I cry aloud to God, aloud to God, that he may hear me. In the day of my trouble I seek the Lord; in the night my hand is stretched out without wearying; my soul refuses to be comforted. (Psalm 77:1-2) ............................................ A journal chronicling my struggle as a woman, to find my way out of an abusive relationship, and to find myself again.

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Location: Georgia, United States

Sunday, June 13, 2004


I am very sleepy, and not feeling well, so this will be short.

Dale is home, and the inner peace is gone. He is being very nice, as I knew he would be, but his anger still simmers just below the surface, although I think he would deny it. He is trying to find a way to get to Tracy's tomorrow so he can spend the night there and be at Laurelwood for evaluation for the day program early Monday morning. I hope so much that he is accepted. It would mean he will be gone most days from 7:30 AM to late afternoon, and that would be very nice.

So often these past few months I have been waking myself up, moaning loudly and feeling very disturbed. I don't know what that's about, but it happened again last night a few times and I realized that it didn't happen at all while Dale was gone. I sure would like to understand it.

We (Dale, Emily and I) went down to the swimming hole today. I really wanted to swim; get some exercise that wouldn't put pressure on my bad foot, but the water was so much colder than I expected for this time of year. Emily managed to get herself completely wet, but it was just too cold for me. Oh well. We'll try again after we have some days of hot weather. I think part of it was that there was so much runoff from the mountains from the thunderstorms today.

I sat on the front porch and watched and listened to the storm. The thunder was awesome; reverberated in my bones, and for some reason I enjoyed it. It reminded me of sitting in the glider on my grandmother's front porch during big storms. It always felt so cozy there, seeing the power of the storm and knowing I was safe.

Also, it was definitely a firefly evening. They were out in huge numbers, like little fairy lights everywhere. I still love them. I told Emily tonight that they made me believe there must be a loving influence in nature, to have given us such a wonder. She said there was certainly a more pragmatic reason for their beauty. "Well, what about butterflies?" I asked. "They don't have to be so beautiful. They could as easily be huge, ugly, creepy creatures. "Well," she asked, "then how do you explain the huge,ugly, creepy creatures?" I don't have an answer to that, but it didn't dim my enjoyment of the lovely lightening bugs.

I sent an email to Sandy Riggin, the author of Forbidden Memories tonight. I hope she writes back. I would love to meet this amazing woman, although I still have the unshakeable feeling that I already have.



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