Friday, January 10, 2020


I remember once while living in Yonkers asking my mother to wake me up before she left. She said she would try but she didn’t want me to make her late. I remember asking her every night hoping maybe if I can leave the house before my stepfather woke up. He decided that my room was his and that he should sleep where ever he felt and adopted my bed as his own. No one in my life though that was weird so no matter how many tears I cried To get him out everyone ignored it. Not just my mother everyone. I wanted to hurry and leave so  I could just roam the streets or sit in the library till my mom made it home. She never woke me up and her closet was in my room so sometimes she would come upstairs to get her clothes. I unfortunately didn’t always hear her because I slept like a rock. One morning I did hear her and I asked her to wait for me so I can leave she was in a rush and I had to make a decision to either not shower and run out or shower and try to find something to do. It didn’t take long for me to realize I needed a shower because I hadn’t taken one in a few days. I tried to not shower because everything I did my stepfather told me I did because I wanted him. I tried everything so he would be repelled it didn’t work. I was trying to get in the shower and got all my clothes and forgot something. I don’t remember what it is but I knew I couldn’t get dressed without it. I snuck back in my room. My stepfather was snoring so I knew I needed to moved quick. I got it left and walked back in the bathroom. I quickly undressed jumped in the shower (At the time long showers were a no go because the bathtub was slightly clogged and long showers would fill the tub up) and washed the fastest I ever could as I was turning of the water I heard the door open and I jumped. It was my stepfather he was demanding to know why I was taking a shower. I was shuddering because of fear I knew with the look in his eye what he was about to do. I grabbed my towel and tried to put my clothes on and he hit me so hard I fell back in the shower. I begged him to leave me alone and he wouldn’t he finally bent me over the tub and I started to scream the minute I did he shoved my head in the water and left me there till I stopped moving I dunno how long this went on for as he raped me left me bleeding told me to clean up and go wash the dishes. I know that was the day he killed my spirit. He took the fight out of me. I knew that day that I would never escape his horror. He just kept getting worse. He threw me into a wall and busted my lip by backhanding me just cause I didn’t wake up immediately to go to church. 

I fought hard from the time I was 10yrs old I fought him. I went to school smiling and quiet and no one knew what type of pain I was in.  I was in the honor roll one year and no one knew that I was living a horrible life. People would smile at there punishments grounded even getting a pop they knew they deserved. I smiled and said nothing because I didn’t get a pop I got tied to a bed with duck-tape beaten with a cane or had something shoved up me while l was on my knees with duck tape around my face and mouth.  I dunno how many times this man tried to kill me and I fought so so hard sometimes I wish those scars would show maybe people would hear me if they could see the bruises around my wrist and ankles.  I was so angry I was dark because none of my scars showed. I prayed and prayed and prayed he would leave me alone. I prayed that just as horrible this life is that God was gonna let me be great he was gonna show me a better adulthood, he was gonna show me unconditional love.  He would make me free from living a debilitating fear that if I mess up even the smallest bit that the consequences were to much more then I can bare. I hated to look at myself in the mirror. I saw this ugly person that was shapeless and worthless. I hate myself this face this body this heart. I hate every part of me it disgust me.
Feb 8th 2000 I was on my way to school and my stepfather and I argued about God knows what he decided I did wrong. I was tired I wanted to yell he raped me I wanted to scream but some how I knew no one would believe me so I screamed and cried and never made it to my morning classes. My stepfather told me that if I told anyone he would tell everyone I seduced him and he did. I was 17yr old who decided to seduce my moms husband. Picture that no one would believe him right? Right?

How wrong was I. They believed him I was wrong it was my fault. My mom came to my room and said I’m not mad at you for sleeping with my husband I want to know why?

I had no more words. It was all my fault. When she kicked me out it was my fault and I left. I wanted to be better I even conformed so I can come home. I thought things changed everyone was happy God changed my family. I came back to church and I was hoping they would embrace me like they did the rest of my family but they never did. I complained to much I was too hard headed I was just too much of a problem to love. I was a whore and they didn’t want the young women  around me even though we were the same age. I don’t know how many times I was called a slut a whore or something else because my siblings were raped I was an active participant. I was angry I just wanted people to love me and they did until I failed or messed up. Instead being raped now I get a chance to be humiliated in front of everyone in church. I wasn’t being healed I was having to face this man every single moment and try and forgive him. No one cared how I felt. I had to forgive him first and accept that I also played a part. I had to accept that I must have want this to continue because I didn’t stop it.  I was in church for only a few years and in that time I was treated with such disdain at one point my entire family stopped talking to me.  Can you imagine waking in a house when the only people who speak are the baby’s and everyone over 6yrs old ignores you. People who called I saw as family never saw me as such and I was just hoping that they would. I was told get it together or I don’t want to hear it way more times then I can count. My problems weren’t that serious I had to get over it. They wanted me to call my stepfather dad. They called me rebellious cause I couldn’t.  The pain I suffered at his hands I had to get over.

I was told I was seducing men so often that I tried to change what I wear in the house. That wasn’t enough. I was called a slut and made people against me when all I thought happened was girl talk but I revealed to much and I was in a room trying to make it make sense as everyone turned against me. I even got dragged down a flight of stairs  after being picked up and slammed to the ground. I was barely awake and it was happening again.   I stayed because after all this pain victory is coming and God was gonna show them that I am just as awesome as the other  girls. That never happened.  told that the only reason men like me is because I have a seductive spirit but I ain’t got nothing else going for me. I was told that I’m to prideful and need to be broken down. I didn’t have enough pieces of me to be whole but I was prideful. I been fighting my whole life. I wanted to die since I was 7yrs old and yet here I am.

I spent 20yrs hoping that life would get better that something would change. I spent 20 yrs praying and asking and begging and crying .  I reached out to people I was in counseling and I even step out of myself to try and help people all while dying inside every single day. I worked hard to keep a roof over our head but everything and even that has been a struggle. I didn’t have my own couch till 2004 all because when I told the truth my world shattered. I tried picking up the pieces while holding myself together and I had to stand by myself when everyone came after me. I have been fighting with my own emotions when Nigel died I felt like I was blamed. I felt every time my mother called or cried for the man who tried to kill me I felt that it would have been better if I died. I tried to fight it but knowing that I went to the court houses and tried to see any judge so they could let him go. I would rather say I lied then feel to think that if I wouldn’t have said anything my brother would still be alive.

  I don’t want to hope for better because it never came. I don’t believe it better is coming and I don’t want to waste time on hope. I’m driving everyone crazy in limbo so I need to go.
 I don’t want to pray for anything when I know God never listen to me. I’m tired of people reaching out to me when I spent a year begging for help and hoping someone would hear me. It’s not a single thing at this point that can be said to change my mind. I’m broken and I don’t want to be fixed. I’m tired I don’t want another sorry. I don’t want to hear that I am strong because I’m done being this person. I don’t want to hear what I did to Jia because I already hate me.I hate this person I am. I hate me. I’m in pain. Every part of me hurts. Every moment awake I’m in pain.

Tuesday, February 14, 2017

Broken heart

      I was so excited for the New Year to begin so happy to see what new things were in store for me. I found my calling as a sexual abuse and mental health advocate (I even spoke at a few events).

I was out of work for 2 months after a horrible car accident and finally got paid for that time. I was able to pay rent and all my bills, and even had enough money to get my hair done without guilt.

The best part is I was finally started feeling better. I no longer had to use a cane everyday and even walking with less of a limp.
Life was looking up!

I was excited about what 2017 was going to bring. 
I was ready to go back to work even though I was still in some pain but it was time.

With the money left over I was able to celebrate one of my little brothers graduating from the Air Force. I smiled so much seeing my brother grow up.  I even cried at how big my baby brothers were and how tall and mature they've become. 

I spoke with my other little brother Nigel and he was so excited about his graduation and school. I am proud of both of them, I told them I was. They no longer babies they were becoming men. My mom was excited about how amazing his grades were he had over a 4.0 grade point average, how well he was doing at home and how helpful he was at home. She was so excited at how much a man he was becoming.
My family was getting our shot of being together, we finally can put behind the "saga".  My mother and I started making plans to go to Orlando, Florida with my brothers in July before Nigel went to college and Tahir went back to the Air Force. 2017 couldn't start any better. 

I start post so much on social media; I feel I am a bit addicted.

I got a text asking if I wanted to fast, I thought, not really, who would want to? So I continued about my day.

 I looked at the text again and thought maybe I should.
I do need to take a break off Facebook and Instagram and maybe cut down on TV, while I am at it I stand lose a few pounds.
 I logged onto Facebook and posted something on the state of our country at 4:06pm and in that corner of my phone I see that Nigel was logged on and I thought I do have to asked him something but as I clicked on his name my daughter called me and I was distracted.

 I went to look at my phone again and reposted something I saw on my friend's page at 4:15pm.
I go back and start to text him this time directly and was distracted once again preparing dinner.

I got ready relax and and call my mother it was close to 5pm(I normally speak to her as she heads home) but one of my friends called and we spoke for a while.
 I ended up falling asleep for a couple hours and got up to see if my daughter was in her bed.
I get a text at around 9pm to come to my friend's house it's an emergency.

I wasn't in the mood to go anywhere so I called to see if it was necessary. They said come now and bring my husband. 

The closer to the house the more nervous I was.

I thought maybe something happened to my dad.
I hoped my mom was OK and I was about call her but fear kept me from calling anyone. I didn't want to find out my mom was sick or father died while in the car, plus we were close.

We took the elevator upstairs and I was escorted right into the bedroom.  Everyone was there and the mood felt weird. I heard someone said my brother and I was like ok he got sick because this is too dramatic?

I was confused an eerily calm because I just knew we were all ok we been through too much.

As people gather around us my heart started to race.  My aunt finally broke the silent, she told my sister and I my little brother was dead. People started talking and I couldn't hear them, I couldn't understand why someone would play a cruel joke or say something so mean.

I asked if he was in the hospital and they were working on him. I figured maybe that's what she meant because God performs miracles.

She said he is gone.

I ask again did they try everything they could.
They told me they tried to wake him up but he is gone.

I was in too much shock to cry. 

I felt myself enter an alternate reality like this sick dream that I can't wake up from till it's over.

I looked at everyone in the rooms faces every line, every tear the grimaces on their face and I said why would you guys say that to us.

I wanted to know did they hate us that much that they would say such malicious things to us.

I heard my sister screaming and my brother saying Nigel.

Everything was happening so fast but in complete slow motion I felt myself try to disconnect from the entire situation because I couldn't take the pain, I felt lost.

I must have said Nigel a million times because it wasn't real (it's still not). 

I looked at my phone because I needed to call him but I was scared if he knew they would play such a mean joke.

I got angry at everyone and I wanted to go home, I couldn't understand why people would be so brutal to us.
 They wouldn't let me go home. 
I started to cry because I wanted to know, why my family was being hit with this, why my brother!
My baby, My baby brother.
I kept saying his name to understand if I was really living this moment, I hoped maybe I lost my mind and this was a prison of my worst nightmare.

I said his name again so I can hear my own voice my voice sounded weird.
I thought maybe I went deaf that I can't hear what they are saying. 

I wanted to call my mother and see if she was OK if she is alive if it's real but I didn't know what to say to her. When we heard her voice my heart broke. From the sound of her voice I knew it was true. I wanted to run to her to protect her and make this go away.

 I wanted to fix it so that we can make it go away. I wanted to scream, cry and run away from the news because I figured if I could run from the pain it wouldn't be true the pain wouldn't touch me I could out run this. I wanted to protect my family from this I wanted to fix it but I was barely walking on my own legs. 

I decided I was going to Maryland to see my mom. I got home and got my suitcase out.
I had barely unpacked from seeing my other brother graduate and now here I am running to my mom. This still wasn't real.

I called my best friend to tell her what sick things people have said I was hoping she could tell me it was a dream but as she cried with me I started to realize this maybe real.

I started to feel more confused wondering why no one was telling me to wake up and this is a bad dream.

We packed 3 people in less than 30 minutes and left.

 I had to get to my mother so we got on the road and drove 5hr to Maryland. 

I had to secure care for my dog so I called my cousin and I could barely get the words out. I knew if I told her then it would be true and it just can't be true.

Here we go again the family with problems.

We were always going through something and I hated that.

My family can't go through another tragedy; we barely survived the first one.

We got to Maryland at around 5:30am I seen this little broken lady with so many tears and I held her frail body in my arms as she cried in despair.  We sat in the dark hoping that the new day would bring an awakening and the nightmare would be over. He would wake up and we can go home.  

We heard his alarm go off for school but he never came out the room.

I was so hurt and confused I wanted God to help me and stop the pain to make it go away bring my baby brother back.  

I wanted people to pray and wake him up.

We tried to go see him go to the Medical Examiner's office and lay hands on him but they said the autopsy began it was only 7:30am.
They didn't even give us a chance to hold his hand or see his face.
I was still hoping this is all fake or we were doing this because this is what you do but in my mind he was going to wake up.

 We ( my brother, sister in law, husband and I) went to his school to get his stuff and the principal had the announcements ready. He read was already informed a student passed, as he read the announcements my sister-in-law burst into tears and I started realizing maybe he was really gone.
As the teachers offered their condolences we walked out and students started to enter the school the realization that would never walk the halls again made the tears flow again.

That first day brought more tears because the reality was setting in.

I went through my head and tried to figure out how I could have stopped his death? Maybe I could have gotten him help sooner. 

I was hurting my brothers gone.

I thought maybe somehow if I called him he would be alive or we would get to him in enough time. 

The whole week I continued to hear people ask about his dad and say they wish he was here. I felt defeated. 

I thought about when I was his age and I tried to take my life and asked myself if I was gone would I have saved his life?

My mom's alone and it feels wrong.

I considered the part I played since his father's in Jail because of my story; maybe if his dad was there he would still be here?

Maybe I could have just kept my mouth shut, maybe he would be alive.

Here we are again another problem the same family.

My heart is broken! I didn't know who to blame
My family is broken, so I could only blame myself. 
We were become a family trying to fix the damage we thought we had a chance to repair it. 

All of us together.

My brother was buried on January 21st 2017 in the same cemetery as my grandparents.

Our lives will never be the same and I am not ready to let him go. 

I hoped that he would come back and I could see his shy smile as he looks at his feet and called me old. 

I think about everything he would have been. The amazing person he was becoming.

He was only 17yrs old.

He won't get to turn 18yrs old on May 14th, or Graduate High school on June 6th. 

He will never get married or have a girlfriend.

He won't get to go to college or get his first job.

He won't have any Children; he won't be here to enjoy the sun.

He won't see his friends in Yonkers during the winter break.
We won't get to get on all the rides or hop in the pool in Orlando.

We watched him grow up, Changed his diaper fed him and listen to his deep voice spoke about school and life.
My mom bragged about how amazing and happy he was.
He was just starting to become a man.

 got to hold his hand at my brother's wedding and he made fun of me as I cried during the entire ceremony.

Who knew that would be the last time I get to hold his hand, touch his arm and laugh with him.

I am trying to continue living but sometimes I feel guilty for being alive, for smiling for getting the chance to do the things he didn't. 

My brother was looking forward to so much in life I heard the smile in his voice as he invited me to graduation and I told him I was going to be going to Orlando with him.
His life ended way too soon. 

I still hope he wakes up and says hey Nick. 

I lived with anxiety for so long and when I finally got through it. It felt like I lost my footing again.
I had a fear for every great thing that happen something terrible will follow.

I started to relax and accept the good in life with no strings attached.

Then this happened the good was here and the bad were following me to remind me that it will always be there to make sure I am never too happy. 

Everyone says God got this, don't question him, he knows everything and is the orchestrator of all thing. 

People told me don't question him.

I had questions.

I wanted to be that faithful and just accept that this was part of God's plans but I am in pain.
I wanted to know why him, why at 17yrs old?

Why didn't he get a second chance? Why did I?

I didn't want to be angry at God but I was, sometimes I still am!

I was Disappointed and I lost my faith.

I wondered who he was going to take next.
Is it me? Did I anger you?

Or are you just allow me to live as you take the ones I love?

I wondered was I waiting on earth hoping to die from the pain as you take my family one by one.

I waited for an answer..................................................................... I am still waiting.

I am still in pain but I have more than a few reasons to keep living. 

I found comfort in people who understood my pain.
People who also lost their sibling, they understand my pain my tears.

People said to us you got to let him go. I hated people who said get over it, how could I get over?
I will never just get over it. I lost a part of me.
We lost a part of our hearts and don't know how to walk away from it.
We are putting our lives back together hoping that the reason for our loss will be revealed.

I know there are people who have gone through this and lived.

I know I can comfort someone who has gone through this even though I wish no one had to ever go through this.

I thank everyone comforted me, with calls or sent me text to let me know they were thinking of me. 

It helped even when I didn't know what to say nor did they.

I have a story to tell. 

It may not always be a happy story but it's a story of perseverance.

Life keeps kicking me down but I am still here. 

I won't stop telling my story or my families because we are still here.

I can't keep secrets because I am broken and I want you see my scars to know that I understand.

Life isn't always about Sunshine and Love but I am here for you. 

I am working on living because pain didn't break me although I feel broken.

I am alive no matter how many times I fall.

I am working on getting my Joy although a part of my heart is gone.
I am still a work in progress.

I know my life will be a fight but I will keep fighting.

I miss my Baby brother!
I say his name Nigel, Nigel, Nigel because he's my Nigel because I Loved that name and called him Nigel from the day my mom told me she was having a boy. 

I remember his 10 little toes pressed against my mom's belly as I called his name like he was ready to leap out of her body into my arms.

He knew his name before he was born. 

He knew my voice.

I remember the doctors telling us my mom or Nigel may not make through delivery and I got on my knees and asked God to spare them because I needed them. 

He heard my cries.

I wonder if he still hears me now or have I done too much?

I took Nigel to his very first doctor's appointment and remember how I hated to put him down.

He was born when I was 17yrs old and he died at 17yrs old.

I am not ready to let him go because he was my baby.

I miss your face, your sarcasm and wit. 

I love you little Chunky Baby Nigel!

Thursday, December 29, 2016

Tis The Season

Tis the season where you're excited about the holidays and anticipate the longer shopping days and the gift exchange.

The holiday season and end of the year comes with a mixture of emotion.

I have a love-hate relationship with The Holiday season.

A part of me is overwhelmed by the joy of our savior's birth (regardless if the time is not accurate) and what it means to my life.

The other Part makes me sad about the people I lost and the Struggles I faced with Christmas.

Christmas was always weird in my home at a very early age I remember most holidays were considered Pagan holidays and were not to be celebrated. The only days we celebrated were Holy
Days from the old testament bible. My mom had this book with a Santa Mask on it, breaking down who Santa was.

I never had the chance to believe in Santa, easter bunny or anything. My daughter believes not because we taught her or talk about it but she does, and the idea of taking that away from her is not something I'd entertain right now. She needs to hold on to her innocents a little longer she will figure it out.

I've had some good Christmases but only two great Christmases that stand out in my mind before my daughter was born.

When I was seven or eight years old, my dad (biological) brought us tons of gifts. We were sitting in the dark living room close to a heater with almost no lights on in the house my grandfather said my dad was coming over we were excited but cautious because he always said he was coming he rarely showed. He showed up that day with two large bags full of toys. 

We were so excited that we ran upstairs and decided we wanted to share before my mother could help us pick out what we wanted we ended up with the leftover toys I couldn't remember which. We were so excited to share we didn't consider the fact that everyone got presents from their parents and this was the first year we were getting gifts for Christmas from our parents. That day I was so excited to show them my dad was awesome. I was proud I finally have a dad I can brag about even if it was this one thing. It was my good memory of him.

Another Christmas I remember I was around 18yrs old and I was so excited to celebrate our first Christmas, I went out and bought everyone lots of gifts with my Macy Discount. It was my first official year I could say Merry Christmas.

The following year I went and purchased our family's first Christmas tree and put it in the front seat of my car (pines everywhere) I went to K-Mart in Bay Plaza in the Bronx and bought all type of ornaments and decorations, and we over decorated this tree and we had so much fun because for the first time we had our own tree.

The last few years we have had one struggle after another. This year season was the worst. I heard families collecting or the needy and this year I was the needy. I was looking for places giving out free gifts for kids because I didn't want her to feel left out this Christmas. We've had to make decisions on whether we need the lights on, food, rent or gifts and thank God she has so many people who love her that she never felt our struggle.
She has enjoyed each year and been grateful. We got her one toy this year and she was so excited for that toy I wanted to buy her more but in due time (disability you never know when you will get paid).

It's been a struggle for my family with everything, but we are grateful for finally having our space after 3yrs of living in other people's homes. We purchase our first couch after being married for 13yrs. She has her room and bedroom set.

I can't be embarrassed by my struggles because I know others have gone through worse and a lot of families are still struggling.

I love all these charities that collect gifts but sometimes they are supporting everyone.

They don't get always get to people directly affected in your areas. 

I ask that people support families in your immediate communities, your family friends and neighbors will appreciate the charity.

Pay for outstanding lunch balances.

Go directly to a school and bring a book bag or two filled with supplies, add basic needs such as socks and T-Shirts.

Help parents get uniforms and clothing for school (not every child in private school has money).

The average parent who makes enough to support their home struggle with these things and most don't qualify for help. 

Especially if you know charities that can help people, please share them. 

Some people are too afraid of being judged (a person and assume another is mismanaging their money and have no other reason to fall into problems) to tell you they are struggling. 

We were Lucky to have family to make my daughter's Christmas amazing.

I shared my holiday struggles because we all have are challenges and being grateful for the challenges allows you to appreciate the blessings.

Everyday that I breath is a day I can change and make a difference.

Thursday, December 22, 2016

Looking for me

      I don't remember the day I lost me but I remember the day I realized I was lost. I wondered where everyone was when she disappeared.
I listen to women like Oprah and my cousin talk about how they overcame their abuse, and all I could think of is how I missed the opportunity to be a better woman. I felt like it destroyed who I could have been, my first destiny.
I would hear their stories and cry happy tears because they overcame but then my heart would break because I also felt like a failure. The weekend I went to Oprah Winfrey's The life you want. I cried a lot all these amazing things that should be in my "well-rounded circle of family, friends, education and travel were empty. I remember one women was crying because she felt discouraged and we cheering her on because of her educational accomplishments, we cheered on others women who felt disappointed but had other accomplishments like purchasing their home or getting second degrees although they felt they didn't have much We encouraged them and was happy they had more then they thought. I cried because as we celebrated their achievements', I realized I didn't even have that to celebrate. I kept thinking why didn't I overcome my abuse and be this empowered well-rounded women.
I spent 20yrs of my 34yrs looking for me. The me I was before I was sexual assault. The person I could be, had I not been fighting depression and suicide.
I went looking for Me in my 14yr old self. I found a boy who loved me back then. It took too long to realize he didn't love me now. It took me too long to realize I didn't love him either. I was delusional about what he meant to me and me how he felt. I loved the dream we had at 14yrs old but we weren't the same people we were back then. I was damaged goods, and he never let me forget it, with every comparison to other women, to every snarky remark about my now overweight body. He never let me forget I was something to do. The look of intensity I took for as love the couple minutes of passion as a down payment. I would drop everything to show him I loved him and he would tell me all the reasons he could never love me. I figured it was a matter of time before he changed his mind and loved me back because he knew me when before I was the girl being abused when I could separate what was happening to me and my real life. He also knew he didn't want me, but he never let me walk away until I decided to set the bridge on fire that connects us.

Where was she? I went to look for her in a man, and when I couldn't find her in him, I looked for her in alcohol, partying, other women and sex.
I decided to use sex, partying and alcohol by being present in it enjoying every shot of tequila and every glass of champagne every drunken night every strip club and every song to quiet the pain. I even tried smoking which didn't last long. It was all for the love of a good time.
Sex was mine to give now, and I wanted to be good.  I was allowing them to be with me they should be honored. It was no longer being taken from me or used to control me I authorized this sexual encounter, and I decide what I want to do. I figured I could get back my power. I wanted to be better than whoever they had before because I wanted them to love me so I can control their heart but who was I fooling?
Sex was good, but I was left feeling empty.

The man I met at 18 years old loved me in spite of the broken person I was. He was my friend even when I didn't know what I was looking for. He let me hold a piece of his heart and I damaged it. I didn't realize it until I decided to accept that I am the girl who was sexually abused for close to 8 years of her life.
 I was so angry at myself for hurting him that I pushed him away because he was my reality. He reminded me that I was broken. I was looking for this spark and fireworks, but he wasn't that. He was security, consistency, and reality. He gave me space to find who I was and what I needed.
He became my hero my savior, my superman and when he lost himself in our brokenness and fell apart, I had to accept he was human and I had to learn to love him like he loved me for the years I went searching for me.

I had to find my peace in someone bigger than us both because our daughter needs whole parents.

I found myself overwhelmed with sadness because I didn't understand my purpose and I was ashamed of what I've done. I couldn't figure out why I didn't die when I tried to commit suicide or my many days partying, drinking and driving.

I know I needed help and my go to was church but I was angry and tired of hearing leave it to Jesus. I had to find a Therapist to get help because I was mad at God. He let me go through this, and no one was listening to my pain they were just telling me to get over it.
I was tired of talking to people who wanted me to leave forget the past but I couldn't it because my past hurt me.

My counselor helped me sort out my pain and spoke to me about the God of Love.

He sent me help. In a way, I didn't think he would. I knew I needed help but I thought counseling was not in God's plans but He knew what I needed.

God had a plan for me, and It was to help me find my voice.
I no longer had to keep secrets about my abuse.
I started to tell people my story and found women who stories were similar to mine.
Sometimes I feel like a fraud because  some days the pain is still there.

I still struggling, I am still fighting to be a better woman and I still  fail a lot but I am no longer looking for the girl I was before the abuse. I am still alive, and all I need to do is fulfill what Gods purpose is in my life regardless of my battles.

He said to cast your burdens upon him, and he will give you rest. Psalm 55:22

Monday, December 12, 2016

Falling Apart

  About four years ago I chose to go back to school and at the same time I made that decision everything in my life went wrong. 
The week I started researching online programs, a patient fell on me and sprained my neck. I was put out of work .  Things kept getting worse but I decided this minor setback can't stop me and I continued my search for schools. I chose a few online programs in my career path and started speaking to student advisors. A few days into my search my sister and daughter were in a car accident. During the entire ordeal my marriage was falling apart and the same week of the car accident my husband moved out. 

I was laying on my couch ( most comfortable place) after taking the muscle relaxers prescribed, and all I could think of was "what else could go wrong?" as I was finally drifting off to sleep.  All of a sudden a loud, forceful knock on my door shuck me out of my sleep.  Reminded me not to ask that question again. It took a few minutes to register what was happening and get off the couch, but finally got up and open the door. There stood the housing Marshall there to serve me an eviction notice with my landlady. I was so over the day I took the paper and told them they are rude and thanked them. I told them "I am not signing anything, and you can describe me" as I closed the door in their face. I laid back down and went to sleep. I had no energy to deal with a seventy-two-hour eviction notice. My gross income put me in a tax bracket where I made too much for help but not enough to survive, so affordable housing by income was a lot.  I was unable to find a home suitable for my daughter and I the places that I could afford look like crack dens. It is so frustrating to work full time and have still had trouble paying rent.

I was numb and tired I was becoming overwhelming.

I finally ran out of options, and I ask my husband to come back and help me pack.  As the deadline approached, I had no place to stay, and the apartments I saw weren't viable options. I had one more option I prayed. I called my uncle and asked if he had a room for me to stay. He said he did and I moved in. As I talked to my uncle, he tells me that my grandmother is the hospital and she is not doing well. 
I just knew she was going to be ok so I decided that she will be ok.

I was only thinking about myself, but the reality was, I could barely walk, and I was in excruciating pain, and I was sharing custody of my daughter, and because I had the car, I drove 76 miles each way to get her. I could barely sit, but I had to see her, she was my little light. I was over what ever severe challenges God had for me next. I wanted to give up; I kept fighting for her.

I was so used to chaos as a common place but this time around I felt like I was losing it. I wanted to fix it and stop the chaos to from entering my life. I wanted a break, to think because I was starting to feel crazy.  I started to drink to numb the pain. Just one glass during the week a bottle or two on weekends of sparkling wine to whine down the crazy.  I thought great another three years of hell, and I was right. It was a pattern in my life.
 In November of that year, my grandmother died I was devastated. I thought about the life she lived and prayed she died happily, She was 74 years old, but I hoped she lived. 

I cried for my aunts; I cried because death was so real and permanent! I cried because my mom and I barely had a relationship and I did not know if we ever could. I cried because it was too much pain!

This was my life, here we go again!  Every 2 or 3 years my life seems to blows up, and although it comes back together, I lost so much. In the 13 years of my marriage, I spent so many years in this cycle I could not understand what I was missing what lesson did I miss.
I was so tired of this cycle that I did not ask God why. I did not even bother to wonder why this was happening to me again. I was angry at myself! I blamed myself I was blowing up my own life, but I could not stop it. 
 I had already turned the pilot light off and let the gas seep out the stove, and I smelled it. I convinced everyone that everything was fine, but I knew anything could happen. I was smiling and laughed all the while in pain and hurting I held onto my daughter as tight as I  could to protect her, but I was also holding the matches ready to light them.

 I could not be shocked as the walls of my house fell apart.  I think my whole life was wrong and this was not new. The fire was consuming me, and I was not even in shock as I stood there fanning the flames by letting things in my life spiraling more out of control. I  was hoping I would die during this, but I knew he would not let me die because I had to keep going through this pain. I expect to live with the consequences, but I was getting angry. 

I never had an easy life, and my childhood wasn't great. I grew up so confident that because of all the pain I endured my life would be that much better. Boy Was I wrong.

This is my story at least part of it anyway.

Thursday, June 23, 2016

I have never officially written a blog I got on for a philosophy class which I realize I took almost eight years ago. I do not consider myself a writer, but I love, love, love, to talk. In the last two weeks, I have been dealing with laryngitis, and I cannot talk as much as I want to because it hurts. I never realize how much I needed to speak until now when I can't it is honestly more painful mentally and more challenging than I ever thought it would be.  I've always felt the need to fill uncomfortable silence with chatter (I am annoying that way) it actually embarrassing. It's my way of getting that nervous energy out. To fill the noise in my head. It soothes me.

       In the past few years, I have had to remove myself from friends and let people go because of my need to tell people so much of my life. There were moments in my life that nothing was going right and I was looking around, and everyone seemed to be living their dreams while I was living a nightmare. I was becoming toxic to my self with envy and to others because I was happy for them and hurt because I was not there. I was angry with my struggles and impatient waiting on my turn. Asking "WHAT LESSON ARE YOU TRYING TO TEACH ME"?  It was a hard transition because the more people I let go, the fewer people I have to talk to, but the more time I had to think about the lesson in that moment of struggle.  I have a few people I consider friends that I spoke with but not many. Some I met recently other I known since I was a kid. I always hear people say no new friends but these women were exactly what I needed. 
                   At 34yrs old, I am figuring who needs to know what about my life and who I should leave completely alone. 
I am also learning to set boundaries in my relationships. I am learning to separate myself from people and things that can be draining.  
So the best way for me to go through this transition is writing. I want to get my thoughts down and work on me, but sometimes I just can't type fast enough.  
    I am taking this time to work on my life, my thoughts and my spelling and grammar, I am working on it all. I have so much I need to do, and it's time to do it. I know my time is running out and I need to do what I came to earth before it's too late! It's not that I am going die it knowing that it is time to get ready for my purpose! I wasn't ready, and the opportunity is approaching I have to be willing, so it won't walks right by me. The people I loved and were being blessed went through the struggled, learned the lesson and was ready for their opportunity. The thing with social media is that people will highlight their great moments but never show you their struggles and that ok but do not measure yourself with what seems to be their lack of fight. Their struggles and lessons are going on behind the scene, and comparison always ends up with the feeling of defeat!