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Lindsey Altom
Bio
For me, writing runs in the blood. I've written songs, poems and short stories ever since I was a little girl. I mostly like to write about my life experiences mixed with a little fiction or just things that come off the top of my head!
Stories (69/0)
Why I Fell In Love with You...
The first thing I fell in love with was your red hair. I mean it is the first thing you notice without a doubt but I have a heritage in Ireland and Scotland and am deeply attracted to red hair so your beautiful red hair and your goatee drew me in. It was almost brighter than the sun itself. I just love hair on a man. There is something truly primal about it. The second thing was when you looked at me I felt like I was in my ancestor's shoes looking out at the great blue ocean that carried us all to America. Your eyes are so blue that one could seriously swim in them. And speaking of primal, when you spoke your voice had a deep, husky sound to it but not so deep that it couldn't have a soft edge to it. It could be both at the same time and it was truly a God thing your voice. The first time that we held hands I knew that everything would be okay. Your hand was soft in the center but rough around the edges. It takes me back for a moment to my great-grandfather's hands. He, too, had red hair. To be honest, I've searched my whole life for a man with hands like my Papa. He had rough hands from hard work. You see, he worked with wood, vehicles, metal, and anything that needed fixing on his farm. At the same time, he could also tend the earth with a gentle soft touch or wipe a child's tear away with a gentle swipe of the finger. My grandma always taught me that you could tell a lot about a man just from his hands. I never forgot that lesson. At that moment we held hands, I felt everything I had been lacking in a relationship before that moment suddenly fell away. None of it mattered anymore.
By Lindsey Altom4 months ago in Fiction
VOICES of Survivors
Over the past few months, I have been invited to join a wonderful group. This group is small in my area right now and we only meet once every two months but this is a National group that has been established since 2002 and it just keeps growing. This group's name as you've probably already gathered by the title of this is VOICES. We are a group comprised of men and women who are domestic violence survivors. Our group leader is Ms. Penny Hensley and she works very closely with our local law enforcement, our ADA's, our victim witness coordinators, WRAP(which is another wonderful service), and other agencies I'm sure I'm forgetting. The goal is to create a Family Safety Center so women, men, and children who are victims can go there for shelter and initiate any legal proceedings they may need/want to start during a domestic violence situation. Also, so they can have any questions they may have answered. Ultimately, we want you to feel safe, secure, and like you just received a hug at a time when your world is shaken. The first VOICES group started in San Diego, California in 2002 where the first members served as an advisory committee for the San Diego Family Justice Center. (https://familysafetycenter.org/voices/) You see, from the very beginning, we have been a group of people who want to make our VOICES heard. At one point or perhaps multiple points in each of our lives, our voices were silenced and this group, VOICES is about taking that back. This is about making people aware of not only abuse and its presence but also breaking down the barriers. There are so many stigmas around what a woman should take from a man because she needs to "obey her husband" as stated in the Bible, stigmas concerning whether or not a man can be a victim of domestic violence, stigmas even concerning how a victim should act after the fact(should she/he be quiet and not say anything or is telling people okay?), stigmas on therapy and how this can impact a person's mental health, etc. I could seriously go on and on. It is deeply troubling how we as a society victim shame and blame and then we wonder why these women keep going back to the violence or making excuses for their abusers or why a man is statistically far less likely to report D.V. than a woman. "Half of male victims (49%) fail to tell anyone they are a victim of domestic abuse and are two and a half times less likely to tell anyone than female victims (19%)." This quote from (https://mankind.org.uk/statistics/statistics-on-male-victims-of-domestic-abuse/). It is sad that we as a society(and yes I'm throwing myself under the bus here too) have taught women to be subservient to the point they could die or be raped multiple times and men that they have to be so macho that they need to suppress their feelings to the point it doesn't matter if they get beaten on? I'm sorry society and mankind as a whole but this is not ok! And honestly, this is why I'm still mad. I'm mad at myself, mad at society as a whole, mad at every abuser that ever was or will be and I'm mad at who hurt that abuser to make that woman/man into an abuser because typically every abuser starts as a victim first. So, let's turn things around gradually and step by step because we have to do better and be better and this is what VOICES is all about.
By Lindsey Altom4 months ago in Viva
When the Demons Come to Play.... Top Story - March 2024. Content Warning.
Who do you think you're fooling? I know you're here and I know that you were invited although not by me. You follow me through the hallway whilst you and your friends cling to the walls like unwanted spiders. You make no sound but I can feel your heaviness. I reach the door to my and my husband's bedroom and hesitate. The tension in the air is so thick I could cut it with a knife. He lies just behind this door, sleeping as usual. Lately, if he's not sleeping then he's working or drinking or something else entirely. I keep trying to help him but I keep getting the feeling that he may be too far gone. I keep getting this sinking feeling that he likes the darkness. I'm scared he's the one who asked you here.
By Lindsey Altom4 months ago in Psyche
We call her Grandma...
This woman is amazing in every way. I was born when my mother was still just a child herself so this woman along with many others helped raise me. I feel I became in many ways, like a third daughter to her. At least, that's how I've always thought of myself especially as I've gotten older. When I was young, she would change my diapers, and watch me for my mama as she finished school, as I grew she would be sure I had my favorite breakfast so my mama could go ahead and go to work and then she would get me on the bus to school, she wiped my tears as those hard days came and went, she has been there to celebrate the good and the bad. She didn't do it to take me from anyone, she did all these things out of the goodness of her heart and to help. Sometimes in life, we get a person, a person with whom our heart intertwines and they become our person so to speak. My grandma has always been that for me. I can't explain it except to say that we just get each other on such a deep level. I can look into her eyes and know what she's thinking, know what she's feeling and she can do the same for me. She has always been able to see me for me, she has always heard me and accepted me for me even if she didn't agree or understand it. She has always fought for me even sticking herself in the fire to do so. This woman is a survivor and I will always look up to and admire her for her perseverance, honesty, bravery, and tenacity. She was a single mom for years with my aunt and mother to look after and care for and all that time she never settled back down with anyone else. Why? She didn't want anything else bad to happen to her girls. I know this because she's told me. She became a nurse to support herself and her girls and persevered. She has given so much of herself throughout the years even though it has never been easy. I thank God daily for my beautiful grandma because I know what a blessing I have in having her in my life. She is my dragon, my protector, my rock, and my shelter against the storms.
By Lindsey Altom4 months ago in Viva
A Love I Didn't Expect...
Dear Love, Wow. Where do I start? At this point in my life, I feel like we have such a toxic relationship. On the one hand, I can't stand you. You are such a bitch. I mean when I was little all I ever wanted was to be loved and accepted for who I was, every single part of me but other than a couple of members in my family, I never really got that. More importantly, I never got that from the one person that mattered the most to me, my mother. I was a lacking girl. You left me in the cold; all I had was myself and God's love covering me in warmth. I've felt so betrayed by you and stabbed in the back. The very one that gave me life taught me to hate myself. Then, you gave again. I received Jay, my beautiful perfectly imperfect first love. My heart was so codependent at this point due to not only my mother but the judgments I received and the strict morals I was expected to live by enforced by my mother, stepfather, and my father. Jay, too, had grown codependent over the years from both his parents. Together, our hearts are bound in a way that cannot break easily. Some may call it a trauma bond. We were each other's escapes until we realized that we needed something deeper that the other couldn't give and then that too ended. You're such a cruel mistress love. You give and then you take. Your many limbs twist and weave in a way that no one person could ever figure out on their own. Your ways are complicated and yet simple. After Jay, I fell and I fell hard. His name is not important. At first, I fell so I wouldn't feel the pain of losing Jay. Also, I didn't yet know how to trust and love myself; how to rely on me and me alone. Or God and God alone I should say. That relationship started so blissfully. I was finally being taken care of for once in my life. For once, someone was putting me first. However, it was a trick, wasn't it? A smoke show until the truth came out. Soon, he started treating me like his slave. I was there to take care of the children, clean the house, work, and please him when he wanted it. If he was doing anything out of place or anything I was concerned about, sure at first we could discuss it but slowly it became he would do whatever he wanted to do regardless of my opinion. That ended terribly. He, too, taught me how to hate myself. As it turns out, that was never love because someone who can teach hate doesn't love truly. I spent a while recovering and as it turned out, my first love still loved me but not enough. It never has been enough has it, love? Have I ever been enough? I know now that I have. You have not given me a partner which is something I have always longed for but you have given me something else which is perhaps even more beautiful...
By Lindsey Altom4 months ago in Confessions
Blood Red Snow. Content Warning.
I'm running for my life; this is a matter of life and death. My pursuers are relentless, fueled by the desire for blood. I need to keep moving to stay alive. They've got the taste of blood now and they'll never stop. I'm so very cold as I only have my one fur jacket on and these slippers. They caught me unaware and now there is nowhere to go in this barren, frozen landscape. Suddenly, I see a tree that I can climb up ahead. It is hard to with all the snow and ice but I scramble up the tree just as my pursuers reach me. I see the blood that I left behind like small diamonds in the snow. My arm is oozing blood but there is no time to think of that now. The beautiful creatures snarl their teeth at me from below and try to climb my safe haven. They really are quite lovely in all their fearsome glory with the sharp teeth, the razors for claws, and their keen sense of smell. I look into the deep brown eyes of one of them and see nothing but survival instincts there. She just wants to feed her family and this is the only way she knows how, I've intruded upon her family. Finally, I know there is no getting out of this as they inch closer and closer. I take the dagger out of its sheath from within my jacket, pray, and jump to my death.
By Lindsey Altom5 months ago in Fiction
I do and then I don't
I never thought I would be here, sitting in this lonely crack in your car. I'm just under the seat but you can't see me. What will become of me now? Will I ever get to adorn someone's ring finger again? Oh! How far I've fallen in this crevice of misery. I remember when your father bought me for your mother. There I was just sitting in that dime store glass jewelry case just hoping to go home with some happy couple. Then, there he came and he brought me home with him. He was so excited to show me to your mother. You were there already, laughing and giggling in your baby swing in the background. Down on one knee, he presented me to your mother as a token of his love. I remember how thrilled she was when with a smile on her face she said, "I do." After a couple of years though, things started to fall apart. She no longer looked at me with happiness and instead, it was with disdain. I was so sad when her "I do" became I don't. For years, I sat in a small compartment in your mother's jewelry box. It was so lonely there and dark much like this space under the seat in your car. Finally, one day, she carefully took me out of the jewelry box, and imagine my surprise when she handed me to you on your wedding day. You were grown and looking so lovely and beautiful. She explained to you that her wedding bands that once adorned her finger should now adorn yours. You were so happy to see me, I felt so loved! You were so happy for years to wear me, so proud to show others and tell others where I had come from and what I meant to you. I was there through your marriage but it soon became obvious to me that you two couldn't live together and yet you couldn't seem to live without each other either. One day though I noticed that you seemed so tired. You couldn't handle the fights anymore. Much like your father and mother, you and your love were moving in different directions. I was so disheartened when you sadly took me off your finger and once again, I was placed in a jewelry box. You still took me out every once in a while though and wore me simply because I was a testament to your parent's love and that is how I came to be lost in this crevice. One day, I was in your car and you had taken me off and placed me in your cup holder. Soon, your little boy came out and picked me up. He wasn't supposed to touch me I heard you say later while I sat in my crevice but he was curious. He picked me up and suddenly I slipped from his small hands then I was in this crevice. It's so sad and dark here. I wonder if you'll ever find me? You've already looked so hard. Is this it? Is this where I'll stay? The years go by and yet here I stay. One day, you sell the car giving up all hope of finding me. This car is now my home and we two are one. My new owner as I'm a part of this car now is a young man. He has a girlfriend I know this because I hear her. One day, the young man is cleaning the car. he is giving this car a good detailing job and suddenly I hope. I had forgotten what hope felt like because for so many years I'd set here. Suddenly, against all odds, he finds me. I see it in his eyes as an idea sparks in his mind. I go to a small box and there I sit. I want and hope so badly to adorn someone's finger as a token of love again. Could I have mistaken the look in his eyes? Suddenly, the young man opens the box and I'm at a restaurant and the girl, the girl I've heard in the car stands before me. She looks so beautiful and happy! She takes me from his hand and places me on her lovely finger and says those words I've longed to hear for so many years..."I do."
By Lindsey Altom5 months ago in Fiction
My hopes, dreams, future...
This past year has been so full of change and growth for me and my children and Vocal has been one of my biggest inspirations. You see, in September of 2022 I broke up with my narcissistic alcoholic now ex-husband, and since I had been with him for 8 years my brain had forgotten who I was anymore. I thought I knew but honestly, I had no clue. However, at some point in my healing journey I found Vocal...again. I discovered something that I had long since forgotten because according to Vocal I had joined in 2017. I discovered a world of writers much like myself here and more importantly, a place to express myself and not be judged. Here on this platform are my people. The forgotten in society, the swept under the rug, the creators, the artists, those of us who fight for the light but know sometimes you must know the dark well to appreciate the light... we're all here. I've worked for almost a year now on Vocal honing the writing skills that I once used so often and was so proud of but had all but forgotten thanks to my ex-husband and life. The challenges that Vocal provides have provided me with both a new and exciting challenge to both grow and expand my talent and excitement at trying something new. I haven't won a challenge yet but I plan to keep trying as that is one of my goals for this year. I did recently have my first Top Story which I was extraordinarily excited about...https://vocal.media/families/fort-mother. Finally creating a story that achieved Top Story on Vocal seriously made my week and I can only imagine what winning a challenge would do for my excitement levels. I am simply a struggling single mother of two like many others who is just trying to achieve my dreams for both myself and my children. This year I have already enrolled in college and am taking an English Comp class to start with so I can better hone my writing skills, I've joined a domestic violence survivors group which I am so thrilled about and I have several plans for here on Vocal as well. This year I have a couple of stories still lingering in my Drafts folder that I plan to finish. One is about a girl who is just trying to broaden her horizons by moving from California to Arizona and in doing so she finds herself on a journey that she did not expect nor did she invite, she almost dies and the other is about a woman in a domestic violence situation who fled and in doing so killed her husband or so she thinks and now she has to start over in a brand new town that she knows nothing about and everyone is suspicious of her. I also hope within this year to keep writing on this platform as much as possible as my schedule is very full and to take what I can from the writings of others. If I were to win this challenge or any other challenge I enter I would use that money to go towards a better future for myself and my children. I would use the money to pay off some debts, put food in my children's bellies, and save some if I could. I hope to one day be able to use my writing as a side job/passion to be able to make money from my writings and save that money so my children can go to college or wherever they want to go in life and live a brighter life than I have at times. I have made mistakes as we all have but I am trying and learning every day. I hope to one day live a life of comfort and travel. No, I do not want to live lavishly only comfortably and I believe that I can achieve some of these dreams through Vocal. Vocal has been such an inspiration to me as you can tell and I'm not just saying this, it truly has...so thank you for reading this and any other of my work that you've read.
By Lindsey Altom6 months ago in Writers
Hate.... Content Warning.
I left my toxic and abusive ex-husband over a year ago at this point and I've done a lot to try to heal and recover from not only that trauma but my childhood trauma as well. I've worked hard over the past three years to look at every aspect of myself and notice not only where I was damaged and broken but where I went wrong too. I've tried very hard to own up to my faults and take responsibility where it was mine to take. That being said I know that everything I did in the toxic relationship with my ex was not perfect because for one it's called reactive abuse. You can only take it for so long before you start giving it back. The next thing is that I am human and I am prone to making mistakes and my decisions and thought patterns were not always the greatest. However, everything I did and/or said or didn't say had a reason and most people only know the tip of the iceberg when it comes to what happened between my ex and myself. Also, that's just it, isn't it? No one except who was in the house truly knows what happened. I have my story which I've told and I have a right to tell and he has his. The abuse that I and my children suffered in that home was real and was not made up by any means. I don't have to explain this to anyone I know but because of poor mental health and comments like this I for some reason feel as if I need to explain. This comment I'm assuming was taken down either by Vocal or the author herself yesterday but I got to read it through my emails. This is from my ex-sister-in-law and this is called victim blaming/shaming. I was already feeling stressed due to the holiday season and the financial burden that it puts on one especially when you have children and then I read this. I just can't help but wonder why. Why as another woman would you intentionally seek out another woman to tear her down? I mean I would never. I feel as women we should always be building each other up because being a woman is hard enough as it is so even if you don't like said woman then just don't say anything but don't intentionally seek her out to try and destroy her. Also, as a Christian, I do not feel I have the right to tell another Christian that they are being hypocritical or "need Jesus." Everyone's journey is different and you calling into question their walk with Jesus is just not right in the least little bit. I'm not saying I'm perfect or was the perfect wife to her brother or the perfect stepmother to her nephews but I did try my best and no, I did not blatantly to their faces call the children mean names such as saying they were fat. Most of the time, the boys called themselves that and I told them not to do that. When you only have one side of the story it's hard to see the whole picture but I suppose it's also hard to see the whole picture when you just don't want to. I know nothing I say will matter and everything I say will just go in one ear and out the other because you've already picked your villain and that's fine but all I want is to be left alone. I'm trying to heal over here, I'm trying to find my peace, I'm trying to not stare at every red truck in town afraid that it might be him ready to run me down, I'm trying to not start shaking violently, and getting sick to my stomach every time his name or any of his family's name comes up because the fear lives just beneath the surface edge so please just go away. If you have any sort of decency about you at all please just leave me alone and I will leave you alone as well. I'm not sharing your name, but things like this? This is part of my domestic violence story and I will share it. You were right about one thing though, I'm not a victim- I'm a survivor.
By Lindsey Altom7 months ago in Humans
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