the dance

light plays with shadow, my friend
and shadow plays with light
a dance a dance a deep romance
bonding wrong and right

Good loves Evil, my friend
they kiss long into the night
embrace embrace a longing face
stinging sweetly a bite

you may run and hide, my friend
and pray with all your might
tears and tears soaking fears
clipping a wingless flight

I suggest you rest, my friend
taste the breath of respite
bend to bend finds not the end
but beacons the ship of fright

In the sweet of sleep, my friend
spin a wheel of delight
weave and weave you’ll not deceive
blinders will fall to sight

baby

have i chosen to be blind
i know i see the same pictures
the smiles beside me see
but the pictures dont make me smile
i am terrified
ugly faces that want me to die
leering grins that laugh at my pain
and everyone smiles
smiles are ugly now
baring teeth
daring me to stay
laughing when i run
they are full of mirth, my demons
they want me to fail
and my only defense is to hide
until they go away
creating my own womb
sucking my thumb
waiting
waiting
to wake up

weird email i wrote 9 1/2 years ago…

to whom was i writing this- the only recipient is myself, so i’m thinking it was a draft i intended to send out…

To give you a brief bio of my life… I am 23 and the oldest of four children. My brother is 21, my sister, 19, and my youngest brother, 17. We’ve all experienced a rather turbulent childhood. We moved around a lot and our parents were both abusive and neglecting.

When I was 21, my (at the time) 19 year old brother and I took my youngest brother and sister from my parent’s home (at their request) and retained custody of them for several reasons, too numerous to describe here. (mom and dad were living in a car at one point). Since then, we have reunited with our parents who are in the midst of a divorce. (my husband and i live with my father temporarily)

We’ve worked out a lot of our problems and remain a uniquely close family.

It seems that I would be able to move on and be happy, but I am having a hard time doing this. I am hoping that you may know someone who can help me.

I have problems that I don’t completely understand. I think they have something to do with my childhood (which was abusive mentally, physically, and sexually) but I’m not sure.

I began suffering from panic attacks and insomnia when I was in my early teens. The first time an attack occurred, I thought I was having a heart attack.

I experience other emotions that seem to have a marriage to these attacks since they often occur within moments of one another. They especially confuse me because they conflict each other so much.

To give an example, when I was 17 and speaking to my aunt concerning a gray rainy day we were experiencing, I said “I love rainy days. They make me feel like the outside world has become smaller and cozier.”

About and hour later, I shuddered and said. “I hate rainy days. They make me feel so claustrophobic, like I am smothering.”

Nothing happened between the hour that I made these statements. In fact, I didn’t realize that I had made them until my aunt pointed it out.

This is what life is like for me. One moment I feel completely in touch with a something that I can’t define that gives me a sense of inner peace and joy. The next moment I feel hopeless, angry, and despairing. There is no gray area, and no reason for this that I can put a finger on. My chest begins to hurt, I am short of breath, and I can’t think correctly.

Most of the time, I understand that life is a treasure and that it has many wonderful gifts to give. I love children. I work as a preschool teacher, and I write childrens books that I hope to publish someday. I feel blessed to have a natural love and understanding of other people. It’s just that I can’t seem to understand myself.

The people who suffer the most because of my emotional problems are my husband and my sister. When I am experiencing the bad end of my emotional spectrum, I push them away from me.

I can’t stand the way I am. It feels like I am playing chess with an unseen opponent and I don’t know the rules to the game. I really want to combat these problems without the use of medication. I want to get to the roots and understand them completely.

Thank you so much for reading this.

with love,

Toni Lynn Crane

i can tell you what it’s like…

….  to be poor white trash with dreams and fears incest and hate and love- protective brothers and a best friend sister- a raping father, a depressed mom, me a “mama” sister weird confused kid- always the new girl- had nothing we needed and everything we didn’t- sleeping on piles of laundry then going to the movies-still tasting the first time i was called a bitch in the back of my throat- beaten and bruised, hugged and cuddled. “You’re a piece of shit” “you can shine like a star”. an artist, a dreamer, a naked fat chick on the internet- a writer- a mother of one dead child and one alive- a christian child and agnostic adult- bi polar PTSD fat beautiful paint stained fingers mommy mommy all day long – life is gorgeous and ugly and tastes like chicken- i’ll keep stepping forward- i will die mid-step cuz i aint ever giving up

i babbled this out today to maya angelou…. XP

Incest Babble

This is the Incest Babble that started it all….

Incest%20Babble

►

This site isn’t just for me. It’s for you, too. Please feel free to participate in any way that may help with your healing.

i am still waters

I am still waters

Longing to fly with eagles

My voice the distant thunder

I  blink and lightening scars the night

Touch the wind beneath me

Curled in sky’s cradle

My heart beats so that I cannot breath

Body lifting breaking earth

Shrapnel mud baked ‘neath sun’s heat

Were muck and mire ‘tween my toes

Arms stretched in glorious reaching

Fingers touching gold on gold

I am still waters and still waters may dream

- toni dove 2010

Dear Mr. Wormwood – a story

Dear Mr.Wormwood,

This is a letter to inform you that your complaints
have been heard and I WILL endeavor to keep little
Jimmy from creaking so in the hallways at night, but
for goodness sakes, please remove the garlic from your
doorways. It does nothing but agitate my sinuses and
won’t help your cause at all.

Sincerely,
Mr. R. Mortus

Dear Mr. Wormwood:

I am sorry that I have been unable to keep my promise.
You must understand that Jimmy is only a child and apt
to find mischief. Toothpaste DOES wash from walls. Try
vinegar diluted with a bit of water, and peanut butter
should help remove the gum from your Suzy’s hair.
(Really, don’t you think she’s a little old to keep
wadded chewing gum on her bedstead?)

The lamp falling from the nightstand was my fault and
I do send out a heartfelt apology, but you must
understand how your screaming through the night at the
slightest noise effects my nerves. I am certain that I
am not ALL to blame.

Whether we like it or not we are neighbors. Let’s get
along for the children’s’ sake at least!

Sincerely,
Mr. R. Mortus

Dear Mr. Wormwood:

What is all this nonsense?  You’ve got my good suit
damp, and I haven’t any other! Little Jimmy’s hair was
quite wet, and he’s coming down with a cold. Don’t
complain to me when he sneezes in your halls.

Holy water! Really! You should be ashamed of
yourselves!

Sincerely Mr. R. Mortus

Dear Mr. Wormwood:

I’m sorry to seem so amused after the work you went to
with Mrs. Wormwood to “rouse the souls of the dead.”
All that chanting left your throat scratchy, I
imagine.

I HOPE you didn’t fall for the show that old quack put
on last night. I admit it was rather amusing to watch
her roll her eyes and moan. But I promise you I was
not the victim of murder, nor was I the captain of a
ship. I am prone toward seasickness and never learned
to swim, so I stay far from any body of water.

As for her “second sight”; I took the trouble to say
hello to her as she headed to her car (counting the
bills you paid her) and the “second” she took “sight”
of me, she ran screaming to her car, dropping the
bills behind her. I’m sorry, but puns are a specialty
of mine and I can’t help putting them to use once in a
while.

I placed the bills under the large rock in your front
yard.

Sincerely,
Mr. R. Mortus.

Dear Mr. Wormwood:

I apologize again. (it seems that is all I do lately).
I was only trimming my mustache, and didn’t realize
Mrs. Wormwood was in the bath as she had the curtain
drawn.

I am sure she has nothing to be ashamed of. (You are a
lucky man, Mr. Wormwood!) Tell her to leave a scarf
tied to the door if the bathroom is occupied. Doors
being closed mean nothing to me, you know.

Sincerely,

Mr. R. Mortus

Dear Mr. Wormwood:

Of course my last correspondence wasn’t written in
blood! How gruesome! I simply couldn’t lay hold of a
pen and paper and borrowed a lipstick. I chose the
refrigerator for it’s slick surface and easy cleaning.
I wouldn’t dream of ruining your wallpaper!

As for this hideous screaming that your family is so
fond of, it is growing rather tiresome and excites my
migraine.

Sincerely,
Mr. R. Mortus

Dear Mr. Wormwood:

The electric typewriter you left me in the attic was a
nice gesture! I am sure I won’t have to dirty your
refrigerator door again, anyway!

Your suggestion that I take up residency in your attic
is a sensible one as it would give us both privacy,
but you must understand that the attic is not well
suited for daily life. It is dusty and rather riddled
with rats and spiders. It creeps me out, typing here
in the night, even.

I also appreciate your following my advice about the
scarves. As for Jimmy’s continuing tormenting of your
daughter. I do apologize, but he IS rather fond of
Suzy and she pays him little attention unless he
causes some mischief or the other. Besides, he has
nothing else to occupy him, and Suzy’s bangs will grow
back in full given due time.

Sincerely,

Mr. R. Mortus

Dear Mr. Wormwood:

This will be my last correspondence, as you’ve decided
to allow me to communicate to you face-to-face without
screaming and running. I simply wanted to put my
thanks in writing.

How nice it was that you outfitted the attic for us! I
am sure Suzy remains unbothered as I cannot tear Jimmy
from the TV and his video games.

As for myself, I do enjoy the satellite television
(though with 200 hundred channels, it still seems
there is nothing to watch)! I also enjoy the bathroom
you installed. (The battery-powered mustache trimmer
was a nice touch!)

I am sure that I could have no nicer neighbors than
you! I hope you don’t mind if I come for a visit now
and then. A hundred and fifty year old child is poor
companionship for a man well in his thousands!

Would you like a game of checkers?

Sincerely,

Mr. R. Mortus

© Toni Dove

Angela’s Voice

Thank you for sharing Angela

these thoughts keep swarming through my head…. constantly thinking i’d be better off dead… I wish they would stop, all these horrible thoughts of mine. I shouldn’t still feel this shitty after all this time. I contemplate life and fight the urge to grab a knife. I want to slit my vain and release some of this pain. It would only make me feel worse, I feel like i’m cursed… forced to live in this hell knowing damn well that i didn’t deserve it, that it shouldn’t have happened and i can’t let it shape me. I don’t want my past to control my future. i can’t stand this hell i’m living in and pray to god these things don’t happen again. I just can’t win. Nothing seems to help, I just hate myself. I don’t know why i even try because i know in the end we’re all just gonna die. When will it be my turn when can it finally end? The only thing that seems to help is my paper and my pen. It hurts my arm to write things down, no matter what i do i always frown. I feel so lost and so very confused, why did i suffer through all this abuse? I know things could’ve been worse, and compared to some i’ve had it good. I’ve got people who love me and a roof over my head, clothes in my closet and a nice warm bed. I shouldn’t complain but i’m in so much pain. Physical and mental the pain doesn’t ease. I wish all of my bad memories would just leave. Go away forever and leave me alone. Instead i’m having flashbacks and dealing with them on my own. Trying to stay grounded reminding myself i’m now grown, I can be in a room full of people and still feel alone. Inside i’m dying, spending too much time crying. I don’t want to feel sorry for myself but what do you do when your whole life has been hell. I’m not feeling real well. I’m in so much pain and i’m getting nauseous, how could all those people be sick enough to do this. I could handle it if it was once or twice. I am starting to notice more and more details as the memories come back. They come back strong and cause anxiety attacks. I can’t stand this anymore, i feel like such a useless whore. I know rationally that it wasn’t my fault, i tried to fight but they were all stronger then me. I laid there crying begging them please, to please stop hurting me and to let me go free. but instead they continued on with their dirty deed. I’m so ashamed of whats happened to me, I need these memories to stop haunting me. They come so quickly yet never seem to leave. There has to be more to life then what i see. Every time i tap one thing away 2 more memories flow though. Its like a never ending cycle that I’ve been forced to live through. Hit after hit, like my purpose in life was to be a sex slave, is this really why i exist? If thats the case i’m ready to hit my grave, I’m so sick of pretending to be so brave. I put on this mask so I can hide what’s really going on inside. My wounds have been broken back open, gushing blood pours to the floor. They ripped off my band aid that held all of this back, now i’m losing my mind and i feel like crap. I’m so tired of fighting i just want this war to end, but i don’t know if a broken heart can truely ever mend. please make this stop make these thoughts go away…. dear god help me to feel better one day, Please make the work that i’m doing be worth it in the end. Please lord give me strength to help control my thoughts and my mind. I try to hard and i’m failing this whole time. I think i’m getting worse and i feel like this is a curse, but i just want my turn to ride in the hurse.

Things to do everyday

This happens a lot, y’all- I have this fire in my belly to keep up this blog and then suddenly I dont have the strength to even acknowledge its existence.

I’ve decided not to focus JUST on the incest, but to incorporate a “regular” blog as well and talk about my life in general. After all, every aspect of my life is influenced partially by the abuse. I have this new list I’ve created. Things to do everyday. On this list is “write for 15 mins”.

I figure making this decision to write daily and keeping it in such a small time slot will be beneficial in many ways.

Let’s see.

Thank You

My mentor and dear friend told me something that made me think. She said she felt like I was a little bird leaving the nest to fly.  Even though this special lady is, in my opinion, one of the smartest people on earth, this time she had it a little wrong.

You see, when I left my husband I was that bird, trembling into a wide, wide world I didn’t understand and hoping one day to fly. When I walked away from my ex boyfriend who berated me and threatened to kill me, I held my head up higher, looking to the sky instead of the ground. When I left my ex girlfriend who made me feel like I was nothing, I could look in the mirror again without being ashamed. When I vowed that the pattern was ending there, right there, I was no longer a baby but a strong, graceful, muscular, and beautiful creature ready for that flight for which I so longed.

The reason I see  this beauty and strength in me is because of the nurturing that has been provided to me through the shelter and all the hard work you all do. I was never told I could do anything (ANYTHING I DARED TO DREAM!) until I came here. Now I know the truth. No one ever patted me on the back and said, “You are doing a great job. I’m so proud of you.” Now my back and soul are well nourished with praise.

Shoulders to cry on, ears to listen and sift through rage and hurt and sadness, hearts with room enough to care about a stranger and make them a friend; this is what each and every one of you bring to the table every single day. I know the job you do, though very rewarding, isn’t always easy. I know sometimes you may have, in your secret or not so secret heart of hearts, wondered, “Is this job worth it? Am I really making a difference.”

Please remember, whether you are watching a woman cry through a split eye, holding a child whose daddy loved her the wrong way, or just simply doing another round of mindless paperwork, every little thing you do that keeps this place going impacts not only the individual but the world.

Though I have a gift for words, there is no way I can really convey how grateful I am. So I am going to thank you in exactly the way I would  want to be thanked. I am going soar high, high, high. I am going to not only survive but thrive. I am going to give out the care 100 fold that has been given to me. I am going to become ever more beautiful day by day and revel in that beauty.

You see, I am an eagle, that walked strong and proud but a little meek and unaware of her strength and beauty until I came to this wonderful place. And now I am an eagle that has learned to fly.

Thank you, each and every one of you, for giving me my wings.