divorce

“The One Word I Despise: Victim”

/ Anne Dennish / 2 Comments

I don’t get angry very often and I try not to get upset at someone who says hurtful things to me, but I will tell you this, there is but ONE WORD that will make my blood boil and fill me with an anger that makes my head spin: VICTIM! Aside from those emotions, it hurts my heart, because I’m not that.

And recently someone decided to publicly call me that. The comments were nasty, untrue, and bordering on “threatening.” And they called me a “victim.”

There’s not many people who have called me that, in fact, I know of only two and those two people live unhappy lives and take their negative feelings about themselves and turn them on me. And the moment those two people called me that I wished them love and light and sent them on their way. The friendship had served its’ time and was done, because if you think that’s what I am then you have no place in my life. I will not surround myself with anyone that believes that of me.

I am not a victim, I am a survivor and proud of that.

I am a survivor of divorce, domestic violence, emotional abuse and breast cancer. I never once saw myself as a victim of any of these things because, while I never wanted to have any of it happen, I accepted them as life lessons. Those things happened to me so that I could learn from them, survive them, and use my voice through my writing to help other’s going through those situations.

Me? A victim?

Not by a long shot.

But there are those that play the victim themselves. They are martyrs and portray themselves as good people, when in reality, they are quick to judge and despise anyone who has something they want. They are jealous and insecure, and in reality, they are the ones who choose to be a victim.

And trust me, I’m not one of them.

I don’t have a perfect life, but it’s perfect for me. I have a wonderful man in my life and have five beautiful children, all of whom I’m very proud of. I am able to pursue my passion of writing every day of my life. I’m surrounded by some amazing friends who always have my back and see me as a survivor. My “bubble” is filled with the people that support me and more importantly, love me.

And none of them believe me to be a victim because they know I’m not.

I write about my past experiences in a positive light, hoping to let others know that they’re not alone, that there’s always hope, and there’s always a way to get through it.

I know that there are people who will judge me, but if you’re going to do that, make sure that you know me. Don’t see me through eyes of hatred and jealousy, see me through the eyes of “truth.”

“Survivor” is one of my favorite words. It means you had enough faith in yourself and your Higher Power to get through the tough times. Life hasn’t always been easy for me, yet I choose to be grateful for every day I wake up, for every experience, good or bad, that life hands me because in the end everything is a lesson to learn so that we can live the best life possible.

And once again I’ll say this: “If you can’t be kind, be quiet.”

Wishing you love and light,

~Anne Dennish~

 

“Breaking Apart”

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break apart 2We’ve all broken apart at one time or another in our lives. We may have endured a broken heart, loss of a job, loss of a loved one, or the brokenness of a good friend showing their true colors. Whatever the reason, it’s caused us to “break apart.”

I’ve had my heart broken, endured cancer, gone through divorce, and been hurt by people who I thought were my friends. I’ve been broken many times, yet through it all I learned that all these moments that “broke” me were all lessons I needed to learn. I learned to take the pain of each moment that broke me apart and make peace with it; I learned to be grateful for them because it taught me something about myself and my life that was for my Highest Good; I learned to see it as a blessing in disguise.

So what do you do when you break apart? How do you get through it all? You make a choice. You make a choice to put the pieces back together, and you put them back together stronger. It’s the lessons you learn through them that enable you to put them back differently; stronger, smarter and tougher.

This doesn’t mean that you’ll never “break apart” again, but what it does mean is that the next time you’re faced with a “breaking apart” moment, you’ll be able to handle it differently. You’ll handle it even better. And the time it takes to put the pieces back together get’s shorter and shorter…and that’s because you learned a lesson from each of those moments.

Life is all about perspective and if you can learn to embrace those “breaking apart” moments as a gift towards you having the life you deserve, then you will understand that those moments aren’t forever…just for the time it takes for you to understand the lesson.

Wishing you love and light,

~Anne Dennish~

 

“Getting Your Balls Back”

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I once put two brass balls in a plastic bag and gave them to my girlfriend. I told her that if I ever lost them again to give them back to me.

I was a different woman then than I am now when I went through my divorce. It was over 10 years ago and that woman I was seems so foreign to me now.

I remember that at that time I made many changes in my life; I had lost weight, been college booksworking out at the gym, and had gone back to college to take creative writing courses. I was invited by my professor, a published author as well, to join his writer’s workshop. It was the best time of my life, yet also the darkest time knowing that there was a divorce to go through.

Yet I was strong. All those things I was doing for “me” gave me the strength to endure a nasty divorce. I felt good about myself, I felt like my brain was functioning like a writer, not just a mom, and I was in great shape. I will always believe that my Higher Power had directed me to all those positive changes to make me stronger, because He knew what was just around the corner for me.working out

I thought at that time that my children would feel like their mother had “left the building” because I was doing a lot of things, good things, for me. Yet that wasn’t so. I remember them being so proud of me for all of it, and I realized that all the things I did for myself were making me a better “mom” to them. What a feeling and what a lesson to learn. Sometime we “mom’s” think that if we’re doing things for ourselves that our children will suffer. So not true. It made my relationship with my kids even stronger, and to hear them brag to their friends about their mom going back to school and writing a book was one of the best moments I ever experienced as their mother. My oldest son loved the fact that I was working out and used to joke with his friends that “they better watch out because my mom can beat you up!” So simple, yet so empowering.

And that’s when I realized and learned that doing good things for me isn’t selfish. It made me a stronger and better woman and mom, and all that good stuff spilled onto my kids.

Sadly, it didn’t spill onto my husband. He hated it all. I look back objectively now and see that he may have felt threatened that this woman he controlled for over 20 years suddenly had a mind and body all her own, and she did it without him. I actually did it because of him.

Everything happens for a reason and I look back at that time and truly believe that all those things I did for myself were put in my path to make me strong, because once the divorce process began, my world changed. And it was all that I did for myself that helped to get me through.

It was sad enough that the marriage had been abusive on all levels, yet the divorce was even worse. The details aren’t important but the outcome is: I’m a different woman now and living in a happy life with two of my five children and the love of my life.

Yet there were times I lost my strength during it. I was a single mom taking care of the mental and physical well being of five children; I was the woman dealing with lawyers and sitting through mediations, which were a waste of time. I was tired, lonely, and so wanting it to be over.

My serenity at that time was in the backyard of my girlfriend. I could shed my tears there, talk for as long as I needed, and could always count on her shoulder to cry on. I remember one day she looked at me and said “where’d your balls go? You’re such a strong woman but not now? You gotta find your balls again, girlfriend.”

And so I did. I put two of them in that bag and told her to give them back to me if I ever lost them again.

And I never did.

Well, to be honest, there are times I feel weak and ready to give up, but I always remember that bag of balls that she still has and that’s enough for me to get them back.

And I always do…

Wishing you love and light,

~Anne Dennish~

brass balls 1

“A Girl I Used To Know”

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This is the story of a girl I used to know. In fact, I’ve known her all of my life. I love her adulthood 1with all my heart and I want to share her story with you, because it’s important…and she’s important to me.

I  remember  her in the early years of her life…she was funny, smart, and focused on her goals in life. She longed for love and a family, yet she was one of those girls that wanted it all. She had a passion for life that it was almost unnerving, yet I always believed in her, because she believed in herself.

When she was in high school she had a hard time believing that anyone noticed her. She was quiet, and a bit reserved, but I loved her. She was a great friend, and was always there when I needed her, yet at the same time there was always a sadness that she seemed to keep hidden, but she couldn’t hide it from me.

We graduated high school and went our separate ways to college. She found her way out of her “high school shell” that first year, becoming editor of the literary magazine, trying out for the school play, and becoming a DJ on the college radio station, which she loved. I knew then she was meant for greatness.

But the second year of college found her home, working full time and going to community college. She still was positive about everything, and in time, transferred into another college by her third year. It was here that she met “the one.”

She told me all these wonderful things about him, and soon she announced her engagement. They married two years later and with that came the stories she would confide in only me: the infidelities, the nastiness, and the way he degraded her. Yet, in spite of her misgivings, she married him.

The marriage seemed to be over within the first few months, yet she believed that marriage was for a lifetime, for better or worse. I was beginning to hear more of the worse than the better.  After two years, she was pregnant with their first child, and for the first time in the last few years, I heard hope and joy in her voice. And I thought that maybe this was the key to fixing their problems and making him love her.

Time would prove that this wasn’t enough for him, and all her babies that followed would never be enough for him.

We lost touch for a few years and even when we did speak, it was as if she lost herself. She only spoke of her babies and how much she loved being a mom. That was her only source of happiness. I felt like I lost a part of myself when I spoke to her because the joy in her voice was only because of her kids, never of her. She sounded like a robot, programmed to speak and behave a certain way.

And I would soon find out why this was, because that is what abuse does to you. It programs you in to behaving a certain way to keep things calm and keep things hidden. But abuse can finds its’ way to your door, whether you leave it open or not.

I felt terrible when I realized what had been going on for years, and the tone of her voice coupled with her body language proved it all: she had died within herself. She became nothing. The only thing that brought her back to life and kept her breathing were her children.

abuse-1Why was I so blind? Why hadn’t I seen what now seemed so transparent?

It’s because she didn’t want me to; she didn’t want anyone to see, because if they saw, they would see how stupid she was for allowing it all,and she didn’t want that. So she made it all look perfect; for her neighbors, her family, her friends, even her children.

Yet it wasn’t perfect; it was killing her and no one saw that it was. No one could see her, so no one could save her, and for awhile, that’s how she wanted it.

And then she broke open like a river that had been dammed up for years; for over 30 years she had been told she was stupid and worthless, ugly and fat, that she sounded like an idiot when she spoke, and that she was not worth anyone’s time or trouble. And she believed it.

She told me that she didn’t mind the bruises and split lips, they would heal. And she knew the pain of those would go away.

Yet she told me of the scars of emotional and verbal abuse and I knew she would hold these a lifetime.

She said that it was her fault; that she knew what made him upset and shouldn’t have done those things; she blamed herself for every bruise and every split lip. She blamed herself for the hateful and hurtful words. And she blamed herself for being a stupid woman, because only stupid women allow themselves to be abused.

I tried to reason with her, but to no avail. But there was a glimmer of hope. One day she called me and said that she was going back to college for writing courses, and that she joined Weight Watchers to lose the last of the baby weight, and that she had joined a gym to work out. Over the course of a few months I began to see my old friend come back to life; she was becoming stronger, her body and her mind. Suddenly she was laughing again, and that funny girl I knew was back to being funny. The friend I missed for all these years was beginning to shine through, and all the damage he did seemed to be fading  away.

And so one day she told me she asked for a divorce. She knew it would be the hardest fight of her life, but this time she was ready. She wrapped her babies tight in her arms and had him leave. It took a handful of restraining orders, a dozen or more calls to the police, but she did it.

I was amazed at how she made her life look. She got up in the morning, worked out at the gym, and came home, cooked breakfast, made lunches and got all those kids off to school. During the day she did laundry, cleaning, cooking and baking for them. They sat down as a family every night. They took their showers, did their homework and went to bed.

And after the last child was kissed good night, she went outside on her deck…and let the tears flow. She cried for the loss of a marriage, cried for the loss of a family and cried for all that he had done to her. She cried for what was in front of her as a single mom, and for what was behind her as an abused woman.

But she never let her children see her cry.

I was proud of her because I know none of this was easy. I watched her fight her way up from below the bottom and rise to the top. I watched her get back her strength and self-esteem. I watched her learn to laugh again. And I began to see her learn to love herself again…but that took time. Slowly she tried, and with each day that passed, she began to love herself more.

Many years later I see my friend as this woman, who despite the odds, finds her strength and beats them. And to this day, I know she fights every morning she wakes up. She fights to make a difference in the world, a difference to her children, and fights to find something good in herself.

I know to this day she struggles with her self-esteem and finds it hard to take a complement.  She’s working on knowing that she’s worthy and lovable, yet it is something she works at day to day.

Most people don’t know of her struggles, and that she fights every day, but I do. I know that it was her struggles that gave her her strength and I wish everyone knew that about her.

She spent the last few years doing what she loves: writing. She’s been a journalist, an author and a lyricist, yet throughout it all she’s never lost sight of her children and trying to help everyone else. She spends her days trying to make a difference in this world, and I wish with all my heart that she knew that she makes a difference to everyone she meets.

Most that know her see all the goodness in her, yet they never see her pain. She hides it away, yet it’s there, although not nearly as much as it used to be.

She’s been in a relationship for the last two years and seems to finally have met someone who really loves her. Yet I wonder if he understands just what the abuse had done to her, that no matter how much he loves her, she still would struggle with her self-esteem. I wonder if he knows just how much a complement from him means to her, and the smallest of gestures makes her heart melt. I wonder if he knows how important he is in her journey of loving herself.

Time will tell, and as she tells me now: “the scars from abuse don’t dictate my life today, but they have made me who I am. I’m stronger because of it all, yet it will be a lifetime struggle of not letting those scars resurface. It can be a struggle every day to love myself and believe that I’m worthy and of value. No one can do that for me. I have to do it myself.”

I’m so glad this girl I used to know has come back to life, and come back with a passion. She’s never played a victim, and always seems to be a survivor. I’ve missed her for many years and hope that she will always stay as strong as she is now.

I pray every day for this girl I used to know…because that girl is me.

~Anne Dennish~

abuse

“About Those Mean People”

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“People who speak nasty and negatively to you only do so because they see in you what they can’t see in themselves and their need for what you have and wanting it is what makes them that way.” ~Anne Dennish~

I’m a cheerful and positive person who tries to share these emotions with those that I malibu nancimeet or speak with. I try to leave someone with a smile, a laugh, or a different perspective that may lighten their load in life.

That’s not to say I don’t have a bad day now and again; a day of frustration over my work, or the house that I just cleaned looking like I never touched it. Yet I will say this, I NEVER share that temporary bad day with someone else. No matter my mood, I will never ever speak nasty, hurtful or be just plain mean to anyone else.

Yet my cheery disposition to simply share happiness with someone else by checking in with a phone call can get shattered in a minute. And it happened to me tonight. Not once, but three times in a short amount of time, and by the people who I should consider the closest to me, yet choose to be the most distant.

My love tells me I’m too “sensitive,” yet he’ll never change that about me. It’s not that I’m too sensitive, it’s that I’m sensitive to negative and toxic people. Yes, they can make me cry and feel badly, but it’s not because they “got to me.” It’s because it hurts to know that people that close to me have that meanness in them. They know how to hurt me, and willingly do it when it serves them…and they do it because I let them. I allowed them to be mean and hurtful, and after they do that I’m more mad at myself for not speaking up and for letting them hurt me. These women know that I’ll never speak up to them, so they feel that they have free reign to speak to me the way they do. There’s no rhyme or reason why they do, it’s simply that they’re having a bad day and needed someone to take it out on…and that would be me.

I know, I write about not letting someone hurt you and that if they do, you allowed it. Yet I will tell you that it still happens. It doesn’t happen to the extreme it once did, yet it happens, but now I feel the punch in the emotional gut, shed a tear or two, let it go and move on.

It’s a sad thing when it’s  women who should be close to you, yet I’ve learned that “blood related” or not, I won’t allow those toxic people too close to me. It’s hard when it’s your family, yet I’ve learned, and learned painfully, to let them go. And tonight is no exception.

I’m not a doormat anymore, yet every so often they hand me a zinger that hurts, and it’s then that I have to remember to love myself, respect myself and move on, even if they can’t do that. There’s no respect towards you when someone can speak to you that way. It’s their problem, their bad day, their pity party, not yours.

So, tonight I slowly sip a glass of wine and wait for the full moon…and wait for this “punch in the stomach” feeling to lessen and fade away. Tonight I shed some tears at the reactions of  women who I simply called to “catch up with and say hello.” Tonight, like so many others with them, I let it go and remember that while I love them, I don’t need to “be” with them or allow them too deep into my world…a world I have created of love, happiness, joy and hope.

To these women: I love you with all my heart and my sadness comes from knowing that you can’t love yourselves and that you find the need to be so hurtful to someone who loves you so much simply because of your problems and your bad day.

And that’s the key: it’s “their” issues, “their” problems, not mine. The only thing that’s “mine” is my feelings over their hurtful behavior, and as I write this, I’ve dried the tears, took a breath, forgave them, and let it go…let “them” go yet again.

Life is short, my friends, and I feel sorry for those that speak such hurtful words to another, never realizing that those may be the last words someone hears.

“Guilt is the emotion one feels at knowing they didn’t do the right thing and refused to do the right thing to fix it.”

 I try to live each day happy, making a difference in someone else’s life, and that includes my family and my children, yet I know that that’s up to “me;” how someone else behaves is “up to them.”

I stay strong for my children and myself, and while my strength may take a hit now and again, it will always find its’ way back to the surface.

“My strength is their weakness; my weakness their strength.”

Never let the “mean people” see you sweat; never let them see you weak; never let them see you cry and know that they hurt you.

Let them see you strong, happy, and filled with the positive light that you were gifted.

Because in the end, that will be more hurtful to them than they are to you.

Wishing you love, light and strength,

~Anne Dennish~

hurtful

“Choices and Chances”

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There are those that think they don’t have a choice in life; that the life they’re living is because they “have to.” That’s simply not true because we all have a choice. We have a choice to move forward or stay stuck; we have a choice to say “yes” or say “no;” we have a choice to to be brave or be fearful. Life is filled with choices to make everyday, yet life doesn’t give you a choice; life gives you a chance to make the right choice! You can be whoever you want to be in life, and that’s not by chance, it’s by the incredible gift we’ve all been given: choice!

It’s our “choices” that give us our greatest “chances” in life!

Enjoy your gift of “choice” today… and every day thereafter!

Wishing you love and light,

~Anne Dennish~

choice post

 

 

“Catching a Dream!”

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It was a crazy day yesterday; one filled with cleaning, making Italian gravy, laundry and a million phone calls. Yet I knew what day it was from the moment I woke up: it was the day I was going to launch “Waking Up.” I knew it was published on February 25, 2016 and was making its’ way to Amazon and Barnes & Noble over the weekend, yet there were a few glitches that the publisher had to fix. I’ve been sitting on my hands from sharing this news, and only a few people knew at all, but yesterday was the day!

So, I created my life event and sent out my invites to my first book signing/launch/celebration party! The outpouring of “likes” and comments was overwhelming! I felt excitement and joy, but most of all, I felt blessed and grateful to have such an amazing support system! I have to pinch myself to believe that it’s all really happening; that a life I always wanted is here; that I found my niche; that I found my place.

“The reality is that I’m a writer for a reason; that writing is the gift I was given at birth and that this is my life purpose.”

It’s a good day when everything finally makes sense, and you can see why your life happened the way it did: it was to get you to where you are now. Dreams come true…I’m living proof that they do. Take a chance, take a risk, and show the world how big your brave is!

If you ask me where I am today in my life, this would be my answer:

“I’m exactly where I belong.”

Go out and be brave today! Catch a dream!

With love,

~Anne Dennish~waking up last page

“Waking Up” was published on February 25, 2016

You can find it on Amazon.com, Barnes & Noble.com and Xlibris.com

“Welcome!”

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Welcome to the “Anne Dennish” website, a true work in progress! My newest book is about to be released soon, and is entitled “Waking Up…Lessons Learned Through My Adventures With Life and Breast Cancer.” It’s a book I’ve spent two years writing, and trust me when I say: this book had a mind of its’ own! It wasn’t about to get published until it was absolutely ready!

All of my stories about “life” are those I personally experienced, or ones that I may have observed through friends and family. I’ve taken all the sound advice given to me throughout the years from amazing spiritual teachers and written about what I’ve learned.

There are stories of divorce, relationships, friendships, grief, addiction, children, parenting, and so much more! I can almost guarantee that if you tell me a subject you’d like to read about, you’ll find it  in my book!

I’ve also enclosed my raw and unedited journal I kept throughout my adventures with breast cancer! I’m happy to say that I’m a two year survivor now, yet I thought it important to release the journal, along with my personal pictures taken throughout my journey with breast cancer. Some call it brave to put all that in a book; I call it taking an experience I went through and sharing it with others’ to help someone else.

“I don’t mind going through whatever life hands me, as long as I can learn from it and use the experience to help someone else.”

Welcome to the world of Anne Dennish! Thank you for visiting! Be sure to follow my website as well as “like” my Facebook page. I’ll be sharing excerpts from “Waking Up” as well as information on my upcoming book release/celebration/signing party!

“It’s time to make a difference!”

~Anne  Dennish~anne dennish