I look upon myself and don't know who I am....

I'm in pain daily, is it mental? Is it real? I don't know...

I decide to disappear from the things I loved to do best...did it help? All I wanted was to take my pain meds...but they no longer were helping....

I found myself not opening a computer, not writing a word, not painting, only thinking I need help..I can do this!

But I couldn't...not until I knew what they were doing to me...making me feel nothing, constantly watching TV....nothing!

Until one day I didn't want to feel that months weee missing from my life, that I wasn't going to be the best grandma I could be...or wife

I feel I'm in a constant detox state of mind..but the urgency to "feel" good is gone....

Now I want to feel like Donna...

I'm so lonely I cry daily

I've lost my daughter..she's got her own life with her own boyfriend & new family ahead

I'm loosing my ability to understand what a true friend is anymore?!

No one calls, no one cares

I ask for family to understand...they just ignore

I have so much to share but I can't move from this life I lead. Nothing changes day to day

A crushing loneliness, when your husband stays in his room..and you stay in yours

It breaks my heart

I just want to laugh again, I don't know where that laugh is anymore...

What is a home?

A home is warmth, love, and support

But what a home is not

A house

A house is a building, a place that protects you from the elements

But a home is a place to cry on your mommies lap

To laugh with family and friends

To take a blanket, wrap it around you and know "I'm safe in my home..."

The little girl was asked at 5 years old a question she'd never forget..

"Donna...you travel a lot right?"

"Yes Sir"..as she sat on daddy's lap

"Wouldn't you rather have a house to stay in with your mommy and daddy?" He asked..

Miss Donna didn't skip a beat and responded, "A home is not a house, a home is family, love and laughter..."

That is a home..

She picked you up Sunday night for the 16th day of revival at church. Her boyfriend is with her, but there seems to be a sense of emptiness in the air, a void that contains sadness. 

You watch her singing on the worship team, she's smiling, she's praising God, but then her face turns an ashen gray. She sits down on the stool and pure disappointment passes over. You don't know why, but you sense "something is wrong?!" There's nothing you can do except watch, worry, and try to tell yourself, "this will pass, maybe she has a headache? Are her ulcers bothering her?" The only thing you are thinking is "thank God..at least both of them decided to show up?!"

The Pastor starts calling people from the congregation for healing. The first one is her. She's reluctant, but agrees to go to the alter. She grabs my hand, but decides this is for her. 

The Pastor begins to speak out loud, "I called you out because I was watching you, you seem sick, and at one point you sat down. There's something wrong in your stomach isn't there?"

She says, "I have ulcers and I'm not feeling good."

He says, "There's something else, but only God can help you with that...

He begins to pray for her ulcers, she starts shaking like a leaf and starts crying. She stays up there with another girl, they speak, she's still crying. You're happy her ulcers aren't bothering her, but was she really speaking about ulcers?

Revival starts to wind down. You notice it's getting really late. You bring up that it's time to end a great night, "We had better get going?" She agrees. It's time to break the question...all you hear is "fine."

The ride home again is too quiet. You break it up with questions her boyfriend has about church. Your worrisome about her begins to 

disappear. You continually talk with him until you notice she is parking her car at your home. She turns off the ignition, something is wrong. 

"I need to talk to you...about Moe and me." She begins to tremble, she can't look at you in the eyes.

"What's the matter!" You start to become upset, thinking the worst, does she have an illness?

"Please don't tell me you're pregnant?!" You don't know why you blurted this out, maybe it's the hell you went through in 1979? You begin to close your eyes and pray it's something else. "This girl is too young" you begin thinking.

"Yes..." She says, along with a "please don't be mad at us" half cocked smile on his face.

All you can say is "Oh God! What are you going to do!?" She's an adult, she's not a baby anymore, she's the responsible one, the one who always swore she would be a virgin when she married. She's the one who kept her promises to herself, nobody needs to keep them to anyone but themselves.

You start to cry, worry, ask questions, repeat yourself, and then Courtney, with the bluest eyes of the sea says, "All I want, all I need, is your support, without that I will not be able to live out the next 8 months. Please hold me?"

With that, I cried, prayed with them, held her, held him and said...

"Children are Gods Blessings."

She took themselves away, leaving me with hope, questions, and an understanding..."They're in Gods hands, and I can't do anything about it, except pray a little more each day.....

"This can't last. The pain I'm feeling, can't last. I must remember that and try to control myself. Nothing lasts really. Neither happiness nor despair. Not even life lasts very long. They'll come a time in the future when I won't think on this anymore. I can look back and say it was just a passing fancy. No, no I don't want that time to come. I want to remember every minute, always, so it never happens again.”

As Zoë was sitting in the Hoboken train depot, her mind was going in so many different directions. She had to talk to Mike, even though he wasn't with her. “I know I'm a happily married woman, at least I thought I was."

Oh Mike, there's so much that I want to say to you. You're the only one in the world with enough wisdom and gentleness to understand. If only it was somebody else's story and not mine. As it is, you're the only one in the world that I can never tell.Ever! Even if I waited until we were old people, you'd be looking back over the years and be hurt. I don't ever want you to be hurt. We’re a happily married couple and let's never forget that. We have a home. You're my husband. I know I'm a happily married woman - or I was, until a few weeks ago. You're my whole world, and it's enough, or rather, it was until a few weeks ago. Mike, I've been so foolish. I met a stranger and I thought I fell in love. I'm an ordinary woman. I didn't think these things happen to ordinary people.

It all started on an ordinary day in the most ordinary place in the world - the Hoboken coffee shop. I was having a cup of coffee and reading a book. My train wasn't due for ten minutes. I looked up and saw a man come in from looking at the train schedule. He had on an ordinary raincoat, his head was turned down and I didn't even see his face. He got his coffee, and turned. Then I saw his face. He had eyes that were bluer than a cloudless sky. He was tall, and so handsome. I asked him if he could pass me the half & half. He smiled and nodded his head, that was it. Mike, why was I so attracted to this man?

So that's how it all began, just me asking for half & half. I completely forgot the whole incident. It didn't mean anything to me at all. At least I didn't think it did.

Three weeks later I was running to my train. I suddenly remembered his train went to Morristown and was just pulling out. I don't know why but I looked up at the windows and at the running passengers, wondering if he was there, but he wasn't. I was really thinking of other things, but couldn't understand after three weeks this stranger was popping into my head again?

Then one day I was turning the corner in Greenwich Village, you know Mike how I love to shop at all the bohemian shops, I feel so cool! As I was window shopping I literally bumped into my stranger. I nearly fell to my knees.

"Hello! I don't know if you remember me, we were in the coffee shop about a month ago? I never told you my name. It's Chad”. He was speaking so quickly I couldn't get a word in.

"Of course I remember you. Well I’m finally glad to put a name to a passing face!” I felt so embarrassed, I knew I was blushing. “My name is Zoë, it's wonderful to finally meet the person who handed me half & half!”

Chad and I started to laugh.

"Zoë, I was wondering if you'd like to have a drink in SoHo?” Chad asked.

"Well, um, I really should be getting on, but, I think I have enough time for just one, okay Chad that would be great!”

"Excellent Zoë! May I take your arm?” Chad asked…I had no premonitions. I suppose I should have had. It all seemed so natural and so innocent.

“Of course you may. Lead me on.”

We had a wonderful afternoon. Not only did he buy me a drink, but he bought me a wonderful late lunch too. You know I always chain smoke when I drink, which I know upsets you.

Mike when we were done we decided to take a long walk and in that walk we learned everything about each other. He works on Wall Street and is just starting off, he's so optimistic about his future. At one point we decided to sit on a bench near 2nd avenue. The intensity between us was real. We started to stare at each other. We stopped talking, our eyes met, and I noticed he had placed his arm around my neck.

“ Zoë you're so beautiful, I've actually been thinking about you for a month. I wanted to bump into you, but I never did. This is embarrassing, but I've had dreams about you…I'm sorry I don't mean to embarrass you…”

With his last word I embraced his face with my hands, and our mouths met. Tongue meeting tongue, we were kissing with animal magnetism, I couldn't get enough, and I knew we both wanted each other.

“ Zoë I live near here that's why I was in Greenwich Village, come over, just today. I really want you.” He pleaded with his blue eyes.

“Yes, I want you too…I'll work out the rest of the day, let's go.”

Mike, that's what's so shameful about it all. That's what would hurt you the most if you knew, that I could feel so intensely as that, away from you with a stranger.

We had sex over and over. He touched me in places I never felt before, but when it was over the guilt was immense, I couldn't look at myself in the mirror. I had an afternoon lover.

Remember me calling you? I never lied to you, but I had to and the sad thing was you believed me, because you always do.

Every week we met, the same time and his apartment. One day we were touching, embracing each other as if I had made my mind up to leave you. Then out of the blue, “she” walked in.

Chad never mentioned anyone else? Was this his sister? Was this my punishment for falling in love, or rather lust for another man?

“At it again Chad?” The woman was cynical, she smiled so slyly.

"Hey honey, I'm Mrs. Chad, Laura, and you are?” She was evil, but he was a liar too!

“Laura, her name is Zoë! Leave her alone! I screwed up, not her, she didn't know I was married. Why are you home so early too!” Chad screamed at her, as if this was normal?

“I came home because the scent in MY house is not MY scent, I knew you were up to something again! As I said, MY house! Get your whore out of here, you know what will happen to you if Daddy finds out again, you bastard!”

“Okay, okay! Let me speak with her for one minute!” Chad was screaming at his “wife” continuously. I had to run and run out fast. He looked at me, and I at him with fire in my eyes.

"Zoë you're no prima donna either! You're just as married as I am. We fucked, that was it!” He said

I stopped and looked in his eyes, his piercing eyes I once fell for, and said…

“It wasn't just fucking, I had fallen in love…I'll never be married like you!”

Remember when I called you to pick me up Mike? I asked you to meet me in Hoboken? I wanted to feel you around my arms, not a stranger that I fell for, not something I thought I was looking for, because I already had the man I was looking for, my husband.

So much pain

So much hurt

"I love you sweetie"

"I GAVE UP MY TRUE LOVE FOR YOU BITCH"

Pain causes one to hurt

Drugs causes one to be hurtful

A little boy wanted to meet God. He knew it was a long trip

to where God lived, so he packed his suitcase with Twinkies

and a six pack of root beer and he started his journey. When

he had gone about three blocks, he met an old woman. She

was sitting in the park just staring at some pigeons.

The boy sat down next to her and opened his suitcase. He

was about to take a drink from his root beer when he noticed

that the old lady looked hungry, so he offered her a Twinkie.

She gratefully accepted it and smiled at him. Her smile was

so pretty that the boy wanted to see it again, so he offered

her a root beer. Again, she smiled at him. The boy was

delighted.

They sat there all afternoon eating and smiling, but they

never said a word.

As it grew dark, the boy realized how tired he was and he

got up to leave, but before he had gone more than a few

steps, he turned around, ran back to the old woman, and

gave her a hug. She gave him her biggest smile ever.

When the boy opened the door to his own house a short

time later, his mother was surprised by the look of joy on his

face. She asked him, "What did you do today that made you

so happy?" He replied, "I had lunch with God." But before

his mother could respond, he added, "You know what? She's

got the most beautiful smile I've ever seen!"

Meanwhile, the old woman, also radiant with joy, returned

to her home. Her son was stunned by the look of peace on

her face and he asked, "Mother, what did you do today that

made you so happy?" She replied, "I ate Twinkies in the

park with God." However, before her son responded, she

added, "You know, he's much younger than I expected."

Too often we underestimate the power of a touch, a smile,

a kind word, a listening ear, an honest compliment, or the

smallest act of caring, all of which have the potential to turn

a life around.

People come into our lives for a reason, a season, or a

lifetime. Embrace all equally!

Jean was a 5 year old who lived in Hastings, England. As the youngest of 6, she coped with hardships, but her childhood was happy and fun-filled.

Summer was over and Germany had invaded France. Officials had ordered all children to leave coastal towns of England.

When Jean arrived at the hectic train station, a tall man snatched Jean away from her mum. He proudly wore a British arm band, and mud-stained rubber boots. Jean tugged at the mans fingers around her wrist, but his grip was too strong. She screamed for her mother.

"Leave her! Please!" said Kath, who was behind Dora.

"I don't want to go!" said Jean.

“Luv, I want to make sure your name is in your coat. 'Jean Waters' that's your name." Kath said with a smile. "Look, you have the postcard with a stamp on it? Right then!" She nervously kissed Jean on her tear soaked face, but pretended to stay calm.

Dora held back her tears. "Listen my girl, brighten up! Be a brave girl for mummy. I'm sure he’ll have a sweet for you? Go on now.” She hugged her tight, but the man was already pulling on Jeans arm.

The official took Jean, still screaming and crying. Dora and Kath could do nothing, but hear her crying out their names.The lump that started to form in Dora's throat was now stinging in the back of her eyes. She had been brave for Jean, but now the emotions she felt had to be released.

Jean arrived in a local village with the volunteers and many children to be placed with foster families. Jean was picked by an elderly couple who lived in Glasgow, Scotland.

The Campbell's took Jeans hand to get the train, but she pushed them away. All she did was continually rub her eyes and yawn. She had tried to stay awake by looking out the train window, but the trains constant motion eventually put her to sleep.

Jean finally awoke and Mr. Campbell picked her chin up with his hand and said, "Lassie, why are ye still crying?"

"I want to go home." Jean sobbed.

"Lass, we be getting hame soon, and then ye be having food. Will ye like that?" Mrs. Campbell sat beside her.

"Yes, thank you." Jean sniffed, but she still wanted her Mum.

"Now then, the 'Blue Train', she's almost here in Glescae!" He exclaimed, looking out the window.

The train finally stopped. Jean was still upset, but Mr. Campbell picked her up, over his shoulder. She started feeling a bit better, yet trembled too.

"Still hungry lass?" Mr. Campbell asked.

"Yes, Sir."

Suddenly, she saw a strange look in Mr. Campbell's eyes. He said, "Lass, we came a long voyage, now ye ours. Please call us Faither and Mither."

"I have a Mummy and Daddy!" stamping her feet.

Mrs. Campbell wryly grinned, and said, “Now you have two”.

Jean was too tired to understand this. They were being so helpful on the train? Why were they thinking she was their daughter? She missed home.

The bus arrived, and twenty minutes later they were home. Mrs. Campbell brought her inside and said, "Would you like some eggs and fried bread lassie?"

"Yes, please!" answered Jean.

"When you're all through go to your room Jimmy. It's getting late!" Mrs. Campbell said in a trancelike state.

"I'm not Jimmy?!" Jean said shaking.

Mr. Campbell was directly behind his wife and heard what she said, "Lass, eat your eggs and go to your room, now!"

"Yea, yea,yes.." Jean sobbed again.

"Stop your sniffling! Mrs. Campbell didn't mean to call you Jimmy! Now finish up!"

Jean rushed through supper, and Mr. Campbell spoke silently with his wife. Jean didn't know what was wrong with her?

"Lass, ye our daughter, we deserve to be called Mam and Pa, we saved ye from the bombs!" Mr. Campbell yelled.

"No!" Jean screamed back.

"You best watch yourself lass, I’m not getting paid to take care of a wee devil.”

From that moment on she knew she had to run. "Why were they nice at first? What's wrong?” thought Jean.

They dragged her upstairs and said, "Since you're not being friendly to us, you'll stay in your room. After you wake up, maybe you'll think again bairn!"

"You're not my Mummy and Daddy!" Over and over she cried, no one listened. Finally she looked around. This was a large closet with a cot and a window! Jean held her dolly and cried.

Jean didn't go to sleep. She was determined to stay in her coat, it identified her. She looked out the window, the roof was straw, she could slide down. Quietly she tried opening the window, it was old and stiff, but it budged. She grabbed her dolly, and suitcase.

Carefully she climbed onto the ledge. Fearful of falling, she put it behind her. This wasn't her home. She slide down, landing right on her bottom. Nothing would stop her. Jean got up, and ran without looking back.

Suddenly she felt a tug on her coat. "Let me go!" she screamed. Jean didn't know Mr. Campbell was up before the sun, he wasn't about to let go of his meal ticket.

"You'll stay here, BONNIE LASSIE, until I say, but you'll learn a lesson ye never will forget" with arms wailing at his face, he pulled her like a rag doll. "Now bend over!"

"No, NO!" Tears began welling up.

"Bend over or I'll thrash you till you bleed!" Jean was hysterically crying. She bent over and Mr. Campbell took a switch, and whipped her twice. "Now bairn, once for disobeying, and twice for running, next time will be worse. Run to your room and remember who we are!"

Jean remembered who they were: mean, old and hateful people. The man who made her call him 'faither' worked her on his farm as if she were a boy. The woman she had to call 'mither' dressed Jean as her son. Jimmy had died a long time ago and they couldn't let go of him.

The woman never brushed her hair, or even gave her a bath. She was dirty & nearly starving.

The beatings were continuous. Jean would cry herself to sleep saying, "Kath, you promised, why?!"

One day she found the postcard in her coat with a stamp on it! Her address was already on it and all she had to do was put the Campbell's return address on. She kept watching for Mrs. Campbell, this was the time when she fed the chickens. Jean ran to the back of the house to make sure Mr. Campbell was milking the cows. He was, but the postcard had to be short, she had one chance:

"dear kath-

please get me. everything is not fine. I am being beaten! please?

love jean"

The postman was due at 10 am. The Campbell's could not see her by the postbox.

"Good Morning Bonnie Lass,” he said

"Good Morning, Mr. White". She said "Mr. White, I forgot, the officials told us to send this off to our homes and I forgot, it's so late now."

"Ah las, I'll take care of the postcard, for ye."

"Thank you Mr. White!" Jean smiled.

"Don't you worry now. Have a good day!" with that he gave her a wave.

Months went by and no news came from England. One night they were all sitting down eating supper, Mr. Campbell never allowed talking and Jean was only allowed minimal portions. Suddenly, a knock was heard.

"Who's that during my supper time Mrs.Campbell?!"

"I don't know? Would you like me to see?" he nodded stuffing his mouth. Mrs. Campbell got up from the table, slowly walking to the front door. Jean wasn't even paying attention.

"May I help ye?" Mrs. Campbell asked.

"My name is Miss Kathleen Waters, I'm here for my sister. I'm not leaving without her!" Jean heard her sisters voice and jumped from the table, knocking her chair down. Mr. Campbell jumped up, tripping over the chair.

"Kath! You came!" Jean jumped right into her arms.

"Darling! My luv, how couldn't I after I got your post!" Kath said while kissing her face.

"Here, here, you can't take this lass! She's mine!" He said.

"No! She's not yours! She's my sister! I won't leave without her on my arm!

"Jean bend over." Jean was more than happy to bend over.

"What are those scars Mr. Campbell? You bastard! How dare you strike a 5 year old! I've contacted the local police and officials. You're cut off, no more money! You lied, saying you've never had foster children! You're an abuser! You both disgust me." Kath spat out.

"Come on my luv! Get your coat, suitcase and dolly, we're going home. No one will ever put a scar on you again."

Death is silent & loud...

I walk..

I run..

I turn..

In blood..written

"We're dead!"

Can we be haunted by those who are not yet dead?I wake up to a recurring nightmare weekly. I am back in NY...I am being followed by a man, I try running, but in a flash we're back in my old apartment, someone is hurting me...I turn around its Mark...

I open my eyes, I'm awake but shaking. I reach for a cigarette, thinking that will calm me down. I notice I'm sweating..Why is this happening again?! Why is it things that have happened in the past, are as close to opening your eyes?

It happened October 7, 1986. He was drinking again, that wasn't new. It seemed as if I had been living a colossal existence since we met. Never knowing if he was coming home drunk, sober, or in an abusive state, accusing me of having sex with everyone in the neighborhood, or not having his food on the table at 5:30, on the dot.

This night felt different, I couldn't shake it off. A feeling my life was going to change, or something worse.

My heart was racing, Sean and Ashley were asleep, but Mark wasn't home and it was 8 o'clock. Why did I have this foreboding feeling?

Ever since Mark and I married on February 4, 1981, I always had a "sense" well before he came home. Mark would stagger in either stinking like alcohol or sex. I would know it before he touched the door. Yet tonight, felt different.

My mom hadn't called me tonight. I found that odd too. She always called me once a day, either to speak to the kids or ask how I was? No call, in fact the phone had barely rang. "What's wrong?" I started to think I was either going to hear he's dead, got another DUI, or worse. I felt as if something was wrong with my mother? I couldn't push it away..

Suddenly the doorbell rang.

"Doorbell?", I said to myself . "Who is ringing the doorbell at nearly 9 o'clock".

I hesitantly opened the door to 6 men, all in suits. The first thing I said was, "What did Mark do?"

Nothing he did was going to shock me. Did he get arrested? Was he caught in NYC buying drugs? Did he get caught fucking a prostitute? I was visibly shaking. Then the 6 men who showed me their badges asked if they could come in.

"Absolutely!" I remained calm with an actual smirk on my face.

The head detective asked if we could all sit down. At this point I was standing. "No sir I don't want to sit down, please tell me what's going on!"

"Mrs. O. I have terrible news". At that point you could have heard a pin drop. I noticed my breathing was shaking. With every breath I exhaled, a fluttering noise was escaping.

"Please don't drag this out anymore, tell me WHAT IS GOING ON! Mark abuses me monthly, weekly, whenever he feels like it. I'm a big girl, I can handle it. What I can't handle is you're trying to tell me something that's s delicate issue but you're having a problem saying it..please just tell me!!" I was shaking so much I nearly fell onto the sofa.

"I'm sorry Mrs. O, your husband, Mark, sexually abused your mother at 4 o'clock this afternoon with an empty gun. She didn't fight him. He forced himself on your mother and afterwards...she ran next door for her neighbor to call the police. I'm sorry, I just didn't know how to tell you. He fled and we came here to see if he was home, obviously he's not. I'm sorry, is there anyone you can go to? If he comes home, he will be arrested." the head detective seemed to care but his job was to arrest my husband, not to help me fill in the gaps.

I found myself screaming and the tears just started streaming down my face.

"On my GOD!!!" Oh my GOD!!" I started yelling. I didn't care what happened to him. I waited all day for him to come home, when I could have been on the phone hours ago to check in with my MOM!!

I was shaking so hard and visibly emotionally upset, that the second detective ran to the kitchen to look for tissues, instead found paper towels. I was forced with a wad of paper towels in my hand. No one offered to put an arm around me, there was no woman detective to have a shoulder to cry on, nothing happened in the '80's geared towards feeling bad towards the suspects wife or kids. We were just by-products of the event & the only thing they cared about was arresting the suspect, not hearing me fall apart.

"Mrs. O. we need you and your children to leave, so when he believes it's safe to come home, we'll be here to arrest him."

I glared at this "non emotionally " man, and the comments coming out of this detective. At that exact time I thought of every single TV Detective show. The comforting actors who played them had no clue that in real life their ONLY concern was their suspect, not the family. I remember the next biggest thing I said stumped them all.

"I am not moving, I'm not getting my 4 and 2 year old out of bed because you don't want me to see my husband getting arrested. The one thing is.." I hesitated, "is..I'm fucking 8 weeks pregnant!! Do you have an answer for my family and what's going to happen to my mother!! You seem to care what time I'll hide so you can do your job! No I'm not leaving! My only concern is my MOTHER! You don't think I blame myself for this piece of shit called a husband and father to my kids, who RAPED MY MOTHER!!" I started shaking and crying again.

"I'm sorry", one of the silent detectives said. "The only thing on your moms mind is you and her grandchildren. Not what physical or mental damage she was feeling. In fact your sisters are very emotional right now, worrying you're going to blame yourself, as you are right now." He said and bent down to face me. "Your mom and sisters want to talk to you when you're ready, it's not your fault. Your husband has a problem. He desired your mom, there's no two ways to say it. He sexually abused her because he wanted her. It wasn't a rage of anger. I know this may be hard for you to understand..."

I interrupted the kind detective.."No sir, I completely understand. He's had a sick obsession towards her. It's nothing he did, just his sick looks at her....I just can't believe this." I started crying..."I'm so sorry he did this...please forgive me for marrying this man, forgive me for everything!!"

"Mrs. O..please don't blame yourself. It's not your fault! You just said he was a piece of shit and you're not taking this on?!" The kind detective tried to make me feel better. "He has problems with alcohol and sex, he needs help, you cannot take this on as if you could have saved him."

"You don't understand!" I started to talk loudly in sputtering sobs. "My mother has blamed me in..in..no uncertain words, always in innuendo words, when she sees how he has never kept us except in nearly poverty...I know she loves me, but in years to come..this will eventually come out in fighting words..I don't know what kind, but I'm sure she'll say, "If only you hadn't married Mark!" She has every right to say it, I deserve it"....I started crying hysterically. I had noticed my anger at Mark had turned inward, and I did start blaming myself.

"Do you want to call her now?" The detective asked.

"NO, NOT YET!! What could I say? I'm so ashamed..." my words drifted off and I was exhausted.

About 2 hours later, Mark indeed, came home, and was arrested and given his rights. I saw him outside, looking at his drunken state. Did he know this was not just a DUI that "Mommy" could get him bond? Did he truly understand what he just did to not just one family, but his mother & father, his children, and as usual I always put myself at the end of that list.

An abusive woman always put her on the end of the line. She always heard comments like, "What the fuck is wrong with you?!?! Why didn't you leave him when he first abused you?" Or.."Why didn't you take your children and just run!!!"

I would tell them.."Have you ever been abused? Have you ever been pregnant and had an alcoholic man run after you with a steel chair, hitting you so hard that you woke up to "crimson colors" from the top of your head to the bottom of your feet, beaten to a pulp because he was in mourn for his grandfathers passing..did you?"

I would continue with words to my critiques. The Christian ones would sympathize with me and pray. The passing friends ignored me and said I should leave the state. To be the woman and mother I had to be and wake up. I didn't have a lot of loved ones caring for me at that moment. It didn't matter, the only ones I cared about were my mom and kids, and in time, "because time heals all wounds", we would learn to be a family without Mark.

It took years to make amends with my mom. My guilt was so heavy, I carried it for years. It's taken a long time, and many things haven't been added to this, due to the memories that plague me monthly, something weekly, that is still hard to write about.

Yes...we are haunted by ghosts not dead yet. It's happening more than I'd wish, but I also know..

I've grown into a woman that took on 3 babies and raised them by myself. I was blessed by so many people I never met again, as did my mom. God is so good. You wonder why I'm saying that? Because without the realization that I could and did get along the rest of my life without Mark, and leaned on my higher power, instead of Man. I knew I could do anything...

I may be having a ghost interrupting my nightmares a few times, but I have overcome serious abuse. I have known closing my eyes doesn't make something go away, but I also know, He no longer controls my life..period

My dreams will never end..but I can get past them too