For June 2, 2017, my graduate, & youngest girl…

May 20, 2017

Diane—

So in less than two weeks you will be a high school graduate.  I am hoping that your little graduation present gets here in time.
I’m writing this letter for you so that you can get the little ‘bump’ you need to send you out into the world and make it big—but make it big in your way and in the process making YOUR dreams come true.
I bought a CD for you today.  There are two songs there that are the reason why I bought what I bought.  There are two songs that are my personal gift and message for you.

My Wish

 I hope the days come easy and the moments pass slow,
And each road leads you where you wanna go,
And if you’re faced with a choice, and you have to choose,
I hope you choose the one that means the most to you.
And if one door opens to another door closed,
I hope you keep on walkin’ till you find the window,
If it’s cold outside, show the world the warmth of your smile.
But more than anything, more than anything

My wish, for you, is that this life becomes all that you want it to,
Your dreams stay big, your worries stay small,
You never need to carry more than you can hold,
And while you’re out there getting where you’re getting to,
I hope you know somebody loves you, and wants the same things too,
Yeah, this, is my wish.

     Suppose it could be said better-but, when you are in doubt just remember that at least your mom is cheering you on.  I realize that I have made a lot of mistakes.  I’ve realized that being a mom to one child doesn’t make you good mom to all kids.  My weaknesses with my oldest were sometimes still my weakness, and sometimes by the time I got to you, I had a whole new set of weaknesses.  No matter how poorly I have said, “I love you.”  Know that I always have, & that my dreams for you were always big, even if I couldn’t provide you with a great jumping off pad.
There will be times when I still have to be a ‘mom’.  Unfortunately, that is just the rules for engagement between you and I.  But, I am hoping that we can always talk about any problems we have and work them out.    The thing that I am really best at and can still do for you, is to be your cheerleader.    And I always will be that.   And I want all the same things for you as I ever wanted for the other three:

  1. Be Happy. Be Healthy.  3. Follow your Dreams. 4. Don’t hurt others.

That last one is the hardest one for me.  That’s the one I choke on.  It’s the only one that can ever get between you and I.  It’s really important to me because so many people have worked so hard hurt those around me.  I’ve lived the fall out; I’ve seen the emotional devastation.   That is where I draw my line in the sand.

But, having said that I cannot imagine you hurting someone on purpose, for the sake of fun or anything else.  You are a really good person. The one kid who actually turned out the way I hoped all my kids would.  I see a happy life for you.  That is not to say you won’t hit bumps.    Sometimes those bumps really hurt.  Sometimes the days will get really dark.  It’s just how life goes sometimes.  Light a candle, say a prayer, take some really deep breaths, take a long bath, listen to music, paint, and call your mom.

One thing to remember is even when you feel really, really alone, the truth is that you are not.  You have friends and family who love you and want the best for you.  Even if all they can give you is a hug, and probably that’s all you’d need anyhow to be able to get out there and face the world again.

“Stand”

You feel like a candle in a hurricane
Just like a picture with a broken frame
Alone and helpless
Like you’ve lost your fight
But you’ll be alright, you’ll be alright

‘Cause when push comes to shove
You taste what you’re made of
You might bend, ’til you break
‘Cause it’s all you can take
On your knees you look up
Decide you’ve had enough
You get mad, you get strong
Wipe your hands, shake it off
Then you stand…

You come from a LONG LINE of really tough people.  Not perfect people….just really tough people. People who have faced all kinds of situations—starvation, witch hunts, wild bears, wars, homelessness, extreme cold, rape, molest, abuse.  Each one not only survived but succeeded in some way, or else YOU would not be on this earth today.  Each of us alive today on this earth can believe this because it’s true!  And, it is all the more of a reason to celebrate YOU!
You have been handed the gift of life.  Each person in your life is a gift.  Maybe there will be times when you can’t see it, but EVERYONE who crosses your path will share something with you, even if all it is ‘just’ a smile.  It might be a small or a great gift: wisdom, fact, love, a hug, a meal, a theory, maybe someday a child.   Never take it for granted.  There might be a billion of us here on earth, but there is only one me and only one you!!  That makes us special. It makes being your mom special!

Thank you for choosing me to be your mom.  Thank you for the GIFT of being YOU!!
I do LOVE YOU!!!  & I always will!!  xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

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Congratulations, Viki

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You have all the rights, privileges, and consequences along
with all the peril and ill health of being just as
mentally unhealthy as your biological father.

I wish you all the luck in the world
You are going to need it,

YOU have become a MONSTER
YOU ARE YOUR FATHER
YOU ARE
SCOTT NEAL MILLER!!!

3/19/2017
You are 100% disowned
and DISINHERITED
We’ll have an attorney help us to draw up the
paperwork, and the attorney will be the executor
You and your brother will have control of ABSOLUTELY NOTHING

Thank you for finally showing YOUR TRUE COLORS


(p.s. Just in case you are getting a wee bit emotionally high on the idea that you have hurt me, remember that I have been surrounded by sick people all my life, and that I have landed on my feet and VERY mentally healthy.  I can put this in it’s place and move on with a good conscious, and not one iota of bitterness.  I feel sorry for what you have….)

P.S.S: Just so you know…how did I know you went to California??
It was very simple–I asked myself: “What would Scott Miller do?”

1-12-2017 Homework done for the Women’s Group

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My family in the living room during Christmas, in Newark, CA:
L to R- Alvin C. Rowe, my little sister, Pam, my mother, Pat, myself.  In the very front, my Uncle Tom Coop.  In the back L to R: My grandfather, Earl Coop, Peggy Coop (Uncle Tom’s then wife), Lorine Coop (my grandmother).  I was about 14 or so when this pic was taken.  I’m not supposed to post pics of my mom.  But, I’ve kind of reached the point, where I just don’t care what she wants.
She really was never THERE anyway….

Group is for Women with PTSD-{Post Traumatic Stress Disorder})

DO NOT read this if you are squeamish or have emotional problems that you can not deal with. IF you read this and it hits home, I suggest you call your therapist, or at least a very, very good, supportive friend.

What to do:
Make a list of things you’ve never told anyone, but want to be able to talk about.  

  • I want to know what dad and uncle Tom were fighting about when I was so very little.  What was so important that Uncle Tom thought he had to fight for me.  What did dad do to me?  When I asked Uncle Tom what is was, he could not answer me.  He had told me about his bar brawls, and other things.  But could not tell me what dad did to me.   I have the tendency to think the worst.  I have no one to talk to about this.  My uncle Tom is deceased.  He was on his last legs when he told me this.  I did not insist on him telling me the rest of the story because he was sick, and I am a respectful person.  He was obviously not comfortable going any farther than he did.  My grandparents probably knew about it, and they are gone.  My mother won’t speak to me because I am the child from hell.  I’ll tell ya, she didn’t know what a REAL child from hell is… I was a really good kid!!  I’m not tooting my horn to be full of myself, I was just a good kid.  The only person in the family to talk to is my sister.  I don’t consider this an option. She’s almost 3 years younger than I am.  My reality was not her reality.  We were treated differently.  She was favored.  I’d like to say that I remember that part all wrong, but my uncle also told me that he and my grandparents would sit around the dinner table and talk about it.  They were very concerned about me.  I asked him why they didn’t do something.  He said they were afraid they’d be cut off from us kids.  OF course, they could never help then.  Believe me—they made the all the difference for me.  They made the difference between life and death, they were the light in my very dark world.
  • I like to tell someone how when Scott asked me to sleep with his sister that it felt like a huge fist going into my gut.  It broke my heart. I really did not know why at the time that it broke my heart.  I just really knew how bad it made me feel. I was really hurt. Deep down hurt, even a betrayed kind of feeling. Today, I know that he was not really hearing me.  What was a ‘confession’ made in complete and utter despair, where I honestly thought I was a ‘crazy’ person—TODAY, I know there was no empathy there.  The only thing he got out of the situation was probably ‘turned on’.  Just writing this makes me sick to my stomach still.  Thirty years after this conversation with him, and another 40 years after the incident actually happened.  While trying to talk to him, I was ‘admitting’ to something that I had no words for yet.  I did not really know what I had done wrong, I just knew that something had happened, and it made me feel really, really horrible.  I know NOW that I was molested by a slightly older girl. The fact that I was 10 years old and had the thought to say no, and then to give in, I think that is what made me feel like I was the one to blame.  I was a passive child who never thought to tell her parents about what happened. Truth be told, I probably figured I’d get a really good spanking. But, I do not remember thinking it through in anyway.  I don’t know if I did or not.  At some point or points, I took 100% blame for it even though I was younger, and not even the aggressor. I still have not begun to even realize all the damage this did to my childhood, or to me as a young & middle aged adult.  When the person came to visit me in Ohio, I still was feeling horrible about it.  I admitted to my then mother in law what had happened.  She really reacted poorly.  She said that whole situation was SICK, SICK, SICK.  Between the reactions from mother and son, I went back underground with it.  It was obviously nothing that was safe to talk to anyone about ever.  I did not try to talk about to anyone again until after my child was ‘molested’.  It was still nothing that anyone wanted to hear.  So, I have kept mostly all thoughts to myself in regards to this situation.  So it takes me such a long time to realize things like, I’ve struggled my whole life with my sexuality.  As I learned a new word it became a new struggle.  Am I lesbian? Am I bi?  Was I in anyway in the wrong? Why is it so hard for people to talk about?  Of course, I realize now (at 55) the crux of my problem with Scott.  He had no empathy.  Of course, I felt so safe in the home I grew up in that I could not face my parents.  That part is easy to see now that I look back.

probably not done with this homework yet….

ACEs Study — Old News is New to Me!

January 4, 2017

Reading a book about the ACEs study from the late 90’s. I’m sure it made headlines. I guess I was too busy to notice. I’ve read the first two chapters. I am sure that I am, along with many others, living proof of the damage that ‘Adverse Childhood Experiences’ can affect an adult’s life. Took the ACEs test, and got a score of 6. Recognized the test as one my newest therapist gave me two weeks ago. I wonder now if she gave me the same score as I gave myself. I can tell you, it won’t be any lower on her scale. Amazing what science knows these days about how life experiences can affect your health. If I were not so tired, I’d read two more chapters tonight!

January 5, 2017

Read more in that book about the ACEs study today. Took the test with Clyde…he got a 7. 0 is considered ‘normal’. My two older girls got a 4 and my boy is a 7, and my youngest is at least a 2 or 3. Of course, my taking the test for the kids, gives me a ballpark idea..which I already had, and it depended on me being 100% honest about choices I’ve made in the past….where I put myself and my kids. Not necessarily in the best places. Like most parents I did the best I could at the time, and can look back and just want to kick my own self in the butt. But, had the thought while reading through this stuff on how one or two people in a child’s life can make so much difference in how the children are affected. I just knew I was adopted, and yet I look so much like my father, that he could have never disowned me if he wanted to. That was how disconnected I felt as a child from my parents. The place that I felt 100% wanted and loved was when I was with my grandparents (Earl & Lorine Coop). In my mind, they saved my life. Clyde has special people in his life that he feels the same way about. My kids will probably have some special attachments like that, though I am sad to say none of them had grandparents that they could count on. That is the saddest part of their lives for me. That they did not know the love of a grandparent. There are millions of such people out there. Clyde’s special people was a boy scout leader, and a parent of a friend. Good people make so much difference in a child’s life. If ever you wonder what is the point– then remember that is one of the points. Anyone can be good to a child, and that good can make all the difference. It takes only a smile, a hug, a kind word, empathy, understanding.

More Thoughts about Trump as a President, Man, Molester & Thief.

One thing that came to me today. The argument that there have been Presidents that were as ‘not perfect’ as Trump is not perfect today. Really, I get to rob a bank and get a get out of jail card for free because there was a bank robber there before me?? Or maybe the people on the other side of the isle see me, and then I’m caught, and I’m in trouble anyhow?

You know, so much of this has to do with consciousness. I was in my late 20s and early 30’s when Clinton was in office. I had two kids-one of them had behavior issues. I was going through a nasty divorce with custody issues. I had just put my step-father in jail for hurting my oldest child. I was just learning about domestic violence in all of its forms. I was going to college and pulling in good grades. My ex was not helping with child support unless the state pulled him into court and threatened him. I was a single mom for 10 years, raising 2-4 kids (depending on the time frame.) Clinton passed welfare to work, and I didn’t get to finish the higher degree I wanted which bounced between Psychology, CIS (computers), or a mix of the two. I worked two to three part time jobs at a time to keep the bills paid.

I also started my own business of working on computers to make a living I’ll tell you it was all I could do to keep my head above water. I knew about Lewinski, and I thought Clinton was a piss pour choice for President. I was happy he was impeached, and I thought HIllary should have left him. But that was not my call. What I felt at the time was appropriate I think. So, Bill Clinton was not perfect. And that means we should let Trump off the hooK?? I’m sorry that that is really poor logic and YOU need to take a critical thinking class (YES! I’ve taken one, necessary for the degree I do have.)

We have something called a social conscious. This is something that we Americans have all together…or something the whole world has together. I think the idea came about thanks to Jung. But, don’t quote me on that. Either way, the idea is that an idea has come into the minds of everyone, and everyone kind of acts on it together. What I am trying to say is that we as a society, no matter how we rationalize Mr. Trumps behavior… if we look away, turn our backs, or say there were other bad Presidents too (as if that made any of it ok!) … His BAD behavior is still bad behavior, and he’ll make a poor President because of it, and no matter what you say or do, you all know that I am right! You all choose to look the other way. And I hate to say it, but I know some who profess a love of God. That just kills me. Because often they preach good behavior for the good of society, their home, school. They then feel they have the right to judge the rest of us for all the things we have done wrong, and then they vote for Trump and make excuses for him. You simply can’t have it both ways. Life doesn’t work that way.

You can call my ideas sick. You can call me a liar. You can tell me that I am overreacting. But the truth is, you know that I’m not any of those things. All I am is a person who sees a truth, and I am pointing out to you, your hypocrisy I’m pointing out to you that you sold us down the river. That our country will not be better off by having a perpetrator for President, and a porn star for the first lady. Anyone who believes they will be good for us really needs to look deep inside themselves and question their motives, and their ethics. Because not okay, means NOT OKAY, no matter how you twist the truth!.

From Wikipedia in Regards to Trumps’ groping women below the belt: “Grabbing a woman’s vulva without consent is considered sexual assault in most jurisdictions in the United States. Many attorneys and media commentators characterized Trump’s statements as describing acts of sexual assault. Lisa Bloom, a sexual harassment expert and civil rights lawyer, stated: “Let’s be very clear, he is talking about sexual assault. He is talking about grabbing a woman’s genitals without her consent.” Trump and some of his supporters claimed that Trump was not saying he committed a sexual assault, or denied that groping is sexual assault. Journalist Emily Crockett says that this is further evidence of a trend to minimize sexual assaults against women.”

And this ok with who??? Obviously I agree with Ms. Crockett. How could so many
rationalize Mr. (ahem, no gentlemanly respect intended) Trump grabbing of
a woman below the belt let alone vote him in for President.  Our society
has a sickness, and it’s healing must begin NOW!

No Melania Trump, I will NOT accept Mr. Trump’s apology.
There is NO need for me to accept the word of any person
who is a perpetrator of sexual assault!

When a woman is grabbed between the legs this is the message they receive:

I am not honored
I am given no respect
I do not matter,
my needs are derelict

There is no comfort
Everybody could see
He really didn’t give a damn
of how painful it could be.

I am not a person
I have no need for warmth
Not even human
Else he’d left me alone-

I was no better than a something
To be used over and over again,
He called me his, “Empty headed plaything.”
All that time I thought I was loved.

I was not honored
I was given no respect
How many showers later
Did it take to drive away the dirt?

It didn’t matter
All the times I asked him to stop
Once was more than enough

How many tears will it take
before you know that it was wrong.

The major conclusion-
I was not loved.
He used and abused me
And threatened more of the above.

I was not a person-
He told me I could not think
I was incapable of choosing
All that was right for me.

I was not honored
I was given no respect
I did not matter,
my needs were derelict.

©11/14/2016 Peggy Ann Rowe, All Rights Reserved.

The Nightmare: “When Trump Stole the Election”

  • I’m in a group for Women w/ PTSD. Our assignment (aka commitment) this week was to say something about a gift that our trauma caused us to have.  This past week has been mostly about waking up from a nightmare called, “The nightmare: The Day Trump Stole the Election.”   Maybe it’s an unending movie, think, “Groundhog Day.”

    I’ve been ranting, and raving… writing half hearted poetry, unending essays,
    integrating the trauma that caused the trigger (I hate that word) that Trump
    managed to set off.  I’ve been posting like some posting robosomething to this
    blog and my Facebook page…  Down with Trump, who by chance will NEVER,
    EVER be my President.

    For my homework the 1/2 done poem:

    To those of you who say I am sick, I say…

    I am sweet, I am honest,
    I am up front
    and in your face.
    I can be brutal,
    I am brave.
    I have courage,
    to talk about things
    you consider stupid.

    What you see as sickness in me,
    I see as a social malady
    After all consider this,
    It is America
    that created me (1962-??)

    All you see
    in the reflection of me
    is YOUR truth
    & you’d rather deny that be.

    I am strong,
    I shine brightly,
    I do not choose my battles lightly.

    I would not count myself
    As holier than thou
    I challenge your thought,
    Do you think of circumstance
    that cannot be bought?

    I’d like to think
    that you are closer
    to feeling the tear
    that fell down your cheek.

    I will scream
    I will shout
    I will do what it takes
    to get the message out.

    That people need to think again,
    If they think “The Don” is going to win.
    I have grit
    I’m willing to fight
    Any man willing to grope
    and grin.

    It’s not funny
    Please do not laugh
    I’ve got gifts a plenty
    they’ve helped me down my path.

     

    Gifts my abuse gave to me

    • Strength
    • A particularly big mouth
    • The gift of the poet?
    • A love of reading & writing
    • A lot of empathy
      Imagination
      Sometimes, Patience

    11/09/2016 © Peggy  Ann Rowe, All Rights Reserved

You are special to me

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Graphic, “I AM…” ©2016, Peggy Ann Rowe, All Rights Reserved.
DO NOT Copy without the author’s written permission. 
Thank you very much for the respect. Peg