Archive | May, 2013

Evolutions Beauty…Recalibrating my Life

28 May

I stopped praying some time ago. I found myself praying the same repetitive prayers over and over again, and nothing ever happen, nothing changed. I don’t know what I was expecting, but I’ve heard so many times just pray, take it to God and he will take care of it! While that may be true for some issues, it surely doesn’t apply to all. I prayed and I felt for so long God wasn’t listening. I cried, I begged and I pleaded with God but then at some point I realized I’m lamenting to a God that already knew all my gripes, he knew of my sorrows, my ailments, my hurts, the pains, he knew it all.

My heart was heavy, I was bound, and no matter how I tried to suppress and repress the emotions, they kept creeping back like a bad case of herpes, I couldn’t escape it, it just would not go away! As the years slipped by and my siblings needed me less. I ran away every chance I got. I frequently visited Jamaica, went to Australia, England for months, yet everywhere I went I would be overcome with sadness when alone with my thoughts, it seemed as if my thoughts were regurgitated, brought back to the surface and in full swing when isolated. In recent years though warned about the effects of not putting Jhayd on a proper sleep schedule, I refused, not wanting to put my baby on a schedule, because that meant time alone, time to do what with? I didn’t want to hear it! I focused on everything yet nothing. I was dying inside, not speaking and if I did, it was to people who didn’t wish to understand, folks that seemingly empathize but! This was complex, this is heavy, and you’re not feeling me! My heart, my mind, my thoughts crowded, I’m going to spontaneously combust! Night after night I would curl up with a pillow and cry, I would scream into the pillow muffling the sounds, I would invite God in, but it often felt like it was just me and my pillow, God was everywhere but with me.

I would journal when angered, I wrote poetry in hopes of relieving myself of pent-up frustration, I would shop, shop for things I didn’t want or even need, I would do stupid mundane things, things to rid myself of the thoughts and emotions, yet no matter how or what I did, regardless  of where I went local, international, interstate, my release was short-lived, it was all  just temporary, the acts or actions would simply fill a void, a longing, a “neediness” I had to make myself feel more important. A false sense of hope, of worthiness! I want it, need it, I craved it! But I didn’t know what it was that I needed. My thoughts were so loud it sounded as if I was standing on the floor of the New York Stock Exchange but the only person hearing the commotions was me! I contemplated drowning my sorrows in alcohol and or with the very drugs (opiates) I am prescribed for the pre-existing condition I have. But, it seemed as if God was playing one sick and cruel joke on me, why? Well I couldn’t consume alcohol, I can’t even say I drink in moderation for if I had more than a few sips it would trigger a Sickle Crises,  my joints would hurt so damn bad and the opiates I’m given makes me so sick I would constantly hurl, I would hurl just thinking about hurling, my damn stomach is so weak that I can’t even keep my medications down, so as a result there was no form of escape but to keep busy, I had to keep moving!

I only recently realized, He (God) had been there all along, He had never left my side and has never wavered. I realized in order for God to intervene I had to first step up to the plate! I had to do my part, take the initiative to move, act, do and/or say only then would he instruct, guide, direct, protect and bless me along the way. It’s not that he didn’t hear me or see what I was going through, I wasn’t’ proactive. I was stuck in a state of bewilderment, feeling sorry for myself and using fear, and excuses, the excuses of not knowing how to and the fact that it was much safer for me to be that bruised, feeble-minded girl, I could safely hide behind my pain and lick my wounds. I had been through enough and I’m entitled to sit around feeling broken, wallowing in self-pity. But no, that was not His plan for my life! I needed to be awakened, I needed to wake up and take stock of my life. I needed to be transformed in my mind and my thinking.

Did I realize this late? I don’t think so! Nothing happens before its time, you can’t be awaken if you weren’t asleep! I had to be sick and tired of being sick and tired of being sick and tired. I had to get to a place of reckoning, for even though I wasn’t feeling like killing myself anymore…lol (another post) I wasn’t living I was merely existing, my version of a walking dead. I wasn’t going to off myself because of my belief that it would be insulting to God, and I was stronger than that. Who am I kidding? Whilst I do believe that as well I couldn’t off myself for the mere fact that I refused to give some folks the satisfaction of viewing me weak!  I had to get to a place where things and people didn’t bother me as much, and I do say as much because I’m nowhere close to where I need to be, but I’m getting there. I’m shaking one negative comment at a time, loving and appreciating one hater and naysayer daily and willing myself to get to that place where the negative thinking, speech or energy of another will not affect me.

I had to get to the place where I saw myself as worthy, as important, and believe what I had experienced, lived through and endured was just not for shits and giggles. I know I have to believe and I do, God did not bring me through all of his so I would constantly whine to him about my pains, my struggles, my discomforts and gripes!  He knows it all. He brought me/you to and through it for reasons or the sake of helping, learning and for your personal growth. As Maya Angelou says “when you get, you give, when you learn, you teach” and “when you know better you do better” So the next time you feel like annoying…I mean reminding God of the issues your facing daily (that which he already knows) stop! Instead ask for the wisdom to know, the courage to take action, the bravery to act upon, after all faith without work is what…?  Do not retreat! Go out and do you! My faith had been tested, tried and shaken.

Regardless of how I was told not to have a child… I wanted my own little person, my act was a bit selfish but I wanted a child so badly to make myself feel whole. I wanted to relieve myself of resentments and old hurts. I received the most beautiful blessing, (my son) the blessing I desperately wanted and desired but, instead of just love, I received a jolt! An awakening of sorts, I had to deal with my issues, I had to confront,  process and accept my reality, realizing forgiveness as the ultimate aim. I must forgive myself and others. I couldn’t self-medicate, I didn’t want to further suppress, I wanted to feel and realize what, why and how I can/could change. I yearned for my true self, for my son and I. I wanted truth in the simplest, purest and truest form. I needed to travel, to take this journey and discover me. I realize that Gods intent was for me to find myself. I couldn’t drink it away and I couldn’t numb it. I knew there was and is something in me…well, something has been pushing me, and it just wouldn’t let me be. Wake up Larissa! I’m not my story, I’m not my conditioning, I’m not my past, I’m not my thoughts! Pretending my issues are not there, that they don’t exist, doesn’t make it go away. It doesn’t magically disappear with strong will  or the batting of the eyes. Hurts all have to be processed and dealt with. I made a conscious decision to break away, break free, I don’t want those things on me, and I refuse to pass brokenness or the lessons of covering up an injustice because you’re directly linked by lineage onto my child. I have to take action, stand in my truth and let it manifest.

I began praying again… this time I pray different prayers. I’m putting in my work for the betterment of self and others “now do you”! I don’t want my fears to be amplified but instead relinquished. I will not allow anyone to have me question my vision, my purpose, and my dreams. I will do as I’m led to, go where I’m directed, and be the me I was meant to be. I will speak/write of that which I know, live, feel and have experienced, I will deliver always what’s been placed on my heart. My only hope is that I inspire you to do the same. Join me as I/we journey to free.

From my heart to yours

Larissa.

Questions!… Perils of SCA

20 May

Death is inevitable this I know for sure, so why is my heart is knots, why am I feeling afraid, why does her passing bother me so much? I had similar feeling when my aunt passed in 2009 but for some strange reason this feels somewhat more personal. It’s very hard to express what I feel, I can’t seem to put a handle on it! I am perplexed, I’m bothered and I’m scared. But Why?!

My cousin passed away on Wednesday May 15th 2013… Ms. Khadine Nugent (Dassa) as she was called by the family, and my heart is in pieces! I’m shattered! I just can’t seem to focus, I can’t take my mind off, or escape the hurt…I had to deflect and write about the current anxiety I’m feeling.  As I blog my way to free, and as occurrences happen daily most I have no control over, I’m desperately hoping for some relief while I feel this fresh pain in my heart, I am full of questions!

I find myself being short, irritable, easily agitated and angered since Wednesday. It hurts and that’s understandable, I’m in shock/disbelief because of the sudden and unexpected nature, but the emotions I’m feeling I can’t seem to capture, I’m trying to write my way into understanding, healing and some form of insight but I’m coming up short. There’s a knot in the pit of my stomach! Let me dig deep. The similarities;  we had an illness in common, we both have one child, and we’ve had countless hospitalizations, the awkward uncomfortable explanations, the feeling of inadequacies, we have had love ones thinking with each crises, this is it, it’s our last before we make our exit and visit the land of no return, medical professionals telling our parents to make the necessary funeral arrangements as there is nothing else they can do, the similarities many, but something is just not connecting for me. I have experienced loss before, the finality of the experience but I can’t put a finger on it this time.

Could it be because internally I struggle as I look back over the jist of my life, and realize the things I have experienced, the many touch and go moments, the close calls, the times I gave up or came rather close to it and justified why I could, should and can give up? I did all that, felt all that pain, had organs shut down on me, but I’m still here and the question now haunts me WHY? Why her, why not me? Why wasn’t her life spared, I’m not more special! In fact some of the experiences I’ve had she hasn’t, and this I know because we spoke about them, I had the stroke, the paralysis, I’ve had the biseptic necrosis of the joints, the depletion of the spleen, I’ve had the countless transfusions, I’ve had more hospitalizations by far etc. etc. so WHY? Why am I still here and she’s not?

From a religious perspective you are often told or frequently hear you are not supposed to question God and I try my best not to, yet at times when things are rather difficult, unfathomable or just unexplainable I find myself asking the Why’s… Who else am I to question, with and to whom do I seek a response/retort to these my poignant conundrums? Whom else will grant me the relief and peace I so desperately need? Khadine was a very sweet spirit and a gentle soul, yes she had her quirks like each and every one of us, and not knowing for sure what caused her demise is unsettling! Did she give up because the pain was too much, did she succumb to septicemia, as we are so prone to infections, did her organs fail her?  I wonder even if I knew exactly what happened would it make a difference? Could it be that I’m bothered that with all the technological advancement in recent years and studies been done, and cures for various disease been sought after, I hear, see and know of very little being done in the fight against Sickle Cell Anemia?

Could it be I am angered at the fact that so little is still known about the disease and it affects so many? Could it be, my opinion that because this disease affects a large percentage of minorities it’s not approached with the same level of urgency as other illnesses, could it be that instead of focusing on cures, people including medical professions are busy feeding their egos assuming, speculating, taking very little interest and saying, well they are not expected to live long lives anyway…so as a result they don’t even try?  Could it be that some medical professionals think that it’s not as bad as we say, and most of us are passed over and seen as drug addicts thus not considered a valuable asset to society, could it be that I’m just afraid because I believe this will be my fate? Could it be the expectations or the lack there off? Could it be as I hurt tremendously for Dassa’s child I fear for mine?

The pains you feel with this disease is indescribable! I have felt pains in every square inch of this little body I possess, I have felt pains in areas I didn’t even know one was able to feel pain. The joint pains, the back pains, the stomach, the chest, the fingers, toes, teeth, ears, eyes, nose, lips, I have felt pain even in my…,  shooting, stabbing, traveling pains, pains so severe, excruciating pains that renders you helpless. I mean pains that you can’t even be touched, because someone touching you makes it that much worse, pains that makes you unable to move, you can’t find a comfortable spot, you can’t move a muscle and at those moments when you beg God to end it! I have spoken to my aunt on several occasions since and it seemingly gets worst with each conversation as she relays a conversation my cousin had with her boyfriend prior to her death being unable to put into words the pains she felt she simply asked him to imagine someone being in a car wreck and every part of their body is mantled that’s what she felt like.

I have had countless moments where it seems as if speaking, breathing even blinking was too much because it hurts so badly, your breathing is so shallow because you dare not take a deep breath because pain is intensified as your lungs hurt, thus enough oxygen is not getting into your lungs, blood, therefore causing bad situations even that much worst. I recall times being in crises and having to explain to a medical professional what is going on, what you need, what they must do, what medication to administer, what not to do…

Being rushed to an emergency room in pain and having someone tell you, you have to wait, or like that of my experience in the very hospital my cousin passed, having been taken there and having to wait for hours because they didn’t have the medication I needed in the entire hospital, having to send off campus to a hospital in another parish to get basic but vital medication, knowing it’s a life and death situation, it’s rather critical.  Having some nurses be very rude, cold and crude, or having medical professionals trying to use you as their personal guinea pig, LOL…I’ve had a doctor try to administer horse tranquilizer on me in Australia, others in the US try to talk me into taking a drug that had more side effects than the illness itself and the never-ending list goes on. Having a doctor look at me with amazement then utter the words, “hmmmm Ms. Rhone you seem to have beaten the odds” Why, because I made it to twenty-five. Having folks question or blatantly ask if you’re a walking pharmacy? The mean, judgmental and questionable stares etc.

Knowing, I will not be able to speak for all but also knowing my cousin, my aunt, myself,  Ann-Marie Cooper, believing you’re a burden to those around, when you have to ask for help or rely on others for simple things, being told or hearing that your inability to perform simple acts at times is an excuse, I’m not OK! though I know I must live!  I am indeed eternally grateful that God has spared my life, and I’m thankfully counting my blessings for several reasons, I still can’t help but ask the questions that plagues my mind…

So Ms. Khadine Nugent, Mrs. Viola Cherrington- Rhone, Ms. Violet Dixon, Ms. Ann Marie Cooper, Mr. Nigel Miller, Mr. Oneil Miller, Ms, Diseree Poteat, Ms. Valencia Dixon, Mr. Mark Thomas, Ms. Felecia Durrant, and all the thousands of others that have succumb to Sickle Cell Anemia or complications relating to this dreadful disease, R.I.P.  As I hurt for the unfulfilled dreams, goals and wishes, I make a promise this day, I will try my utmost best to live out my days, reaching, aiming, striving to accomplish, reach my greatest potential,  fulfill my dreams, and attain my goals. I will also teach and educate as many as I can about this chronic, life altering, debilitating, disease. I have never and will never use being ill as an excuse, a crutch or a reason not to do… I will think of you often. Sleep my lovelies, your rest is well deserved. Seeking answers and journeying to free.  Join me as I/we journey to free…

From my heart to yours

Larissa

Never A Daddy’s Little Girl…. Part 1

15 May

It is said a little girl loves and idolizes her father as he is the first man she knows, respect and loves. Psychology says and proves a father paves the way in nurturing, loving, instructing, guiding and influencing their daughters… Well my dad did all the above just Not in the conventional way it was intended, there is so much to be said about this man I called daddy, like the fact he never wanted me!!!

My father had and still has no idea the pain, the torment and trauma I suffered at his hands (well mouth) for although he NEVER inappropriately touched me, the names he called me over the years (bitch, slut, whore) the words cut deeply…With each utterance of one of those derogatory words from my dad, I felt the harshness and cruelty one would feel when slapped hard across the face or salt being thrown on a freshly scare wound. My heart bled, my heart broke and something ripped on my insides each time he called me stupid! He would frequently say “You’re the eldest yet the dumbest of my children”, he’d say even my baby brother had more smarts; he was more intelligent than I was. I know he knew that he was WRONG…I am a very intelligent woman!!

I questioned myself over the years because whenever he uttered such words, it felt he possessed some unique super human ability to look within and see my inner anguish. I often questioned if, somehow my dad knew I was sexually active even though I was being violated and tormented without my consent. Could this be why he called me names? Did I in some way want these men to violate me? Did I lead them on, did I enjoy it? Did I display certain behaviors that warranted them do this to me? Today I know the answer to those question is a resounding NO! Nothing that an underage child does should lead grown men to have sex with them!!! 

From a very early age I realized I was anything but the apple of my father’s eye, in fact I was like a thorn in his side. My dad wanted boys the more boys he had the better it would have been for him but God threw a monkey wrench in his plans. My father never wanted me because I am a girl. He is the definition of a true narcissist! I love my father and for years I fought to gain his love and affection, but I could never measure up to his standards…well what standard? It is my dad’s belief that a woman’s role was to lay on their backs and earn their keep.

The lessons he taught some good and some bad! The lessons were many, and boy do I have stories to tell! One of the lessons that resonated the most is one he unknowingly taught me, he taught me how to be independent, relying on no one for anything! Independent I became! My dad taught me independence in two ways…

1.     Observing the relationship between him and my mom, the system between my dad and my mom was orchestrated so that my mother had to ask his permission before she spent HIS money.

2.     At the age of seven I recall an incident where I had asked my mom for school supplies and she told me to ask my dad for the money, upon asking my father, he looked me directly in the eyes and said “I am not too particular to give you anything, because you a go breed by 11”. At seven years old, within that second, that minute, that hour, that day, as the seconds ticked away, I made a conscious decision never to ask my dad or any other man for that matter for money! It’s a rule I live by to this present day. Needless to say, this rule has caused issues in relationships. My father made his belief and his feelings for women known, he didn’t down play it, or sugar coat it, “A woman’s rightful place is in the home. All women are good for is to cook, clean, service men and breed (have children).” This is why still to this day he has no idea his girls where sexually abused! Isn’t life a bitch?! While I have mixed emotions about my mother’s choice in not telling him, knowing his temperament and the fear is that he would do to us what he did to her…eventually using his knowledge of the sexual abuse against her.  

For years I lived with conflicted emotions on one hand I couldn’t allow myself to be the woman my father envisioned and expected me to become and on the other hand, I was that woman, because for years while I was being sexually abused and years after the abuse I believed deep down that I was the woman my dad had predicted I would be, that all I was, was an object of pleasure and desire for men and boys. This constant battle added to the emotional and psychological trauma I lived through as a result of the different types of abuse and my life with Sickle Cell Anemia.

I succumbed to my greatest fear (I’m the worthless woman dad said I would be), I was tormented mentally and emotionally because I refused to have a relationship of a sexual nature with anyone for fear of being what my dad deemed me to be, yet here I was being sexually violated over and over and over again by a man and his son who should have been looking out for me, protecting and teaching me …It’s as if I couldn’t escape the wretched clasps of narcissistic men! With each violation, my thoughts were how badly I wanted to save myself for the one I loved, I wanted the option to give myself to whomever I pleased or desired, I too wanted the option of making the poor decisions of finding my FIRST true love and losing my innocence to him. I didn’t want it to be ripped from my grasp by family members!!!

My dad had his moments when he was kind, he had somewhat of a giving heart, which was seldom displayed. My dad’s good qualities were overpowered, overshadowed and tainted with sheer ugliness! He gave expecting something in return, he loved demanding to be loved, he claimed he cared however if at any time something didn’t go his way, he would have a hissy fit like that of my two year old son! The world was out to get him, God was testing him, and people entered his life to use him. He often compared himself to Job of the bible…He could not see past himself! I often heard friends, associates and strangers alike long for their fathers, some wishing they had a father like mine, to that I would and still smile awkwardly because if only they knew! I believe, some are much better off without their dads. I feel that God was shielding and protecting them from years of mental torment! It hurts me, for no matter how I tried to please my dad, I was never good enough, I couldn’t do enough and more was always expected. I realize no matter how I tried I was never and would never be daddy’s little girl!

 For years I made excuses for my parents, in my quest to understand, explain and rationalize their behaviors. While I now realize and accept that they are human, I often wondered about their mental state. How and what did they think about? Are they aware of their actions and behaviors, the implications? If brought to their attention would an attempt be made to reverse, repair or change?

I hated my dad at times, I experienced moments of extreme and intense hatred! I would sit and will myself to remain angry at him, (I couldn’t pull it off) the abusive nature of this man, the things he would do to my family, to my siblings in the name of discipline. My dad was physical (though seldom), verbally, and emotionally abusive. Verbally relentless, emotionally draining and mentally it was never ending. He threw one of my brothers down a flight of stairs, physically pulling him back up only to throw him back down, beatings were with whatever was in his reach. I despised him for hitting my siblings; I would go into protective mood time and time again for my mom, my siblings, myself.  All this would take place at home yet WE would walk out the door as a family pretending all was well with the world.

As I write my blogs and work on my book I realize these are the very reasons it took me this long to get these things out… Because they hurt, I have never sat down and really allowed myself to process or feel the various emotion because I always had to be in action mode, and, it was safer not speaking about it all. My dad made sacrifices for us, and he showed in many ways that he loved us, though tainted at times… (Whether out of obligation or duty) but he never had the rationale to see or understand the negative impact his actions had on his family. It was these actions that warranted his dismissal from our family home. I didn’t know what I was doing or how we would have survived, but I knew I had to protect my brothers from the negative teaching my dad was providing to them about women.  “Women are walking dead; no woman is to be trusted especially the pretty ones.”  Even with a wife and two daughters he felt the need to constantly bash women. My dad’s issues which I now know are his issues impacted me in a very negative way but…

” I am not that wimp of a child anymore and I refuse to carry the shackles of my parents, forefathers and relatives sins, their past experiences has influenced me enough I’m breaking free, no more chains holding me, its heavy… I want my freedom thus I’m taking my freedom, forgetting others expectations of me…I am being that which God wants, needs and intends for me to be…Join me as I/we journey to free.

 

From my heart to yours

Larissa

Confessions Of A Twisted Mind!

6 May

When I began my quest for freedom, I knew that I would be in for a long and tedious journey. I am braving the elements, constantly questioning myself and refraining from writing or expressing myself truly, as I am still in a weary state of trying to please my family and friends. Trying to protect the feelings of others! Thus, it’s been an even harder journey. I convinced myself that I must be authentic, but how authentic can I be if things are sugar-coated and I am not forth coming? I am still reeling from the negativity of others because I choose to speak about my journey, it has gotten to the point where, I have had to block, ignore or downright remove myself from certain individuals.

Throughout my life I have gone through great lengths and done a great deal, all in the name of family. I have gone above and beyond the call of duty, I have made consorted efforts to remain true, gone distances to socialize with family members, some of whom were involved in hurting me, stretched myself beyond my own limits of any rational reasoning mind, all for the sake of bringing family together and maintaining peace. For too long have I lived assuming the roles and responsibilities for other people’s feelings, emotions, comfort and happiness, while I sat there in great turmoil and discomfort, uneasy in my own damn skin. Time after time being asked to bear a little longer, speak a little quieter, suppress even deeper, act friendlier, smile a little broader, and pretend forever, accepting more and more…I prided myself on being an overtly family oriented individual. Whatever was asked or expected of me I did without question.

Now I am beginning to feel anger and resentment build inside me like a crescendo.  I am angered because as I continue this process not knowing what to expect or even how to feel, I am realizing, my journeying to free is emotionally taxing. This, this…I don’t even know what to refer to him as, one of my abusers was recently told that I have begun speaking openly about being sexually abused by him for years and though I’m not sure what I was expecting to hear from this man…I am still amazed that I allow myself to be triggered by him. Upon being told that I and others are coming forward and voicing our plight at his hands. I was told of a comment he made “My eye water will fall on them; they will suffer for what THEY are doing to me!!!”…

How truly sick and narcissistic can this man be to utter these words? How starved for love and affection could you have been to not see anything wrong with raping, fondling and kissing a child? I ask myself “How can he truly justify and rationalize his actions?” How dare he believe that you should have these feelings of entitlement? How does he arrive at the conclusion he had the right to deface, defile dishonor and derail my destiny? Who granted him the right to alter my childhood? Smearing my innocence, smudging my character, taking my pride, my dignity, making me into a woman before I had the chance to be a GIRL? How dare you?!! You hurt us without having a thought or an afterthought of how I and others would feel, think or be affected?!!!  How does he not see anything wrong with what he has done to me/us? This man has/had absolutely no remorse for his actions when confronted!!! Yes I AM ANGRY!

When I think about my constant battle with Sickle Cell Anemia and how ill I would be during the times he violated my frail body, I am angry, hurt and resentful of all those who do not or choose not to understand the pain I felt then and the pain I am feeling now. The PAIN I feel each time a memory is triggered about an incident with this man, in combination with my battle with this health demon of an illness that is always looming in the shadows, threatening to derail me at every turn. Does anyone even understand this pain, the raw undiluted pain I have carried and continue to carry because I was so brutally debased?  I am pissed, truly angry, and livid! My gut churns, I am puzzled, and in amazement …It truly boggles my mind, to think that this sick perverted bastard would have the nerve to think or feel I/we are out get him or that he is innocent! I find myself fighting, trying to find the balance between continuing the work I have begun in search of my happiness, finding my self-worth and simply just letting them all win by remaining silent like I did for so many years.

Why was I and others not protected by the “Family”? Some of them knew but no-one made him stop! At this very moment I can feel the anger filling my entire body, wanting to explode like a volcanic eruption of hot lava pouring down on the heads of all those who could have done something to stop this heinous atrocity but stood by and simply watched bowed head and lowered eyes. I am angry at myself for not speaking out sooner, now I ask myself “Why did I wait this long to finally realize what I needed to do for my process of healing to begin?”  As I reflect on the truth of “Why I waited this long?” It angers me that I sat around for years and did nothing because I was seeking the validation and acceptance of others to do so! But sexual abuse, an incurable illness and child abuse will do that…it will rob you of your senses, your confidence and your voice. I’m taking it all back!

This issue of my sexual abuse is difficult to deal with, there are days when I restrict my own thinking, for fear of going back to that place in my mind where the hell unleashes. I heard somewhere the best predictor of future behavior is past behavior, simply if it’s done before, it will be done again! And what do you know the son of a bitch did it again, and again and again!!! Now that the secret has been reveled and victims have come forward, this bastard expects that people should show him empathy, sorrow, help him lick his wounds like a wounded dog! He and others just like him, they blame everyone it’s never their fault! They lack the ability or they refuse to take responsibility for the things they have done. He’s unable to see beyond himself, he displays an air of arrogance, lacking the ability to feel, to show empathy for his victims, incapable of feeling remorse or guilt and he really doesn’t care about the impact his actions has on the lives of those he violated! He never has and never will! Each conversation/confrontation has been about himself, this sick perverted fuck, that for years threatened my life and the lives of my siblings, if I opened my mouth and spoke of his vile acts, to this day he hasn’t sought my forgiveness! So tell me why, Why,  and how is it that I am being asked or expected to be sympathetic towards him because he’s now old and ill? I say “GO TO HELL AND ROT!”

To all the others who have taken from me! Your actions were not and are not OK!! I’m reclaiming that which was stolen! I DON’T CARE how my story affects your twisted little world…cry if you want to, hurt if you want …that is not my concern! I still cry as a result of the things you did to me…How many tears have I shed and will continue to shed?!!!

I am angry, I’m pissed, and I’m furious, frustrated and petrified YET, yet… I am compelled to speak my truth so others may draw strength and inspiration, knowing that it is indeed possible to rise above the ashes of what once was. My story is unfolding and not expected to be kept a secret and I’m going to shout it to whomever will listen, (or read…leaving all on paper!) I’m no longer an island, I no longer stand alone, I’m NOT shouldering this burden ALONE anymore!  No longer will I live in silence, afraid of who may or may not be offended…Yes you bent me, but I didn’t break! I’m not going to remain the sheltered, helpless, bruised, tortured soul, I am taking my power back…and I’m fitting the pieces back together!

I was bound and en-caged by mental slavery. I do however know that the freedom which I seek, the love and the forgiveness I am searching for, though evasive I must continue on my path. It will not be this way much longer! We are responsible to share our struggles and stories of survival, It’s our duty to uphold for the betterment of humanity and mankind, in addition it is our right and our responsibility to be the best we can be, to be our real and authentic selves, to be happy and live a life free of disdain and judgments placed upon us by others.

Therefore I/you have the power to sever all ties if needs be from those who inflict pain, causes harm, unjustly speak or act whether you share DNA or not. It’s my Gods-given right to do and be the best version of myself, likewise everyone else as long as you are not causing harm to anyone.  If you try to put an end to an injustice, break free of the chains and bondage of self-hatred, mental anguish, or to fulfill your dreams, walk into the path of God’s leadership, and people you are directly or indirectly tied to thru DNA or not tries to conceal horrid injustices or simply hamper or hinder your freedom, stop your progress or can’t just be happy for you that you can finally get to a place where you no longer hang your head in shame, drown your sorrows in a bottle or drugs, remain a victim, defeated and depleted… in the name of family, reevaluate, drop, sever who needs to be severed and do what’s been placed on your heart. Join me as I/we journey2free…

From my heart to yours

Larissa