Kings Journey

This guy fell into my world by no mistake. I remember a rainy cold day in Iowa, my neighbor next door, Lola and I were worried about the Farrell kittens and the cold weather coming. We were especially worried about one very tiny runt, we assumed to be female possibly because of how small and frail this feral kitten was, we named her Lily, Lola being her 94yr old self said in just her way for showing concern and love said, “that one is very sick,” I agreed She was sick and need help, the trouble was figuring out a way safe way to catch her. I noticed her eyes had infection almost blinding her, the green infection was coming from her nose, and the dirt was matted on Her fur, to be honest it was something, well I wanted to turn away from, yet my heart couldn’t let it go. So, I made peace with the fact if she let me near enough to her, I would attempt to rescue her. A few days later I was cooking on the grill outdoors and She was near the grill. I could see that Her fur was covered in mud and wet, her third eyelid covered Her field of vision blinding Her.
I went in the house to grab something and say a prayer of kitten, my heart started to tug, I went back outside and found her huddled up to the house, I picked her up and told her, “I will do everything in my power and from above to get you well, the rest is up to you.” I knew not to bathe Her, as her body had no ability to keep warm, so we settled for a damp wash cloth to clear her eyes and nose, then wrap her in a heating pad and blankets. I made a mixture of wet cat food and water with a syringe and slowly began to force feed her little bits at a time. The next morning Lily was still purring with gratitude, I bundled her safely in a carrier and went set out for the vet.
I went to my best friend’s funeral before I could tell her that “She AKA LILLY” was actually a “HE” ha ha
When the vet tech picked up my tiny, not so good smelling kitten to be weighed and vital signs taken and said with a loving giggle “She is just a bag of bones.” The doctor came in soon after to find Lily purring his touch, he looked over Lily and told me that I would have a project and there was a chance for Her to recover, then the Vet had a puzzled look on his face and said, “there is one problem, you may need to rename her because She is really a He and we both laughed. Later I thought about it and chuckled and told the vet, “I think I will name Him King after the novel Stephen King wrote Bag Of bones,” I believe he found me at just the right time to heal the brokenness I felt a time. My best friend Lola passed away peacefully before I could tell her how We rescued a kitten who actually rescued me and His name reminded me that there is only one King. I had never felt so humbled, the first thing I did was thank God for this opportunity to be grow and be rescued myself and for that I am so GRATEFUL! 20190918_055957_resized (2)IMG_20191116_001057_990

What Does Domestic Abuse Look Like?

My recent events have taken me back to a time in my childhood that causes nightmares to this day.  When I was 12 years of age or so, it seemed divorce hit an all time high of in my class of friends in our small Arizona neighborhood and mine was not exempt.  My Mother had met a man in the healthcare field were she worked at a tiny hospital that took in enormous views of the sun rising over the Superstition Mountains. I remember the day I had gone by to see my Mother at work, she sat at a desk and a tall, male with what I could tell was brown thinning hair coming from beneath the hat he had fitted over his head that tided in the back, his skin was lighter with round rosy cheeks and his body had a somewhat plump appearance, which was covered in blue surgical scrubs was watching in our direction.  He slowly made his way to stand behind my mother and politely flirt her way as we were introduced for the first time.

The next time I seen the jolly man at my Mothers work was a few weeks after, my younger brother and sister woke me in the early morning hours peering through the my brothers bedroom door, a direct view to our Mothers bed.  My sister was the first to state with agitation and confusion that there was a man in Mom’s bed and it was not Dad, my bother, the youngest nodded with her every word to confirm that was my sister was saying was true!

Our once family and household had been tipped upside down very rapidly and it was not long before I noticed marks on my Mother, which she always had an excuse for having. Then the attacks became comfortable enough to him that He would emotionally and physically assault our Mother before our eyes. It was not more than a couple of months after that my brother was abused, his room being destroyed and him and his tiny 8ish year old frame be held off the ground by his neck.  Our Father came to take custody of my brother but due to fights between our parents and child support it was decided that the “girls” live with my Mom.

The abuse became worse and worse, then He made his first ventures into the room my sister and I shared. I remember the heavy breathing as He stood between our beds, I remember on some night I would feel so guilty to wish he would go to my younger sister instead of me. I would lay very still, pretending to sleep but so terrified all I could do was squeeze my eyes shut and try not to let Him see my trembling young body.  Some nights he would stand there for what seem eternity before he would leave, other nights it was not that easy for me or my sister.

The abuse continued with ebbs and flows throughout my childhood, never a word spoken about it, expect for one time my sister confronted our Mother.  It was easier to be quite than the be called a liar and trouble maker. He became a “thing to accept” for my Mothers happiness.

I didn’t think about those years much after I left home at 17 years old, see unlike my Sister I had blocked it all away in the deepest, darkest part of my mind in hopes of never finding those nights again.  It was not until adulthood, not too many years ago the anguish of ALL that happened came flooding back into my mind and replaying over and over again, I could not make it stop! I still wake from nightmares where I am screaming and I have soaked my night gown and sheets. I like to say I have forgiven Him, yet I find I have to continually say, “I forgive Him and hope he finds peace in soul and gets everything in life I would want in mine.”  It helps most days with the sadness and anger in me.  They say forgiveness is not so much for the person your forgiving, this is true for me, but it took years to get there and not a day goes by that I am not reminded of it for some reason. Maybe one day I will eventually have true forgiveness if I keep doing the foot work to keep my mind and body healthy. I heard, “there is a bit of bad in the best of us and a bit of good in the worst of us and we are all children of God and each have a right to be here, when I complain about me or about you I am complaining about God’s handy work, I am saying that I know better than God.”

 

 

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