Sarafina Bianco's Blog

I came here to write about friendship and mistakes and apologies, and all I can think about is how much I want to sleep.

Does that mean my friendship, the one that’s been on my mind, has exhausted me? Or does it mean it’s just a secondary thought now, something I hardly need to expend energy on?

I’m just not sure, but I think it’s the first option.

I often struggle to let go of relationships. I want to fix everything and remain loyal. Yet, I’ve learned this tendency can also be incredibly debilitating. So, in this case, I’ve chosen to NOT fix everything, to let the relationship sit in disrepair and wait for the other person – who has truly and completely hurt me over the last year – to try to fix it.

Funny, I think she wants to forget about the pieces she broke and move forward. And while I’d love to rebuild our friendship, I just can’t do it without an acknowledgement of the hurt. Because I suffered and deserve an apology.

It’s just that simple.

Yet here we are, at the age of 32, and apologies and hurts aren’t simple. We still fight guilt and shame, just as we did when we were younger.

Does this process of humbling ourselves ever get easier? Or do we always fight the fact that our mistakes make us human, that facing them and facing the truth actually allows us to continue growing? My soul is nourished more when I say “hey, I fucked up,” than it is when I completely disregard an experience.

And I know I’m not the only one.

There are times we know something is off, but we can’t prove it: the avenue you hope for leads to a dead end. Your gut, though, whispers and then screams, begging you to seek the truth beyond the roadblocks.

The Universe is testing me in ways I hadn’t imagined on the eve of the biggest part of my reinvention, and although I cannot take the route I wish I could, I am answering.

I hear you, I know this test, and I will continue moving forward.

You are right.

Thank you for giving me the life I have, for the amazing  husband who carries my baggage on his shoulders on the hard days. For his “I’m not sorry”s after I apologize (again) for having a violent past that sometimes creeps into our present. For the “we’ve got this” moments and the “I love you” actions.

There are things I cannot do that need to be done. Things that must remain unsaid in the way that has been asked of me. Still, I must say something.

You are right.

 

Everyone tells you that keeping up with your blog is numero uno when it comes to marketing your brand, especially as an author.

Guess what, gang?

I’ve sucked it up over here, leaving my spot empty for weeks on end. Though, to be honest, my Facebook posts have served as little blogs here and there (especially the last few). Instead of coming here or sitting in front of my computer, I’ve been tromping around Missouri, speaking to whoever will listen about all-things-DV. Three weeks ago I spoke to a group about kiddos (secondary survivors), two weeks ago with new recruits for a local police department, and last week I spent the day in Jefferson City, talking to Senators and Representatives about maintaining funding for DV shelters and changing a few laws.

Hopeful this will help, I’m certain I’ll be called upon to speak on the floor when the bill is ready for discussion.

I’m not going to lie, looking people in the eye and claiming my story has been something of a revelation for me. It feels more authentic, more appropriate to be ME. Fina is reaching her finale, and I think you’ll be calling me a new name sometime next month. In truth, you’ll also be seeing me at another site, one loaded with my story, my mission…and my face. Don’t misunderstand: I’ve been authentically myself, showing my scars and sharing my biggest secrets. For the longest time,  Sarafina served as a protection mechanism: against my abuser and keeping my school district happy. Both of those have failed in a way, some of Mike’s family identifying (and harassing) me and the district disapproving of some of my content (which ended up being the ultimate deciding factor in my resignation last year).

Now, those factors more insignificant, Fina has become a barrier. She keeps me from truly standing beside the survivors who find themselves here, and she also makes it near impossible to do the speaking gigs I’ve been doing. Those two things alone are enough for me to want to step even further into this life path, and I’m ready.

It’s an identity “coming out” of sorts, and one I hope you’ll follow me to. Since The House on Sunset was picked up by Booktrope, I’ve decided it will be republished with my name and picture. So, those of you who have been following along with me on and off for the last four(ish) years, will be seeing another chapter begin.

Today I met with the Executive Director of a local police academy. I’d spoken to his new recruits two weeks ago, detailing my experience with the PD inside of my relationship, in hopes to humanize domestic and intimate partner violence. After, he reached out to me and offered to answer any questions I had about practices and perspectives, hoping to heal some of the resentment I naturally feel toward the men and women who serve us. I appreciated his offer more than I let on and just before lunch today we met to talk about the intricacies related to police and “victim” relationships.

Soon, I’ll be reworking my presentation and sharing my story with the front line: the officers currently answering calls and knocking on doors.

“We don’t like to be seen as monsters, especially those of us who still remember why we’re doing what we do.”

That one statement alone brought me to a better place of understanding. Just as quickly as survivors are criticized and judged, other groups face the same unfair biases.

It’s time to do more than sit behind this screen and share intimate details from my life. Yep. It’s time to set out, look forward and smile.

Each Monday night at 9pm EST I host #domesticviolencechat on Twitter. If you’re a survivor (male or female), you’re welcome to join us every week as we discuss the intricacies of abuse and surviving it. Each week we talk about a different aspect of abuse, and it’s amazing to see all of us come together to support one another.

This week, however, the topic of the holiday season came up. Most survivors know that the holiday season can be the hardest time of year for us, as violence spikes between Thanksgiving and Christmas, and often – after we’ve left – this time of year comes with heavy reminders of our pasts.

However, I like to think we’ve all grown in ways that we’re better able to cope with our memories. Last week we talked about coping strategies, and many of the participants shared their own techniques in hopes that they could help someone else find a new way to help them heal and recover from triggers. Needless to say, the combination of the last two topics lead me to a new idea tonight on the chat, and I’m VERY excited to share it here, too.

Welcome to the social media campaign #survivorsgiveback.

What is it?

Keep reading.

For the next two weeks we are running a campaign on Twitter called ‪#‎survivorsgiveback‬ in which anyone who has survived abuse can use the hashtag, if they are showing ways they’ve supported the community and helped it heal.

If you’ve helped trauma victims at a shelter, donated toys to the children of survivors or spent time w/ someone who needed to vent, use the hashtag and show our strength. To show that, even when some people believe us to be broken, we can heal by healing others.

Two weeks of awesomeness. This week I’ve decided I’ll do one thing every day to make sure I’m contributing to a different charity/cause (while using the hashtag #survivorsgiveback). Let’s make it go viral. Let’s show what survivor strength actually looks like. It’s time to unsilence the violence, but it’s also time to help others. I’m so very excited about this movement. I sure hope you’ll join us.

So, there you have it. An idea born.

Please, please, please tell your survivor friends about the social media campaign. You’re welcome to use the hashtag on Twitter, Facebook or Instagram. Actually, just use it anywhere you can. Because, if you’re using it, then we’re getting more and more help to those who truly need it this holiday season.

Never forget there are people who can benefit from your generosity, your time and compassion. Especially this time of year.

Until next week, I love each of you.

Sometimes the smallest problems spiral out of control, throwing me into a weird funk. This on the heels of some of the best weeks of my life.

So here I am, trying to remind myself that nothing is too big, while licking my wounds.

All is well here. It’s stress I’ve created for myself that’s blocking my path. Who do I want to be? Where do I truly want to stand in this world? Those are the questions I want to answer. Meanwhile, life reminds me I’m not perfect. Quite the opposite, actually. I struggle to keep my head in the game when other events pop up that need my attention.

Is this just a Fina problem? No, not in the slightest. It’s a life problem. One we all face.

I know I’ll persevere, but right now I’m ready for a fast forward button. Because things are so damn good in some ways and I cannot wait to see where I’ll be in six months. I know it’ll be good, whatever it is. And I need to let it go.

I don’t have to control every second of my life. That doesn’t leave room for the feels.

What I’ve learned about surviving is that it’s not possible without finding things to be thankful for. Obviously, this week brings with it many family events, many moments of being asked what I’m thankful for. Over the last five years, I’ve found more and more to cherish. Interestingly enough, the more I can appreciate, the easier my recovery has become. Finding silver-linings has been everything I’ve needed.

So this week, when my aunt makes us go around the table and mention one thing we’re thankful for, I’ll have a hard time deciding which to say. Sure, I could say my husband: he’s my rock, my hero and my sanity. The yin to my sass. I could say my Watson: he’s the constant in my life, the one who taught me about unconditional love. Or my newly rebuilt relationships with my family. I could mention my friends who’ve proven, over and over again, just how unselfish they are. Or finishing my book. Speaking at Voices Ending Violence. Beginning the second one (kind of).

Or I could talk about each of you, being here and rooting for me, even when your own lives could use the love. You see, I would be nothing without your friendships. This place? Barren and lonely. And, if somebody hadn’t found me, then maybe none of what I have now would be possible.

I wouldn’t have known about therapy as soon as I did.

I wouldn’t have met the writers who encouraged me to pursue what they so adamantly called my talent.

You wouldn’t have told your friends about my book, and sales wouldn’t continue happening.

And I wouldn’t have had the courage to say and do everything I’ve done to this point without your encouragement. Maybe that means I wouldn’t have any of the goodness I do now.

So, this year, when I say what I’m thankful for, you will be in my heart. No matter where you are or what you’re doing. I’m thankful for you.

And, in the spirit of giving, if you haven’t yet been able to order The House on Sunset, please comment below. I have two eBooks I’d like to giveaway to people who have found me through my blog. Whether this is your first time here or you’ve followed me since Future4fina, the fact remains I would be nothing without you.

The first two people to comment with their email addresses will be sent the eBook invite via Amazon, no questions asked. Because I’m thankful for you being here.

And that’s the best damn feeling in the entire world.

Signs.

I’ve been receiving them in threes lately, an indication the message is important and received. My life is taking turns I hadn’t anticipated, but this is nothing new for any of us, is it? It’s just another sign life moves around us, even when we’re not expecting it. But, if we continue to listen, our messages become our paths, and our journey to reach the next step is just as beautiful as getting there.

I don’t know where I’m headed right now, and that’s okay. I have another book to write, a man who loves me fiercely and friends who understand my soul. While there are times I look back at past decisions, jobs and friendships, and miss them, I know I’m getting it right. After all, there is no reason to believe bad is waiting for me in the shadows of my happiness. That only brings it closer to the truth.

I’m not ignorant to the fact that tragedy and shame will strike again. But I’m cautiously optimistic I’m equipped with the tools to overcome. It’s honestly all I’ve ever known.

And so, on the verge of feeling like sadness is the farthest from me it’s ever been, I’m not fearful at all.

I’ve been blessed with the voices of others. They remind me how far I’ve come. They show me my potential. and they push me forward through the uncertainties because that’s what we should do for one another. Encourage. Embrace. Empathize.

All I know is everything I’ve been given. And, right now, it’s joy. The kind that sneaks up on you and then spreads through your bones all at once. An electric shock so strong it makes you feel like you could puke. And it scares you a little, because how could happiness hurt, even for a second?

A friend of mine told me to set it in my lap and breathe. And so I’ve found my way through sickening happiness by allowing it to be, just as I have allowed sadness and fear and regret. I guess what I hadn’t realized until this week, is that I’d learned to deal with and feel strong, negative emotions. But I’ve never had happiness stick around long enough for me to realize sometimes it’s something you have to navigate.

What a lucky, beautiful moment to have.

For the first time in my life I know what happiness and pride are. And I am so very thankful for every second of it.

My DNA changed last night. Every molecule new and different and stronger.

Safe Connections, the non-profit who provided me free trauma therapy, asked me to be the featured speaker at their yearly fundraising event. It’s one that helps them stay afloat for the following year, to better support the men and women they serve. And, yes, they serve men. Because men are abused too. But, more importantly, the people they serve need the support of locals to continue saving lives. Every year they host an event called Voices Ending Violence. It’s a free dinner event and people are asked to donate money at the end.

As you all know, I haven’t shared my true identity with you. Some know it and others don’t, but it’s not safe for me to discuss my abuse openly as myself. Mike, my abuser, still lives free in society. He’s still successful and still has connections. And, sometimes, he still finds me in my nightmares. To combat this while still further educating society on abuse, I’ve used this pen name since 2010. So, last night I spoke as Sarafina Bianco.

But I attended the event as myself.

This, in part, was to continue ensuring my own safety.

The week before, I went back to Safe Connections and taped my speech. The plan? The night of the event they would post my “Fina” picture on the screens and people would listen to my story, without me having to risk my safety. Meanwhile, I would be sitting in the audience, listening to my own voice while the rest of the room heard it for, quite possibly, the first time.

Upon arriving I saw my individual therapist for the first time since I graduated. It was one of the moments I looked most forward to, to be honest. Although it was great to graduate and feel healed, there are parts of me that will always miss her. After all, she’s stood beside me through this process longer than most. Longer than my husband has been around or long before The House on Sunset was started. And so, seeing her and hugging her brought me more closure. That, in and of itself made the night worth it to me.

As dinner was served and the program began, the audience acknowledged the founders, current and past board members, advocates and long-time supporters. We heard from the president of the organization and a board member. Just as our plates were picked up, I was introduced.

Except nobody stood at the podium.

That’s when my voice took over the room. That’s when people were forced to stop and listen, instead of being distracted by my face or my movement. Only my voice. Sharing my story. Applauding them for their service and encouraging them to donate generously.

While this happened, I was able to take in their response. To see  people at each table shake their heads in disgust or sigh when it became too real. And you could have heard a pin drop. Truly. It’s very surreal to sit and listen to yourself share your story, while simultaneously able to take in every second of the audience’s response in real time. But I got to do that last night, and it was one of the best moments I’ve ever experienced. One of the sweetest victories I’ve ever felt.

The truth is, ever since I released THOS I haven’t truly appreciated it or felt pride. Mostly because, even though the reviews are good and arms have reached out to me, I haven’t physically seen a response to my story. Last night gave that to me. I couldn’t ignore what I’d done. And that was truly what I needed. I realized this in the middle of the presentation and began to feel incredibly emotional. Not because it was too much to hear myself or I was uncomfortable, but because I was physically feeling the things I’ve wanted since before writing my book. And it took everything to stop myself from crying then and there, and giving up my true identity to the 400 other guests in the room.

At the end, I regained my composure and pushed on.

But do you clap for yourself once it’s over? 

That question was one I battled. Do I risk looking ungrateful or moved? Is it weird to clap for yourself? 

But I was left with no choice when the audience decided to give the anonymous party-goer a standing ovation. So there I sat, next to my husband and across from my therapist, as 400+ applauded my story without truly knowing who I was or where I was. And I had to stand for myself and clap.

I clapped. And I felt it. I felt the joy and the sorrow and the overwhelming sense this was the beginning of a new life for me. The end of all-things-recovery. For me to share myself that way, it meant that I was whole and healthy and happy. And it meant I was helping other people.

At the end of the night, the event coordinator hugged me tight.

“We’ve never had anyone get a standing ovation. You did this, Fina. YOU.”

I woke up this morning feeling their applause. I can still see it happening. And I never want to lose this feeling again.

Because, holy shit, I’ve come a long way.

Though I search for answers, sometimes raising my voice beyond the people who stand beside me, I don’t often give credit when credit is due. Life, after all, isn’t by chance. I just can’t believe that.

The voice I was given has it’s own purpose, it’s own reason. Even though I survived nightmarish years, it simultaneously gave me my mission.

I wanted to write: my abuse gave me a story.

I want to be help people heal and learn: my abuse gave me a platform.

I wanted to quit teaching: my writing and voice allowed me to leave my concrete classroom.

So, while it’s often times hard to admit things truly happen for a reason, especially when things are traumatic, I believe they do. That doesn’t mean I deserved the abuse I received, but it does mean I have the choice to change the course of my life afterward. And while these events don’t actually appear to be related, quite the contrary, I still believe there is one true path that hasn’t yet shown itself to me, something that will make me realize how connected everything is.

Where ever I’m headed is far bigger than where I am. And I know it. But I can’t rush the process.

Maybe the tie that binds doesn’t come. Maybe something else happens and I continue down a path without explanation. Maybe it’s time to trust this journey more than I have. Becuase, really, I still believe I’m headed where I’m supposed to go.

I had two voices speak to me in the last few days, both uprooting some heavy baggage I didn’t realize was left.

I haven’t given myself the credit I deserve for doing what I have. The silence after writing a book has been more like an aftermath for me, and less like a celebration. I have a really hard time accepting praise and seeing my own accomplishments for what they are (truly amazing). And two people in the last few days have made that very clear.

On Saturday a guy friend of mine, who I didn’t know bought The House on Sunset, grabbed me as I entered a party (dressed as a zombie) and, without noticing the makeup and fake blood on my cheek, wrapped his arms around me and said, “I read your book. I don’t know what else to say, but I wanted to do this,” and hugged me tighter. Later that night I thanked him for it. And what he said in response nearly made me sob in the middle of friends.

“Thank you for writing it. I had no idea how difficult it could be. It’s so obvious to me, now, how hard it is to leave. How intricate abuse is. And, how much you deserve the love of my best friend. And I want to share it with everyone. I’m buying a copy to leave at work. There are people there who need to read it.”

And that was the best moment I’ve had since releasing the book. It was bigger than a party and, maybe, bigger than the gift on another friend (a framed ‘congrats’ image for my loved ones to write on). For a man to stand there and say that it changed his perception in that way. It was life altering.

Then, this morning, just as I opened this page to begin writing my weekly post, another friend called me from Montana.

“You need to savor the work you’ve done, my friend. Most people would kill to write a book in their lifetime. Whatever reason you feel it’s not good enough, think about them and cut yourself some slack.”

Again, it was everything I needed.

The truth is, I’ve often felt pulled higher and higher, but I never give myself room to breathe. Even here, where I used to come and dump my frustration, I’ve only used it as an opportunity to show you how happy I am. How whole I feel.

And while it’s not meant to be disingenuous, I think I have been.

The truth? My goal this week is to celebrate my own successes. To bask in the glory of sharing my past with eyes willing to read through it. The hours of work and avoiding re-traumatizing myself. They’ve been overlooked by “what’s next,” and I need to chill.

So my friends reminded me of that just as domestic violence awareness month ended, and I’m taking November to truly embrace all of the great things I’m doing for the cause.

Join me here once a week as I talk about my life, my healing and journey. Because, quite honestly, it’s time to return to my roots. Now, rather than continuing to tell myself it’s going to happen, only to turn around and wait for a new announcement.

I’m back. And I’m ready to share my life with you again.

Tonight:

Please join me, the National Coalition Against Domestic Violence and DomesticShelters.org in welcoming ALL survivors of domestic violence to a Twitter chat (hosted by yours truly). At 10 pm EST tonight on Twitter, we’ll be chatting, using #domesticviolencechat, about our hopes for society and ourselves once DVAM is over. Bring a call to action or a reminder: what do you want society to remember when DVAM ends?  NCADV and Domesticshelters.org will be with us to show their support and answer any questions you might have.

If you’re a survivor, a friend or family member of a survivor, or someone who wants to learn more about what we have to say, tonight is the night to join us.

Tomorrow:

The eBook version of  The House on Sunset becomes a Kindle Countdown Deal at .99 cents to honor the last week of DVAM. On November 1st the price will go back up. This would be a great time to buy the eBook as a gift for someone you know who needs to read it, and I’m so hoping the lower price point will get this book into the right hands.

Next week:

I’ll update you on life post-release. How I’m finding out who my true friends are and what amazing things they’re doing in my life. Plus, my husband. And his amazing ability to pull me through the darkest moments.

NaNoWriMo is coming up. Anyone else thinking of participating? I’m putting an accountability group together, so let me know if you’re interested in joining. We’d be happy to have you.

xoxo