Nancy Imelda Schafer

"Purge"

~ Forward ~

What is written here is painful. Painful to write, painful to read.
This work has been a part of me for a very long tyme, as I have lived it.
I understand, the best way to let go of something, is to write about it.
Even after the words are written, I still feel pain.
When will this subside?

... Reflection and Parting ...

Sunday

I really dislike Sundays. Is it the beginning of a new week, or the end of an old? Who cares! I'm outta here. Do I have everything? Yes, I believe I do. The clothes on my back, 2 clean bras, 4 clean panties, shampoo, soap, tampons. I am set. The Van is gassed up. Fresh oil and antifreeze. Standing surveying the room, I am at a loss for emotions.

The last 12 years of my life were spent in this house, and all I feel is nothingness. I don't hear laughter. I only hear yelling and the sound of fists meeting tender skin. Years of it. Years.

On thanksgiving day, after many years of fighting and abuse, I put my husband out of the house. Out of my life. He is a gorilla. I suppose it is my fault for taking it so long. I just didn't know that it wasn't supposed to be this way. I grew up watching and hearing my mother being slammed, and thought that is the way wives are treated. Why is it women seek out their fathers when looking for a Man? I know that sounds naive, but believe me when I tell you, I just thought that's the way it was.

Our marriage had dissolved to the point of no return. All I was to him was sex and food. He ravaged my body, and ate like a pig. Sex consisted of me only pleasuring him. I guess I should be a little grateful. My oral skills are excellent. Penetration for him was unnecessary, he had been satisfied. I taught myself long ago how to maintain myself, and my sexual needs. I lived for 15 years that way.

Looking back over the last year I see how my life has changed so drastically. Things that were commonplace before, are simply unacceptable now. Truth and trust are paramount to me. Without them... Whaleshit. Screw me over once... never twice. The love that I feel within me now is pure and constant. I have learned, who I can trust and who I cant. I hesitate to say... who I can depend on. Depending on someone, especially a Man, at this tyme in my life, is out of the question. Standing on my own two feet, is my greatest achievement. I must be strong for myself and Olivia, my daughter. A child of 3, needs strength and support around her. I am her corner stone.

On 6, April of 1995, my life changed. I met a Man on an on-line Chat service that showed me how much of a woman I really am. He was the beginning of The Path to my new life. For the first tyme in my life, I was fawned over and made to feel of value. Yes, I had plenty of boyfriends in my single days, but this was a Man. Unlike any other I had ever met. All Italian, staunch conservative, a businessman in every respect of the word. A Man's Man. We had a wonderful tyme together. My mind was shaped into a Woman. He made my body twist and bend into positions I thought impossible. He told me once; "Nancy, you are perhaps the most unique and brilliant Woman I have ever met." It was those words, and the honesty in which he said them, that made me discover who I really am. I will love you forever Pondfrog.

During the months I spent with him, I discovered all the things that made me... me. I discovered, I AM unique. I have the gift to write, and he encouraged me to pursue a publisher. He had friends to help me if I needed it, but I told him if I had help, it wouldn't be mine alone. I don't like owing. I'll do it on my own, thankyou. I remember the laugh from him when I said that. He called me his 'Yank', his 'Yankee Spyder.' "What a stubborn Leo Woman you are Spyder," he said to me. "I know you will be a success." Thankyou Doni for believing in me. I know you always will.

I thought after him, and all the goings on around me, that being an Island to myself was just fine. Men have a way of rearranging me from the inside out. I lost two months of my life mourning the breakup with Doni. Thru it all, I have the greatest of respect for him.

Then another Man entered my life. I was not looking to fall in love again, but it happened. Again, he is married. A tenderskin Californian. He makes me glow, and has touched me on many levels. I have learned things from him, and given my things back to him. We talk just about everyday, but there has been no touch between us. It is maddening to say the very least. I suppose the 3000 miles between us doesn't help. It is a wacky thing we have, but without it, it is more maddening. My new life that I begin will bring us together.
"AJerseyGirl" has entered California
...and she is wearing construction boots.

The two Men in my life. So very different in ways, but exactly the same in others. Both are outstanding, brilliant Men. Each would cringe at the others music. I like both of their music. Both olive skinned. Two Taurus Bulls. Both Builders. One conservative, the other liberal. One suit, one jeans. (I have always be fearful of Men in suits.) Both intensely passionate. Two pistachios and one brazil. I have to smile when I think of them. Without the love from both, I don't think I would have made it thru last year.

I write this at the dawn of my new life beginning. I am leaving a place of hell and entering into something new and unknown. it has the sweet smell of success around it. Caution must be exercised. Easy does it. Easy does it. Money, and what it can do for me is of little value. I know the things in life that would make me happy. Money cannot buy them. Money buys comfort, toys, and false friends. My life before sobriety was filled with false friends. Sober up... and they all go away. Oh well! Ciao.

I am taking a few things that are my treasures in life with me when I go. The rest is unnecessary crap, and will remain in this house. Reflecting... I sit cross-legged on the floor by stereo. I had spent hour after hour there. Playing Nintendo with the Cerwin Vegas blaring in my ears. I feel so different inside, like a spirit of myself is sitting next to me saying good-bye. Restless and content at the same tyme.

I look out the window behind me. Just for a moment, I see my blood on it. My head was pushed through it during a fight. Now, the sun shines through with the promise of tomorrow. The sun gives me its word, there will be tomorrow. I have tyme. I have learned to look up. For years, I was told to walk with my eyes down. Now, I look ahead. I see north, south, east and west. I have no limits.

This is the last tyme I will sit here. My eyes fill with tears. Not for the happy tymes, but for all the pain I felt sitting in this exact spot. When in pain, I took comfort on the floor by my speakers. I don't know why, I just did. Looking down at the rug, I see the stains that the carpet cleaners just cant steam away. Blood. My blood. I feel at this moment I will be sick. I remember when these stains were made. I go numb. It is easier that way. Delete my emotions.

Yes... I am void of emotions. The carpet stares back at me. Mocking me. I can still remember the Christmas Day just past. ' Merry Christmas Baby, ' by Bruce Springsteen repeated in my CD player in the computer all day.

Yes... Christmas Day 1995.

A bad one that was. All I did was ask him to leave the house and WHAM!! First, I was turned to face him directly eye to eye, the wind up, and an uppercut to the jaw. That one put me down. Usually I don't fall till the third or fourth punch. He was in good form that day. Next came a half hour of foul mouth. A man saying the word 'fuck' to me in any context, is about as awful as it gets. I loath the word. I remember clearly, when he said fuck at one point, he spit, and I laughed, despite my mouth bleeding badly. He picked me up by my hair, and slapped me with an open hand, back and forth. Like he was challenging me to a duel. I laughed at him again, thinking to myself, what a mental midget he is.

This tyme, with him still holding my hair, a fist connected with my abdomen. I dropped to my knees like I'd seen Jesus himself. I felt a rush of warmth coming from me, I just couldn't put my finger on where it was coming from. When I was doubled over, his fist got the center of my back. It was then I think I blacked out. Funny, God installed and automatic pain numbing barometer that kicks in when you have had enough. The next thing I remember is my daughter stroking my hair telling me I was going to be OK. The box of Kleenex in her hand made me smile. She loves the flowers on the box.

He was still in the house, I just didn't know where. I couldn't sit up, so I just laid on my side. I heard crashing and glass breaking. He was at my mug collection again. Shit, where is that Porcelain cup from Toronto? Shit. I struggled to get to my feet. "Mommie, you made a mess on the floor," Olivia said, "Don't worry, I'll clean it up." The floor where I laid was soaked with blood. I was bleeding from both ends.

I walked to the kitchen, feeling like someone was sticking me with burning knives in my vagina. He was at the cabinet with all of my porcelain mugs. Looking like jack Nicholison coming through the door saying; "Here's Johnny," he picked up a mug and threw it in my face. I had nothing to block myself with, and it hit me square in the chin. I remained standing.
"Please, leave my mugs alone," I begged him.
"Fuck You Bitch," he yelled back.

I turned and walked over to my desk. It is my special spot in my house. Notice, I call it my house. I have never thought of it as home. All of the things I love, sit on my desk, and walls surrounding me. The Man's picture that I love sits there too. "SHIT," I said silently to myself. "Did he see that?" I took it off my monitor where it leans all day, and tucked it in a drawer. That picture of a man with a goatee in a burgundy stripped shirt, and my little girl Olivia, are the two things that keep me going.

Just for a second, I forgot about the pain throughout my body, and felt a glow inside thinking of him. WHAM!! A mug hits me on the back of the head. It probably was funny to see from an onlookers perspective. Something right out of The Three Stooges. The force of the mug sent my face onto my keyboard. I must have hit it pretty good, because, I only remember Olivia again whispering I would be OK. This tyme, I was out for almost 15 minutes. I can still see the hands on the clock spread straight out across the face, 9:15. The tyme now was 9:35.

The phone rang, as I reached for it, a sudden wave of pain in my hand. He was standing behind me, just waiting for me to answer it. His hand held a fork, like he was ready to dive into a pile of my country ribs I'd made so many tymes. WHAM!! Into the back of my hand the fork goes. Now that smarts. Shit, that really smarts. My hand was trembling. He stood behind me grinning looking down at me. He IS nuttier than Jack P. McMurphy. Nutty, because in his mind, he is justified in his actions.

The only thing for me to have done at that point was to just take it. Fighting back at him, would only have escalated the situation. Before I had Olivia, I would run from the house. Now, if she is close to me, I will run with her. Today, she was in the living room playing with the few things I could afford to give her for Christmas. The life of a child is so filled with innocence. When we fight, I tell her to go upstairs so his yelling and foul mouth is in the distance to her. It is the only way of sheltering her.

Leaving

The Tyme foe shelter has passed. I no longer want to cringe at the sound of his arrival at the front door. The pain and sorrow are fast leaving me. Life as I see it has two options. Stay and die... leave and live. I choose to live.

So many things pass before my brain now. Here is this man that I love in LA. I will probably never see him. Am I just fooling myself? He is content to live there, and I know deep in my heart, I could never survive in LA. One thing I have learned, is never to lie to myself. It is a dangerous practice. Once you lie to yourself, you run the risk of believing it. Far worse than the lie itself. Tragic even.

Thinking of another the past few weeks has me just about out of my mind. Who is the Idiot here now? The best thing for me to do at this stage of the game, is to keep the focus on myself. Many miles must separate me by nightfall. Olivia will stay with my best friend until I can find a stable place to live. Finding a job will not be a problem. I have $ 7,000. in my savings account, that is easily accessible on the road. That should be enough to hold me until I am on my feet. I know nothing of where the road will take me. The van will drive West. I am Looking West.

"PURGE "
©

Written by:
NaNcY ImElDa ScHafER

Start Date; February 28, 1996
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>Finish Date; INCOMPLETE WORK>>>>>>>>>>>

........................

AUTHORS NOTES:

>>i hate my carpet,
it has a big mouth.
>>why are you so far away?
why am I so far away?<<
>>changed to 'kashmir' font 4-14,96

4-27-96
Who is the Idiot here?

4-29-96
Quote:
" Money is great stuff to have,
but when it comes to the act of creation,
the best thing to do is not think of money too much.
It constipates the whole process. "
... Stephen King 1989 ...

MUSIC LISTENED TO WHILE WRITING

Posted April 15, 1997

spyder@spydersempire.com