.

Emma, you are so dumb! How did you not get this math question right?

Emma, you’re so stupid! How do you still not know math?

With all the “subtle” situations have have gone wrong, I really wonder, was everything really my fault?

Emma, I just don’t understand, what do you do all day?

With all the thoughts running through my mind of snarky sarcastic comments to blurt out back to their face, I just smile and say, lots! You simply wouldn’t understand.

Let’s say I go back to work.

Why are you working as that position?

Why is your salary only so much?

You should get another job. This job doesn’t “suit” you!

Emma, your paints are ugly!

Emma, you’re not bright!

Emma, you’re a joke!

Do something else! Everybody is laughing at you!

Whether I do something kind,  unruly, or abrupt.

Looks like the blame is still coming to me!

After everything I’ve done, and the amount of smiles I’ve gathered from others, most so from strangers

I still wonder,

What will it take, for my own to see me? The real me?

After everything, many still ask me,

But, I don’t understand, why are you sick?

Then, some on the other hand, feel, hey! It’s great that she’s sick!

She’ll die faster!

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#savingme is the column where abuse victims can publish their experiences just to let go and find comfort and support. Maybe it doesn’t feel like much but just publishing your story for others to read makes you strong. You can send your story about the abuse you went through to savingmestory@gmail.com and you can choose if you want it to be anonymous or not. More details here. 

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#savingme

#savingme – You are a survivor

In my post “The story behind the name Luna” I shared a part of my story about domestic abuse. It actually gave me courage to dive deeper into this problem and open up about it here because I think this is a great community to share such stories and help each other. It took me years to speak about the torment my father put me through and I can relate to many children who were abused and today I want to write a little bit about how to deal with abuse after it’s done.

When I was 11,12 years old the problem with my father started solving and it wasn’t over until a few months ago. I haven’t lived with him for years and I last saw him and spoke to him about 5 years ago. That chapter of my life is over now but it still takes me a great amount of strength to close that chapter in my head. My problem was that I identified myself with what he has done to me and I believe that’s the problem of many abused children out there. We develop a bad opinion about ourselves based on what the person who abused us had done to us. We often feel like we aren’t worthy of anything, become introverted, depressed, scared to live the lives we deserve and we can’t step out of our pasts. Going through abuse leaves a strong scar on the one’s personality, sometimes even on our bodies and I will be quite honest and say it’s impossible to hide that scar or erase it so wear it proudly!

Don’t be ashamed of yourself and of who you are and of what you’ve been through. Instead of waking up every morning feeling like you are worth less than others, feeling like you will never reach happiness, wake up and say to yourself “I’ve been through hell and I survived that. World, bring it on because I can handle you!”. Don’t call yourself an abuse victim but rather call yourself a survivor because that’s what you are. Your body and mind were strong enough to handle the weight of abuse and I know how heavy that weight is and you are still here. You are biting and scratching your way through life. You know how to handle difficult situations and your power can never be drained out. Even when depression hits and you feel worn out just repeat those words to yourself.

Who you are depends only on what you want to be so be a survivor, be a warrior and show the world there’s happiness after abuse. Learn how to show your scars to the world and demand respect for them and respect your own past because if it wasn’t for it you wouldn’t be the strong person you are. Even if you feel weak, trust me you’re not. Shift your state of mind and you will turn your life around. Remember: You are a warrior, you are a survivor.

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#savingme is the column where abuse victims can publish their experiences just to let go and find comfort and support. Maybe it doesn’t feel like much but just publishing your story for others to read makes you strong. You can send your story about the abuse you went through to savingmestory@gmail.com and you can choose if you want it to be anonymous or not. More details here. 

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#savingme

Dealing with Trauma Flashback – repost

Certain smells, spaces, situations or people tend to bring up bad feelings we thought we had forgotten about. Most people who went through abuse deal with this problem on the regular basis especially if they just left the toxic relationship or moved away from the abusive parent who left them with a serious trauma.

These bad feelings and flashback can manifest in different ways. Some of the ones I experienced myself are running out of air, losing my touch with reality, feeling like I can’t move, paralyzing shivers up and down my spine, excessive sweating, stuttering etc. One of the worse things I still deal with are my nightmares that happen on a regular basis. The problem with these flashbacks isn’t only that they make you live through your pain again but they can put you in serious danger. If you are in a situation where you could get hurt but your mind has a flashback and paralyzes your body you are in an even bigger danger because you can’t defend yourself.

In my 22 years of life I have been abused physically for roughly eleven years but the psychological abuse continued despite my father not being around because my mind was still trapped and going over everything I experienced as a child. I learned to control it a little bit but there are still certain triggers that give me flashbacks. Some of them are being in the presence of a man who reeks of alcohol, someone putting their hands near my throat…

With time I started to use my breathing to cope with these flashbacks and to calm myself when I wake up from a nightmare. Whenever we get agitated our breathing changes, so in order to ease your mind you need to get back to your normal breathing pattern. Try to even out your inhales and your exhales. Breathe in for 3 second and breathe out for three seconds. It’s that simple and it helps you center your mind. You just need to focus on your breath, on the sensation of air entering and exiting your body. As soon as you get your inhales and exhales evened out you will notice a slight release in your body. Your muscles will get relaxed, your mind will get clear and that pressure on your chest will slowly fade away.

This isn’t something you can accomplish perfectly in one take. It took me years of even reminding myself to breathe when I start having flashbacks and panicking. The other thing that helps a lot is meditation. I think it isn’t even necessary to state all the positive sides of mediation because you already know most of them.

When you get flashback and feel paralyzed, you have the feeling like the abuser is still controlling you. He or she is not doing it, you mind is! You need to become aware of the power your mind has over you and you need to develop techniques to calm it down and to rise above what your mind tells your body to feel.

Remember: Transform pain into strength and you will be invincible.