Thank you, Bella

   I joined as a cat/kitten foster volunteer for the Wichita Animal Action League (WAAL) in April 2024. It was a few months after my now ex-wife had beaten me pretty brutally. Through my recovery, I found that my heart was calling me to help saves lives. I thought to myself, Kristi - you are lucky to be here, what do you want to do with it? I quickly got online and found WAAL. 

   I say it so much, I am sure I annoy a few....but that doesn't bother me, because being a foster is proudly one of my favorite things to be. These animals have been more of a blessing and a lesson than I ever could have imagined signing up for. They each teach me. All different, all impactful and all very beautiful. This, however, is not a story about a cat. This is a story about Bella, the one accidental dog foster that found her way to me. 

   I was at dinner with my nana and my brother, and as I walked to the car I got a phone call. I actually answered, which if you know me, you know that doesn't happen too often. I am a believer in the saying, if you want to get ahold of me, text me. But I did answer this call. It was a friend and his mom had found what she at first thought was a baby kitten in her backyard. What that kitten turned out to be was a tiny 3lb puppy. My foster heart kicked in and I asked for her number and her address. I picked up that tiny, scared, abandoned little baby that same night and gave her a name. 

   Bella was special, she grew on me quickly. I recall calling one of the WAAL directors after I had had Bella for a bit and cried and cried and CRIED to her on the phone. I told her how in love I had fallen with this dog. And after her being abandoned and so scared - but now had a place she came to know as home and someone that loved her endlessly - how the actual FUCK was I supposed to put her up for adoption. I didn't want Bella to feel abandoned again. I didn't want her to think I gave up on her. I didn't want the trust she had given me to be betrayed. Thank god for the WONDERFUL WAAL employee I called. She talked me off a ledge. Amy did nothing but comfort, support and encourage me for all I was doing for Bella. When I got off the phone I cried some more and then started to realize, I was talking about Bella, but I was also talking about me. I have also felt tiny, scared and abandoned. I realized, this little dog was teaching me. 

    And she certainly did. Bella taught me a lot of things in the few months I had her, but the most beautiful thing she taught me was love. I realized I was crying because I didn't want her to ever feel like I was giving up on her. I was crying because I could tell when I got Bella she had been abused. She was timid, hesitant and scared, but she was open to trusting me. Bella and I, we found our strength after abuse together. We found ourselves through watching each other. Her heart and her spunk taught me that there is happiness after terrible experiences. I like to think I taught her that too. She taught me that sometimes there are people worthy of trust. She softened my heart in learning to trust her and watching her learn how to trust me. She taught me that sometimes there are rare moments in life that actually put you exactly where you are supposed to be. After trauma, after being left alone and scared- after fighting to get to the other side....Bella, you ultimately helped me re-find me, by showing me that my heart was still capable of love. I will never be able to thank her enough for that. 

   I did adopt her out, to the most AMAZING family. She was loved just as much as she was with me, and I dare to say even more spoiled. She was a true princess and she had found her worthy throne. I reached out to the adopter a couple months ago and discovered devasting news. Bella, my sweet strong beautiful girl, had been taken from us too soon. 

    To say I was torn in two is an understatement. Even now, months after, I sit here typing barely able to read the words through streaming tears. Bella was the biggest influence in my life of rehabilitation and recovery after abuse. How could she be gone? I've sat with this question almost daily since my discovery and I do not have an answer. But what I do know is this, though her life short as it was, it was meaningful. She impacted me deeply, she helped me heal, she facilitated so much of how I have grown since abuse. She is part of why I am who I am today. 

   My sweet Bella girl, if I could talk to you now, I would tell you all this. You were the only accidental foster I ever had, likely the only dog foster that will be in my home - but sweet girl, you gave me more than I ever could have imagined. My heart mourns for you, my stomach twist and throat catches through the tears. If I could talk to you now, if I only got a couple words, they would be "thank you." 

   Thank you for teaching me that there is life beyond abuse. Thank you for teaching me that not only am I capable of love, I am capable of being loved. Thank you for guiding me into finding my spunk inside of yours. Thank you for showing, giving and teaching me trust. Thank you for your kisses and your cuddles and your goofiness. Thank you for the smiles and the laughter and the memories. But most of all thank you for being you. Foster mom will never forget you, baby girl. 

   Thank you, Bella, for everything. 

    

Guardian Angel

 I just got done watching a show on Apple TV called "The Crowded Room" and WOW, it left me speechless. Speechless in a way that I knew only writing could capture. The show itself is devastating, heart wrenching and an absolutely beautiful portrayal of struggle, survival and self growth. They take you on a journey with a boy named Danny. A boy who had known unimaginable hurt throughout his younger years. A person, that in an effort to survive, created coping mechanisms in the form of altered selves. By DSM definition, it would now be defined as multiple personality disorder. His brain created safety, because his life offered none. 

 Here is where I get brave. When I was a young girl, a very young and innocent child, I was sexually abused. My brain too, created coping mechanisms. I didn't create alter selves, as Danny did, but my mind shut down to protect itself. I was not aware of these memories until the last few years. My brain truly kept these experiences in the dark. Growth, it is a funny thing. It's the hardest, and yes…sometimes the darkest, scariest thing a person can face. But, it is also the most rewarding. When I started my journey to finding me, I had no idea what that meant or what it entailed. I certainly was not expecting to have repressed memories of sexual abuse be a part of it. But, here we are. And it has been a JOURNEY! I've grieved, I've been angry, I've mourned. I've wished I never embarked on this journey to begin with, because if I hadn't, I wouldn't have known this hurt. My brain could have kept these memories blocked out forever, and I would have been just fine. But here is the thing, no I wouldn't have been. My brain shut down to protect me. But just because the memories weren't present, didn't mean the trauma wasn't still being held inside my body. Still alive, in a way. Still fighting, furiously, for our safety. 

I have carried this pain with me since I was four years old. Our brains, as smart as they are, can't cancel out cellular memory. Everything we go through, good or bad, has to process itself through our body. There is a saying that emotion is energy in motion. When things happen, if you do not allow your body the space to process the energy, it can stick. And the longer is stays, the heavier it can get. So, although this path has been excruciating at times, my current conclusion is this... I would pick the road I am on today a thousand times over, without question or hesitation. Do I wish my story didn't include this hurt and sexual trauma? Absolutely, because no one and no child deserves to go through any type of abuse. However, there isn't a way to put something down that you aren't even aware you are carrying. The realization and memories that have presented themselves, as hard as it is to face, have been the pivot point to accepting and loving every single piece of who I am. 

 Now, back to the show. If you haven't watched it, I will absolutely recommend it, with a warning. It is deep, it is heavy, but fuck - is it beautifully powerful. Amanda Seyfried and Tom Holland do an absolutely incredible job! I liked both of them before this show, but now they each hold a closer place in my heart. I won't give everything away, but there will be spoilers because the ending is what touched me the most. So please, feel free to pause this blog until you've finished the show.

 Danny was sexually abused through all of his childhood. Brutally, terribly, horrifically - by people he should have been able to trust. Thus, he created his alters. One of these alters name's was Adam. He created a twin brother, that to his belief was the one who was sexually abused by their father and stepfather. Danny believed that he himself, was never touched. At the end, he comes to understand, that they are one. 

In the ending scene, after a long trial and overwhelming proof that multiple personality disorder does exist, Danny says to Amanda Seyfried's character "I have an unpaid debt I still owe, it's my time to be the guardian angel." Then as her character walks off, she turns around and looks up at the building she just left. At the window of the room she was just in. She not only sees Danny, but she sees another person right beside him. It is a younger Danny, it is Adam, it is his inner child. She sees the Danny (Adam) that took the pain and protected them so that he could survive the reality of existing. I saw this scene and burst into ugly sobs. I allowed myself to cry and feel and grieve. This scene beautifully depicts the inner child in us all. The one that dealt with things no one deserves. The one, that from such a young age, did what they had to do to survive. The one that protected us. 

 When I found my inner child, I had feelings very similar to Danny. I was fiercely protective. I was also heart brokenly sad for this little girl that fought so hard to keep me safe. It was as if I knew I was her, and she was me - yet it felt like we were separate beings. As if she was the one that protected me and got me here, but now I was the one telling her it was going to be okay. She no longer had to fight to protect us. I was releasing her to be free. To be the child she always deserved to be….except this time, we truly knew she could believe it, because I was now able and ready to face what she had been carrying for us this whole time.  

 So, to my younger self, to the innocent sweet Kristi that did what she had to keep me safe when I was young - run wild and be free. It is MY turn to keep YOU safe. You are the one that is brave. In your strength, I find my own.

 It’s my time to be the guardian angel.

My Victim’s Impact Statement

One of my favorite quotes is “there will be a time when we must choose between what is easy and what is right.” Standing up here today is not easy. Every step of this process has been heartbreaking and excruciating. I have been mind-blown, and not in a good way, how I have been treated by the system. I am not speaking today because it is easy. I am not standing here today as an opportunity to speak badly of my abuser. I am standing here today because it is what is right.

Danielle, you have taken every opportunity to slander my name to anyone that would read or listen. My response to that is I am so sorry. I am sorry life has mistreated you so severely that you project blame onto the people that you hurt because you are not healed enough to take self-accountability for your actions. It makes me truly sad for you that you can twist a narrative so grotesquely that you actually blame me for the charges the City has pressed against you. 

With that said, I do not claim innocence in our story. Even within the depths of your abuse and manipulation, I still made choices. But here is the thing, you had a choice too. You had a choice to stay and try to work on things or to leave. You had a choice to respect my wishes when I begged you to let me go. What you did not have a right to do, what absolutely no one has the right to do, is put their hands on another human being with pure intent to inflict harm. 

You may not be aware, but it took me months to stay in my house alone without fearing I’d be killed sometime throughout the night, by you. You may not be aware that I had nights where that almost felt easier. You probably don’t know that I was afraid of going anywhere on the small chance our paths were to cross. That every room I walked into I scanned frantically, terrified that I might see you there. Just the thought of it sent chills down my spine. That even when I did not find you, my body still could not relax as you had taken from me all sense of safety. You probably don’t understand that my greatest wish would be to not have to stand here today. That when I got the text message you sent that you were going to kill yourself, my heart genuinely hurt for you. You may not realize that the dozens of times you slammed my head into the floor and then repeatedly punched me in the back of the head, that it damaged my brain so severely it is still not fully healed from the concussion you inflicted. You do not know the feeling of hopelessness I felt in my entire body as I watched your eyes grow cold that night and turn solid black.  

I have had flashbacks and nightmares and cried more tears than I can count. The words you said to me as you cowered over my defenseless body, pinning me to the floor, they were “you will have to kill me if you ever want me to stop.” Those words still haunt me on a daily basis. So, I do not stand here because it is easy. I stand here because it is right. I stand here not only for myself, but for Victoria. I stand here for every woman that has been abused before me and every woman that will sadly be abused after me. I stand here for you Danielle, as I know that you have also been abused – and for that I am sorry too. But someone has to stand and say this isn’t right. Someone has to make it stop. Someone has to be the voice. And in the moments I want to give up, because every step of this process has been un-bearingly painful, I remind myself that someone has to care enough about you, Danielle, to end the cycle of destruction you were on. I am not the first person you have abused, but what I do hope is that I am the last. 

Sometimes I think about what you would have done had you woken up in that hotel room to find yourself lying over your dead wife. I still get paralyzed by fear when I think of what would have happened had my sister not been there when you broke into my home and lunged, armsextended, straight for my throat. My dreams turn into nightmares as you find your way into them, wrapping your hands around my neck. Did you drive to my house to finish off the job? Did you want me dead? It’s hard to imagine any other intent.  

But still, I do not wish anything ill toward you. It would be very easy to hate you, but I do not. My wish for you is that you take this as an opportunity to heal. That you can take accountability and admit what you did. I hope you grow enough to understand that the consequences of your actions are no one’s fault but your own. I hope that you feel shame and regret for beating your wife, so that you follow those feelings to the root cause and never inflict on anyone else the insurmountable pain you have caused Victoria and me. I hope that one day you can be thankful that I chose to stand. That today changes the trajectory of your life and that you never experience waking up next to the lifeless-body of the person you claim to love because you chose violence once again.

I choose to stand. 

Even when it’s hard. 

Especially when it’s hard. 

I will always choose to stand.

YouTube Reading to  listen: 

https://youtu.be/Zy2nZw9nbOc?si=L94EIoFwlfWG6trx

Part 7: The End

We sat there, on my couch. My sister still guarding me. My wife still pacing....for far too long. 

Honestly, I don't have the energy - even now, over a year later, to tell the rest of this story. The retelling of events thus far is a very very small start of what I went through. 

Danielle did eventually leave my home. The police did eventually come...after way too much time had passed. I do not want or wish to speak badly of the police, and once they were finally there I appreciate the kindness in how it was handled. I appreciate the cop kneeling in front of me before he left, seeing the broken woman in front of him and saying "what happened to you tonight is wrong. No one deserves this, you did not deserve this." Yet the length of time that passed from notifying them I was in need, to the time they showed up at my door....leaves me with small hope. Had Danielle been more lethally determined, had I been alone - my sister not there, I do not believe I'd be alive or in a capacity to be writing this now. 

Which is just another one of the many reasons I do not have the energy to tell the rest of this story, not now at least. Maybe someday I will. My hope is that someday I can. But the legal system...well that was and is just an absolute complete failure to victims of abuse. Intentional or not, they fail us. In times, it even felt like they abused me further. I hate even writing that for people to read. To discourage anyone from standing up to their abuser - but I also started this series of blogs with the full intent to be brutally honest. So, if you find yourself in my shoes, just know this...it is a long fucking treacherous road. And while the court system supports your abuser more than you, that means nothing. Your voice matters, your story matters. What you went through, it matters. And you, YOU, most importantly - YOU MATTER.

That is the purpose of sharing my story. That is why I have blogged. Victims of abuse, we matter. Our stories, they matter. That is why I choose to tell mine. That is why I am still here. That is why I choose to stand, to speak, to write. Victims of abuse should never be silenced. 

I refuse to let the system win. 
I choose to stand. Every. Single. Time.
Even when it's hard. 
Especially when it's hard. 
I will always choose to stand.

The End.

Part 6: How The Police Were Called

I blinked and Danielle was off the floor and back to pacing the living room. Now into the kitchen, through the hallway and back again. Her eyes never shifting from a cold, dark, violent black. My sister was still trying to reason with her to leave my home in anyway she could possibly think of. Danielle, listening to none of them, spewing profanities and threats anytime she heard my sister's voice. We realized we were not getting her out of my home, not without help.

Stefani and I locked eyes, in silent understanding, we needed a phone. My sister's sat not far from us, on the kitchen table. Abandoned there, set down only so that she could pull Danielle off and away from my throat....but there was no way we were making it across my full living room without being attacked. And there was absolutely no way my sister was abandoning her post of protection around me. We were stuck in place, by the woman I once knew as my wife, and the girl my sister once considered a friend. We looked at each other again and sighed in defeat. I looked down toward the ground, not quite yet ready to surrender. 

Okay, so we didn't have Stefani's phone. What is the next option? I started feeling my pockets, under my legs, in the couch cushions. My wife still wailing and flailing about- where the hell was MY phone? I looked across the room, quickly and chillingly spotting exactly where it was. I looked back at my sister as my eyes filled with tears, panic and fear once again setting in....my phone was in my wife's fucking hand. She had stolen it from me, for the second time that night. Removing my connection to the outside world, ensuring I was unable to contact any one additional for help. Without a phone what the fuck were we going to do?! My concussed brain swirling and pounding more by the minute, my head fell into my hands. My eyes so full of tears I couldn't see straight. I looked again toward the floor, blinking hard, unsure if it was the tears or my swollen brain keeping my vision blurred. 

My sister started talking, I lifted my gaze looking at her confused. I heard her say "call the police." I wanted to respond and remind her that we didn't have a phone, even if I wasn't frozen in place by paralyzing fear, we had no phone. But, before I could speak, I heard her again. Clearer this time, she said "hey Siri, call 911." It started making sense, I understood, my god damn sister was saving me again. She had a single airpod in her ear, that by some miracle had remained in place after all we had been through that night - Here's a fun tip, to keep in mind in case of emergency...Siri in fact does not call the police when you tell her to through an airpod. At least that was mine and my sister's fate. Stefani and I looking at each other in total shock, how the hell was this not working??? By this time I assumed that Danielle had heard us whispering and realized what we were up to, but as I looked over, she was still just....pacing. Still yelling, speaking to us or to herself, at this point it was impossible to tell. The only apparent thing to me in that moment was that Danielle did not seem to realize we had access to a phone. 

Next I heard my sister say, "Siri, call momma." YES, I thought to myself, we had talked to my mom in the car on the way to my house from the hotel. When I thought I had gotten away and falsely allowed myself to feel safe. My mom, she would help us. The call connected this time, I could tell by my sister's voice, her instructions to the person on the other side of the phone line. I still to this day do not know how my mom responded, but I know she was taken back with confusion. We had just called her not long ago, telling her that we had escaped. We had told her that I was safe. Now this? But how? I imagine her thinking to herself, trying to put the pieces together of what could have possibly changed or happened between our last conversation to this one. My mother's heart breaking, under the realization that our nightmare was not over. Stefani calmly, without time to explain, told my mom to call the police and send them to my home, Danielle was inside. My mom hung up to do just that. Danielle, somehow still not understanding what was happening right in front of her, continued pacing my home. I am unclear of her intent with the incessant walking. Back and forth, room to room. My only logical conclusion being that in her continued failed attempts and realization that I was not knocked out or dead, she was reeling. She was scared she got caught, she was trying to come up with her next move, and she was quite literally going out of her mind. 

Moments later, my mom called back. My sister answering with a simple voice command, still unnoticed by my wife. We were informed that the police were on their way - someone was coming to save us. 

We were going to be okay. 
I was going to be okay.

I let out a sigh, but not a trusting one. Scared to believe in any sense of safety. Unsure if or when I ever would again. But at least this fucking night was almost over. God, please let it really be over. 

End of Part 6.