Light It Up

… finding peace in unexpected ways

When I describe the incident of July 13, 2019 in My Story, I talk about moving away from the couch and away from DJ. Where I moved was to the cuddle sac that I have had for years. It’s there that I was pinned. It’s there that I was raped.

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And I’ve wanted it gone ever since.

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But it wasn’t that simple. My boys loved that thing. Thousands of hours have been spent lying on it watching movies, playing video games, reading, and well… cuddling. It’s been in our family’s home since before my oldest son was even born. And it’s that same son that associates the cuddle sac with all the happy memories preceding my divorce. For him, it was a visual reminder of all the good times. How could I pry that away from him? Especially since I had not yet opened up to anyone about what had happened.

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But it gnawed at me. Over the months, I tried to get my boys used to the idea of selling the cuddle sac, employing all kinds of rationale… but then Covid hit, and trying to sell it seemed like a lost cause under the circumstances.

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As the months wore on, I felt more and more desperate to get it out of sight. I tried to at least get it down into the basement. But DANG, it was heavy. There was no way I could maneuver it on my own. So, I smooshed it into the corner of my living room, and there it stayed for several more months.

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Until my amazing friends stepped in.

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A group of us had gotten together to celebrate the fact that DJ had resigned from the school district. Somehow, during the course of conversation that night, the topic of the cuddle sac came up… along with all the emotions I now associated with it. Immediately, my friends started planning how to get it out of my house. And not just that, but how we could go shoot it up, burn it up… or both. A plan was hatched.

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One friend took lead by offering up a truck and rifle. The rest would be easy… right?? Nope. Nothing, and I mean NOTHING, went as planned. We had to adjust multiple times over multiple weeks… but my friends were nothing but persistent. And patient, loving, kind, and supportive!

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In the meantime, my sons also came around to the idea. The younger two were actually excited about it. They made notes to put behind the targets. I will not post pictures, but they were pretty priceless. “Dutchbag” … “Rapests go to hell” … “Burn, baby, buuuuurn” were just a few of their adorably misspelled quips. Even my oldest, who was incredibly sad to lose a physical representation of family memories, understood what this meant to me.

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So, this past Saturday, we lit it up! With ammo and with flames 🔥 And can I tell you how incredibly therapeutic this experience was?!?!

My favorite photo of the day:

And it is but one among many memorable moments:

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And after all the fury:

It was a beautiful sight.

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My dear, wonderful friends.

…. and they didn’t stop there.

These friends also helped me set fire to this memory… literally:

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The whole process was a catharsis I can’t even fully describe.

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That evening, I came home to this:

And once more, I cried.

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Even though I had installed a security system over the summer, somehow my safety had not been complete. I didn’t even realize it until that moment, when I felt something I hadn’t felt in over a year: peace. I have felt peace in many other ways, but I have not felt the peace of being in my own home. Its restoration feels fabulous.

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Peace comes to us in unexpected ways. There’s no right or wrong way to find it. But when you know it, you know it. When my friends offered up this solution, I knew it was what I needed— as unorthodox as it may be.

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Be open to opportunities. Let the peace in.

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And when you find friends that will stop at nothing to support you in finding that peace… cherish them.