My Name is Marsha Faye. I have a wonderful little family that is all mine. I have a husband and a daughter. They are a source of boundless happiness and healing. These are the happiest years of my 40 year existence on this planet. I was broken without understanding exactly all the why until John and Natalie made me decide that knowing WHY was not something that defined me anymore. Two people made about three quarters of my my life actually be just part of me. To them I am amazing and in simple words, the WHY of amazing is because I am Marsha Faye and I love them.
Gradually setting down baggage hasn't been something I set out to do. Those bags were my shields, my badges of courage, and the only things I could convince myself getting through gave me experience to protect myself and my little family from EVER knowing desolation. But being loved by them has left a path of strewn baggage in my wake.
I sit here looking ahead and in the wee hours of the morning I realize how desperately I want that baggage right now. I feel so exposed and unable to move.
My baby girl is going with me to check out a new school tomorrow because she was bullied and the weapons used to terrorize her were provided by adults. How can I defeat this foe I want to just obliterate? I can't.
I must accept this silence. I silently have reviewed the wreckage I don't know how long I can do it. Everything in my little family was shook in revelation. How dare they do this?
They didn't dare. Actually they didn't care enough to shut up.
And to me, It's like them saying Natalie isn't a person.
Well OK. You insensitive unprofessional narrow minded weasels, she's not. She's a little soul. She's a symphony of emotional delight and depth of character. AND SHE'S MINE. I am sleepless and hurt but intent on finding a sensible way to SCREAM every single thing two inches from your faces or with my hand on a Bible. Not for mere vengence, but to keep another little soul from feeling what my Natalie has poured out. Mostly, from my center, I want my daughter to know how completely I believe her. I can't take the pain of what happened away, but I want her to see that I want justice for her and for my daughter to know that I will always be her champion. I have raised her to believe that everyone is accountable, and right now part of the hurt is the fact those adults THINK that everything they did was acceptable and with good intentions. From 5 in the morning I understand how ludicrous my anger would be to them. You see, they are broken people that have jobs. It's cut and dried. They are done. OH NO they are not. They will speak and be accountable, in front of her. Just leaving is not the right example. It imparts we are retreating. I want my daughter to feel empowered and know the choice to leave was a DELIBERATE one.
John. I worry for him. He wants this to be over and I know. Oh my husband, I love you. Its alright.
But for now, I must be silent. I must wait and talk to my girl again. I must be crypic in my blog... that's really my journal, because its not your business. Its my pain. It's her pain. And I must release the pressure somehow without judgement on anything other than my inalienable RIGHT to my emotions, opionion and dogged defense of my little family.
Gradually setting down baggage hasn't been something I set out to do. Those bags were my shields, my badges of courage, and the only things I could convince myself getting through gave me experience to protect myself and my little family from EVER knowing desolation. But being loved by them has left a path of strewn baggage in my wake.
I sit here looking ahead and in the wee hours of the morning I realize how desperately I want that baggage right now. I feel so exposed and unable to move.
My baby girl is going with me to check out a new school tomorrow because she was bullied and the weapons used to terrorize her were provided by adults. How can I defeat this foe I want to just obliterate? I can't.
I must accept this silence. I silently have reviewed the wreckage I don't know how long I can do it. Everything in my little family was shook in revelation. How dare they do this?
They didn't dare. Actually they didn't care enough to shut up.
And to me, It's like them saying Natalie isn't a person.
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| Nattie in her Church Dress |
John. I worry for him. He wants this to be over and I know. Oh my husband, I love you. Its alright.
But for now, I must be silent. I must wait and talk to my girl again. I must be crypic in my blog... that's really my journal, because its not your business. Its my pain. It's her pain. And I must release the pressure somehow without judgement on anything other than my inalienable RIGHT to my emotions, opionion and dogged defense of my little family.
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