I tried as much as I could to stay home with my children at least until they where the age of five. I did this because the basic personality is formed by that age. The video above says age seven. My logic was, if I could be the best parent I knew how to be they would have good lives. See, I always wanted to be a good mother. I mean we all do but for me it was even more important because I felt mine had failed me. I was exposed to things I shouldn't have been. Done ways that just where not right to do to a child.


I'd like to say my mother did the best she could. An maybe that is true.


That is the best she could do, but my inner child says no because it will always go back to remembering what she did to me. When my father disciplined me, it made sense. If I did something wrong, I might get spanked but there was a reason behind it. Not that I'm absolving him completely. He was heavy handed at times an there is that one time he locked me in a closet for a full day. I have not forgotten. It was wrong an it shouldn't have been done.


I told him I hated him.


Actually screamed it because I thought he was hurting my mother. They had been in a fight, kissed an made up an he was tickling her an I thought he was hurting her. So, I got very defensive of her started screaming at him. He was playing. I wasn't. He had a belt an kept snapping it at me, joking around. But being threatened wasn't a joke to me. An when I screamed I hated him, it got serious. He whipped me. Locked me in a closet in my room. I stayed there what seemed like all day crying. But I did understand why he whipped me. Screaming you hate someone isn't something you should do.


My mother did nothing.


It was the first time, my father and I had not gotten along. Normally, we did an I was pretty much glued to his side. He was more of a mother to me, then my mother. He dressed me. Feed me. Ect. An I was pretty mad at him for doing that to me. All over a misunderstanding. I defended my mother, but she never came to my aid for doing so. An that is pretty much how she's always been. Expecting me to be there for her, when she never was for me. At some point my dad had a little sit down with me an explained, he wasn't going to spank me, he was just playing until I did that. I as best as a little kid explained I wouldn't have done that if he wasn't scaring me.


I didn't agree with my dads instilling fear into a child.


Even as an adult, lectured him that was the reason him and I where not as close as we should be. Because we where close when I was a little kid. But at least his discipline had some predictability to it. I actually had to do something really wrong to get spanked. An truth is, there is a difference between a spanking and a beating. An most of the time: his where spankings. Not beatings.


My mother on the other hand, was totally unpredictable.


You just never knew what was going to set her off. With my dad, I knew what would land me into trouble for the most part with him. So it was never my dad, normally that had me walking on eggshells growing up. It was her. An she stated recently to my daughter, she doesn't know how she ended up being the “bad guy” cause she was always at work. The trouble never happened when she was at work. It was what mood swing she was having when she got home.


There was no predicting when she would go off. An her spankings where not spankings. They where temper tantrums. They where beatings. I can name three times, my dad beat me: Not spanked me. It was wrong but it was limited. With her, I just never knew what was coming. I didn't have to keep track of his mood, but hers to survive.


An that's the truth of my childhood.
I walked in fear of setting her off.


When I was maybe three? Four. Before my siblings where born. She told me to go outside and play. I went out, swung on the swing set. Got bored, came back in for something an she screamed at me to go back outside: I started to an she grabbed me, started beating me with her fist until I was down on the ground. Screaming at me: I told you to stay outside. You never listen. Then she proceeded to kick me into a corner of the kitchen between a wall an the cabinets. Screaming she should have never had me. She never wanted me and kicked me so hard in the side. I couldn't breath. I still have that pain in my side if I try to run to hard or much. Then, when I was about to pass out, she lifted me up crying saying she was so sorry.


That was a beating.


An I've never forgotten it. Or the difference in my parents styles. An it's complicated because you do love your parents. An as a child you try to understand that shit. When you never really can. I made a vow to myself, never to be that way with my children. An wasn't. I wasn't perfect but I never beat my children. An it was rare of me to loose my temper. I'd go sit myself in Zen mode, time out if one of them was pushing me to my limits. It's the best I could do.


I just really did not want to be my mother.


It stuck with me, that just wasn't any way to parent. The unpredictability. The worrying about mood swings an what would set my mother off. Once was over lent on the floor. You just never knew. It was kinda like having to always be the adult in the situation. Taking care of an adult child. Who had melt downs and temper tantrums all the time. My dad saw it. Once, she got on to me about something, don't even remember what an he stopped her an told her: No, listen to her. She's the one making sense not you. An it happened all the time at our house after DCFS.


My mother never really forgave me for DCFS.


She would say it was my dad saying this or that, but truth was he's not the one that kicked me out of the house before I finished high school. She was. Threw my stuff all over the front lawn. That kinda of stuff wasn't my dad's doing. Yet, when you'd speak to her later she'd say “he's the one that told me to do that”. I just don't believe her anymore.


I use to be pretty protective of her.


I'd help her when no one else would anymore. Then she'd turn on me again. Just like she would when I was a child. An you get sick of that. You love them because they are your parent but you don't want to be exposed to that kind of behavior all the time. I'd like to say she doesn't or isn't aware she's doing it an on some level she's not but on another she is. It's kinda like dealing with a snake, you just kinda never sure when it's going to bite you.


One minute she's all lovey dovey


Next, she's back to a hateful, bitter old hag spitting out vile to you when no ones around to witness it. I use to report in to my grandmother, literally just so you know: This is what happened this time. I didn't do this this or that. I had someone in my life that believed in me, could vent to about it. An life went on. Cause everyone in our family knows how she can be. Nice one minute, trying to destroy you the next. It's just the way she's always been.


An once I left home, it didn't really effect me much.


I just learned to help her to a degree from a nice safe happy distance. She didn't really involve herself to much with me or my children anyway. She refused to help an I was kinda grateful she didn't want to. I raised my kids, with the help of my grandmother. Someone I knew, wouldn't go off half cocked like that. Someone that had patience.


My relationship with my siblings is strained at times.


They have been since I left home. They where fine before that. Other then typical spats between children we all got along fine. I don't know what was told to them during that time period. I'm sure I was made out to be the bad guy. We for the most part got a long fine after my parents divorce but they where used like a bargaining chip at times against me. To keep me involved in a situation I really didn't want to be apart of anymore. My youngest sibling is ten years younger then me. She was like my own child in some ways.


I bottle feed her, held her, dressed her, fed her, cooked cleaned an did all the things a parent should do for their own child. I ran our household, not my mom. She worked. An that is the only good thing I really can say about my mother for the most part. She's good at her job. I'm sure there are other t hings. I mean she can be kind when she wants to be. She can be a lot of good t hings when she wants to be. The keyword is: Wants.


It kinda comes an goes regarding me an I've just learned to accept that.


She's like a child. A spoiled one who will act out if she isn't getting what she wants. When my father passed away, she moved in with my sister. She packed up her house an gave me my baby picture. It was my mother's way of saying she was done with me. An I was perfectly okay with it. She's banished me so may times over my lifetime this was nothing new. What I didn't really expect was to have trouble with my siblings. We had all pretty much gotten along just fine since the youngest moved out of her house.


There is a strain there now between us all.


An the only time I've seen it like that my mother was behind it. Everything in the estate was getting divided pretty equally and fairly up until her involvement. My grandmothers estate was divided without a hitch. No problems what so ever. There have been issues with my dads. As if I where never born. A lot of low dirty tricks played. Tricks my dad or grandmother wouldn't have never done nor tolerated. An for the most part, I've let it slide.


An here's why:


There was a point in my life, where I landed a huge bid job. The person specifically told my mother to call her girls to do the job. My sister didn't want it. She already had two jobs. I took the job. When my mother found out how much the job was worth: She demanded I pay her $5000 for a finders fee. She didn't find me the job. The woman just didn't have my phone number. My mom, was all take the job, take the job. I'll help you. Cause I wasn't even sure I should take the paint job it was so big. Had to be done in a certain amount of time an I had no crew. NO no no, take it: Ill help you.


She showed up for a hour.


Had a melt down, shit fit and left. I did the job, when I got paid she'd call me harassing me to pay her for work she didn't do. If I didn't pay her, I wouldn't see my younger sibling. She wasn't going to talk to me, blah blah blah. I finally got on the phone, called my father: told him what was going on and asked his advice because she's my mother. WTF, you do with that? He listened, an basically said “Just pay the miserable bitch” That way you never have to worry about if you did something wrong.


So I did.


She never earned it but my conscious slept well at night. I never had another involvement with her financially again. The just of it was, both him and I where worried about my younger sibling over in that house with her. If she had enough or the things she needed. So I paid it. It was ransom, we both knew it. Emotional blackmail. It's what she's done her whole life.


He was sick of it. I was sick of it.


An that conversation went a long way in repairing mine & his relationship. Cause it was clear, he was not the one doing this. It wasn't his behavior but hers. He could have asked me for a loan at that time, could have used one actually an didn't. An the one time I did loan him money, I did it without his permission because it had to be done. He actually got pissed at me for it. Thanked me but pissed all the same he was taking money from his kid.


They are different.


I saw him trying to put back together his family. All I've seen since he passed is someone keeping us all arguing. She seems to enjoy us all not talking to each other. An sits around like the innocent one. I really don't get what she gets out of it. Other then some sort of feeling like she's in control if we don't. An truth is, I don't really care anymore.


I'd just like the lady to get out of my families lives.
Because I'm not buying mrs sweet an innocent.
Or poor me.


I've gotten sucked back in too many times too when what I really want is for her to just leave me the hell alone. I love her but I don't want to be around her. It's like dealing with Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde all the time. One minutes she's there for you being loving as hell, next she's using your relationships with your siblings or your kids. Threaten you in private, then playing concerned parent to the world. It's about the most frustrating relationship you could ever have with a parent. An it's not just me she does this with: If she doesn't like something my sisters are doing, she'll get on the phone an try to get me to go parent them for her.


It's put me on the defensive in personal relationships half my life, an my life has been best when she wasn't much involved in it. I can't even be myself. It's like it's forbidden. If I'm in a relationship and happy, look out: Here she comes. She's going to point out every rotten thing she can come up with to whoever I happen to be with. An if it doesn't work:


Well, she's just got you rapped around her little finger.


Do you know, how many people I've dated she's done this with. I've lost count. She keeps tabs on all my close relationships. Ex's that I don't even talk with anymore. It's smothering. It's kinda obsessive. Down right unsupportive of me as a daughter an just plain weird. An I am just at wits end with it. The more I try to just stay clear of her, the more problems she causes me in personal relationships that matter to me. Their have been several times, I've just thought about moving as far away from her as I can. Cause I just really don't know what you do with someone like this anymore.


It's a toxic relationship.


An every time I get over it. Move past it. Forgive it and get on with my life and heal. Poof! There she is again. An I feel sorry for her all over again. Find myself trying to repair a relationship that really can't be. Its not the relationship that's a problem. She's my mother an I love her but I am the target of her anger an have to remember that. She's not capable of loving me in a way that is healthy. She's just not. I accepted this fact about her a long time ago.


Probably when I was fourish.


It's not that there is anything wrong with me. Nor more then their was that day she beat me like that. This problem, was her problem not mine. An as an adult, we have to re parent ourselves. I did all that cause I know those tapes in our heads can get stuck on auto pilot if we let them. I'm a decent person. Always have been an way more forgiving then I should be. Way more tolerant of peoples quirks sometimes then most. An even screwed up people need love.


An I've tried to love her without getting side swiped in the process.


From a distance, an sometimes that puts distance between me an others there shouldn't be any distance with. My mother got on a kick, I was a bad parent. If she could prove I was, then she could redeem herself she wasn't. She started the same kind of campaign she did with my younger sibling. False claims where made to DCFS, while I was in the process of moving to another house. Using my siblings against me wasn't working, so lets try the her children. My daughters father even said it: I just thought the whole thing was a get even for you turning her in to DCFS.


Bingo


On the day I was suppose to go back to court. I was sick an just kinda said, you know what. I'm not going. I'm not going to let someone use my own child against me. I am not going to keep being put through this crap had been going on since my father passed. Let my daughter stay over there. Then at least one of my kids will learn what they are like. Not that I wanted her in harms way. My mother hasn't tried to lay hands on me since I was pregnant with my oldest. She went to attack me, I defended myself an she's too old to physically harm her. Let my daughter get a real glimpse of it. I'm going back to work. Then I'll resolve this.


So I did.


At first she was, why do you hate her: She's such a sweet lil' old lady. I don't hate her. I don't trust her. You'll see why. An recently she had to be moved over to my other sisters house to finish high school.


Why?


Because my mom is running behind her back to my sister about what a terrible kid she is. She's not. She gets good grades, on track, in choir an works. She's a pretty busy girl. But she got caught doing one thing wrong, which really in the scheme of things: Is her just being a normal teen an it got all blown out of proportion. Instead of being grounded for a reasonable time, she was grounded for months. Her phone taken away so she couldn't communicate with others. Same old physiological shit my mom pulled on me after DCFS.


So I called my other sister an asked if she could stay over there to finish high school.


Away from my mom's parenting. Her depression has lifted. She's back to her normal joyful self. My mom called once after that an hissed on in the phone about what a terrible kid she was an I just told her to go parent her own children.


Cause I'm done. Just done.
Mess with my kids.


I dare you to. My kids aren't stupid.


They can have a relationship with her if they want. They are all pretty much full grown an can make their own choices. If she tries to come between me an them: They will see through it eventually. My oldest just came up here an told me: I think money is just how she loves. I don't think she knows any other way to be. An she doesn't accept you for who you are. An I told her that. Even defended me on my moms “She's crazy” kick.


So, I don't have to be around it any longer.


I love her, but I don't like her much. She keeps yelling at me: “I'm a good person” Okay fine, your a good person. An she can be at times. That's not the part of her that always has me watching my own back when it comes to her. She has some need for mommy approval from me. Which is odd. It always has been. I've chalked it up to her mother passing when she was young. Or however her mother was with her. I don't know, she won't talk about it. Never has.


An you can't help someone who never really deals with their core issues.


An those all go back to before age five or seven. I know what my issues are. Every sore spot in my childhood. I found someone who could mother me positively. So when I think back to my childhood those are the memories I focus on. My mother resents it. My grandmother mothering me but I'd be a mess if it wasn't for her. Those childhood tapes would have got stuck in “unlovable”. It is because of her I know that I am. I could go on an function like a normal adult.


She's the one that got me into art.


It helped a lot in my childhood keeping me quiet an still, so I didn't receive wrath. It made me productive in a environment that wasn't very emotionally stable. Truth is I got kinda use to sitting calm in the eye of a storm. It made me learn to focus on something else instead of what could be bothering me if I had let it. It was therapeutic. My biggest vice growing up. It help me re direct my own thoughts away from harmful emotions. It gave me away to channel them with out being punished.


It set me free.


It gave me a outlet. A way to reprogram myself while going through stuff I really shouldn't have been put through. I'd go draw mickey mouse instead. Use my imagination to dream of better. I lived in my head a lot. An even back then told myself: She's wrong A lot. I had my pappa, grandmother an others letting me know I was loveable. I was valued. All the time, not just part of the time or when the mood struck.


My mother is trying to tell others I'm bipolar.
I'm not, but she might be.


It would explain a lot of what she's put me through. I deal with depression and PTSD but it only acts up when I'm resubjected to her behavior. They say, you have to cut toxic people out of your life. Even if they are family. I've tried that but what ends up happening is I have to cut others out of my life because of her. I just don't know what else to do with it. I'm fifty something years old. I haven't had to deal with this kinda nutty behavior in 30 years. When I did it was short spurts.


Toleration.


I know she has her issues but at some point isn't she suppose to be an adult by now?
Why must she keep projecting her mommy issues / orphan shit on to me.


An that's really was it is, a projection.


My mother doesn't really know me well. Nor, the few she gets on board for these kicks. Most that have been around for any length of time, knows she gets this way. Many have been tolerant of it. She has a couple good friends, an seems content enough with her work & life most of the time not to bother me. An I guess that's the best you can hope for. I wish she'd get real help for whatever the real underlying issue has always been.


It was there long before I came along.


She's old now, an probably never will deal with the issue. I've pretty much accepted that. But she wanted to know, why I feel the way I do. An my kids wanted to know, so here I am writing about something I dealt with a long time ago. My moms issues. It's not that she's unlovable. She just makes it difficult when you always got to worry about how your going to get burned this time for getting involved.


Love just shouldn't be this hard.


It's just easier to stay away, then to be drug into a bunch of drama.

Part of surviving abuse, is speaking up. I'm not here to relive the past but it is part of my story. My life. An it's something I had to live with. I don't think I had it the worst. I know others that did live with much worse happening to them. An I really don't dwell on it. Physical abuse is much easier to get over then mental or emotional abuse & manipulation. An the years following turning my parents in for the physical abuse where the worst for me because of those things. I was guilted A LOT!

Art became a get away.

A way to escape “reality” in my head. It gave me mentally something else to focus on that was a lot more positive. It got me through some very hard times. Always has because there is something therapeutic about putting “feelings” into a painting, drawing or poem: whatever your release val: music. It's a way to “get it out of you”. An a lot more productive then self destruction. An it might be where the cliché of “tourtured artist” comes form. Some of my art is a bi-product of bad experiences. An it's why I have a hard time talking about them sometimes.

I don't want to say, “Well this piece came from a memory of a beating I endured for coloring the wall at age two. Or this one from being kicked across the kitchen floor an screamed at: I never wanted you. But part of being an artist is to convey a feeling depth. So you will pull from bad memories to create gold. Turn something bad, into something good. It's the same notion as trying to turn water into wine. You want something worthwhile to come out of all you've been put through: Not just be the target of meaningless none sense.

Art is a form of self therapy.

An it's a lot more productive then just drowning in sorrow. Which is only one emotion out of the whole human experience. So to me, good artist conveies the full spectrum. But arts personal, no matter how much an artist tries to depersonalize it so they can put it out there publicly. I personally didn't like abstract as an art form for many years, now I see it as telling a secret without giving away the secret. Because I really don't like talking about some of the things I've gone through. Sometimes you must.

Not to be mean. Or hurt someone. That's not really my intention: But sometimes you have to speak up.

Especially when it's happening to you again. An you have to keep speaking up til a bully stops or gets your not going to take it. I'm not being physically abused right now: but I have been ganged up on plenty emotionally, financially and mentally since my grandmother and my dad died. I resent it an that's all there is to it. I don't want to be around anyone who has tried to take advantage of me. I don't want to be subjected to being degraded behind closed doors again. Or talked about behind my back.

A normal response.

Because the only way I have found to deal with a bully: Is get it all out there in the open. They are a lot less likely to pull stunts on you if the whole world is watching.

Silence is what allows abuse to happen.

An I had good reason to be silent to a degree the last ten years; a business I inherited was at stake. I was caught in a catch 22. You want it to do well, so your silent about a lot of things. You let this or that slide, because your not willing to destroy something you helped build. An I'm not, but I'm not going to sit here an just take the same shit I took as a child either.

I'm a grown adult.

Who is an artist. Who does have to tell her story, background an about her life to sell art. It's part of it. If this makes some uncomfortable then maybe they should look at their own behavior over the years instead of trying to isolate me from the world like they did back in the day. Maybe they should stop trying to control me, or my life. Maybe just maybe, they shouldn't have tried to use my kids.

My daughter was verbally attacked on her birthday.

Called all kinds of things right in front of me basically for being a typical teenager. She's a good kid. Gets good grades. Involved in choir. Cross country. Works a job. Very busy with a lot of good things going on in her life. She left what should have been an enjoyable occasion, that was suppose to be all about her in tears.

Same kinda tears I cried as a teenager.

She was basically being bullied on. Dealing with depression from it. An while I've let a lot go since my father and grandmother passed: I'm not willing to have my kids done in the same fashion I was or have been.

The only way you can stop abuse: any kind – physical, mental or emotional: Is to speak up.

You have to remove yourself from their presence. I don't care how much you love them. Or if it tears your heart out to let them go. You have to stand up to it. I might have been willing to take a certain amount of shit to keep my fathers business going. I may have kept quiet about things of the past an let a lot of things happen to me that shouldn't have since my father and grandmother passed. I'm use to being a survivor of abuse an taking a certain amount of shit but I'm not willing to let my children get sucked into the vortex an go through things I have. An it's not okay for someone to use your children to get even with you.

Abusers and bullies hold grunges.

An you accept that to a degree as the family member that turned them in. You live with the being outcast in your own family mark. But what I've found is someone truly repentant of it happening to you doesn't treat you that way. Most in my family where glad I told. Glad to have it end. Happy to let it heal and want to move on from it. We grew from it. An those that have, I've embraced. But those that use those same old tactics of trying to guilt you, be raid you or destroy you will try to get away with it again. An you have to speak up. It's not okay to treat me this way. Or anyone else for that matter.

Cause if you don't, they will do it all over again. They may not lay hand on you but they will try to destroy your life. An will use whatever means possible. I understand more then anyone people want their privacy if they've been abused. They don't want it all out there. I understand it better then anyone because I don't like the memories of it, or having to relive it. But if you don't speak up, an keep speaking up an abusive person will use that very exact thing to try put you through all kinds of things again.

I've been put through enough.

I'm physically sick. I don't feel good an I'm tired. I shouldn't have to deal with this behavior. I haven't taken it off anybody since I was twelve an I am not going to bend over backwards to keep the peace to repair relationships better off broken. What part of I don't want to be around it, or it around my children do some people not get. I've pretty much given up just about everything rightfully mine just so I couldn't be done that way an keep being exposed to it.

I would chew my own arm off to get away from that type of person or behavior. What part of that, hasn't sunk in over the past forty or so years for some I will never get. I'm not saying all this to hurt someone, or violate anyone's privacy. It's the only way I know that works:

Stand up, be vocal about it an a nicely as you can tell them it's not okay. Stay away from me if your going to continue to behave in that way.

It's the only way to free yourself from a bully.

An it's not okay to use other family members to justify what your doing.

If they can't understand by now your being picked on and at by someone from ever angle then you have to stay clear of them to. This is why abuse survivors go through depressions. Cause I'm not by nature a depressed person. I'm normally pretty happy to live my own life. My depressions stem from the exact same root they always have:
When I'm getting done that way an still trying to get along with an unreasonable person.

You try because you still love them an other family members: but if they are using that against you. Then you do have to cut out all contact with anyone not supportive of you. An this might mean they get their way isolating you from other family but you probably better off. You'll be a lot less depressed that's for sure cause your not exposed to it any longer.
One of my abusers, didn't like what I wrote the other day. Which I thought was actually pretty good.
I had to deal with several phone calls from other family members to take it down. I hurt that persons feelings. An I was being guilted into removing it. I won't.

It's the truth, an how I feel about it.

An that person didn't give a shit about my feelings when all of it was happening to me when i was little and defenseless. An you have to remind yourself, they don't care. They didn't care about your feelings back then, an they don't right now. That doesn't change. An they will use any means possible to try to suck you back in and control you. Cause that is what abusive people do. They try to control you an if they can't: They will try to destroy you. Your reputation, your character, financially, what ever means they can. Whatever you give them access to. They will try to isolate you as much as they can to do it.

Your only defense is to speak up: An say enough. Get out of my life.

I had to deal with my son, who got the phone call coming up here to my home an telling me “He couldn't wait until I was dead”

If I don't remove that, Ill make sure no one in this family talks to you. It came right out of my mothers mouth six months earlier if I didn't “do what she said”. It is the same damn tacit that was used on me when I was eighteen, trying to guilt me into coming back home.

If you don't do what I say, “I'll make sure you don't see your sisters.” I'll make sure none of us talk to you.

And it did damage a relationship with a sister. She thinks I'm the devil incarnated. She's quite a bit younger she doesn't get it. Hands weren't laid on her, thanks to me. But trying to use my own children agaist me is exactly why my father left. It’s why I’m not around anymore then I have to be. I’m being threatened with: You wont see your grandchild. Not by my daughter, but that person.

Trying to isolate someone is straight out of the an abuser handbook. I swear it. An your only recourse is to let them. It's the best thing for you, not to be around anyone who witnesses it an does nothing anyway. Because then they can only pull stunts out in the public: Where others are going to see it. Witness it. An they will usually go crawl back into the hole they came out of.

An your life can go on in peace.

An if this makes me an “asshole” so be it. Right up there with my father: Cause your not going to get away with it. I shouldn't have had to spend a year in counciling again cause of this bullshit.

I'm not afraid to defend myself. Or take losses to be done with something or someone.

I tried: An that's all anyone can do. An I will speak my truth. An I will talk about my life an if you don't like it: Don't give me any new material.

If my children don't understand it: Good! I'm glad they don't. It means I never put them through that kinda of shit. I'm doing this so those who don't understand it do. They will.

If others are kinda, where the hell is this coming from?

Well, from years of being re-subjected to the same kind of shit behind the scenes. My mother calls me a shit stirrer. But truth is, I couldn't stir any shit, if there wasn't shit to stir. So knock it off. I'm killing about four birds with one stone. I have to write about my art, myself as an artist, leave something so my kids so they understand their mother, an what she went through and hopefully help other survivors of abuse get past it themselves. An if I have to, an only if I have to will I get into the nitty gritty details of it. I do apologize to those that prefer their privacy if this steps on any of their toes.
The book I want to work on is about healing from it. Getting past being just a survivor.An for the ones who had the guts to confront it. I’d like to be like Joyce Myers about it: Fact I was abused. An not go into details. But maybe my kids need to hear some of them so they get. Just because I made it look easy to get over it: It wasn’t. It was horrific.

An be thankful you ain’t ever had to deal with something like that.

Sometimes, you have to re break an arm for it to heal properly. So it will grow straight. Healthy an beyond what happened to it. Sometimes you have to cut a cancer growth out of yourself. It might be painful in the process but you life gets to go on. I expected this to end when I was thirteen. It didn't. I had to wait until I was eighteen to get out. An I never expected to have to go through this again. An for the most part I haven't most of my life because I had other supportive family members, friends and people in my life. I'm not going to keep reliving out the orphan role because my mother was.
I'm sorry. I'm just not.

I have a right to get on with my life: my grandmother and fathers deaths shouldn't have been used as an excuse to try to suck me back into something I left a long time ago. I'm angry about that. I resent it. If other family members want to be around it: That's their choice. I don't. If they want to believe I'm the bad guy or think it. Or I'm crazy: So be it. Time tells all. But deep down, people know I've walked 20 miles out of my way to avoid a confrontation. That is what survivors do. An that's how they thrive.

They leave it all behind, they start over as many times as they have to until that toxic shit is out of t heir lives once an for all. Your not running away from a problem. Your removing it from your life.

You can't build on a cracked foundation.

Your better off taking what lessons you learned and starting off completely over from scratch. Get what good out of it you can, turn it into a great piece of art. A book. Business, whatever your thing is. Or just being plain old being happy & content.

It's a amazing all the goodness that will come into your life after you let go.

Because I have to tell ya, most days I am pretty at peace, content an happy. As long as I don't allow that back into my life.
So stand up, speak up an don't let anyone get the better of you. It was their problem to begin with. Don't let it be yours.
Don't give your own power away. Your life isn't meaningless.

Find a hobby. Go back to school. Work on your career. Go to support groups if you need to. They are out there. Tell your story. Repeat it as many times as you need to. Tell others if you have to. Get counciling if your dealing with depression from it. Stay away from those that try to manipulate you back into the same old situation. Or try to guilt you. Set boundaries. Stick to them. Find a family member you can trust. Or a friend. Get an advocate to run interference. Work on you. Don't worry or focus on them. Be selfish.

It's okay.

They where. An there is nothing wrong with you taking care of you. You can't be there for anyone else if you don't.
Figure out the issues you’ve inherited and just what to do with them to improve your life instead of you just repeating the abuse cycle. Try not to identify with your attacker. You may spend a lot of time trying to understand why anyone would be like that in the first place. You might even feel sorry for them because they where victims themselves. It might heal it some to understand but stay clear of anyone trying to pull you into that cycle again. Do some art. Listen to some music. Make some music. Go for a run. Do some yoga. Exercise. Do something at least once a day that is good for your well being. Once a day, 365 times a year adds up.

Create something out of it's ashes.

Eventually you will over come any obstacle a bully might try to put in your path. It won't even matter to you what the bully is doing. It will only matter to the bully they can't suck you back in. Stir clear of the traps set by them. Do your own thing. Nothing burns their ass more anyway. You will make progress. You'll be all the stronger.

Rinse and Repeat.

You can an will get somewhere in life. Refuse to be pulled under. An if some people stop talking to you. It's okay. They probably weren't that important of a factor if your life anyway. They didn't know what was going on or has gone on. If they are important to you tell them. Listen I can't be around this person. Please respect that. I have my reasons an try to leave it at that. Because a lot of people aren't going to get they are being used to get to you anyway. Eventually people get: It's not you anyway.

Ignore it as much as you possibly can.

Focus back on your life. Rinse and Repeat. Rinse and Repeat. Rinse and Repeat. Cleaning up your life.

I have mixed feelings about writing. I don't mind it when I'm talking about a topic that's not personal like creativity but when it comes to writing about me: the artist and my life: It's a want to but I don't kinda deal. On the one hand, I'd rather I told my own story then others after I pasted. I want my children to have an accurate account of what really happened from my point of view: how I felt about it. How I got past it, but just the act of writing about it comes across like I'm stuck in the past. Which I'm not.


I really didn't go into detail with my children about it while they where growing up.


I just stated the facts: I was abused. Turned them in an that's why we don't always get along. They would see my parents on holidays an that was about it. Mainly because that's about all I saw them, with the exception of working with my dad at the bar. Daddy, an yes I do still call him that as an adult tried in his own way tried to bring the family back together through that place. Him, me & my sisters. An it worked to a degree because we all had a job to focus on. We all where focused on saving what his ex wife tried to take from us. We had a common goal. I know I worked too hard as a kid just to loose it so I helped. It healed some wounds between us, but I wasn't willing to be subjected to any abuse.


An for the most part he was careful not to.


He needed me after all. It wasn't a job he could just do himself. An to at least me, it was a omission that he at least needed his kids. The pay was awful though, an I had my own family to support. I really didn't like subjecting myself to the pressure of arguing with him over details of the business. It was like pulling teeth some days, to get him to do things with it I knew had to be done. It was really annoying to have to deal with his ego. He had to believe something was his idea in order to do it sometimes. An I would get extremely frustrated emotionally. He just didn't seem capable of giving anyone else credit but himself. The truth boils down to he couldn't afford to pay me a management salaries others could. An I couldn't take the pressure of him. Managing was a lot easier in my eyes working for someone unrelated to me. So I quit twice on him. He didn't fire me.


I came back the second time because my sister was in the office in tears.


Saying she couldn't do it either without me. So, I picked the gauntlet back up and worked it, my in home daycare and painted commercial building all at the same time. I had to spread myself really thin to make it financially an do that job. An I left because I ended up loaning him money off my credit to get caught up. He thought the money came from my grandmother an refused to pay it. Or me any kind of reasonable salary. I paid 9% interest on that $5000 loan for almost seven years paying it back. While he'd argue: I wasn't worth the money.


An it was the final blow between us before he passed.


He said to me: I wasn't worth the money. An I just went off on him: Told him to “fuck off, grandma isn't here to apologize for you anymore.” I was the last kid, still hanging in there speaking to him. He had fired the other two over issues he should have address years before he did. They had both told him off way before I had. He was grieving, an maybe I shouldn't have let that be the last words to him but the man had a way of pushing your buttons. An it's why I left when I got pregnant with my son. I didn't need that kinda emotional bs when I was pregnant. Wouldn't subject myself to it. I'd still go over there an visit. Check in on things but I'd only help in a way that didn't reopen emotional wounds for me.


I kept my emotional distance. I just learned I had to with my parents.
Both of them have good sides to them, I just never usually get to see that side much of either of them. I am thankful to others for showing that to me. Cause I did need to see, they where not terrible with everyone. Just me.


I'm just lucky that way I guess.


They both save an take out there worst on me. They always have. I'm the family scapegoat. I just kinda got use to it. Ignored it mainly, because after I turned 18 my emotional support never came from either of them. You tend not to need your parents approval when the rest of the world validates you. All I ended up with is mixed feelings about both of them. I love them both deeply, but at the same breath they can be toxic for me. And I know it.


As long as I didn't have money dealings with my father as an adult we could get along just fine.


It didn't mean I forgot the man beat me as a child. It really just boiled down to me forgiving him for my own peace of mind. Not his. He knew he did something wrong. Stated that to me when it happened at thirteen. Apologized for it. Promised it wouldn't happen again form him: An he didn't. He kept his word. An that's why it's so much easier to forgive him, then it was my mother. She can't understand that.


First of all, he did it a lot less.


His way of disciplining you normally was to work ya to death. Or talk your ear off til you cried. She can't understand why us girls act like he's a saint now. Well, I don't. I'm perfectly aware of the mans flaws. I had to listen to them regularly from my grandmother. An those flaws he had where just him being human. We all are. He had money issues from his second divorce, was struggling to get back on top of where he was before her. That I can forgive easily. I've been through two divorces myself with same kinda ex that won't go away and leave you the hell alone. My first, we where just too young when we married. The second still to this day, won't mind his own business and stay away from mine.


An let me tell ya it's annoying to be stalked through your own family.


An my mom staked my dad, so we definitely had things in common at I grew older. But what she doesn't seem to understand, his bad bad behavior with me stopped. He didn't continue to do it to me. His apology was sincere. The sisters think he treated me different. He didn't. My mother did. They do because of her, but he didn't really. If he needed a honest opinion, I was the one he came to. They all do. I'm the one that choose to keep my distance.


I do it because I don't like emotional manipulation an bullshit games.


I look at all the things that have gone on since my grandmother and father have passed. An I can honestly say: It's not them. They aren't here to pull emotional shit on me. It gives me a lot of peace actually. Because it's clear the bullshit wasn't coming from their direction. They both left plenty of “signs” I was loved and accepted for who I was. It's made me rethink a few things that went on in our household those remaining years.


Because he left shortly after I did.


He didn't stick around for the bullshit once my sister & I where older either. His only regret an I know this to be fact: Was he couldn't take the youngest with him. Which is a totally different subject, I don't want to get into right now. This is about my father an my relationship with him. My father though for years it was my grandmother getting in the way of our relationship. Truth is, she spent a lot of time trying to mend it once I was out of the house.


An I was pretty conflicted.


When he divorced my mother: He tried to tell me but I stopped him. Told him, she's my mother. Please respect that. An he did. He never spoke a ill word about her to me after that. He lived with it. An to this day, she really doesn't get how he comes out smelling like roses in this. An I'll tell ya why: He didn't speak about her much. An when he did, he choose his words carefully. I've tried to do the same myself, with my kids about their fathers. I don't run on them, except the one that won't get the hell out of my families lives: An the most the kids normally get is: He's an asshole.


My dad finally did sit me down one day because grandma made him an told me his version of what happened. An he kept it short and brief. He married her because she was pregnant with me. He wanted me not necessarily her. The just of what he said was, they...the family was afraid she'd take off with me an them not know where I was or how I was doing. An back then, it was the right thing to do. So he did, even though he really didn't want to. An he had my sisters because that's what ya did back in those days. He said he loved kids, an wanted us but he never loved her like a man should. That she was more like taking care of another child, then a way a man should feel about his wife. An he left it at that.


He didn't go into every shitty thing that happened over those 20 years.


Deep down, I knew he was lying about it. I've always know he didn't love her like a guy should but trying to make it work. An it's effected my relationships because I won't stay in a relationship for the wrong reasons. A birth didn't seem like a good enough reason to torture oneself an I really wish he had not put himself through that. Or her. Nothing seems sadder to me then to trick yourself into believing a man loves you who doesn't. An nothing seems more devastating to me then having a spouse who sabotages your life either to get what they want. My mom got her way in the short term, but not the long run. An no one can ever accuse me of making that mistake with men.


I've never used a child to try to manipulate someone.


In fact, I've walked twenty miles around it an have no regrets doing so. I'd much rather fly solo having children then delude myself. It's been harder raising them but I'm okay with that because like him. I wanted children but unlike her I wanted someone with me for the right reason: They love me, not just our off spring. My hang up, I totally admit it. But in my mind, you can love me an them together. Or just them separately if you don't. I see no reason to drag out anyone's pain in the name of love.


Anyway since Daddy's death, I've had to reevaluate some things because of the way orders where giving around my house as a child. Most of the time, they where giving by my mother in my dad's name. Not his voice. He was always mad out to be the bad guy. He's the one telling me to tell you to do something. An this all happened around the time he was about ready to leave. He had an affair. Around the time I turned them into DCFS. He continued the affair for ten years. He didn't leave.


An a part of me feels it was my fault he didn't. He should have.
It's not wrong to want to have your own dreams & life.


What I'm realizing, specially now that he's gone an I've been the target of a lot of bs. Is it really wasn't him. He may have been difficult. He may have beat me a few times he shouldn't have but most of it is on her. Just like my grandmother had said for years. Because like I said, neither are here to attack my character.


An I really have been put through the mill since they died.
An it only comes from one direction. Same old direction.


So it's vindicating my dad.


That's all it's doing. Over an over again. See?
Not here to do it to ya. Not saying it. Not making false accusations.
Not trying to control you or manipulate you. Not telling others, your something your not.


So I have a real problem on my hands because my mother is aging. An I don't want to hate her, but I really don't want much to do with her either. I'd like to enjoy her before she passes away. Cause we all do pass at some point, but I don't find her very enjoyable. I don't want her to die an me have any regrets but a lot of nasty tricks have been played on me since they have passed. She's managed to wiggle her way into my life again an there has been nothing but problems for me since she has.


She's not a entirely bad person.
She has her good side, we all do.


An I've forgiven her on more the one occasion for the things she did to me as a child but what I can't deal with is her doing it to me in my adult life an trying to come between me & my children. An using them as pawns, trying to get even. She used my sisters like this against me when I moved out of the house. Blamed it all on my dad. Saying he was the one that wouldn't let me see them. It was always her blaming him.


Well he's not here to blame.


And as she's gotten more involved with my kids: The more problems I've had. Same exact kinda of problems I have with my youngest sister. An I really had to step back an watch to see if it was both my sisters or just the one. An it is always the one, that was left with my mother. Always. Same tactics. Same gas lighting. Same old bullshit. I don't even think she's aware she's doing it.


My father didn't treat me “different”


They did. He might have been hard on me, but he didn't steal from me. Lie to me or run me down to other professional contacts or the pubic in general. He didn't scream at me to sigh the check bitch! After surgery or call the police on me giving false reports. Repeatedly. He didn't have his friends threaten to beat me up. He didn't get me arrested for something he did. He didn't withhold money from me I earned. Play games with my financial stability. Or take away things that where mine. Nor did he trick me into signing papers when I was drugged. Or make false reports to DCFS. He didn't attack me on all fronts . Nor did he try to run me out of town professionally.


He is not here to gang up on me: An it didn't happen when he was alive.
An it's really easy to see, with the sisters in separate bars now.


It all comes from one direction. The same old one. My mothers side.
An as much as I love my sister, it's a hard pill to swallow.


Same hard one my dad had to eat but they've gotten all they are going to get from me: And I don't want your kind of help. It's toxic. An this is the kind of problem an adult survivor of abuse has. You love your family or you wouldn't have bothered to turn them into begin with. You do it, so it will stop. An maybe just maybe you can get back to being the family you're suppose to be. That happened on one side of the family, not the other. An I just have to face that.


My youngest daughter said to me, at the beginning of this contact with my mother, why do you hate her? She's a sweet little old lady. I told her I don't hate her. An I don't. I don't trust her. An never will. See, when someone really is abusive to you: You never do win there trust back if it continues. You try to love them despite it. My dad's abuse stopped when I was thirteen. I wished I had come to this conclusion earlier but his death is really what sunk it in.


I feel the need to vindicate him.


He's not here still instigating problems.
Or being some obstacle in my life to over come.


What I think about now is how he use to take care of me when I was little. How he'd put up with Captain Kangaroo drinking his coffee for my sake. Get me dressed in the morning: Take me every where he went. How he taught me about plants, or colors or encourage me to draw something different. How he'd play with us as children. Or how he taught me to read. Later on, how to paint a wall or strip old wood work. My good memories of him far out weigh the bad. He spent a lot of time with me as a child. An I guess it's something my mom doesn't get either. He might not took us out to fancy places all the time: but he spent a lot of time with us at home when we where young. I've tried to do the same. Even if my kids do think I was a space cadet half the time. I was there. Not perfect but there.


I remember who was an who wasn't.
An who the drama always was around.
It never really was him. He was quiet.


Anyway: I miss him an sorry it all got laid on him.
He's not the villain he was made him out to be.


An neither am I.

When I was 12 years old I turned my parents into DCFS. I don't regret it an am thinking about writing a book about it because I pretty much have been treated “different” by my parents and a few other family members since then. Which makes me more comfortable out in the “real world” then in my original family. I don't regret protecting my two younger siblings from being beaten. It was the right thing to do at the time. An when we where returned to our parents, my father specifically promised me hands wouldn't be laid on any of us ever again. He kept his word. None of us where beaten again.

But they both treated me different after that. Always have. An they both where assholes to me the remaining years I lived at home. I got rode hard, an put to work a lot. An when one of them would talk to me shitty, usually my mother: I'd end up on the phone with my grandmother, who would talk me through it saying: You just have X amount of years left. You'll be able to leave soon. An when I left at 18, I was pretty happy to do so.

Everything turned right.

It caused me to drop out my Senior year, but I returned. Finished working a part time job an finishing the two classes I had left to get my high school diploma. I was in love as well. The whole world just seemed right. Except when I would run into my parents. During that time they forbid me to see my siblings. Using them as some kind of leverage over me. An I worried about them after I left but it was also nice to just be a “normal” person. That didn't have to adult anymore then the people my own age.It was physiologically abusive. The whole five years following turning them into DCFS was. So I was pretty damn okay with being outcasted out of my own family.

I didn't have to play parent to them anymore. I wasn't worked to death anymore. I was so accustomed to having to work for every little ounce of approval for them: I about went into shock when my future mother in law, told me I didn't have to pay her rent or work a part time job to live with her. She told me, she just wanted me to do me. That it would be all right. Take the time, be a kid. Just work on getting over it. I have never been more grateful to another person in my life then in that moment.

And the following three years after that where magical to me.

Because the world out there, didn't treat me poorly. It welcomed me an the things I could do. So I've always been more comfortable out in the world, then with my original family. I did stay close to my grandmother though because she was my rock all through the nightmare years. I did slowly come around to speaking to my parents again, an try to mend what I could of those relationships. My dad did try to repair the relationship, through my grandmother. Offered me a cheap smaller apartment. Divorced my mother. My sister moved in with my grandmother, so didn't have to worry about her anymore. An I tried to talk it out with my mother on several occasions an get past it. I forgave because family is important to me. I wanted us all to get along but the being treated different never really did go away. I kinda gave up on that idea that it ever would.

I've kept my distance.

I showed up on holidays for my youngest sister an that was about it. I did what Patty suggested. I worked on me. The most sound advice I've ever gotten from anyone. I've always done better out in the real world, not associated with them. Until my dad bought that bar and tried to bring us all together again. I didn't have much to do with either of my parents. Working together again did go a long way to mending things broken between me and him. It was in an odd way a “coming home”. Using the skills I had learned while gone. He really didn't try to abuse me physiologically anymore. Appreciated what I could do ect.

But I do want to write a book about survivors of abuse. And how they are treated by the family after having the guts enough to confront a family member on it. More so now, then ever. Because after my grandmother died, an my father:

The attacks on me started again.

An this time, it I was being gaslite out in the real world.

Mostly so my younger sibling could get her hands on more of the estate then was hers. A big get even from my mother or any other family member that had a bone to pick about what happened back then. I was being outcast again. But truth is: I didn't care. I didn't want to be around that. Didn't want my children around it. An with them both gone wasn't going to be subjected to it any longer. Especially over Greed. Cause the truth is: I loved them. Not the things or the money I could acquire.

But I have been “orphaned” again, several times.

I've been attacked on the work front, the social scene, financially, as a mother. I've even been subjected to a mental hospital when I wasn't crazy but going through a breast cancer scare. Just about anything you could think of to discredit me out in the real world has been pulled. Lord knows I've tried to get along with “that side”. An it's sad, because my mother is old. I'd like to spend the last few years she has left in peace with her. But the truth is, she hasn't changed. An “that side” of the family that thinks it's okay to knock another down when they are at their weakest in the name of “helping” them isn't really a side I want to be involved with.

I love them, but I don't like them.

An I'm probably never going to if it means I have to put up with being less then I am to appease them. I don't have these problems out in the real world. Only them. Only when they become involved. It's why I moved into another career. Literally traveled out of the area to work because so much bullshit was been thrown around about me. My children can be involved with them if they want to. They are old enough to choose what they want to put up with. But I'm not going to subject myself to philological abuse because of them. I wish that side well, I hope they outgrow it. But I'm 50 years old an haven't seen much of it yet. An like always perfectly okay with keeping my distance to protect myself & embracing the world without them in it.

I'm just gonna do me =)

I think I want to write the book, just so my children understand me, my life and what I have gone through. Or so it can help others who are going through it, gone through it or trying to recover from it. So they know they are not alone. Even though when your experiencing it: It certainty does feel like it. Or that you will never get past it or over come it. You can, you will. I have. If you’ve had simlar experiences groups you might be interested in are: http://www.naasca.org/ http://www.ascasupport.org/




 

Sitting down and telling your story can be a difficult thing for some of us: Not because of lack of ability to write or communicate. Those skills come easy to me but sharing myself doesn't. So answering questions about my art like: What's it mean? Seems to lead me into abstract art. A form of art I never liked probably for that exact reason. It's vagueness. Yet fractal art inspires me creating it because it's about color, mood, tone an they way our universe is set up. It's personal yet I don't have to get into personal questions.



Experiences early on in my life taught me opening up an actually telling my story was scary to live through. So I only told the full thing to a few select poor souls: It was usually my sister who was ready to pull her ears off, grasping for the door to get away an begging me to shut up. She needed sleep! LOL Because once I start talking to someone I trust: I just don't shut up. It's a family trait. My dad would rattle my grandmothers ear off, then she'd call me an do the same to me. I'd get off the phone an my ear would actually hurt from being on it so long. Yet, it's rare for any of us to even begin to tell our truth to another. Fear of hurting another feelings, not wanting to fight or argue, make yourself look bad or others look bad all seems to be at the root of why I'm so reluctant to tell my story. Yet, I want to tell it to inspire others who going through difficult situations. Life's hard at times. People are human. But you can over come things you never thought you would. My whole life is a testament to that.


Things I thought I'd never get over. I have. Some through sheer will.


Others because I believe profoundly that the mind is a powerful thing. It can shape your whole life from a very early age. Ways you haven't even thought about since you where little. It can guide you out of harms way an protect you even from yourself when it's not functioning at it's best. That's how powerful a tool it is that's been given to us. An yet getting at the heart of someones mind: Their story is deeply personal. And I didn't expect part of being an artist would be for me to tell my. But it is.


Just the question of “What made you want to become or be an artist”?


Dredges up dread answering it... because I really have sat an thought about why the hell I couldn't stop being one. It's seem to have cause me all kinds of problems in relationships and financially. Plenty of misunderstandings. It can be at times a very volital rocky road to follow: an others don't seem to understand why you spend so much time on it on top of other things. Most seem to look at you with a little pity that your burdening yourself with an extra task in life on top of your regular nine to five job, the kids, lack of money for it etc. Others don't seem to have this monkey on their back that says you have to create something on top of what you already have to get done in your daily life. All I can tell them is I'm sorry. It's a drive in me that's been in me from as far back as I can remember. Good or bad at it, I have to get better at it an that takes time, practice and patience. I've had to ask myself personally what made you want to become an artist? Especially when it's such a difficult life at times. Why can't you just give it up an enjoy life like others do?


I had to sit an really ask myself since it's been in me from a very young age when did you know you wanted to be an artist? Or when did you KNOW you where an artist. Since I couldn't remember ever NOT being an artist: the answer was startling. At least to me.


I KNEW I was an artist at the age of maybe two if I was lucky to be that old.
The very first time I was beat by my mother.


I remember the euphoria of drawing all over a wall. The time it took me. How proud of it I was. All the colors I used. How my dad would be proud of me for knowing all the names of the colors. How big I could make it. How beautiful it was. And how I was just about finished with it and going to get my mommy to show her when she walked in. That's how long I've been an “artist”. My mothers reaction was NOT what I expected. It commenced into my first all out beating by her. It had been effecting my career. My whole life.


That's how power the mind can be.


All my years doing art, my whole life doing art: I always planned for the worst possible reaction. It didn't matter how many good reactions I had to it. That reaction of being beat for it stuck in my head. Even if I had forgotten about it a long time ago. It was like how grow dog will over react to a thunderstorm cause it had gone through one at certain stage of being a puppy. I have to have things just so to do art. So much so, I went into management to avoid it as a career. So all my financial ducks stayed in a row. Took SAFE over risk. I was taught being myself is a risk. People aren't always going to react they way you expect them to. Don't rely on it no matter how good you are or the art. An of course you have all the naysayers that discourage you from following it as a career path on top of that.


But I tell you what, if I had to do it over. I'd still scribbled all over that wall.


It's just a part of who I am: An artist. I honestly can not help it or stop myself from wanting and being creative. It's a drive in me worthy of risking a little rejection. An that story of being beaten for coloring on the wall is comical to me now but when I first remembered it: Answering that question of when did you first know or want to become an artist sent me into a major depression. I laugh about it now cause that was the worst rejection I was every going to go through. My mind had finally pin pointed why I was fearful of an artistic career. An once it had done that it was a lot easier for me to go to work as one or in an artistic field.


It's just one of the reasons I think the mind is incredible.


It will get you past a trauma until you a ready to deal with it's root cause. There is apart of me not really wanting to tell my story because I don't want to villain-fie my parents as I tell my story. Especially since one is dead: my father. His legacy is important to me. An better parts of him be remembered. My mother is older an we all grew past the past. But there are parts of my story: My parents where villains.


I'm sure I'm not the only kid that received an spanking for coloring on something they where not suppose to. Yet, I can't deny it was a beating. I mean I really let that wall have it! Ass whooping is a understatement! Ha! Ha! I joke things off a lot but also had to come to grips with a part of my childhood that was traumatic to move past what was holding me back.


I suffer from PTSD because of it. Depression at times as well. It's not a story I care to share very much because you can move past it. I did. My parents did. Our relationships healed. They weren't hopeless.


Once you have moved past it. It's not something you tend to like to revisit.
But you have to if it's effecting your health, life, relationships an career.


My hope is that my story will inspire someone out there that's gone through it, going through it or in an abusive situation to put an end to it. Ask yourself why you don't like doing something. Or do like doing something. Or keep finding yourself avoiding people, things.......lol careers or a simple question even. Then let your mind guide you to the answer. It will if you let it, heal you.

In a few weeks, I'm turning 50. I think fifty is a natural time to review where you've been an where you'd like to go forward. So, I've been doing that lately. Just to see if I focused on the things I said I would about ten years ago. I narrowed it down to five things: My spirituality, My kids, Art, reaching financial security and good health. In that order, it's what I wanted the just of my life to be about. The first is great, my soul is calmer, kinder and more peaceful then it's ever been. I've really mellowed out. Things where a little out there with the kids, since all of them where going through teenage years an graduating into adulthood. They are pretty well adjusted. Settling into adulthood fine. And I'm even going to be a grandmother in early 2019. My first grand baby an I'm looking forward to him. Financially, I've managed to pay off my house but my income could be better. But my health took a real nose dive about a year ago. I had a breast cancer scare an my thyroid has gone ape shit. But I did manage to move my career into an art field. I'm proud to say I'm apart of. So my focus will remain on those five things. With a emphasis on art, security an health.

I'm getting older so it's a must.

In astrology (cause I'm into that kinda stuff in detail), they are saying look back at 1993 an 1990 to get a idea of what the next few years will be like for yourself. Those where major transformable times for me. In 1993, I was twelve, going on thirteen. I joined the yearbook. Picked up a real camera for the first time. An learned the power it held. It's fitting to came up in my chart: Not that everyone believes in that kinda stuff. But it also fits with the times we are living in: When everyone owns a camera. An can snap shots of their lives. It reminds me of how I was a little before my time. Bring it home to document what was happening in mine. It was by far, one of the hardest time periods in my life. The hardest thing I ever did, in fact. I turned my parents into child protective services for abuse. It took me a while to do it. I was terrified of getting caught telling anyone. I got beat for just being on the telephone with my grandmother, for even giving her a hint that things weren't alright. In retro, my parents where probably going though one of the hardest financial situations in their life. On the verge of splitting if I'm correct. The flying off the handle was a an all time high. Living in our home was like walking on eggshells. An little thing could set one of them off. An you couldn't predict what would land you in a ass beating. Someone had to do something.

An I figured that someone was going to have to be me. So, after my sister was beaten for forgetting to bring in the garbage cans, an my year an half old sister beat for playing to loudly at her play table I decided I was going to do something about it. Specially when the 8 year old was beat again the next day. The bruises where from the very bottom of her legs to the mid of her back. An I was very protective of both of them. In some ways they where like my own children. I took care of them so much. I cried my eyes out every time the belt hit one of them. So the following day, I went to a guidance councilor an asked questions. I checked out the schools camera: brought it home an started taking pictures of all the bruises.

They where bad.

To make a long story short. We where taken form our parents that Thanksgiving weekend I turned 13. An the photos I had taken where seen. That's when I learned the true power of the camera to right a wrong. Life got immediately better. The beatings stopped.


No if, ands or butts. I went through years of being rode hard emotionally an work wise but it was worth it to me. It ended something that needed to stop. Years later, I was told by most of my family members I did the right thing. An was vindicated of doing anything wrong. My grandmother an I remained close because of it. An it's one of the best relationships I've had in my life. But doing that wasn't easy: being a journalist of your own life. An the years following were much better for my siblings then they where for me. They had much more normal lives. The relationships with our parents improved.

In fact they have gotten better ever since.

A little better each year. At least in my eyes. The youngest doesn't even remember any of the turmoil having never been treated that way from then on. So the camera can be powerful. An it actually means a lot to me. It changed my life. More then once.

It's not much of a surprise I'd end up on photography later.


I think it saved my family. An to me it is one of the most important things a family could & should do together. Portraits of your family. Of each other. Happily together. Making beautiful memories together. An in the times we are living in there is no excuse not to have pictures of your loved ones. I can't stress how important they are. An how valuable they will become to you. So I do recommend having them done professionally an getting them printed up. I have a whole wall dedicated to family portraits in my home.

There are years upon years of happy faces an smiling eyes now looking back at me verses what was once scared shy withdrawn eyes. It's priceless. An it's a honor to me to be able to help loved ones capture that. The camera has always been about family to me. I cant begin to express what it's like to do a job where people giggle an smile at you every day. I get so much joy out it. My camera is one of my best friends.

I've seen it's power at work.

I had an older women come in, who's husband was dying of cancer. She at first was putting off having portraits done because getting out an about was so hard on him. He didn't have very many good days left. He had one an they came in. Both knowing this was probably the last time they would ever stand in front of a camera together. They had been married all their lives. The love in the room was over whelming when I took their photos. They didn't have the money for them at that time. But that ways okay. They be there when she needed them.

He passed on Christmas Eve.

I was the second person she told. She came in an shared it with me in tears. Picked up the portraits an thanked me so much for being presistant about doing them. I can not begin to convey how much a professional session can mean to you. Your family. Or how much photography can change your life. Just how much portraits of loved one can mean to someone. How devastating it can be to loose them. An how grateful you can be that you had professional ones done. In our digital age, we seem to take the camera for granted. That we will get around to going to have them done. Or how we put it off saying: I'll just use my phone. How easily they are lost if something happens to your phone. Or the regret that sets in that you didn't get prints.

People need to remember (an will) that it's just like a instant camera.

It's not the same as having them professionally done. The quality is different. The prints are not as good. The lighting or backgrounds off. Studio's are declining in the US. The millennial generation is surrounded by so much photography they take it for granted professionals are gonna be around. Do it for nothing or they can always get a free print. Well those days are over. Quality prints cost money. Make the investment. It's about your family.

An that's kinda what me reviewing my life, turning 50 has been about. It's what came into my life around 13 an hasn't left. It changed my life back then for the better, an renewed my soul about ten years ago. Giving me some of the best years I ever could have imagined. Running the studio, doing photography put me back on the right path: In Art. Stabilized my finances. Was good for my health. An enabled me to focus on what mattered most: Family. So I'm looking forward to next decade. My hope is to do more of it. It's been good for me. Them. An the people around me.