Author Archives: Bekka Ellis

A poem

It stings only slightly
So much less than the pain inside
It’s slow but such a pretty color
And it soaks into everything she wants to hide
The world fades to a faintness
Silence fills her ears
All the colors blur into cold darkness
All that’s left is the sting of her tears
Thoughts slow to a peaceful wondering
Will they forgive her for not being strong
Will she get to go home to her loved ones
That she’s needed so badly for so long
She knows that it’s selfish and ugly
But the pain was just too much to take.
She couldn’t stop the tears anymore
And a smile became to hard to fake
She was too young to leave it all unfinished
But her spirit was broken and tired
She believed they’d be better without her
She felt that her time had expired
Would anyone truly miss her
Would they wish they’d have told her her worth
Would the say she was beautiful and wish they would have tried
To make sure she knew she was the world in their eyes
Or would she fade out in eternity as she had in her life
After she felt the sting of the knife

I know it’s morbid and it’s hard to read. I also know that it’s is hard to understand for many who have not dealt with depression on any major level. I have written this poem because I have been at my limit many times. I have wondered what it would be like to not have to feel anything anymore. I want to live but I don’t feel like I’m living. My children keep me here but I don’t feel that it’s to their benefit. This poem is simply to show the feelings that someone may be experiencing in their lives, it is not a statement that I have any intention of an ending. I just have a lot of pain I am trying to work through. While the thought of a simple peace is appealing,
        My Story’s Not Over
                          ;

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A Short Story, (caution: graphic in nature. Domestic violence.)

A young woman works behind the counter at a convenience story. She is a single mother, She works full time, She is a full time student, and she lives with her single mother, who takes care of her baby. Even though she faces what would usually be thought of as a difficult life, she is a seemingly confident young woman, she is friendly and outgoing, opinionated and outspoken, but she is caring and compassionate, and she has an incredible passion for life, and like many other people, she loves the notion of love.
A man, a regular customer, begins flirting with her often. He eventually asks to take her out. He is charming and sweet. He treats her well, he makes her feel beautiful, he is seemingly supportive and listens to her stories, laughs at her jokes, and shows sincere interest in her hopes and dreams.

She introduces her child. The little girl amazes him. He becomes attached. The little girl lights up around him, he plays with her. He is good with her. Her dad has never seen her.

He had a bad child hood, but he loves children. He doesn’t get to see his, because his ex keeps them from him out of spite. The woman hurts for him. Her heart breaks for him. He tells her he loves her. It’s fast. He never met anyone like her. She makes him feel more alive than he had ever felt. He could see himself spending the rest of his life with a woman like her. He never thought he would have that again. He thought he had given up on love. She falls in love.

Fast Forward

They live together.

He doesn’t work. He questions her if she gets out of work or school late. She has group projects that include male members. He gets jealous. He goes out with other women. Old friends. She isn’t allowed to speak with her best friend of six years because he’s a male. Even her female friends become a problem. Then her family becomes a problem.

They argue. Then they argue more. She stands up for herself. He threatens her. She still stands up for herself.

He hits her. She fights back. He beats her until she can do nothing but sit on the floor and cry.

She’s bruised. She’s sad. He looks at her with pain and tears in his eyes. He looks down and away. He apologizes, but says he wishes she would just understand him. He wishes she wouldn’t do things that hurt him so bad.

Fast Forward

They fight a lot. Everything she does hurts him. There is another child. She has been forced to have an abortion. She has lost a baby, stillborn. There was a funeral.

They fight a lot. He yells a lot. She stands up for herself. He hits her. She fights back. He tells her to get out. He throws her things in trash bags. He throws them in the yard. They yell a lot. She agrees to leave. Puts her children in the car. Goes back to get her purse. She tries to walk out the door. Cold metal touches the back of her head. She hears the hammer of the 25 calibur barretta. He says if she leaves he will kill her. She whispers, “I Hate you.” She’s struck with the pistol. She drops to her knees. She sobs. She has dropped her things defeated.

Fast Forward

Shes not outspoken. she has no friends. She misses her mom. She feels ugly. He says she’s fat. He says she’s lazy. He says she’s a bad mother. She always hurts him. She feels worthless. she wants to die.

They are married. Her mother dies. She hates her life. She wonders if he died, if she would get better. She wouldn’t hurt him. She just wishes that he’d die. She’s scared. She hates god. She hopes there isn’t a heaven. Can her mother see how weak she is?

He hasn’t hit her for months. She doesn’t talk back. He yells, she promises to try harder.

They fight. She hears her mother’s voice. He yells. Her kids are crying. They have 4 now. 3 girls and one boy. He yells. The oldest takes the others to their room to hide. He yells. She snaps. She screams. She calls him hateful and a liar and a piece of shit, abusive, horrible excuse for a man.

She’s against the wall. She can’t breathe. His hands tighten around her throat. He’s screaming. Saliva sprays her face as he yells. She’s clawing at him. She’s fighting for air.

Her two year old son screams. They look down the hall. He lets go. She runs. She took the phone. He didn’t know. She calls her sister. He leaves the house. She throws clothes in some trash bags. Tells the kids to get ready. Its 2:00 am.

He walks back in. He sees her packing. He drops to his knees.

He cries.

He begs.

He promises to get help.

He promises to treat her like the queen he always knew she was.

She tells him she loves him.

Then she tells him it’s too late.

He has his mother take their youngest two children. The others aren’t his. He tries to tell her she’ll never get them if she leaves, because she was a bad mother.

She says fine. She knows better. She leaves.

It’s a sad story, similar to many others, from the painful memories of women that have lived through domestic violence. Many don’t survive. Additionally, it doesnt just happen to women. Men can be victims of domestic violence also. Sadly, it is less reported among men for many reasons, so statistics that are collected don’t truly reflect the actuality of the problem.
Many victims of domestic violence are being damaged emotionally and mentally as well as physically. It is an experience that one should never have to face and in most cases there are deep rooted issues behind the violence, such as mental problems or trauma that causes the abusor to behave the way he or she does.

My purpose for writing about this is simply to spread awareness and understanding, as well as to let others that may be living through something similar know that they are not alone. I will be posting a list of links to support sites and foundations that provide assistence for victims of domestic violence, but it might take me a little while. Thanks for reading.


Initial Ramblings

Sadly, it has taken me 30 years to figure out what I want to be when I grow up.

current plans: Tattoo Artist and Writer

This is however open to change. Not to mention, finding a mentor for the first is not as easy as one would think. Work in progress.

I am indecisive, insecure, and highly intelligent. Most of my problem is that I over analyze every single detail of every decision that I make. Sometimes it makes things difficult.

I remember reading about Albert Einstein, and I learned that he wore identical outfits every day. Because Einstein was so highly intelligent and constantly analyzing data, theories, and facts; simple decisions and tasks were extremely difficult for him, so in order to devote his mental resources to his work, he kept the simple things simple. Now, I am definitely nowhere near as intelligent as Einstein. I honestly would never even attempt to classify myself as a genius, but my mind is constantly working. Thoughts and ideas are always cycling through my mind, like the system processes on a computer. Have you ever noticed when you open your task manager, that even when you aren’t running any programs, if you switch to the processes or services tab there are dozens of things going on? That is how my mind feels 95% of the time.

I guess the best way to describe me is by using the term “Scatter-Brained,” and this term works pretty well, as far as descriptors go. In fact it is probably the most accurate of any descriptor that has been used to explain my thought process, behavior, or even my personality. I spent a large portion of my life being described simply as a “Blonde,” but I don’t consider this stereotype to be a very fair analysis of the majority that it describes. I am in no way “dumb,” although understandably, I have been labeled as such if met in the midst of one of my not so held together moments.

I have tried to explain these descriptors to my daughter during a conversation about her being a “blonde,” because she had taken the term to mean that she was being called stupid. However, her and I both know that she is not in any way stupid. I told her that in being called a “blonde,” it was simply being noted that she was… (I had to search for an accurate way to describe it, which was a difficult task)… “ditzy,” or “dingy,” and that neither of these terms in my opinion actually meant stupid. I had to explain, that while most of our family, including myself, know that she is an absolutely brilliant child, she had a tendency to misplace her left brain and the right brain would take over leaving a bit of a mess in its path. I also explained that I live with the same tendencies. We are in fact quite intelligent, however, sometimes, common sense somehow disappears from some of our thought or decision making processes.

Just like my mother, and sadly my daughter is right on my tail, I am quick to lose track of what is going on in my head. I have grown up learning how to deal with some of these shortcomings. The problem is though, I have not fully mastered the issue. If you become an avid reader of my possibly nonsensical ramblings, then you will soon become accustomed to my vulnerability to wandering off on some wild adventure into my right brain in instances that my left brain is standing alone in a field saying “What the Duck just happened?” (also I will mention that I am a fan of that word, and I really don’t mean the word commonly used by auto-correct that I have filled in above, but I will do my best to keep it clean. I have in fact decided that I will follow suit with auto-correct and fill in with the lovely quacking fowl.) I sometimes pity my left brain, it does not get to experience anywhere near the amount of fun that the remaining me finds itself dabbling in. I am the type that will often walk into a room with an actual plan, only to discover that I have walked into some kind of vortex that rips my thoughts right out of my head, and I am left standing there wondering what I was intending to do upon entry into said room, only to remember about twenty minutes later when I have returned to a comfortable position in either the living room or my bedroom. Additionally, it is usually my stomach that has to remind me that “hey genius, weren’t you supposed to be finding me some chocolate,” or some such nonsensical rambling of my stomach. Chocolate is probably the winning majority vote in most cases.

On a side note, I am determined to try fudge dipped bacon, simply on the basis that chocolate makes everything better and bacon makes everything better, therefore by default… chocolate covered bacon!

?

There is no way that could end badly! (Bear/Bare with me though, I have never attempted the pairing so I could be absolutely incorrect here, but I will keep you posted. I have recently acquired a tealight fondu warmer and recipe for chocolate fondu, so Stay Tuned. 🙂  and your thoughts are definitely welcome.