Saving Daddy's Soulmate

My Journey of Forgiveness

Daily Post ~ I’m Rocking


This is a brick on my home’s patio. It looks like me I think. A bit weathered. A little spotty from neglect (mold). Still able to shine through if you look closely, you can see the original brick red color ~ a little older and aged from the wear and tear on the body. Oh yes, I am a rock.

Ask for help, me? Nah. I’ve tried. But I was met with judgmental shaking of the head and frustrating silences which I interpreted as the cogs in their brains now changing how they saw me, my family, my circumstances and not in a good way. So I’ve learned the art of keeping it to myself and it’s here where I am most comfortable, or should I say, I WAS more comfortable until the wounds began to seep deeper into my soul.

That’s where blogging has helped me to not be such of an island. Under the relative safety of blogging, I can tell my story without reprisal. I can tell the family secrets which haunt me. I can open up the wounds, ask for the comfort of connection in order to heal and I can hopefully be helpful to someone else in need.

My role was to be self-sufficient, to bring life and laughter to others and to be a positive happy puppet. I am a glass 1/2 full person in theory and mostly in reality. But it’s not reality when you laugh for the audience and cry in the dark from the pain you hide. It’s just not healthy and I truly want to find the healthy woman inside and let her out. I want to connect with others and not feel so alone.

I am a rock. I am strong, I will not be broken even though I am in pieces inside. But I can weather the storms and continue on if I have to ~ and I’ve had to my whole life.

Daily Prompt: I Am a Rock

Is it easy for you to ask for help when you need it, or do you prefer to rely only on yourself? Why?

Photographers, artists, poets: show us SELF.


Daily Prompt ~ A Rose By Any Other Name…


Daily Prompt: Name that… You!
by michelle w. on September 2, 2013

Do you know the meaning of your name, and why your parents chose it? Do you think it suits you? What about your children’s names?

Photographers, artists, poets: show us IDENTITY.

I identify with a rose. It was always my favorite flower, although I must admit that I’ve branched out (pun intended) and I like all different types of flowers, especially those with a scent like lilacs or peonies. But I digress.
When I asked where I got my name, my parents finally confessed that they found it on a tombstone while walking through a cemetary. Fact is that I’ve never liked my name, but I’ve had it for too long now to change it. When I was in college, I would know when I’d had enough to drink when I couldn’t remember my first name. I’m sure there’s something psychologically messed up with that fact, but it’s true. I could tell you the rest of my long birth certificate list of names, but always I missed my first name. That’s when I knew it was bedtime.
I’ve had nicknames, but none of which have stuck which is fine with me. I like the name Tommie and have used it on many occasions and even in a job since there was another girl with my name at the same business. My inner self feels more like a Tommie than my birth name. My birth name is hardly ever pronounced correctly which I find annoying and a reminder that my parents did what they wanted without thought to consequences. It’s not like they live with this name.


Daily Post ~ I Remember


Daily Prompt: Can’t Drive 55
by michelle w. on August 29, 2013

Take the third line of the last song you heard, make it your post title, and write for a maximum of 15 minutes. GO!

Photographers, artists, poets: show us SPEED.


Long time since I've seen your smile,
But when I close my eyes,
I remember
You were no more than a child,
But then so was I,
Young and tender.

Time carries on;
I guess it always will,
But deep inside my heart
Time stands still.


I remember so much from being little. I remember wearing a man’s dress shirt as a nightgown when I was about 5 years old. We’d gone to his friend’s house about 2 hours away and I guess at the last minute, he decided not to drive home. Probably because he’d been drinking. Why he took me there with him, I have no idea. And why I wasn’t with Sissy and Mom at home? Mom says he took me everywhere when I was little. I think it’s because she was having some type of breakdown. She’s never been very strong mentally nor emotionally. It’s no wonder considering the life she lead. The lies and pretending that she lived with for so many years. It’s probably because she is so strong or co-dependent that she stayed with him. I know I couldn’t have stayed with him if I’d been his wife. Heck, I didn’t want to stay as a daughter.

It’s snippets of strange memories that lurk within me and I’ve no one to ask why I remember walking out of a bedroom in a strange house to a kitchen. But I remember his friend’s name and I remember the town we were in. It could have all been innocent, but because of what I know, I am never sure. I picked the song because I heard it today and I wish my memories would stay for awhile so that I could make sense of things. Or at least stop haunting me and let me move on.

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DP ~ Reflections in a Blog


Daily Prompt: Mirror, Mirror, On the Wall

by michelle w. on August 14, 2013

Think of your blog as a mirror: what does it reveal? Consider your blog name, theme choice, design, bio, posts… what does every element tell you about yourself?

These questions are easy I think, so I’ll just answer them one by one. 🙂

My blog name came to me in the middle of the night.  I’m still not sure if I love it, but it explains my purpose:

I need to save myself and Daddy called me his soulmate.

I am not sure that I love my blog theme choice either, but it was the best that I found.  I hope that the sun at the bottom gives it an uplifting feel which is what I am hoping for after writing this all down.

Design etc., ~ I’m not a computer literate person so it’s a simple theme that was done for me already and that works.

I hope that my blog shows:

honesty, perserverence, love of family, how dysfunction can change a person, how you can triumph over abuse.  How one person’s secret actions in a family changes the dynamic, the nucleous of the family in a powerful way and how to heal after dealing with the pain and suffering that it caused.

I’ve tried conventional therapy, but I just couldn’t be honest and have someone look at me as I said what happened.  It was embarrassing, sad, confusing.  But I am sure that there are others who have endured the same.  So that’s why I chose to use my blog.  Perhaps we will find eachother, connect and heal.

So do I reflect all this?  I hope so!


Is it PC to tell?


It’s not politically correct to tell the family secrets.  This I know.  But I think that when those secrets are choking you, perhaps there’s a loophole in the rules of life.  Perhaps you are allowed if you do it for yourself and not in order to hurt others, but to heal yourself.  At least this is what I’m hoping for it’s not my intention to hurt anyone else.  It’s my intention to save and to heal myself.

There are many politicians with other lives, dark sides of themselves that surely that they’d not like to have light shed on them.  My family isn’t political, but our family shared that link of ‘other life’ which you wouldn’t want brought to light.

I remember when I first learned the secret.  It was from my sister.  It was to her that my Mom revealed the secret.  She told her while Dad was still alive.  She told her while she was driving on the highway, going 55 miles an hour with her sleeping toddler in the car.  She changed our lives forever by revealing that secret and cementing the stories we vaguely remembered.  And then, my Mom in being herself, after dropping the bomb so to speak, changed the subject and went on to talk of something silly and mundane, leaving my sister reeling in the knowledge.

I remember my sister calling me that day.  She told me she had knowledge that she wished she had never had about our family.  She told me that she wanted to give me the opportunity to decide whether I wanted to know it, but that once I learned it.  I could never go back.  She tried to warn me.  She told me that she wished she didn’t know and she wanted to protect me, as I had protected her for all of the years of her life.  But I couldn’t let her bear it alone.  We had come too far.  As sisters and siblings, we’d only had each other although many times we had been separated by him.  We had lost the sibling bond because he made his love and attention a competition.

It was knowledge that once we knew, we could never go back to unknowing which lead to many hardships in regards to our family relationships.  So is it PC to tell a family secret?  I don’t know, but I can tell you that I need to share, I need to let it go.  He is dead and I am still alive.

Please bear with me as I bare myself.  It may not be PC, but it’s life.  And sometimes life isn’t politically correct is it?

Daily Prompt: P.C.

Is political correctness a useful concept, or does it stifle honest discussion?


Daily Post ~ Moved to Tears


I look for signs.  In starting this journey of healing, I kept looking for signs that it was the right time and for confirmation that this was the right way in which to heal my soul and to tell my story.  And this Daily Prompt just adds another sign to the pile ~ and I can’t even begin to tell you how darn grateful I am!  In fact, one might say that “I’m moved to tears,” because it’s true.  I am.  I can’t help it.  I’d been thinking for a week that instead of writing a book to let out all the pain inside that’s quite literally choking me, I could simply blog it.  Anonymously so as not to hurt anyone else, but to be able to release the pain that is festering inside.  So here I am, on a journey of healing.  Saving Daddy’s Soulmate one baby step, one small post at a time.

Please join me.  I know we all have our own stuff and stories.  Perhaps mine will help you to heal ~ I am looking forward to reading yours as well to help me heal too.  We are all in this together, this big ol’ world and I’m sure that my story is more common than I thought as a child and as an adult.  It’s trying to accept what’s happened, to make sense of it if I can and most importantly, to move on!  That’s where I’m stuck and moved to tears.  Daddy’s gone, been gone for over a year and I’m still struggling with the aftermath of his life.

He called me his Soulmate ~ a strange moniker for a daughter and one that made me so uncomfortable.  But then, that’s a whole other story for another day.  As for the beach photo above, we both loved the beach and to the ocean, I return my salty tears.

Daily Prompt: Moved to Tears

Describe the last time you were moved to tears by something beautiful.

Photographers, artists, poets: show us BEAUTY.