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Lily Rose
Last Activity:
Feb 17, 2019
Joined:
Nov 11, 2013
Messages:
451
Likes Received:
711
Trophy Points:
101
Gender:
Female
Location:
Southwestern Oregon

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Lily Rose

Beloved Grand Eagle, Female, from Southwestern Oregon

Lily Rose was last seen:
Feb 17, 2019
  • My Story

    I do not know why I have avoided posting 'my story' here .... Perhaps it was enough to know I had posted "Broken Child" (2013 posting) which covered the basics. So I am now going to copy that post here, with some additional information at the end.
    ~~~
    I have been in actual physical pain since I was 12 years old. I will never forget the shift inside me, the beginning of the true fall into darkness. Prior to that moment, I had already curled into myself.

    At age 3, there was a gun battle in our home involving a death. My mom had shoved me under the bed, and my baby brother remained in his bassinet.

    Somewhere in here is a memory of taking a nap under the care of a grandmother-figure, and being awoken to attack by a belt across my face and upper body … she believed I was ‘pretending’ to be asleep.

    At age 5, we moved, leaving behind my biological father and embracing my heart-soul-real Dad (my brother and I adored him and continue to do so). Lived briefly with very-scary maternal grandmother.

    At age 8, a step-uncle had used me and my cousin for his pleasures.

    At age 11, my brother was kidnapped by my biological father and I began 6th grade in a new school without him. Three months later he returned. My beloved Dad went through life-threatening surgery.

    At age 12, divorce proceedings and my beloved Dad ended his life.

    My mother had a new boyfriend who had an 18 year old son .. he liked 12 year olds. Three quarters through 7th grade, we moved deep into the country where my brother and I were left alone with the gross boyfriend, his son and son’s friend. My mom worked 14 hour days trying to keep us afloat. The man slaughtered the show bunnies my brother and I were raising and served them up for dinner. He caused our family dog to be executed. He gave me a young horse to train, then one day that horse was gone. My mom one quiet evening asked if I was doing drugs because I was so withdrawn. The hurt of that question seared. Sleep was my only escape. I slept often. Until the morning she asked me why I hadn’t woken up when she was screaming for help. Bruising around her neck showed what the man had done.

    That was the day I fractured … I have never again slept fully, or unaided.

    A few weeks after (I had turned 13), my mom came home and said pack whatever we could fit in the car, everything else was left behind. She put us back in the care of her sister for about 4 months (my girl-cousins had responded to the prior sexual abuse by turning to drugs and sexual activity, so their company was alarming and stressful to me), then came for us and took us to a new home, where she introduced us to our future step-dad.

    At age 14, my little brother had his skull crushed in by a kick from a horse. His life was saved by brilliant surgery. At the same time my biological father began an assault for visitation rights. And our step-father revealed his true nature of alcoholism-gone-violent.

    At age 15, we moved (continual court battles w/biological father).
    At age 16, we moved (continual court battles w/biological father).

    (total moves: 3 elementary schools, 4 junior highs, 3 high schools)

    At age 17, graduating early, with honors, the battle with biological father continued. My brother had been sent away to a private school to ‘save his life’ from step-father (physically abusive), leaving me alone with this monster. The step-father engaged in a year-plus campaign to convince me that I should end my life, that it would relieve my mother of the burden of caring for me, and if I really loved her, I would do it, but obviously I was too much of a coward, etc etc etc. I developed an eating disorder (bulimia), which started as a way to purge what he made me eat. I didn’t like meat, but his rages were so violent if I didn’t participate in meals, I had to eat what he said. Later I purged it from my body. I ate more, privately, and gained weight to discourage his other attentions.

    Then the legal assault .. my biological father was gaining ground, and was going to win visitation rights, and cause my brother to lose his place in his out-of-state school. My fears of my father gaining any rights to my brother had never left (the kidnapping). I blurted out that I would go with him if he left my brother alone (he was fighting back but was too young to be deemed able to make his own decision. The offer was accepted, and my brother was safe.

    Since I had graduated early with honors, I was primed to start college, which I did in the care of my biological father and his wife. I was in a constant state of terror.

    Nine and a half weeks later, my mom, accompanied by the police, got me safely out of the house. My memories shut down, and the state-appointed counselor who had advocated for family reconciliation, closed the case with the final recommendation that the ‘children have no further contact with biological father’. He also stated that I would likely never get my memoires back, and that it was probably for the best. Meanwhile, they discovered I had been drugged, and that was the cause of my crippling illnesses (fainting-throwing up-migraines, severe depression, stomach pains, body pains). Chronic nightmares began and didn’t leave for nearly 15 years. Only a few memories have returned of that time.

    My stepfather was very, slyly happy to have my return.

    The next blow took place within a few weeks .. a rape by a wealthy 21 year old who lived down the street (I found out later he had done the same with the girl next door).

    I finally crossed into my 18th year. This was life. Pain was constant. Sleep deprivation was normal. Later came prescription meds and alcohol. And drugs to keep me awake as long as I could go (I hated sleep).

    The following 21 years included a hysterectomy due to severe endometriosis , a joint replacement in my foot due to a rare syndrome (the joint died from lack of oxygen), endless chiropractors (all saying I would never live a normal life), labels of major depressive disorder, mild-moderate OCD, social anxiety disorder, seasonal affective disorder (holidays are the most terrifying memories).

    This brings me to age 39, where my internal life shifted. I had always believed I would not live much past 40.

    Living in Alaska with my extremely tolerant and loving husband, I took stock. A yoga teacher came to the small town, and I signed up. At this time, I was borderline agoraphobic. Entering the small class, I was overweight, and afraid. Wearing my husbands old flannel jammie bottoms and a baggy shirt, I began.

    Three months later, I was teaching. Six months following that, my apprenticeship ended with certification (she only took three students), and I had lost twenty pounds.

    Now I am 49, and I’ve lost a total of 60 pounds. Two and a half years ago, I was finally diagnosed with Fibromyalgia. Raynauds and GERDS are companions to that label. The diagnosis was a relief, but it was also crushing. I was told it could not be cured and that I would always need meds to cope with it. In truth, the meds (gabapentin and two vicodin/perday) have significantly improved my ability to sleep.

    Yoga helps tremendously, and it flung open the door on my self worth. I believe completely that I have value to the world. It eases the pain for long periods of time. It just didn’t stop it from coming back.

    The meds don’t stop it, either, but it makes it very much more tolerable, and the sleep …. OH the blissful feeling of real sleep.

    Still .. I just couldn’t accept that this was it .. a life of prescription meds, dependent forever. Really?

    Now I learn of TMS. Of MBS. Mind body … of course. It fits right in with my beliefs. And the personality types … I am a mix of them. Again, a fit.

    All the mentioned traumas .. what I remember is mostly those pieces. The bulk of my memories are dimmed or gone (in hiding?). Sometimes, on especially good days, a soft memory sometimes drifts in.

    TMS .. oh yes. I have not read any books yet, only followed the forum. Just this alone has made a difference. My sleep has improved (lengthened). The usual 6 hours has drifted into 7 hours. It has affected my thoughts. Strengthened the positive.

    Most of all … the very-very-mostest-of-all … it has given me hope.
    ~~~
    2017 -
    I am alcohol and pharmaceutical free, and I have lost another ten pounds (this is now my perfect weight). The pain is significantly reduced with occasional flair ups that are patiently managed. My largest battle this last year has been clinical depression (which I've had since I was 12) and anxiety. The anxiety has been dramatically reduced with CBD oil that I make myself. This has allowed me the energy to manage the depression.

    History: Since the original writing, I have learned new details regarding my biological Father which place a new spin on my childhood perception. He was not completely in the wrong, and his kidnapping of my brother actually stemmed from a belief that my brother was in danger.

    During the time period I lived with them, I was drugged, but there is compelling evidence that it was my adopted sister ... the one I had gotten very close to. It is also likely that my memory loss stems from a complete breakdown from all the accumulation of stress of all the prior years.

    It is a good reminder to know that there is more than one side to a situation. We don't always know the whole story, and when a child is only told one side ....

    I know my Mom did the best she could, but I do feel grief that my Father was deprived of knowing his children, and that he was blamed for many things that simply were not accurate. I did have just over 10 years of a relationship with him before he died. For that, I am grateful.

    Life begins .... today. And each day, we have choices to make.

    I choose .... Magic!
    ... and Love <3

    .... always with Love and Gratitude ^_^
    1. plum
      plum
      Another Beautiful Beloved Grand Eagle joins the fold. I'm delighted. x
      1. Ellen, Forest and Lily Rose like this.
      2. Lily Rose
        Lily Rose
        I so very much love you <3
        Aug 25, 2017
        Forest and plum like this.
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  • My Story

    Gender:
    Female
    Location:
    Southwestern Oregon
    I do not know why I have avoided posting 'my story' here .... Perhaps it was enough to know I had posted "Broken Child" (2013 posting) which covered the basics. So I am now going to copy that post here, with some additional information at the end.
    ~~~
    I have been in actual physical pain since I was 12 years old. I will never forget the shift inside me, the beginning of the true fall into darkness. Prior to that moment, I had already curled into myself.

    At age 3, there was a gun battle in our home involving a death. My mom had shoved me under the bed, and my baby brother remained in his bassinet.

    Somewhere in here is a memory of taking a nap under the care of a grandmother-figure, and being awoken to attack by a belt across my face and upper body … she believed I was ‘pretending’ to be asleep.

    At age 5, we moved, leaving behind my biological father and embracing my heart-soul-real Dad (my brother and I adored him and continue to do so). Lived briefly with very-scary maternal grandmother.

    At age 8, a step-uncle had used me and my cousin for his pleasures.

    At age 11, my brother was kidnapped by my biological father and I began 6th grade in a new school without him. Three months later he returned. My beloved Dad went through life-threatening surgery.

    At age 12, divorce proceedings and my beloved Dad ended his life.

    My mother had a new boyfriend who had an 18 year old son .. he liked 12 year olds. Three quarters through 7th grade, we moved deep into the country where my brother and I were left alone with the gross boyfriend, his son and son’s friend. My mom worked 14 hour days trying to keep us afloat. The man slaughtered the show bunnies my brother and I were raising and served them up for dinner. He caused our family dog to be executed. He gave me a young horse to train, then one day that horse was gone. My mom one quiet evening asked if I was doing drugs because I was so withdrawn. The hurt of that question seared. Sleep was my only escape. I slept often. Until the morning she asked me why I hadn’t woken up when she was screaming for help. Bruising around her neck showed what the man had done.

    That was the day I fractured … I have never again slept fully, or unaided.

    A few weeks after (I had turned 13), my mom came home and said pack whatever we could fit in the car, everything else was left behind. She put us back in the care of her sister for about 4 months (my girl-cousins had responded to the prior sexual abuse by turning to drugs and sexual activity, so their company was alarming and stressful to me), then came for us and took us to a new home, where she introduced us to our future step-dad.

    At age 14, my little brother had his skull crushed in by a kick from a horse. His life was saved by brilliant surgery. At the same time my biological father began an assault for visitation rights. And our step-father revealed his true nature of alcoholism-gone-violent.

    At age 15, we moved (continual court battles w/biological father).
    At age 16, we moved (continual court battles w/biological father).

    (total moves: 3 elementary schools, 4 junior highs, 3 high schools)

    At age 17, graduating early, with honors, the battle with biological father continued. My brother had been sent away to a private school to ‘save his life’ from step-father (physically abusive), leaving me alone with this monster. The step-father engaged in a year-plus campaign to convince me that I should end my life, that it would relieve my mother of the burden of caring for me, and if I really loved her, I would do it, but obviously I was too much of a coward, etc etc etc. I developed an eating disorder (bulimia), which started as a way to purge what he made me eat. I didn’t like meat, but his rages were so violent if I didn’t participate in meals, I had to eat what he said. Later I purged it from my body. I ate more, privately, and gained weight to discourage his other attentions.

    Then the legal assault .. my biological father was gaining ground, and was going to win visitation rights, and cause my brother to lose his place in his out-of-state school. My fears of my father gaining any rights to my brother had never left (the kidnapping). I blurted out that I would go with him if he left my brother alone (he was fighting back but was too young to be deemed able to make his own decision. The offer was accepted, and my brother was safe.

    Since I had graduated early with honors, I was primed to start college, which I did in the care of my biological father and his wife. I was in a constant state of terror.

    Nine and a half weeks later, my mom, accompanied by the police, got me safely out of the house. My memories shut down, and the state-appointed counselor who had advocated for family reconciliation, closed the case with the final recommendation that the ‘children have no further contact with biological father’. He also stated that I would likely never get my memoires back, and that it was probably for the best. Meanwhile, they discovered I had been drugged, and that was the cause of my crippling illnesses (fainting-throwing up-migraines, severe depression, stomach pains, body pains). Chronic nightmares began and didn’t leave for nearly 15 years. Only a few memories have returned of that time.

    My stepfather was very, slyly happy to have my return.

    The next blow took place within a few weeks .. a rape by a wealthy 21 year old who lived down the street (I found out later he had done the same with the girl next door).

    I finally crossed into my 18th year. This was life. Pain was constant. Sleep deprivation was normal. Later came prescription meds and alcohol. And drugs to keep me awake as long as I could go (I hated sleep).

    The following 21 years included a hysterectomy due to severe endometriosis , a joint replacement in my foot due to a rare syndrome (the joint died from lack of oxygen), endless chiropractors (all saying I would never live a normal life), labels of major depressive disorder, mild-moderate OCD, social anxiety disorder, seasonal affective disorder (holidays are the most terrifying memories).

    This brings me to age 39, where my internal life shifted. I had always believed I would not live much past 40.

    Living in Alaska with my extremely tolerant and loving husband, I took stock. A yoga teacher came to the small town, and I signed up. At this time, I was borderline agoraphobic. Entering the small class, I was overweight, and afraid. Wearing my husbands old flannel jammie bottoms and a baggy shirt, I began.

    Three months later, I was teaching. Six months following that, my apprenticeship ended with certification (she only took three students), and I had lost twenty pounds.

    Now I am 49, and I’ve lost a total of 60 pounds. Two and a half years ago, I was finally diagnosed with Fibromyalgia. Raynauds and GERDS are companions to that label. The diagnosis was a relief, but it was also crushing. I was told it could not be cured and that I would always need meds to cope with it. In truth, the meds (gabapentin and two vicodin/perday) have significantly improved my ability to sleep.

    Yoga helps tremendously, and it flung open the door on my self worth. I believe completely that I have value to the world. It eases the pain for long periods of time. It just didn’t stop it from coming back.

    The meds don’t stop it, either, but it makes it very much more tolerable, and the sleep …. OH the blissful feeling of real sleep.

    Still .. I just couldn’t accept that this was it .. a life of prescription meds, dependent forever. Really?

    Now I learn of TMS. Of MBS. Mind body … of course. It fits right in with my beliefs. And the personality types … I am a mix of them. Again, a fit.

    All the mentioned traumas .. what I remember is mostly those pieces. The bulk of my memories are dimmed or gone (in hiding?). Sometimes, on especially good days, a soft memory sometimes drifts in.

    TMS .. oh yes. I have not read any books yet, only followed the forum. Just this alone has made a difference. My sleep has improved (lengthened). The usual 6 hours has drifted into 7 hours. It has affected my thoughts. Strengthened the positive.

    Most of all … the very-very-mostest-of-all … it has given me hope.
    ~~~
    2017 -
    I am alcohol and pharmaceutical free, and I have lost another ten pounds (this is now my perfect weight). The pain is significantly reduced with occasional flair ups that are patiently managed. My largest battle this last year has been clinical depression (which I've had since I was 12) and anxiety. The anxiety has been dramatically reduced with CBD oil that I make myself. This has allowed me the energy to manage the depression.

    History: Since the original writing, I have learned new details regarding my biological Father which place a new spin on my childhood perception. He was not completely in the wrong, and his kidnapping of my brother actually stemmed from a belief that my brother was in danger.

    During the time period I lived with them, I was drugged, but there is compelling evidence that it was my adopted sister ... the one I had gotten very close to. It is also likely that my memory loss stems from a complete breakdown from all the accumulation of stress of all the prior years.

    It is a good reminder to know that there is more than one side to a situation. We don't always know the whole story, and when a child is only told one side ....

    I know my Mom did the best she could, but I do feel grief that my Father was deprived of knowing his children, and that he was blamed for many things that simply were not accurate. I did have just over 10 years of a relationship with him before he died. For that, I am grateful.

    Life begins .... today. And each day, we have choices to make.

    I choose .... Magic!
    ... and Love <3

    .... always with Love and Gratitude ^_^

    Signature

    How could anyone ever tell you that you were anything less than beautiful?
    How could anyone ever tell you that you were anything less than whole?
    How could anyone fail to notice that your loving is a miracle,
    how deeply you're connected to my soul ...
    ... Libby Roderick