Please, God, help me... I don't know where to turn.
This habit is a pain in the ass.
I don't want to drop it, but need to desperately.

Please, get me through this.
I need your help, because I cannot do this alone.

Please pray for me...

This is really rock bottom for me...
this is the moment when everything goes....



I feel the pain of my parents
acknowledging their own daughter
suffered at the hand of a friend.

I feel the anguish
of the guilt it wants to bring.

I feel the agony
of relating too much.


The Irony

When I was nine years old, I had a little brother born. My step-father married my mother with three little girls, and then had a child of his own. The dynamics of our family changed.

That summer, we moved back to Florida -- my mother's home. We moved a couple of times out of state but always went back to Florida. Once we got settled in, I started spending lots of time with our family friends. They were a married couple with daughters older than me. So, it seemed to make sense I guess.

But, oh no. This would end up being my pedophile's home. We spent lots of time together; he was my buddy. We even shot some of his guns in his back yard. He was actually a real member of Hell's Angels as well.

Anyway, I spent lots of time at his house just hanging out with him, his wife, and kids. His daughters were four and six years older than me. I would hang out with the fourteen year old, but the oldest one was always working.

After I joined the U.S. Air Force at the age of nineteen, I went home one year on leave to visit. My dad asked me to meet him at a particular bar one evening. I ended up making some friends with a group of guys around my age. We were playing darts, when a really good looking older man walked in the bar.

We made eye contact and continued to for some time. Finally, he asked me to join him and his group of friends to go to another drinking establishment. This restaurant was very quiet and he ordered whatever I wanted to drink. He was truly a gentleman.

This was not the most interesting part of this story. The really surprising part for me was the bartender at the first bar, a biker bar. She was my pedophile's younger daughter.



Medium: oil pastel, pastel, and watercolor paint


Times Up

I am afraid of letting everyone down.

My job was to protect everyone;
I couldn't let my secret out
for fear of him killing you all.

He promised he would
starting with my little sister.


Medium: oil pastel, pastel, and watercolor paint



So, you think because you literally scared me to death that I wouldn't someday remember what you did to me. How could you rape a 10-yr. old little girl? And your wife held me down covering my mouth with one hand. I kicked her so hard and long.

I do not know why it hurts so much.



You consume me from the inside,
ever present but yet obscure.
You demand my emotions
and never let me forget.

You are unrelenting in your fierceness,
raging in my brain and body.
You are beyond my control.
When will you let me go?

A Mess


Do not go forward; there are terrors within.


Over Sharing

The very thing I don't really want people to know about me is the very thing I told someone today.  I was medicated for Bipolar Disorder for a year of my life.

I had an incident where I displayed some manic symptoms for a short while. I got prescribed Depakote from a psychiatrist. It was so challenging. I had to see him because I was in the military and with the diagnosis of bipolar disorder you are taken off of deployment status; a big no-no in the military.

I had to see the psychiatrist every month for a year in which he kept increasing my dosage if I had a single day of depression. It was heart breaking for me to think about how numb I was to the world. I didn't have any joy, no anxiousness, no depression for the most part --- I was an emotional zombie.

But I woke up every single day and took care of our son who was two at the onset. I did all the required things and some more because I would get manic episodes where I would start projects. My brain was always racing. It was pretty insane. Luckily, nothing terrible happened.

Then about a year into taking the medicine, I started shaking uncontrollably. My psychiatrist told me it was a common side effect. When I did my research, I found out that if you stay on Depakote indefinitely the shaking will not subside. Also, we wanted to have another child and I would not with that medicine in my system.

So, yes you already can see where this is going --- I completely stopped taking it. I lied to my psychiatrist for a couple of months in which I still needed his signature for my military paperwork.

I was advised by my military commander to get another diagnosis. No problem. I saw a different psychiatrist and left out my manic episode because with all honesty I wasn't experiencing them any longer. He diagnosed me back to depression.

That was that and then I found another psychiatrist who ended up testing me for PTSD and was easily diagnosed with the proper disorder, finally.

But that doesn't mean I want people to know. You all get to know because hopefully someone reading this can relate to my story and I can use my pain to lift someone else's.


Forgetting Everything

I don't know when it happened exactly, but at some point in my childhood I decided to stop remembering all the bad things that were happening to me. I would somehow forget about it. My sister's memories fill in the blanks for me, but I feel like I've missed out on some of my childhood. Granted, these were bad memories; I still feel robbed.

I am disappointed in myself sometimes. Like why can't my PTSD be done by now. Of course I didn't get diagnosed until about five years ago. Still, why do I feel in such a hurry sometimes... ok, honestly almost all the time.

I'm forty-four years old and still am a stay-at-home mother. Does that sound bad? Why should it sound bad when our daughter is three and a half. I'm not sure. Isn't it important to be a good mother?

I just feel underwhelmed sometimes. But yet these moments with my children when they are small have been my favorite memories ever.



You were a welcomed friend long ago,
but I no longer need you.

You bully me and try to control me,
you have me rely on my feelings.

I try to resist your charms,
but succumb to the temptation.

I don't want to live with
your need to dominate any goodness.


Cement Feet

You hold me down under the weight of my guilt and shame, 
but I hold on to something stronger.