I have been told a million, no a million and one times, that I am a guy's girl, whatever that truly means. I am biologically a girl, true statement. I follow basketball and football. Football to the point where my Thursday nights, some Saturday's, definitely all day Sunday/Sunday night and Monday nights are pretty much … Continue reading random and in no particular order…..like my workouts
So it took me about 3 days to figure out the "system" at Charter Westbrook. The goal, apparently was the acceptance phase. Acceptance meant that I acknowledged I had an eating disorder and that I was willing to change, to fix it, to heal. Acceptance also meant you could go outside for short periods of … Continue reading 3 days…no acceptance
So they we were, parked in front of Charter Westbrook, Richmond VA. For those of you unfamiliar, and I hope you are, unfamiliar. Charter Westbrook is an inpatient facility for the mentally disturbed. It houses your drug addicts, your bipolars, schizophrenics, manic depressed types, suicidals, eating disorders and so on. So they we were. My father … Continue reading Institutionalized? you don’t say…..
The second lesson and perhaps one that has stayed with me my entire life was acceptance. I never really fit in in high school because I was the South Florida transplant in a little southern town called Midlothian,Virginia. I was blonde hair, green eyes, tanned skin surfer girl amoung the Kelly Bundy look a-likes with the … Continue reading the writer, part 2
In high school I met a writer. A poet. He seemed so surreal to me and so enlightened. He was part of the elite "drama" crowd and I remember watching him perform onstage in awe that he could let himself go like that, without hesitation, not afraid to be made fun of. I don't know … Continue reading the writer. part 1
It occurred to me looking back, that I did not have a single childhood memory where I felt happy. Not a one. It was as if time stopped during those years of both being abused and watching the abuse take place around me. It was as if I jumped from child to me now with … Continue reading If the truth is ugly, it doesn’t exist.
I have decided that I want my life to be a honest life. That no matter what the consequences, the truth of my journey is out there. I am in love with an undeserving man. All the logic and practicality of it dances there in my brain, just out of reach and when I say … Continue reading An undeserving man
My earliest childhood memory isn't of a birthday, riding a bike or playing with my brother. My earliest memory is a toss up between being thrown overhead down a tile hallway (because I moved a box that our cat had kittens in, out of the rain) or of being snatched up out of a bathtub … Continue reading The begining.
All my life I have thought I have a story to tell. But what makes my story of childhood abuse, running away, being homeless, being a teenage mom, rebelling so different from anyone else's story of troubles? Well, quite simply, it's MY story. and it IS relevant. My children don't know me, really KNOW me. … Continue reading Well, Is it?