Warning: Sensitive Language Post

He liked to call me names. I think it made him feel like a big man. His favorites were: bitch, whore, "f*ck up", idiot, fat, stupid, worthless, and a whole slew of other names to fill up this page. The worst one, the one that cut the most, was "f*cking cu*t". I even told him that he could call me anything else, but just don't call me that one. He did really good for a while with the name calling thing. But right before Rosie was born, and then after, he sort of lost it again. Things kind of closed up shop inside of me right before Rosie was born because of that. Then it happened. We were out running some errands one weekend, got into an argument about how I had misplaced a bill, and it ended with him punching me in the face. I just remember seeing stars for a minute or two. I thought the guy had broken my nose. (I grew up with 3 brothers, and I've played sports my whole life. I've been hit in the face a million times by everything from softballs to basketballs, but this was one of the hardest.) The whole way home he just kept telling me how it was all my fault, how I had ruined his day, and he was just going to run errands without me. Everything seemed so surreal for about 24 hours after that. I just remember walking inside to my bedroom, shutting the door, and laying down on my bed to absolutely weep into my pillow. I just thought there was no way that this could be happening. I was so confused, and felt like the whole world was falling down on me. I just knew that this little girl inside my belly was never going to have to see her mother get hit or shoved, nor was she going to hear a her mother be called some disgusting, disrespectful name. It was going just going to stop.

This poem is to you Dan...STILL I RISE.

Still I Rise: By Maya Angelou
You may write me down in history

With your bitter, twisted lies,

You may trod me in the very dirt

But still, like dust, I'll rise.
Does my sassiness upset you?

Why are you beset with gloom?

'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells

Pumping in my living room.
Just like moons and like suns,

With the certainty of tides,

Just like hopes springing high,

Still I'll rise.
Did you want to see me broken?

Bowed head and lowered eyes?

Shoulders falling down like teardrops.

Weakened by my soulful cries.
Does my haughtiness offend you?

Don't you take it awful hard

'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines

Diggin' in my own back yard.
You may shoot me with your words,

You may cut me with your eyes,

You may kill me with your hatefulness,

But still, like air, I'll rise.
Does my sexiness upset you?

Does it come as a surprise

That I dance like I've got diamonds

At the meeting of my thighs?
Out of the huts of history's shame

I rise

Up from a past that's rooted in pain

I rise

I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,

Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.

Leaving behind nights of terror and fear

I rise

Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear

I rise

Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,

I am the dream and the hope of the slave.

I rise

I rise

I rise.