Evolutions Beauty…Recalibrating my Life

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


Questions!… Perils of SCA

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


A Moment Of Reckoning…Living with a Chronic Illness

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


Unapologetic Part 2

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.