Emily and Jef


What an amazing ending! Jef is definitely a good match for Emily.

My only regret sitting there watching it all was that she didn’t give Arie a chance with Rickie. He had already had experience being with a single mom. What if he had been just as good with her, if not better?

But maybe what swayed Emily in the end was that she and Arie didn’t have as many honest, heart-to-heart talks that she and Jef had shared. With Arie, it was definitely attraction and passion, and yes, he’s such a good guy, but it was the depth of what they had that caused her to choose Jef instead. Arie definitely showed her physically that he loved her, but did he show her intellectually? In some ways he did “come out” and it was so great when he did. I just wanted him to keep talking; there was so much value in his words, so intriguing what his next ones might be. But instead he kept kissing her. Next time Arie, for whatever it’s worth, let a woman “hear” who you really are. You’ll win her heart for sure.

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Chris?


Well, I could have seen that coming. I know Chris seemed sweet and probably is a good man, but under that kind of pressure, I think it got to him. Accusing sweet Doug of antagonizing him? It didn’t even happen. Chris seemed way too sensitive about everything, which to mean screams immaturity. He’ll grow out of it and be an amazing catch, but isn’t quite there yet. I saw someone who maybe wouldn’t be able to handle much chaos, and with kids comes that, even if it’s the good kind. And yes, there is a good kind of chaos. Where all four kids are singing a different song at once, or playing sock wars with bundled socks flying everywhere, or laughing over a Chris Farley scene…we miss you, Chris.

I digress.

What I saw  in The Bachelorette Chris is that he kept saying he was the best man for Emily in that group. Anyone who says they are the best is only trying to convince themselves. It’s like playing Facebook’s game, Farkle, with a guy from Aussie who’s married, who says he has a great relationship with his wife, who flirts incessantly with me no matter how many times I tell him to stop, who doesn’t tell his wife he’s talking to more than one woman online…and he says he’s a “nice guy.” I put up with him for a few weeks, then cut off communication. He’s not a nice guy, and what I told him is his wife and I both deserve better.

Who do I predict Emily will end up with? Sean. He’s not my first choice, though. He might be a great guy but I haven’t once seen him act like a kid, really let himself go. He seems like he’d be very controlling, but I’m sure loving, and a great provider and protector. And Jef is a great guy, but does she not see that he’s probably Morman, and that’s not a bad thing, but definitely something she needs to know if she’s not Mormon? And yes, he’s so fun to be with, he’s so expressive and honest, you can’t help but love the guy. But Arie, he’s the guy for her. In that race car suit? Wow! Come on! And he is silly, goofy, honest, loving. It stinks that I think he’ll be the one rejected in the end.

I guess we’ll see soon enough. I need to get out more. No, I just need to get out, period.

Ryan and Travis: Another Bachelorette Commentary


Hands down, Ryan is gorgeous, funny, charming, endearing. On the flip side, what he wants in a woman is much like a robot: not too emotional, logical, servant, etc. Some of the attributes on his list are good of course, like faithful, but as Emily says, there is nothing on his list about love. Kind of sad. And when he leaves her after not getting the rose, the one thing he really focuses on is how he looks, how his personality is portrayed, on camera. Not one tear. Because he knows getting women is not difficult for him. And I think he assumes that he will be the next Bachelor.

As for Travis, your heart just breaks. Look at the difference between Travis leaving, Alejandro leaving, and Ryan. Profound difference. And I just wanted to yell at my television, “Yes Travis, you will find someone!” But of course that would have been pathetic, so I didn’t yell it. I just thought it. It’s a toss up for me between Alejandro and Travis for the new Bachelor. Or that sweet man, sorry I can’t remember his name, with the disability. As I said before, this group of guys, especially the ones left now, have huge hearts, and real emotion, like Doug did on Monday. It made my heart hurt. They all deserve someone amazing, and what they don’t know is that they will probably get more offers of love than they can handle. I just hope they find someone perfect for each of them.

Anyway, just my thoughts, and I already know I am too committed to watching other people fall in love instead of finding my own. I just don’t know what that feels like, so I stay away from it rather than walking toward it. I didn’t know that PTSD was why I never could connect to anyone. Why I couldn’t stay. Or love very deeply. So I live vicariously through all the romance movies and novels and reality shows, and that’s how I feel anything at all.

The Real Story: Architectural Designs & Tarot Card Readings


Let me start by saying I really wanted to be an architect when I was younger. And it wasn’t Craig in the story who designed the spaceship house: it was me. And the design of the house rebuilt is also mine. I would love a house with a Bridge to Nowhere, secret passageways, and train tracks running through it. I also designed that house for wheelchairs, to include going through the pool, but again, I was very young at the time. It’s the thought that counts, right?

As for the tarot card reading scene, that was real. No one was with me at the time, as my children live in different houses in different cities, but I thought of each of them, to include the characters of Craig and Jason, and did an actual tarot card reading. It was dead on for my kids and myself, and I believe dead on the Craig and Jason’s characters.

Donate Anna Blair’s Visitors


A women’s shelter where I live read my book and loved it, and thought that if they had the funds, they

would buy a bunch of them and hand them out! There is a real need for women who have been abused

to read this book, to have some hope. If you are interested, this is a great way to give back. Because I

self-published, the book is kind of expensive and my hope is that a publisher will pick up my book, and

the cost will go down! For now, though, if you feel so inclined, why not buy the book and donate it to a

shelter near you?

 

Again, the book is for sale on amazon.com.

Charleigh Wallace

The Real Story: Cezar Part II


After the kids and I left him behind in the Hemet, CA dust, and moved to Nashville, we all sighed some relief. I knew I had to move as far away from him as possible. One reason was to protect us all. The other was that I knew he didn’t have enough money to come see us. During the divorce hearing, I brought up the abuse. The judge said I was making everything up. I was devastated. Actually, let me back up. There was a mediator, a woman, who was to talk to each one of us separately, and then the children collectively. Cezar must have charmed her because she recommended visitation, all four of my babies to go to his apartment, two full weekends a month! That’s when the judge said I was making everything up. I think I turned to stone that day. Numb. Dead. My children were ages 1.5 to 6 at that point. And they were being made to visit their abusive monster of a father every other weekend. But I knew somewhere in my heart that this wouldn’t be allowed for long. I knew Cezar would hang himself. I just wish I could have been there to see it. Actually make the noose, tighten the knot, secure it around his neck, kick out the stool from under him.

After court, we all went outside. Cezar came up to me and said, “Don’t ever do that to me again.” He meant telling all of our secrets. I felt threatened like old times, so like an abused person with no self-esteem and my head in a fog, I nodded. But somewhere inside I knew I was lying, and I would have a second shot at telling my story.

The visitations began. I hugged all four of my babies tight against me, not wanting them to go. I glared at Cezar as he drove off with them. I went inside my now childless house, full of horrible memories, and cried. Not long after, Fia called me crying. She was so tiny back then, so afraid. She wanted to come home. I talked to her for an hour I think. Finally convinced her that she could call me anytime she wanted to, and that seemed to comfort her. She did call several times that first weekend. I was elated when his car drove up on Sunday, giving them back to me. I asked them a lot of questions to make sure nothing horrible had happened. Other than traumatizing them all, no, nothing had happened.

One weekend Cezar didn’t show up at all. I jumped around the house with joy. My children joined in. In knew they didn’t want to be there either.

As weekends came and went, my youngest three were severely traumatized from being away from me. A new court hearing was set. I told my story to a new mediator, a man this time. Cezar wasn’t able to charm him. The mediator, who I thought of then and still do, as an angel in disguise, or at the very least, my prince, told the judge that the three youngest were never to go back to Cezar’s apartment. That they were so traumatized that he was worried about their recovery. The only way Cezar could see them was in my home, supervised visits, one hour, every other Saturday. The eldest, Rhona, was still allowed to go over to his apartment, but only if she wanted to. I was elated! I thanked the mediator over and over again. I might have even hugged him.

Rhona did want to go back, even though she was the one most abused by him. One time she came home and said that she saw Cezar’s older daughter in his bedroom. He had given her candy, or money to rub his back and feet with oil. It made me sick. The last time Rhona went over there she came home with bruised ribs. Cezar’s older son had pushed her into a coffee table. When she said, “I don’t think I want to go back again,” I cried. Finally I had them all back, he couldn’t do anything about it, and as I knew he would do, he had hung himself.

More later…

The Real Story: Nashville & The Church


Sorry for the delay in writing but that always happens when I write about Cezar.

The trip to Nashville described in the story is very real. All those things did happen to us not only on the road, but before: the church. Which is why I no longer attend.

The agony and pain inflicted by “christians” was the worst I think I’d ever felt, because I associated them with a loving god. I had to divorce myself from the people in order to find out who god was to me.

And he was not who they said he was, what their cold stares and rock hard opinions portrayed him as. He wasn’t how they lived, spoke, judged. I know not everyone is to blame, not every christian is like this. But where I was, and the few who were unbelievably cruel, were.

Rhona, a very mature seven-year-old, did come through that crowd that last day in church, took my hand, and led me out of there. It was a miracle. I saw god in her that night. I knew that was who he was. I knew that he would not look down on me for leaving Cezar.

Cezar left early October. We left for Nashville the next June. I had $1031 in cash, I had my sister’s Firestone credit card, her phone card, a car my old roommate sold me, and as much as I could fit in the little wooden trailer, and what I could fit around my four little kids in the car.

The car had all those breakdowns, and the police did stop and say they were sorry but thought I was a guy they were looking for. When we got to Nashville, I did have $2 in change. We slept in the car in a campground that first night. And the mosquitoes were relentless.

The friend did let us come to stay with her in Knoxville for a week, but I could tell her husband was not happy and it made me feel bad. Like we were a burden. She did pay for us to stay in a Days Inn for a week which really saved our lives. The day our hotel visit ended, the landlord said we could move into that wonderful, three bedroom brick house. The first night we moved in, with the few possessions we had, we all slept in the living room on the floor, on blankets. It was one of the best days in my life.

There’s so much to tell about Nashville. How we walked everywhere after the car died. How DC Talk used to drive down our street in their tour bus. How Toby from DC Talk came to hear me sing at a restaurant bar, and asked if I was ready to go on tour with them. I did turn them down because they wanted me to leave my kids behind.

There were the babysitters and my attempts at working. I lasted four months as a Shoney’s waitress. I couldn’t do it anymore. Not after the babysitters. Seven in four months. One watched horror movies that gave my kids nightmares. Another put Fia in the trunk of the car when they went to the store. Another, a man, took Gregor in the bedroom when he was three. Rhona stood at the door listening, waiting. She heard nothing. When Gregor finally came to the door his face was red, he was gasping for air. When he got home I asked him to show me what had happened. He took a pair of his underwear and put it over his head and face. I still don’t know what happened to him, but the guy was soon arrested for raping his six-year-old niece. And I had left all four of my children with that man and his wife.  I tried one more babysitter who called me at my job to tell me I was going to have to pay for a very expensive vase my son had accidentally broken. I went and got the kids. And I stayed home from them on. I got public assistance, rental assistance, and was grateful to be able to stay home and just be their mom.

I think I’ll stop for now. This is hard.