Author Archives: atlonglastheard

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About atlonglastheard

Your life can change in a split second and mine did just that on 24 September 2011. In the years since my attack, I have continued on my healing journey. It has taken far longer than I anticipated and has taken detours I never suspected would occur. It is a journey, though, and all that has happened just moves me forward, which is a good thing. My purpose for this web site is to tell my story and to encourage others in similar journeys. In this country (USA) the subjects of sexual assault and suicide are still very taboo. It is my intention to change that. If you know someone that could benefit from this site, PLEASE, PLEASE pass along my web site and or email address (atlonglastheard@gmail.com). It really is that important.

THANKFUL FOR ALL OF IT

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This morning at beach yoga my teacher, Danell Dwaileebe, read an inspiring poem/prayer as we were in savasana.  I forget who wrote it, and I forgot to ask that she email it to me.  I was thinking I would post it here today in honor of Thanksgiving.  Then I thought, why not write my own prayer of thanksgiving?

Thank You for this gift of another beautiful day.  Thank You for all of the abundance and prosperity in my life right now and for all that You send each and every day.  Thank You for keeping me safe and strong and healthy.  Thank You for showing me the way, for keeping me on my path and for reminding me that everything is perfect, right here, right now.  Thank You for blessing my life with my amazing boyfriend, for the love we share and for the incredible life we are building together.  Thank You for my eyes that are able to see all the beauty that is right in front of me.  Thank You for my ears that are able to hear the birds, the sound of the waves crashing on the shore and the laughter of children.  Thank You for my heart that is able to love in spite of the challenges I’ve been through.  Thank You for my arms that are able to carry what is necessary and for being able to let go of that which is no longer needed.  Thank You for my feet that walk me many miles each day.  Thank You for my brain that allows me to continue to learn.  Thank You for my nose that is able to smell flowers, pink grapefruit and the ocean.  Thank You for my mouth that is able to speak words of love and compassion, for sweet kisses.  Thank You for a mind that is open and nonjudgmental, more often that not.  Thank You for the good, the not-so-good, the beautiful and the not-so-beautiful.  Thank You for laughter and for sadness.  Thank You for my life.  Thank You, thank You, thank You.

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SPREADING KINDNESS

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Several weeks ago I received the following email:

Hi Tamerie!

My name is Aileen and I just came across your story that was featured on the Kindness Blog! This one here: http://kindnessblog.com/2014/10/29/an-act-of-kindness-saved-my-life/

I was e-mailing you because I wanted to ask you if we could feature your story on our website Love Made Known (http://lovemadeknown.com). My husband and I started it a few months ago and we share people’s stories of what God has done in their lives weekly. Please let me know if we can feature you!

If you’re interested, we will need a mini bio, a profile picture and any social media or website links you’d like people to find you at!

Thank you so much, Tamerie! God bless you!

-Aileen

I wrote Aileen back and said, that yes, it was fine for her to feature my story on her web site.  Well, today is the day:

Thank YOU for giving us the opportunity to share your story. Praise God for that 🙂

Here is the final link for you to share with family and friends:

http://lovemadeknown.com/an-act-of-kindness-saved-my-life/

FOUR YEARS AND A DAY

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Today is the 4th anniversary of the day my life changed forever.  But, really, every single day is an opportunity for our lives to be changed forever.  It’s not so much the events of our lives that determine what happens next, but, rather, it is what we do with those events, how we respond to them.  And how we ultimately deal with and grow from them.  While it would have been far easier to not actually deal with what happened to me on 24 September 2011, for me at least, this was not even a remote option.

 

I wrote the above paragraph on Wednesday, which was actually the day before the anniversary.  It was as far as I got because I thought I should wait and see how the day unfolded.  Let’s just say it rather sucked.  The following is what I wrote in my journal yesterday afternoon:

I thought, mistakenly as it turned out, that the discomfort and sadness I felt at the end of last week and into this week, up to today, which I attributed to the 4th anniversary of my sexual assault, might be all I had to deal with this 24th of September.  No such luck.  The good news, I suppose, is no nightmares/flashbacks have come up today.  Well, that’s not quite accurate.  Every time I close my eyes I feel DCD’s weight on me.  You better believe I snap them open as soon as I can.  I was okay in savasana this morning, I think because I was mentally chanting I love you, I’m sorry, Please forgive me, Thank you.  My neck and back are killing me.  This is all muscle memory.  There is no physical reason that I should be having pain in either place today.  I guess this whole week has been a build up to today.  I am ever hopeful that tomorrow I will awaken feeling back to my normal self.  Right now, though, I have splitting headache.  ///J was so loving and patient with me this morning.  When I got home from beach yoga, I was pretty much covered with sand, which meant I had to shower.  After my shower, I laid down on the bed and just stared into space.  He came and laid behind me and simply held me, not saying anything.  Eventually, I was able to talk about what I was feeling.  The first thing I said was, “I just wish he {he being DCD} knew the effect of what he did to me, and how it continues to impact my life.”  Not that it would make a difference if he did know, but maybe, just maybe, it would in a tiny way.  I cannot imagine that he won’t do it again once he gets out of prison, and because he must register for the rest of his life as a sexual predator/offender, he’s pretty much screwed.

 

At the end of each day, for the last 2+ years, before I go to bed, I write down 5 things I am grateful for.  Yesterday all I managed to write was, ” I am grateful I made it through.”

And by the way, I do feel a lot better today.

 

LIFE IS SHORT

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I have to confess that  I took the title of this post from an article in the current (September) issue of Oprah Magazine.  The article is by Amy Hempel.  I just googled her, hoping there might be a copy of Life Is Short.  No such luck, so I will have to type the entire thing…

“Life Is Short—Especially when you compress it into a single magical sentence.

By AMY HEMPEL.

The most revealing story I’ve ever written is also the shortest.  Here is ‘Memoir’ in full:  “Just once in my life–oh, when have I ever wanted anything just once in my life?”

If the short, short story is “like a short story, only more so,” as one writer put it, then the one-sentence story is the defining moment, the thing that encapsulates a person with precision and efficiency, memorably.  The defining moment is about recognition, and sometimes recognition can inspire a call to action, make a case for change.  Or not.  Maybe it just conjures reflection, even resignation.

A new friend told me a lot about herself when she proposed that her epitaph read SHE WOULD HAVE GOTTEN MORE DONE, BUT SHE HAD DOGS.  An old friend, an improv comic, wrote the story of his show-biz career:  “He started at the bottom; aimed for the top; he ended up somewhere below in-between.”  Succinct, aphoristic, the one-sentence story that illuminates a life can be a punch line, an epitaph, a proverb or an actual memoir (the standout for me from the collection Not Quite What I Was Planning: Six-Word Memoirs:  “Found true love, married someone else.”)

I also see stand-alone life stories within longer works.  From the novel Lights Out in the Reptile House, by Jim Shepard: It was possible to have kinds of homecoming without home.”  And from the Mary Robison story “Pretty Ice”:  My father had been dead fourteen years, but I resented my mother buying a car in which he wouldn’t have fitted.”

The sentence is the basic unit of construction in a story, and when the sentence is the whole story, the story of your life, you can find clarity, bite and a spotlight turned on the person you are, or were, or someday want to be.  As David Mamet once wrote, “Omission is a form of creation.”  So much is said in these sentences, amplified because the authors left out all the right things.”

 

 

I loved this article, for the simplicity and, of course, the challenge for me to write my life story in a single sentence.  You may remember back in July of 2014, I did a post on writing your life story in 100 words.  If I thought that was difficult, this was a whole other thing to attempt to do.  This was my 100 word life story:   A happy, healthy, loving, kind, silly, adventure-seeking, funny, mostly intelligent, sometimes wildly irreverent, forward-looking spirit having a very human experience. Have faced many life challenges with grace, and survived. Have fought hard to stick around to see what happens next. Looking to make a difference in my life so that I am able, by example, to encourage others to do the same. Believe that one person CAN make a difference, and if we all live with this uppermost in our minds, think of the awesome transformation the world would see. Am ready for blessings that are no longer in disguise.  

After much thought, my Six-Word Memoir would be:

Never gave up, found true love.

 

 

A CHANGE OF PLANS

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For a long time, as a society, we seemed to think that once it was decided what we wanted to do or what we wanted to be when we ‘grew up,’ we could not change, that we had to stay in our chosen fields, to stick it out, even if we were not happy with what we were doing.  These days, though, it is not unusual for people to have several, if not many, different careers.

As many of you know, I have had my own business for 24 years now.  While I enjoy what I do (custom home furnishings,)  I can get burned out and long for something different.  The truth, though,  is I am very good at it.   I love to create beauty for people’s homes and their lives, and I will continue to do so for the foreseeable future.  That being said, as you may also remember me writing about desiring a chance in my life right about the time I was sexually assaulted.  My attack resulted in me launching this website with the intention of helping other women who had been through a similar experience.  You may also remember that I posted pictures of my dream/vision board, which I had made in July 2012, about a month after the sentencing of my attacker to prison.  What I did not say at the time was how more specifically this vision board came about.  Just the other day, though, I came across what I had written the day we made our boards.

Rather than just making the board on my own, my local Hoffman facilitator held a special gathering, apart from our normal monthly meetings, where we did guided visualizations to help us clarify what we were hoping to manifest into our lives.  What follows is the notes I took from the various exercises we did.   Keep in mind that I was still a good four months away from finishing my EMDR, and, as it turned out, a few years away from being truly through my experience:

 

“Message from Spiritual Guide –  pay attention to ALL that is happening to you; it is ALL happening for your highest good.

What do I believe is preventing me from manifesting my vision?   Fear

Elevator question – What are my self-limiting beliefs that keep me from having what I truly desire in my life?

(What I got from the elevator exercise)  Very fancy elevator opens to a very pattern-rich (floral sky, striped trees, plaid grass, color everywhere) scene that is a cross between Dr. Seuss, H.R. Puff-n-Stuff and Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds, where everything is make-believe and happy and where nothing bad happens.  It feels like the happiest place on Earth (sorry Disneyland.)  Everyone is smiling, happy and helpful.  The sun is shining.  I don’t really seem to be a part of it though.  I am looking into a place I’d like to be.

(Then the question asked was, What is your vision for the future?)    My vision is to help women who have been victims of sexual assault by giving them a platform where they can tell their stories, anonymously if necessary, so that they are able to heal themselves emotionally, spiritually, physically and intellectually.  I also am affecting change in the ‘system,’ in how victims are treated though the entire process.  I see myself teaching the police. EMTs, DAs, and any and everyone who comes in contact with the victim so that they are more compassionate and understanding.  Just as it takes a village to bring up children, I think it takes a village to help heal those who have been harmed.”

 

 

I find it very interesting that my vision was so clear even though I was still in the middle of my healing process.  What changed for me, however, was/is the fact that most women simply do not want to talk about such a horrific event in their lives.  While I do understand the reluctance, I also feel that it is important they do it anyway.  Unless and until someone is ready to talk about it, though, there is not a lot I can do to ‘make’ them talk.  Nor do I want to.  Because of this, I changed the focus of this site.  Instead of a platform for others, it is simply a place for me to continue to tell my story.  I hope in this that it is clear that healing and recovery are possible if you truly want it and are willing to do the work.  Is it easy?  Absolutely not, but my experience is that it is absolutely vital.

 

KEEP YOUR EYES OPEN

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If you read my posts on a regular basis you already know that I did a personal yoga challenge for the month of February.  Also, that I do yoga, when not challenging myself to do it every single day, usually 4-5 times a week.  In the various styles of yoga I have done, the very last pose of most classes, and the one pose that is considered the hardest, is called savasana.  This is pronounced either sha-va-sa-na or sa-va-sa-na.  It is a Sanskrit word that means corpse pose.  It is called that because you are lying on your back, not moving.  Personally, it is one of my favorites.  The idea behind it is to do absolutely nothing, which means you quiet your body and your mind.  The body, I really have no problem keeping still, at least not for the 5 or so minutes that usually constitute savasana; my mind, though I like to think it is quiet, the truth is, it probably isn’t.  Actually, I know it isn’t.

In what I will call ‘normal’ yoga, that is, all the different types of yoga that I have done, except Bikram, when you are in savanna, your eyes are closed.  And honestly, there are times when we are in, say, warrior two, and the instructor will encourage us to close our eyes, just to feel the pose.  Most poses on the back can be done with the eyes either open or closed, which to me means to have my eyes shut, and I like it that way.  Since most of the classes I do are outside, I wear sunglasses, whether it is sunny or overcast;  but even with my eyes protected, I prefer them shut.  Bikram, however, is a completely different story.  When I was going to Bikram yoga, my teacher would say, ‘This is a 90 minute meditation with your eyes open the entire time.’  I will admit that the first week or so, I had a really hard time keeping them open.  I got better as the month went on, but I still had to mentally and purposefully keep them open, especially when we are in the mini-savasanas between the poses on the floor that make up half of the class.  To me, yoga is as much about feeling the postures and poses as the actual position of my body.  And I feel things better with my eyes closed.

While my mind was supposed to be quiet, I was thinking about how keeping ones eyes open can be a metaphor for life.  When we do not keep our eyes open we can miss what is right in front of us.  Or conversely,  we shut our eyes to what is right in front of us.  We can choose to see or not see, and we can do that whether our eyes are open or shut.  How can one possibly stop to smell the roses if those roses haven’t been seen first?

When I lived in Europe, I walked more than I took the bus or taxis.  And when I walked, I frequently would look up, and I mean, way up, so that I could see the tops of the buildings, which were more often than not, even more beautiful than the view at street level.  I would never have known this had I not looked up.  At the same time, if you are always and only looking up, then it stands to reason you will miss whatever is on the ground in front of you.  It is a balancing thing; you kind of have to do both.  Of course, Mae West said that “too much of a good thing can be wonderful.”  Personally, I do not think that you can ever see too much.

We’ve all had experiences where, even with our eyes open, we cannot remember how we got where we are, literally or figuratively.   So, eyes opened or eyes shut, it is up to us to see, or not see, where we are, and maybe even more importantly, where we are headed. Still, if you aren’t aware of what’s truly going on around you and are walking with your ‘head in the clouds,’ you just might get hit by a bus.  Awareness, then, seems to me to be the real key, whether your eyes are open or not.

 

 

 

TRUST AND FAITH AND TIMING

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How many times have we heard that we need to trust the process?  That we need to have faith that everything happens in perfect and Divine timing?  While I think both of those things are important, the truth is it all comes down to timing.  You can meet the right person at the wrong time.  Or who turns out to be a wrong person at the right time.  But until the planets align and everything else conspires in your favor, for lack of a better way to put it, you are probably barking up the wrong tree.  I know I was.

After my breakup with B, I so wanted to be ready for another relationship, and to that end, I tried March.com.  Twice.  Nothing happened, and I do mean nothing.  No response from anyone, let alone anyone I might have fancied.  Clearly, I was not ready.  I seemed to have a negative force field surrounding my photos and my profile, that, basically said, STAY AWAY!  Seriously, this was not a healthy thing to put myself through.  I finally realized that I still needed time to heal and grieve; heal from my attack and grieve for my lost relationship.  And while I missed B horribly at times, I also realized it was not so much him that I missed but being in a relationship.  Because in spite of what we went through with my sexual assault, we did have a very good, even great, relationship.  Unfortunately, as I’ve said before, however good the relationship was between us, it did not survive my attack.

Finally, this past January, 2 years after my breakup, I joined a Coronado singles group.  It was, as all these groups seem to be, mostly women.  I did meet a guy who I thought was a potential partner.  In the end, though, it was not a good match.  And speaking of Match, I would periodically look to see if there were any (new) interesting men on the site.  What I discovered to my dismay was that it was all the same men who always seem to be on there.  Not very promising at all.  I truly was on the point of giving up completely, of deciding that, perhaps, I was not meant to be in a loving relationship, after all.  This did not make me happy, but I simply was not willing to compromise on what I want and know I deserve.  So, one more time I was checking out Match.com and, on the spur of the moment, I joined.  The difference was I was actually ready.  I knew it, and I knew I’d meet someone this time.

It happened very quickly.  I joined on a Wednesday, was contacted by J on Thursday, talked on the phone with him on Friday, met on Monday, had a second date on Thursday before leaving town for a family reunion, texted with him while gone, and have had several more dates with him since.  I think you can kind of get the picture.  What was so cool, what is so cool is that we both knew right from the start that it was exactly what/who we had both been looking/hoping/praying would show up for, well, ever.  I knew as soon as I read his profile, but was hesitant to say it out loud , even to myself.  But I KNEW.  I just knew.  And he knew, too.

So what it really does come down to is timing, trite as it may seem.  I was ready, he was ready, and we connected.  And I can honestly say, he was worth the incredibly long wait!

Just a few quotes that seem particularly on point:

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AN OH SO POWERFUL MIND

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We hear a lot about the mind and how powerful it is.  Along those same lines is ‘be careful what you wish for/think because you just might get it/manifest it into your life.  This was never more true for me than on the 4th of July.  I was up early because I had two breakfast parties, the parade and then another party to attend.  The first started at 7a, and I arrived just after that, the first to show up, and those of you who know me personally will know this is typical of me.  I mean, if you don’t want me to show up at the time you tell me, you had better tell me a later time, and then I’ll show up at that time.  But I digress…

So, I show up to E and G’s home, which has been all decked out in its red, white and blue finest.  E is a great cook and has made gluten-free blueberry pancakes, among other delights.  I eat two, with whip cream, and I enjoyed every last bite.  I had a bit of orange juice and then decided I’d like to have water.  I got a red solo cup and removed the plastic wrap from the pitcher of fruit-infused water.  I took a sip and thought it tasted a bit weird, but figured it was the fruit giving it this slightly different taste.  I continued to drink half of it, and when G came by, I asked him, pointing to the pitcher, if it was water.  He assured me it was.  So I continued drinking it.  By this time, I had almost finished it and when I saw E, I asked her about it.  She proceeded to tell me it was white sangria!  Dang it!  I did not mean to start drinking quite that early.  We had a good laugh and I then understood why it tasted ‘funny.’

The most amazing part of this story is that because I was expecting water, I thought it was water, and until someone told me differently, I believed I was drinking water.  Granted, it didn’t exactly taste like water, but it sure didn’t taste like wine either.  I was so convinced I was drinking water that I could only taste water, albeit a bit off.  Again, I truly thought the fruit had altered the taste of.

While this may be a slightly silly example, it still illustrates the power of the mind.  I got exactly what I believed I was getting.  Or as Robert G. Allen says, “The future you see is the future you get.”  And Peace Pilgrim said, “If you knew how powerful your thoughts are, you would never think a negative thought.”  What you think is what is, no two ways about it.  Instead of turning water into wine, I kind of did the opposite!  Or at least I thought I had!

SUMMERTIME AND THE LIVING IS JUST THE SAME AS ALWAYS

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At least for me it is…

This morning as I was walking home from the bank, I noticed, in the distance, a little girl come out of her house,  She was wearing her bathing suit.  What flashed in my head was a memory of how summer used to be…  when I was a kid, and even through high school…  until I got my first job.  Actually, even after I had my first job because it was just part-time and I usually worked in the afternoons.  We were never allowed to sleep late, but since I had diving practice at 7am every day in the summer, I was up early anyway.  As soon as I got up, I put my bathing suit on.  And more often than not, when we were on vacation in Cape Hatteras, to save time in the mornings, I would simply sleep in my bathing suit.  That way I was ready as soon as I woke up to get my day started.  Or I was just lazy and sleeping in it was one less thing I had to do when I got up.  Anyway, seeing that little girl this morning reminded me that summer is a different experience when you are a kid.  I think that only children, and retired adults, can truly, truly enjoy summer.

I live in Southern California where it is, pretty much, always summer, at least it seems that way.  Still, there is something about the ‘real’ summertime that feels different.  And here on Coronado, the island is gearing up for the big 4th of July festivities.  That makes it even more of a challenge for me to come home and work.  Don’t get me wrong, I love what I do, and know that I am very fortunate to be self-employed and to work at home.  However, it is times like this that make me long for a time when all I had to do in the morning was get up, put my bathing suit on and go to the pool for the entire day.  I do have slipcovers that must be finished before the 4th though, so I will do what has to be done.  Just know that in my mind, in my imagination, I am playing in the ocean like the dolphin I always wanted to be when I grew up!

These pictures were taken at a swim meet on 9 June 1975, my fifteenth birthday.  I dove and then swam several events:

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IT’S JUST A NUMBER

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Yesterday was my birthday.  I am now 55 years old.  I have no problem telling any and everyone this.  It does not bother me in the least.  In fact, I love to say how old I am.  For one thing, people are usually shocked since they think I am much younger; and secondly, and much more importantly, I have worked really, really hard to make it to 55.  I cannot understand the reluctance of some people to admit how old they are.  And why is it such a big deal anyway?  We, as a society, definitely like to categorize everything:  female, male, straight, gay, black, white, young, not-so-young.  Personally, I do not like the term middle-aged, mainly because it has such a derogatory connotation.  And, really, you don’t know when you were ‘middle-aged’ until you die.  It’s like, once you are past, oh, 40 or so, life ends.  Really?  REALLY?  No, I don’t think so.  Such a big deal is made about ‘thinking outside the box,’ so why do we put people in boxes by defining them in terms of age?

I remember when I turned 30 and one of my cousins, who is 9 years older, told me that now that I was 30, my body would start to fail me.  At the time, I thought, “well crap.”  Then I thought about it some more and realized that it was he who was full of crap.  It was the most ridiculous thing, I thought, to tell someone.  And why?  Why put a stupid idea into my head?  Luckily, I recognized it for what it was…his experience of life, not mine.

I also know a lot of people, relatives and friends, who would just as soon forget their birthday.  Me, I like to tell everyone, starting 6 months before, on the 9th of December, which is my half-birthday (and Donny Osmond’s actual birthday!)  Then from 9 March, which is 3 months away, then 9 April, 2 months until MY birthday, 9 May, which is my cousin Jennifer’s birthday and 1 month from mine, I tell people.  Not everyone I know, mostly just close friends, but tell I do.  And the actual day, I tell everyone I come in contact with, because it is a celebration of the day I was born, and because you get lots of free stuff if they know it’s your birthday.  I like free stuff!  Who doesn’t?

Yesterday I took the day off from working.  I woke up at 4a, I think, because I was excited.  I met my friend Mike for a walk at 5a, then I went to beach yoga at 8:30a, then a movie at 11:30a (“Aloha” – very cute, with Bradley Cooper, Emma Stone and Bill Murray) and after that lunch at True Food Kitchen.  I received hundreds of birthday wishes from Facebook friends and family members.  As silly as it may be, I love when I am told Happy Birthday.

I am happy to tell you exactly how old I am.  All I ask is not to be put in a preconceived notion box of what our society thinks 55 is.

Below is a picture of me on my 49th birthday at Disneyland:

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