Archive | April, 2013

A Moment Of Reckoning…Living with a Chronic Illness

29 Apr

I am approaching the mid thirty year mark with my son by my side, all my body parts still intact, in good mind and spirit. As I reflect on all the things I have been told I can’t and should not do, I can’t help but marvel at my survival…They said I should have died at five!!!

I was three years old I remember…I began feeling excruciating pains throughout my body, unexplainable pains. The kind of pain that no three-year old child should ever have to feel, the pains were so awful and it was everywhere within my body. There were times when I cried uncontrollably from the intense pains I felt, other times being unable to cry, all I could muster was a groan. I would ask my parents why does it hurt so badly and all they would do is simply look on in horror.  They didn’t have the answers to give or render any assistance.

This sudden illness and the frequency of these crises called for speculations of all sorts. My parents took me to the doctors many times, however they were unable to diagnose the source of all the pain I was feeling, I went undiagnosed for years. I was ten when I was first diagnosed with Sickle Cell Anemia.

Now having a name for the illness didn’t really change much just the fact that we now knew what to call it. Living in a third world country and having this chronic illness was a challenge. The medical community had very little knowledge of this disease, therefore my family and I went through a process of trial and error constantly. I spent days, sometimes weeks in the hospital at which time they would stuff me full of drugs, however the pains remained or would return as mind numbing as they did before the medicine.

We knew there was no cure for Sickle Cell Anemia. My parents who were full-fledged Christians would call upon the church to pray in an attempt to combat this illness. They resorted to taking advice from folks in the community in an attempt to provide some form of relief from the pains. My parents tried several natural remedies provided by the elders in the community, friends, family, neighbors, and strangers alike, some remedies so disgusting in taste that for years I could still taste some of them. I remember loved ones offering my parents to take me to various types of folk doctors, spiritual healers etc.

I recall being in this hospital for over six weeks, the nurses would inject pen insulin injections in my bum daily.  When they ran out of room on the right side, they proceeded to inject the left cheek, when there was no room on my bum, they began to give me the shots on my thighs. The process had become unbearable for my mom and one night at midnight, she stole me out of the hospital without consent from the doctors. I vividly recall that night because it was the first time I saw my mom stand up to someone to the point of physically warding the staff off. LOL

During my early childhood years, I always had something to care for, various pets and or plants which ironically with each major crisis something would die. My parents would simply replace whatever had died in an effort to try to maintain normalcy in my life.

A week ago an associate of mine lost her battle with Sickle Cell Anemia. Quite honestly I get a little rattled each time someone dies from the disease (yes, I’m fully aware my demise could be from other causes) but my worry intensifies when I hear the reason or the age. I find myself worrying about these things because I have been told or heard so many times that I won’t make it past a certain age, and with each defiance of beating the odds another five years is added to my supposed life span, as another part of my body is physically altered, I’m encouraged to add another drug, or do another procedure for the expansion of my life.

I migrated to the US some years ago, and while I was ecstatic to be reunited with my parents I was more excited and hopeful to know I would receive better health care. (I was in for a rude awakening) it’s been better in some cases on the part of care, but, and it’s a big BUT to my surprise only a few doctors have in-depth knowledge about Sickle Cell Anemia, as a result I find myself having to educate the medical staff about the illness. The worst part, being in crises; everywhere hurting and having to have a lengthy conversation informing a medical professional of what to do or what I need. Sickle Cell Anemia is a chronic illness that has and continues to alter the lives of so many and still in this day and age it’s only known or recognized by a handful of doctors.

Since I decided to begin this journey to freedom, talking about these issues, blogging and writing my books has been forcing me to revisit unpleasant places, remember the pains, deal with the issues and this journey has awakened memories I had suppressed, stirred up feelings and emotions, caused me to laugh and to cry. The overwhelming emotions I have experienced since embarking on this journey has forced me to question if I should continue on this path to free me. It has been a lot and a lot to process but I KNOW I have to do this!  I have had some major setbacks throughout this journey people are curious as to why I am baring my soul, my innermost feelings to the world…

I have had conversations with God over the years asking why, why was I exposed to these things, why was I dealt these cards, why? Well apparently I was and am being prepped for something bigger than me, it has not been an easy under taking. The average person may not have been able to cope, for in addition to being born with a hereditary disease, I was exposed and experienced other issues no child should have to deal with, “but, why not me? For years I convinced myself the reason I survived was the drive I had and the passion to push on because my siblings needed me. I couldn’t give up or give in until “after they passed the worst,” I had to be here for them.

There were many moments when I wanted to die, and in those moments I would repeat their names like a mantra, not a bible verse, not a prayer, but the order of birth of my siblings. Nemmy (Horace) John, Ricky (Ricardo), Candy (Candeesia) and Sam (Samuel). The pain that one experiences from Sickle Cell Anemia is excruciatingly mind numbing. There are times when I feel so ill, I can’t move and with pains shooting through every cell in my body it’s unspeakable and unexplainable. Even as I write, it’s rather difficult to explain the depth of the pains I have felt and continue to feel. I can only express it as being on the NASCAR track and seeing cars zooming by at such speeds that it is difficult for the eyes to follow and the mind to conceive, that’s what the shooting pain feels like when it hits. It’s rather unpredictable and most times comes on unexpectedly, in these moments I simply will myself to smile, especially if I’m out or anywhere but home, I simply pray and ask God “please just allow me to make it home.”

For years I hid the knowledge of my illness from everyone around me. School mates, class mates, work colleagues, teachers, professors, friends and even boyfriends. I was embarrassed to tell, I was made fun of for missing days at school I was looked at funny, questioned, I had friends and potential boyfriends shy away from me as if I had the plague, most important I refused to speak of being ill or any other trauma in my life because I do not, did not, nor ever want to be pitied!

I hate/hated the thought of being treated differently, or have the ewes and awes directed at me. I didn’t want to be a side-show or a spectacle and surely didn’t want to be treated as such. LOL. I recall using being sick to my advantage as a child a couple of times, that too was short-lived, because I soon realized whenever I told my parents a lie to get out of something, surely soon thereafter what do you know? I would get sick. So I stopped that quickly!

This path has been a tumultuous one!  I had my moment of reckoning, my life-changing insight at the dining room table recently…The insight was simply, I am alive, He kept me, and sustained me simply because my time has not yet come. I have not done that which I am meant to do, I have not even began, the experiences I had, the things I have been exposed to are so much bigger than me, I just could not see it!  Yet at the table with my sister, I was awakened to the fact, I’m not here because I really willed myself to be, I’m here simply because God has a grander purpose for my life and he wasn’t and is not through with me yet… after many years of making excuses after excuses, rationalizing and procrastinate like hell, I realize there a few things I need to do! with His guidance and leadership I’m accepting and walking boldly…. Join me as I/we journey2free…

From my heart to yours

Larissa

In Pursuit of Trust

22 Apr

When I decided to finally open up about my child sex abuse issues, I was told by some family members “It’s in the past, it’s time to move on.” What some people do not understand is, there are many psychological issues associated with child sex abuse. One of the major psychological effects/remnants of being sexually abused is TRUST. While it’s an *emotion* we all battle, in my case it is heightened to another degree. I find it rather difficult to trust, often times I find myself questioning the honesty and integrity of innocent bystanders who come into my life.

My little prince begins his nursery program on Monday and I am shit scared!! Registering him was bitter-sweet, I was both anxious and excited that he’s about to embark on a new stage of his growth and development. The closer the date drew for his attendance the more frayed my nerves got. I have been playing every possible scenario in my mind, where my son is concerned everyone is a suspect. This place of mistrust is not an ideal place to be mentally. It’s rather stressful and nerve-wrecking.

As I think about these new stages that my son and I must enter I find myself thinking. How can I keep him safe?  If someone hurt him, touch him inappropriately, would I see it, would I know? I try to convince me that I have built a strong, honest, confident relationship with my son and that he will tell me everything.

Then I revert to thinking, the fact is no matter how much we want to believe he/she would never hurt our children, how we try to be secure in our beliefs that we built a great trusting relationship with our babies and they would say something, we try to convince ourselves “my child would tell me” I would see it, I would know, the truth is you may not know, I may not know. Children are often afraid to speak or to tell someone for various reasons, threats is the most likely, being told no one would believe, people will think they wanted it and or played a part in it, being shunned by peers, fear that if they tell someone, it will cause their parents to separate, the feelings of guilt that they would be held responsible for all the dissention in the family….and the list goes on….

I was born with an incurable illness, therefore when I decided almost three years ago to attempt to conceive a child I was very afraid, afraid that I wouldn’t be able to carry the baby to term and afraid that I couldn’t control the sex of the child if and when I had the baby, I was worried about having a daughter for fear that she would be faced with the possibility of having my childhood experiences thrust upon her. I prayed countless prayers, I prayed for a healthy baby; my most recurrent prayer however was that my little miracle be a boy! My fear had me so distraught that I couldn’t see myself with a little girl. I wouldn’t know what to do with her; I was afraid that I would not be able to take care of her and she would grow up resenting me because of my inabilities. I convinced myself she would not understand the struggles of her mother in trying to protect her and keep her safe. From experience I know that many young girls feel that their parents are being mean to them when they try to protect them, some think their parents are trying to hold them back, stop their progress and the works.

Fast forward two and a half years later, here I am harboring identical concerns for my boy!  I realized the minute I held him in my arms in the hospital that “bad people hurt little boys too.”  As he grew that fear intensified, I remember holding him for the first time in that hospital room, I cried, both with relief that I made it through my pregnancy and he was finally here, the overwhelming emotion of love and finally having my own little person to call my own, but mostly because of fear, I had done it, but what now!! Will I be able to love this little being with all I have, would I be able to provide for him and meet all his needs developmentally, emotionally, would God grant me enough time to see him grow up? Would I be able to protect him from sexual predators? The reality hit me that boys are just as susceptible to child sex abuse as are little girls. I was so paralyzed by fear that someone could hurt him sexually and he wouldn’t be able to tell me, he had no voice, he was just a helpless little boy, he needed me all the time, I have to protect him, I cannot let him out of my sight, I would never forgive myself if someone did something to him and I wasn’t there to protect him, all these thoughts rushed through me as I looked upon the angelic face of my beautiful little miracle.

While in the hospital the nurses would insist I send him to the nursery so I could get some rest. Each time I had to let him go my heart bled. I was paranoid, my head was always filled with thoughts of someone touching my baby inappropriately and I wasn’t there to protect him, I felt helpless, I would relive the trauma of being abused in my mind simply because I was separated from my son. I remember buzzing for them to bring him back as soon as they walked out the door. Not because I was so overjoyed but the anxiety I felt from not being where he is. I needed to see him always.

Upon taking my little prince home the fear and inability to trust went through the roof! Reason, I have four brothers and a sister in addition, three adopted siblings (not legally), as much as I love and trusted my siblings, the thought of either of them taking him for more than a millisecond, I would display panic attack  type symptoms. If one of my brothers took him to their room I would start heaving in as little as fifteen minutes. My adopted siblings and their biological mom would offer to watch him so I could get some well needed rest, unbeknownst to them I wouldn’t and couldn’t rest or breathe easy so that was short-lived!

 I remember falling to pieces in front of a friend, finally admitting after a series of questions that I don’t trust anyone with my baby not even those I was partially responsible for raising!  After my melt down, my dear friend said to me “Ris, you are going to drive yourself insane,” and pointed out that which I already knew that with this bunch my prince would be safe, funny thing is deep down inside I knew that! But fear! (I never mentioned this to any of my siblings I almost hope they don’t read this post.) Lol.

Now here we are, after making the decision to keep him out of daycare, now realizing that three is fast approaching and he will indeed have to go out into the world without me, I have to release my grip on my child, knowing I can’t keep him locked away forever, he must have this experience as a prelude to starting school in the fall. My nerves are on display. Each time I think about letting him go, I feel so sick to my stomach, I can feel the panic and the anxiety creeping in, fear impaling my heart and engulfing my entire being.  But, knowing I have to release, I have to let go and let God. I have to trust God to protect and guide,and for others to be kind to my baby. I have to be vigilant yet not overbearing, protective but not stalker like, talk to and not at, verbalize my concerns but not be judgmental, worry but not to the point of exertion or border line psychosis. Truth is, I’m not sure how to feel or approach, but I know I don’t want to eventually drive my child away with my endless worries.

So, as a part of this process, my journeying to free and whilst I maybe at the beginning of the spectrum than closer to the end, I pray as morning comes and I take my son to his program and relinquish my hold/power to the teachers and caregivers for these 5-6hrs a day for the next six weeks that my past does not ultimately alter my present. As I nervously count down the hours, pray excessively, love him uncontrollably, defiantly question self, and talk to him as much as his little two-year old brain can  process/comprehend, I’m releasing and getting another fear under control, pray with and join me as I/we journey2free.

 

From my heart to yours

Larissa

 

Unapologetic Part 2

15 Apr

The threats are reeling in. The vile and insensitive remarks are endless, the accusations, and assumptions are piling on and the questions are many! I have gone and done the unthinkable, the inexcusable, and the unforgivable. I spoke and am speaking my truth! I promised myself I would refrain from writing angry but recent occurrences cause me to want to vent a little.

I decided to take this journey, knowing I was raised in a culture, where silence on sexual abuse is the norm, I decided to break the mold, to break the silence that has been cultivated under the guise of “Family Unity and Strength”. I wanted to make a difference and no-one was going to suffocate my truth,  I tried for years to keep this story hidden, I was afraid, the fear of being despised, fear of exposure, and the risk of telling another’s story who may not what their story to be told. Fear…no one wants to read, see, and hear what I have to say, the repercussion which may follow suit… Contrary to all this, my new revelations, my drive/guilt, and the overwhelming responsibility I feel to help, far outweighs my fear!

It’s hard to explain the impact sexual abuse has on everyone involved, it destroys entire families if you allow it. Lately, there seems to be a constant barrage of instructions from family members regarding how I should think, act, approach, and the steps I should take to ensure that this does not reflect poorly on them even though the abuse I endured was not their doing.

I have been receiving different threats! In the past few weeks I have been called names, threatened several times, to the point where I had to call the police. I have been called a liar, a whore, a harlot, a low life,  an attention seeking bitch, told they wish they could stone all of those who claim they were sexually assaulted…just to name a few. (This from some family members) some of this was to be expected, but, I cannot speak my truth and keep a secret!

I really do wonder the mindset of a few, one relative stated “I don’t know when talking about sexual abuse became a degree to be proud of, you are attention seekers”.  As I reflect on some of the statements made, I cannot help but wonder…what kind of attention would any logical, sane thinking person gain from claiming to have had such a traumatic experience?

It has always been my belief as a child growing up that if I had spoken out my family would not have believed me.  I always felt that if I told it would have created an uproar. Ironically, from the public display of anger, ignorance and insensitive comments from some of my family members, I was so right! Relatives have personalize the issue, offer to stone me to death, beat me to a pulp, in addition many does not believe. Relatives have behaved as if the abuser’s actions are their shame to bear. I hear how this should have been handled, what they would have done, worst, what action they would have taken had they known or had they been the victim…I say to all who aren’t clear how to react to this issue, (if you haven’t lived it, was threatened, experienced the fear, had siblings to protect, betrayed by those who should have protected you, experienced the shame and self-loathing, the psychological, and psychosocial horrors, the emotional distress,  the resentment, the anger, the hatred and all the barrage of fear and emotions that I and other victims have experienced…Please if you don’t have positive things to say… Please keep your thoughts and opinions to yourself.

My fellow victims/survivors of sexual abuse, while I advocate on your behalf until you find your voice to speak out, acknowledge, own and accept your truth, I must as the precursor tell you; it’s not an easy undertaking to speak your truth!!! “No one has the power to hurt you like your kin,” according to India Arie It’s no easy feat, to speak your truth and not be deterred by the limited thinking of others.

I will not be forced or threatened into submission… I will not be coerced or manipulated, I will not be deterred…I did that for too long, try again! But, know that while you continue your ignorance, and display your true colors, you may be hindering another from speaking their truth, maybe your own. I thank you however, for granting me the fuel I needed,  saving me the time it would take to figure out who is for and against me and the empowerment of young girls and boys against this atrocity of sexual violation.

I laugh, because I knew some of the nay sayers would not have the intellectual capacity to comprehend the scope of this issue. I however have had a few jaw dropping moments, when those I had admired  and respected for years were the ones who made the most ludicrous remarks, for e.g. “your so called abuse and we/I are seeking attention, you wanted it, you liked it that’s why you didn’t tell anyone.”  Some even asked for proof that I was sexually molested by this monster.  The irony of the truth seeker’s request is that when the monster was confronted in my home she was present.  He admitted that he had sexually abused me and further added to his confession in her presence.

“Mi tek care a unno,  mi nevva breed unoo, nor buss unno up.” Translation (I took care of you all, you are lucky I didn’t impregnate any of you or tore your vaginal walls.) She was present at this confession, yet seeks proof. Lol!

Children in the family were bold enough to voice their lopsided opinions about this issue because grown folks refused to speak the truth and take responsibility for their actions or the lack thereof.

To the victims that have reached out to me, as I encourage you to release yourself from the shame and the blame you carry, reclaim that which was taken from you and rise to meet the freedom that is calling. Be prepared for the hell that will be unleashed on you by your family when you are ready. Many will leave you standing alone because they do not understand that this journey must be taken in order for you to be free, they are still under the impression that this can be handled in secret, in silence, within the family , because it is the family’s shame.  I have no shame; the perpetrator is the monster, not the family members. Take solace in knowing you have support, both mine and that of my family members who are supporting me in this process.  You are not your past and what has been done to you does not by any means define you, you too will have the relatives, and friends, cynics and critics. Truth be told, what can they do or say that have not already been said or done?

To the insensitive jerks who have felt the need to minimize the issue of child sex abuse, please know this… THIS IS MY STORY; I lived it and continue to live with the remnants of the actions of all my abusers.  Make a mental note, you will NOT stop me, your plots and threats that you continue to make in an effort to shut me up will not succeed. Only death can derail this truth therefore be prepared to kill, hurt and harm the constantly growing number of sexual abuse survivors who are empowered and are rising up against the monsters. Know that God didn’t bring me this far to succumb to scum! The silence is over!!!

To the family members who are angry with me for putting an end to the silence, I urge you to reflect on why my speaking my truth bothers you. Upon close reflection, I am in fact appreciative of the outburst from some of you. I’m sorry to burst ya’ll bubble, but this stance that I have taken has ZERO to do with you and EVERYTHING to do with me speaking up and out for myself!

Some have paraded a barrage of step mothers and fathers in and out of the lives of your children over the years, I beg you to have a conversation with them and pray they are not afraid to speak up if someone has in fact hurt them. My aim, my intent was not and is not to taint or tarnish, but to speak my truth and in so doing give others who are silently suffering the courage to be brave. I’m hoping they will know they can rise above it all.

Sit there and stew…selfishly get upset, fuss, argue, talk about me all you want, conspire and conclude… You CANNOT and WILL NOT stop my progress. This is so much bigger than your ignorance can perceive. My only fear in this life is GOD; he alone can stop me, so give it your best shot… I have survived and I will rise, because He has and continues to sustain me.

Continue questioning my motives, you don’t get it, I understand why you don’t, only minds that are open and ready to receive will. Your negativity, hate, gossip/nosiness masquerading as care is obvious, I pray you get there one day. I pray God’s richest blessing over your lives…

The time has come!  Notice, I never asked for your permission, which means I don’t need your approval! I don’t expect you to understand, the process or how or why I was led. I’m on my way to free… join me as I/we journey2free.

Larissa

Unapologetic

8 Apr

I lost my innocence to a cousin on a bedroom floor, raped repeatedly for years by my grandmother’s husband and was touched inappropriately by an uncle all between the ages of 5 and 16.

For years I thought this was my plight, my ordeal was that of a personal, and isolated nature. I was awakened to his truth a short time later when, I witnessed this monster taking advantage of another family member, and I still believed this was just our tribulation, our cross to bear.

The catalyst for my speaking out began some six weeks ago, I sat down with a cousin in a candid conversation, and she confided in me, she told me a story which she had never before repeated. Ironically, (I thought why me, I even asked why, this was our first time speaking like this) though not shocking it was hard to swallow. It was one of those stories that you knew exactly where it was headed mid-way in the conversation, but you silently pray what you’re about to hear is not what you thought was about to be said. Well it was! That which I did not want to hear was indeed what I was told.

One of the perpetrators that had sexually abused me for years had violated yet another person. This compounded the guilt, the heartbreak of my past came crashing down, this, this, this thing! That seems like a winding roller coaster with no end in sight!

My cousin’s story was my trigger; I began re-living the whole damn nightmare again. Funny, the nightmares has never really left, not for a second! However learning about new victims evoked a reaction I can’t escape. The new information I received off-set a barrage of emotions. I had only few weeks beforehand learned the plight of another beloved relative.

It was clear that something had to be done and I was the one who had to do it, the responsibility was mine. I began experiencing this overwhelming feeling of guilt. Deep down I was angry that I had tried for many years to “out” this pervert; I tried to tell what he had been doing to me and had done to others. Each time I attempted to talk about it, I was asked by family members to be quiet.

Though I was out of the environment, I felt as if I had to comply, listen, I had to obey, though I didn’t want to, I had to carry the shame, I felt the need to remain true to my family and pretend along with everyone else. I felt like if I didn’t carry on with the charade, they would make me feel like an outcast “The Instigator.”

Our family pretended, the hypocrisy heightened with each family gathering, the tension grew with each tale of “the tight ass family unit!”

I’m sickened at the thought that while we remained tight lipped others were exposed to this trauma, yet we question why or society is all fucked up! Why our little girls and boys wander so far away from what we envisioned for them. We belittle them, degrade and bombard them with words and cliches and seemingly it’s all ok! They are viewed as bad, they are hopeless, a lost cause, insignificant, small, they are rude and disrespectful, they are sexually promiscuous, they don’t know what they want, and the never ending list goes on!

All the while if we had just stopped, listened, took notice, supported, protected, talked to, defended, instructed this could and would have played out differently! It’s time for victims to be victors and abusers brought to justice! It’s time we have a voice, and be unified in solutions! It’s time for us to be content and at peace and the tormentors tormented! Isn’t this the way it should be?

I can’t keep this charade up any longer! I feel compelled to write (right) a wrong! “When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child; but when I became a man, I put away childish things.” (1st Corinthians 13 vs. 11) The time has come for me to grow some balls and stand up for the greater good.

My sincerest of apologies to the victims that were after me, I tried! I wish I could go back and undo history. I know the mental anguish, the emotional suffering.

It took me a minute to wake up! I’m shedding that skin, that old life; I’m grabbing fear by the balls and doing my part! I’m doing me!  To the others, please, find what works for you, if it’s speaking out and taking action… then do it!  I’m taking my self-respect back join me on my/our Journey2Free.

From my heart to yours

Larissa

A Blogger’s Journey

1 Apr

I am too frequently uneasy, restless, tormented, with a heavy heart, burdened down and bound! I am easily angered, unable to be free… I’m dissatisfied … I’m beginning to resent me! I have cried and scream, scream and cried, hoping someone hears me! To no avail, I must save me!! I’m in dire need of peace and serenity! My mind is constantly going, the voices needs to be quieted, I’m not crazy! No! just in urgent need to unleash, unwind, release. I’m carrying burdens that were handed to me, guilt I owned and that was placed on me, shame that is not meant for me… I have carried enough, harbored too long, hidden my truth, protecting others wrong! I’m outspoken yet I have been quieted for too long! The time has come.

I’m scared, I’m anxious! I’m embarking on a journey, that currently have my stomach in knots. I am genuinely afraid, but excited, did I mention afraid? I was often told I could and should write a book about my life,and in recent years, I’ve been encourage to blog. I have had the desire, the hankering, the eagerness, the impulse to do so, and I will, but fear! Fear muted my abilities, attempted to restrict the voice within me. Ironically, I’ve wondered if some folks knew that they would be entwined or implicated in my story, would they have instructed me differently?

I knew I had to, I needed to, in fact it was of the out-most importance for me to do so! I have only been able to cope with the test, trials, and torment, of my experiences, my life and journey through this method, yet I couldn’t bring myself to the actualization of publicizing my life. I stumbled upon writing, as a means to an end. A form of release, a coping mechanism. My earliest memory of writing – I wrote when overwhelmed, I had to free myself of my thoughts. I needed to trust, but barely so consumed and enthralled by the hurt, the pains, the shame that I couldn’t bring myself to share, Why? Afraid! afraid of being, judged, scrutinized, not believed, I resorted to writing. I would record thoughts, jot down ideas, scribble wishes, desires, dreams. Express myself in whatever form I choose. I later realized and understood that I was journaling, my only safe haven. So here I go, just another format, same concept. I’m not ready, but then again I will never be, therefore I’m leaping!

My fifteen seconds of bravery is approaching, Journey to Free!!!, for on hitting the post button on my first entry my process of evolution begins. My journey, Journey to Free, Journey of self discovery, growth and the evolution of me. … I will be forced to conquer my fear.

I don’t intend on revamping or changing what has already been done. I don’t profess to know everything, I may not have the correct verbiage to express or expand on all topics. I am not an English major, don’t even remember where to place all my coma’s, periods, colon, semi colons and the works…. I am not here to demonize, sow discord or cause distress, I refrain from writing when angry or upset, though there is much to be bitter about, for it may impede my being able to be subjective, clear, honest precise or objective. I need my thoughts and words to be free of judgment, disdain, hatred and assumptions. Even more, I pray that they will be.

My intent is to speak from a place of hope, love, encouragement, and inspiration. I strive to be authentic, true to me. Point is, this is my healing, the beginning of my release, my letting go, my forgiveness of self and others, my therapy! I will not apologize for telling my story, I can only pray that I encourage and inspire others to find the strength,the courage, fortitude and their voice of reason, of hope, of change, sooner than later.

I write to repair, to reserve my sanity, writing to stop a vicious cycle of self-hatred, sabotage and disdain. I write to save and to heal Me… not to demolish, or cause anguish to anyone, too long have I deflected.

As I embark on this journey, join me if you please,

I am putting myself out there, in my attempt to save me! Larissa H. Rhone! Opening up myself to critique, criticism and scrutiny… but here I go, on my Journey to Free!!… God help me!

From my heart to yours

Larissa