My Name Is Hidden Arrow E-Book

C.L.B.

• Herausgeber: Spines
• Kategorie: Sachliteratur, Reportagen, Biografien
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2026

Beschreibung

In a tapestry of memoir and poetry, this work captures a journey from silence to liberation. It delves into the heart of a soul confronting its tortured past, seeking transformation through truth, spiritual enlightenment, and ancient healing. Natures sanctuary supports her quest and facilitates her empowerment as she navigates the complex and challenging maze of civil litigation for survivors of childhood sexual assault alongside her newfound allies from Herman Law and the Justice League. Her story, one of resilience and rebirth, resonates as a beacon of hope and courage, celebrating the victory of light over darkness and the power of reclaiming one's personal truth amidst the wild's sacred rhythm.

Leseprobe

My Name is Hidden Arrow

C.L.B.

My Name is Hidden Arrow

All rights reserved

Copyright © 2025 by C.L.B.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

Published by Spines Publishing Platform

ISBN: 979-8-90002-833-0

My Name is Hidden Arrow

C.L.B.

Contents

Foreword

Prologue

1. What happened to you?

2. Don’t go in my old room

3. USC and Charlie, the rule-breaking therapy dog

4. I think I changed my whole fucking life

5. The Unraveling and the Channeling

6. Your name is Hidden Arrow

7. Welcome to the Big Leagues

8. The Shaman Next Door

9. Snap back to reality. Oh wait, there goes gravity!

10. The Warriors' seat

11. My Finest Day(s)

12. Four More Hours

EPILOGUE: “11:11” and Beyond

Foreword

There are stories that live in memory, and there are stories that echo deep in our bones. My Name Is Hidden Arrow is one of those stories. This book is a recounting of wounds carried in silence and the courage to give them a voice through sacred unraveling. It is the map of a healing path carved through many lifetimes and written in the ink of pain. A true comeback story and hero's journey, Carrie turned pain into power, grief into grace, and shadow into light.

Carrie has walked through the fire, not as a victim but as a vessel of transformation.  What she endured, she alchemized. What she remembered, she now offers to us as medicine. She carries the courage to meet herself at every threshold; broken and rising, uncertain yet sovereign and always rooted in love. She has touched many hearts by the way she allows her emotions to flow, giving permission for others to feel, heal and embody truth.

Hidden Arrow is not her entire life story, but it is a beautiful recounting of the most impactful moments revealing her depth and masterful ability to restore harmony and truth, even in the darkest of places. I have walked beside Carrie across lifetimes. In this lifetime, we chose to remember. We recognized each other again, and we chose to reflect what is eternal: truth, love and the liberation that comes when we stop betraying ourselves. This book is her arrow, no longer hidden.

Revealing its sharp truth, not pointed to wound, but to pierce the veil of forgetting. May every soul who finds themselves in these pages feel a stirring of their own powerful voice, pursue their own healing, and find their own Holy return. May Carrie's offering echo through time as a signal to all who are ready to reclaim the light that was never truly lost.

In Reverence and Unbreakable Sisterhood,

Maria Lomeli

The 'Shaman next door'

Prologue

POEM: A REBIRTHING

Unearthing the tears

That were once shed

Dispersing the fears I was fed

And the things that were said

And the rumors that were spread

Resulting in a child’s life led

Without any light shed

Mouthing the silent screams

Unable some days

Just trying to stay sane

While I grapple with my hard head

The lost, invalidated secrets

And memories kept piling up

Underneath my bed

Labels sometimes recited

Alive in my dreams

Are without any fucking cred

That used to hold me tightly

To a timeless PTSD thread

Hidden deep beneath

This thin skin now shedded

My internal revolution

Sprouting up since the cradle

See, I just put all

The family secrets

Out on the table

Welcome to a complete healing

Reaping and reeling

My voice

One muffled

My spirit shuffled

Now unfettered but

At seventeen, I was speaking

In a foreign language

Screaming in effigy

Revealing the triggers

Sketched out and stressed

My back to bend

Can you see?

I used to descend into

The darkened me

Shamed to the point of becoming untamed

No one got out

Of this fucked up shit unscathed

My life’s in protest against

The shame and the lame

Duck session

As I attempt to restructure

My Lion’s heart

Within a new time frame

To scream out truth

Validated

No longer in vain

It’s my truth coming

At you full scale

Undeterred by my individual tale

Of these past calamities

And the lack of relationship

With my own family

I strive for this

Socratic wisdom

And in spite of these flash back intrusions

And the illusion of fear

I am channeling myself

A higher version

Adorned with bravery and devotion

As I face my trauma

With a bounce back resilience

And reframe my composure

As I attempt to heal

From such deep hurt

I finally have closure

I am refusing to perpetuate

The cycle of disconnections

By bringing to light

This fucked up cover-up

And a lack of covering

And protection

I no longer gamble

With my life

And I’m not planning my death

And

Can you see after all the hurt

My life is a true comeback story

And this deep longing and soul thirst

It's my second chance

For a familiar healing

So here it goes…

Welcome to my rebirth

What happened to you?

At six weeks old, I was swimming underwater. I know because there is a picture of me doing it! My mom taught swimming lessons every summer in our backyard. She even taught infants how to become acclimated to the water. She called it the “tiny tot class.” I still see her in the pool, encouraging each child to blow bubbles or kick, kick, kick. She would battle wasps and horseflies. She had a jar of spider rings and bouncy balls for each child who finished their lesson. Sometimes, I would demonstrate the various techniques she was trying to teach the other students. I remember watching my mom teach one young man to swim the butterfly when he was only five. He became the national champion at age eight.

I loved swimming and began competing on the swim team at age four. I remember swimming laps in the bathtub. I would swish around, and when I went underwater, I would pretend that I was winning a race. My Olympic dreams came alive after witnessing Mary Lou’s magnificent win in the 1984 Olympics. I vowed to work hard during each practice and swim each race as if I were swimming in the Olympics. And I did.

My coach at the time understood what it took to get to the Olympics. She had qualified for the Olympics in the very event I swam, the 100m butterfly. However, the Olympics were canceled that year due to political strife stemming from the Cold War. Therefore, she was unable to fulfill her dream. I enjoyed her instruction and her friendship. My parents had just gone through a nasty divorce, and so it was nice having a caring adult looking out for me.

The first day the zombie graced us with his presence, I remember him entering the swimming pool deck; his presence commanded attention. I had just turned fourteen years old and was at swim camp the week prior. I was a serious competitor and looked forward to practice.

He smiled and winked as he passed by me. Blushing, I looked back at him; I could see he walked with confidence, like an important man on a mission. That particular day, I happened to need a ride home. He volunteered immediately.

On the way home, he asked if I wanted to go to the pool every morning before school to get in extra training. Excitedly, I accepted his extra coaching. He was employed as a lifeguard and had the early morning shift.

I wanted to make the varsity team as a freshman and eventually get a scholarship for college.

Plus, I needed an adult who believed in me. The other coach had moved away, and I was going through a rough period.

In addition to the “normal” teen challenges, I was having same-sex crushes on my closest girlfriends. To cope with my secret crushes and my parents' most recent divorce, I often snuck out of my house to go to desert parties where I drank myself into blackouts. So, prior to meeting the zombie, I had extremely high-risk behavior, which made me extremely vulnerable.

He began picking me up before school and took me to the pool, where I would swim for an hour and then walk to school. I was very focused and believed that he genuinely wanted me to succeed. After a couple of months of morning practice, I began seeing rapid improvement in my times.

After making the varsity team, he began driving me to and from varsity practice from my junior high. We were often the first at the city pool, and he began assisting the high school coach in opening the facility. I helped him put in the lane lines as waited for the other team members and the coach and swimmers to show up.

After spending several months grooming me, he got me drunk, kissed me, and fondled me. It was blurry but I remember he said he loved me, but that it all had to remain a secret. He wanted to marry me when I turned eighteen.

After the assault, I asked him to drive me to my friends house. It was extremely shocking and traumatic. He was my friend, my coach and someone I respected. Of course, I had love for him. Even had an age-appropriate crush. I NEVER anticipated an adult would cross that line! My fourteen-year old child also felt special. Maybe this was love, I remember thinking before passing out.

In April 1989, he raped me on the living room floor next to an old couch at my mom’s house. Up to that point, I was a virgin. From that point on, we were in a secret relationship that mimicked a marriage.

 He was serious about the reality of our ‘secret marriage’. According to testimony, he lived with us in my mother's home between 4-14 months. My mother and I were extremely poor and living in a parsonage at the church my mom worked at to avoid homelessness.

Because my mom worked so much, she needed the help driving my brother and me to and from practice and swim meets. Of course, the zombie was happy to help. As he became more helpful, he gained my mothers trust. Before we knew it, we were fully reliant on him for day to day life.

Once he moved in, I was sexually assaulted within my own home almost daily. My mother worked two jobs to support my brother and me, and she barely made over minimum wage. This lack of parental involvement made me ripe for his grooming. My older brothers were grown and gone, my father was not regularly engaged with me, and this left my brother and me in a vulnerable state, and he knew this.

After the abuse began, my entire personality changed dramatically. Once a gregarious and outspoken kid, I was now withdrawn and awkward around my peers. Feeling sad and misunderstood, I cried often. My home life was chaotic.

The stress from living in poverty, coupled with a second divorce and alcohol abuse, kept my mother distracted and disengaged. It was a very stressful and damaging environment, even violent at times. While the zombie and my mother were having their own outbursts and meltdowns, my brother and I began having ours.

We began violently fighting, and I could see my brother's confidence vanish when the zombie or I made fun of him. Ashamed of my drug and alcohol use and all the secrets I had to keep, I began to hate myself. Shame enveloped me and I know longer looked adults and my peers in the eye.

Arguments between the zombie and me played out on the pool deck, in front of the swimmers, parents, coaches, and league officials. Constantly embarrassed and afraid of our secret getting out, I began to not participate in practice. The kid who never missed a workout began sitting alone instead. Again, another huge red flag.

The zombie would emotionally manipulate and abuse me by dismissing my feelings or gaslighting me if I cried. So, as I hid my tears, my voice was further silenced. Now, under his care and supervision, he drove my little brother and me to the “out of town” meets.

The best part of the out-of-town meets was spending time with peers outside of the pool environment. My kid brother and I would never stay with the other swimmers or even in the same motel. Another disturbing dynamic was that our motel room was paid for by the swim team board; in exchange, I coached the less experienced and younger kids.

Everything in my life felt extremely overwhelming! The zombie and our secret marriage were all I could manage to think about. I felt so alone and isolated. There were times when I wanted to tell my friends and even their parents about the zombie and our secret marriage, but I could not bring myself to. He often threatened to kill himself when I wanted to tell. So, I fearfully and shamefully kept our secret.

The emotional manipulation occurred at swim meets, as well. At times, he would flat ass ignore me or overload me with events. He would later tell me that he had to ignore me because he didn’t want anyone seeing his love for me, and overloading me at meets was to make me a better swimmer. I began to equate love with gaslighting, secret keeping and bullying. At one “away” meet, I told him to fuck off in front of another league coach. That coach was shocked and told him to send me home. I laughed, turned to him and said, “try it” and angrily stormed off. 

Over thirty years later, a few swimmers would testify in deposition, confirming the motel room situation at both high school (CIF meet, 1989) and USA Swim League meets. Another witness and childhood friend testified that I appeared to be on drugs. Another witness testified that he showed me a lot of extra attention.

The “zombie” participated in almost every facet of my life. Both my physical and emotional health began to suffer. I began to experience shame and anxiety on a daily basis. No matter how hard I swam in practice, it wasn’t showing up in my times. I was constantly frustrated and jealous of the other swimmers.

I was angry that my friends were breaking records while I was heartbroken, and I expressed this in my early journals. After enduring over a year of abuse, I came down with a severe case of mononucleosis. My high school swim season was cut short, and it was devastating to me. While still recovering from mono, I began having severe abdominal pain.

I told my mother, but no medical treatment was sought. So, I told the zombie, hoping he would take me to the doctor or tell my mother. Instead, he proceeded to give me three to four Tylenol every several hours around the clock.

The reason he didn't want me to go to the doctor was that he had just given me methamphetamine the day before. Often paranoid, he was afraid the doctor would find out. Despite the increasing abdominal pain and the mononucleosis infection, I received no medical attention. My strength left me and I remained bed-bound.

After several days, I began vomiting and collapsed. My mom took notice and made a same day appointment with my pediatrician.  He took one look at me and immediately admitted me. Emergency labs were drawn as the vomiting viciously persisted. I was diagnosed with sepsis, but the doctors could not find the source of the infection.

A CT scan of my abdomen was done, and my appendix was not detectable on the scan. A decision was made to perform emergency exploratory surgery. Before I knew it, I was rushed into surgery. A sloppy six-inch incision was made down my abdomen. 

The doctors were shocked when they found my appendix was not in its normal place. It was found tucked up by my right kidney and was almost completely encapsulated.

It was just hours from bursting. His complete and total disregard for my basic health and safety could have killed me! The displacement of my appendix was most likely caused by repeated sexual trauma. I was hospitalized for five agonizing days, and it was extremely traumatic and painful.

When my friends and their parents came to visit, the zombie was there, fixed by my bedside. My stepmom testified she noticed that while in the hospital, he wouldn’t leave my bedside, even when repeatedly asked by the nurses. She also noticed that I was comfortable being in various stages of undress around him.

 Ten years after my appendectomy, I would undergo surgery to repair and lyse severe abdominal adhesions. My insides were glued together with dense scar tissue. I would suffer from severe abdominal pain until this was corrected in my mid-20s. Even then, I knew the damage being repaired was from my experience with the zombie.

After the zombie moved in, he resumed the role of both parents, and nobody seemed to care. It was absolutely fucking insane! My high school peers had their parents come to the school campus at 11 p.m. to pick them up after arriving home from an “away” meet.

I had the zombie. It was obviously extremely odd and inappropriate. According to interviews conducted by the investigator from Herman Law, it was revealed that teachers, swim coaches, and parents knew about the 'relationship' and many expressed remorse and sorrow for not helping me. One coach admitted to being fully aware of the abuse for the entire two years.

However, some of the witnesses who initially spoke the truth and expressed remorse would change their story during their deposition and claim to have not seen ANY red flags indicating an inappropriate 'relationship' between the zombie and me. It was absolutely ridiculous testimony and completely laughable.

When these witnesses changed their accounts while on the stand, my attorney and hero would ask each one a question.  “When the newspaper came out, who did you think the swimmer was?” Flustered, each admitted that they knew it was me when they saw the front page headline, establishing that they either knew or suspected that he was abusing me. As with any betrayal, it was absolutely devastating to me when the people who I once loved and/or respected changed their story.

After turning sixteen and getting a car, the zombie was having a hard time justifying his presence in my home. He began catching heat from the parents and board members, so he moved into his own apartment. Even though he no longer living with me, I was now addicted to drugs and alcohol. I also had a Stockholm like connection. A trauma bond, if you will.

 According to one witness, I was seen at his apartment, lying under a sheet, possibly naked and pretending to be asleep. There was meth on the table. I remembered this experience after the witness described the scene during the deposition.

It jolted my entire being and I remember running to my compost toilet and vomiting.

At one point, I was approached and asked by a swim team board member if the zombie had ever been sexual with me. I was afraid of his suicide, which he often threatened, if I didn’t keep our secret, so I denied any sexual abuse.

The power dynamics between us were complicated and confusing. Like many survivors, I had feelings that conflicted and were confusing at times. My feelings ranged from love, shame, anger, confusion, rage, jealousy, disgust, fear, lust, and complete disassociation. To sum it up, it’s truly a mind fuck in every way. All of these confusing and conflicting feelings were expressed in my early journals.

After the zombie moved out, I got my license and began spending more time with my peers. This is when things became a bit clearer for me. I stopped abusing alcohol, marijuana, and methamphetamine and began attending twelve-step meetings. Of course, I couldn’t go to the twelve-step meetings alone. The zombie attended them as well.

It was just another way to keep tabs on me. Just like on the pool deck, the “relationship” was played out in that environment, and several of the members knew about the “secret marriage.” One member was deposed over thirty years later and confirmed this dynamic.

In mid-December, I attended a twelve-step Christmas party. I had a few months sober and truly enjoyed the meetings and people in the fellowship. I was sitting with a middle-aged woman, her husband, and her adult son that evening. I stayed near the Newman family while at the twelve-step group Christmas party because I felt truly safe with them.

With ease, we connected immediately, and it felt like we had known each other for years. The Newman family was unlike any family I had met. They were loving and supportive toward each other. When I looked into their eyes, I saw kindness and love, unlike the zombies’ piercing, stone-cold eyes.

They laughed with each other, not at each other. This was absolutely foreign to me. I was drawn to their warmth from the first moment I said hello. The following day, I went to church with one of my friends. She was raving about this new church in town. They had a full-on band and played some good music.

I remember walking into the crowded room with cheerful faces and contemporary Christian music coming through the speakers. Then I saw the Newman family, and I knew this wasn’t a coincidence. They noticed me right away, and we waved to each other.

While listening to the sermon, I asked God to help me get away from the zombie and forgive me for all the lies I frequently told to keep our secret. I didn’t want him in my life, but he seemed to be a permanent fixture. In my journals, I wrote about how annoying he was while we were at work because he would flirt with me or try to make me jealous.

When the preacher asked for people to accept Jesus as savior, I walked down the aisle with tears in my eyes and knelt down at the altar. Prayerfully and wholeheartedly, I repeated the preacher’s prayer and accepted Jesus as my savior. My heart felt clean and my mind felt renewed!