First Steps

Exploring the world through caring thoughts, the freedoms of guilt free emotions, and looking at the world through the eyes of someone elses perspective seeking to enhance and set free your soul by opening your heart and mind

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Before I begin, I would like to take a brief moment, and explain to my readers how simple I am. I don’t think there’s a need for me to fancy up my page and clutter, or litter it with links and unnecessary information to keep you glued to my blog or page. It is what it is. Its not pretty, and definitely NOT for someone who is looking for all the shimmering lights and colors. Its plain, direct, and to the point. There’s no  need when I talk about abuse to make it masterful. Because its NOT!!  Its not pretty. Its nasty, horrible, evil, and dark. I left it as real as possible. If it doesn’t attract people on that note, then I guess Im not attracting the right people. I touch base on the REAL things the reality of it all. Not the glamour or falsehoods that other pages or bloggers try to glorify….are they even real victims or survivors??  Its not for me to judge and Im not putting anyone down. What Im saying is, I try to bring the harsh realities of abuse and life to you. I share my poems, pictures, and my life’s stories as they were, NOT how the reader thinks they should be intended on. I do ask that you share. I do ask, that if you, or anyone you know needs help or encouragement, that you share my story or blog. You never know in life the impact it may provide for someone. I want to keep this as real and effective as possible. Im Not making this a game, or be competitive  like others. Its not a contest to see who can get as many followers as possible. Its hard cold facts, straight out of the writers mouth, shared on paper put to you. like or leave it, love it or not, this is me…my story….and its through my eyes. Dont tell someone about their pain, when you have no idea of the cause. I would however, like to thank the readers and the few followers that I do have. It’s because of YOU that I write. Its because of YOU that I share…and YOUR kind words and encouragement have inspired me to stay strong and keep doing what Im doing. YOU mean so much to me…its refreshing to know that I have touched YOU….the same way that YOU have reached in and touched my very soul. Thank YOU, from the bottom of my heart!

On to my story!

(one brief short)

I came home from school one day. It was a bright beautiful day out. The trees were in full bloom and Summer was no doubt was around the corner, and I was looking forward to it. Less time to be stuck here in this “HELLHOLE” rotting like a corpse on the inside. I could leave and go to my best friends….she lived in another town…about 20 minutes away..and I was safe there. Safe to be me, to live life with no worries, and be the kid I was meant to be. I was loved there, and protected. God Damn…why couldn’t we pick our own families??

I wore a skirt that my friend had given me. It came to right above the knee. I was a early bloomer. Boobs the size of a D cup and just started Jr High School. Slender frame 5′ 7″ and long dirty blonde hair. Full lips and blue eyes. I never really thought I was good looking. Boys teased me about my lips and so did my family. They mocked me and pointed at my boobs. I hated them and my boobs. I would have given anything back to NOT go through that in my life. However, it made me who I am today . Right?

I had flats on. My favorite pair. They were white, and the soles were gone on them. They stunk. I loved them though, “she” knew but didn’t buy me a new pair. Bunions started to grow, but I didn’t care. I was ugly and I wanted to stay that way, so “he” didn’t notice me. It made me less visable to him and less attractive I thought, the better. To this day…I have low self-esteem…and poor self- image. I had on a t-shirt, it was  plain and my hair was down, the sun was shining on my face and I felt good. I walked over a mile to and from school. I enjoyed it though. It gave me time to drift off and daydream of far off places and dream my pretend family.

I came through the backyard and closed the fence behind me. My mother was outside and told me to stay right there. I knew better then to fight.“she” would hit me…or beat me, so I did as I was told. “She” came out with a pair of scissors and cut my clothes right off me in the back yard. Screaming and yelling at me. Saying things that were hurtful and mean.

You have fat legs, you should NEVER wear dresses or skirts!” “You outta be ashamed of yourself wearing something like this!” ” You look like a tramp!” ” What makes you think that you can or could wear something like this?” ” You are NEVER  to dress this way again!” “Go to your room…dont come out until I tell you to!”

 I ran to my room in horror. How could “she” do this to me? The shear embarrassment. The neighbors could see me. We only had a chain link fence between the two yards. What did I do to “her” to deserve that? “She” came in yelling more at me…swinging a belt telling me to lay over the bed. I did as I was told. “She” had found my poetry book. It was kinda like a journal, only it was larger and had so many of my earlier writings in it.The only way I could get out what was being done to me was to write about it. It was my only escape…and I did it mentally quite alot! I could never use names or the instances that always happened, so when “she” read it…it looked like I was a sex craved fool….letting people just use me like a whore! I still couldnt tell her (- side note- when i did eventually tell my mother about her husband…I was with “his” ex wife..she encouraged me to do so…I was 15 and pregnaunt at the time…and my mother called me a liar and wanted dates and times. She hung up on me..I will never forget that day. Thats one reason I never told her to begin with. although, i think she knew and was in denial.) I screamed in terror…I was so angry with “her” for going through my things. It was the ONLY private thing I had. I could write in it…and say the things that I felt I had the power to say. “She” gripped the book…and tore outpage by page….poem and story by story…ripping them into tiny pieces in front of me. I was powerless. I was in utter and complete shock. “She” was my mother. How and why could someone ever be this cruel to a person…let alone their very own daughter? I must have lost my mind and forgotten my place in the pecking order. I knew NEVER to challenge “her” or “him”. It was the way I was raised. I turned around and grabbed the binder that was left and screamed “NOOOOOOOOOOO”…I couldnt say anything else. Wrong move. Check mate. The next thing I knew, I was flat on my back and she was on top of me. “her” hands around my throat and I grasping for air as if my life depended on it. The look in “her” eyes was unforgettable. It is etched forever in my mind….I dont think I will ever forget that look. “She” looked mad. Not mad mad…but MAD HATER MAD!!! Like a shark when it has its prey in its mouth and its eyes roll back into that vast glossy black darkness…..I could see it in “her” eyes. “She” wasnt my mother. Nor, would “she” EVER be. I closed my eyes and gave one loud scream….knowing that this was my time. I would be lost and nobody would know or hear my story. I could never save anyone. It was my time to surrender and give up. The fight for me was over, and I had lost. Something happened. “he” had come in for some reason…and taken “her” off me. To this very day, I still wonder why. Was it for “his” enjoyment later. To later bring up, as if I owed “him” a debt? No matter what the reason…I found myself on the floor flailing around like a fish trying to get water. Much like one of the scenes from MOMMY DEAREST. (- side note- that is one of my favorite movies…i could relate in many ways to that girl. Although, we were not rich.)  I WILL NEVER forget that day. I wanted to die. I remember thinking I embraced the face of death and welcomed it. Since that time…I have welcomed it many times. The memories and emotions that are tied together go hand in hand,.They are seared and burned into my mind,  some days I wish I hadn’t took that breathe.

“No rules on love, and no rules on war, means its a fair fight.”

– Anonymous

“All’s fair in love and war.”  – quote Frank Farleigh

I ask myself that big question. Is it though? Was it really fair? Its a good question and deserves more discussion I think. Its hard out there to fight the fight and remain a survivor. Some days you want to give up and succome to the inevitable. You no longer have the drive or desire to hang on. It not a matter of feeling sorry for yourself and/or complaining or whining….I despise those that make comments or remarks to victims or survivors in that manner. (Go fuck yourself….you dont have a clue….and I HOPE for your sake…you or anyone you know WILL NEVER have one!!! ) For what purpose? We are never intended on knowing our purpose. There remains a pythra of questions to be answered and more coming. Are we meant to know? If we were shown our purpose in our lives and the outcomes of our struggles would we change that which we didnt foresee in the first place? Would it matter? I may not be the most intelligent person out there…or the best blogger.

I do however, think that it doesnt matter. Your story is yours, and its how it should be. Nobody can be the judge of how you share it and cast judgments on your idealism’s. Sometimes, I just wish that we didnt have to keep fighting. That people would and should respect the survivors in the world and the trials, tribulations and countless unnecessary suffering  that they endured. Encourage them with open arms and embrace them. Why must it be a race or competition to see who had the worst life and who succeeded more? Is that what lifes all about? In the end, its not a matter of how much this, or how many that…the bottom line is there are TO MANY in the first place!!!

In my book, one is to many.

” What a cruel thing is war; to separate and destroy families and friends, and mar the purest joys and happiness God has granted us in this world; to fill our hearts with hatred instead of love for our neighbor, and to devastate the fair face of this beautiful world.”

– Robert E Lee – letter to his wife 1864

I will leave you with this to ponder over…..

“Both bring out the best of both worlds, battles of the heart and soul.”   – Anonymous


Love & Peace to you all…may your Soul find and receive Balance, and your mind be in Harmony with it!







” Survival is not so much about the body, but rather it is about the triumph of the human spirit!”


Its important for me to say to you that this next brief short story doesn’t in any way reflect on my beliefs. I’m not associated with any racist group, and am not racist myself. The story I’m telling here is at it happened in the words that were said. It not intended to mislead you into thinking I’m a racist bigot or offend or cast ill will towards any other race. This is my story, and how I witnessed it. 


“He” was a racist bigot, always had been. Saying things to me like” man, you got them big nigger lips dont ya?” or “God Damn your ugly!” “I hope your not hangin around those nigger kids.” ” You know Im not taking you to the dance, especially if your going with any of those nigger kids!” “why dont you come over here and suck my dick with those nigger lips of yours?”

Ok, thats about all I can write. Makes me sick and I wanna vomit!

I had a few best friends in my school years…some WERE black. I had to endure comments and actions like that my whole life…and to this day as far as I know “he” is still like that. “He” obviously was narrowed minded and “his” views and beliefs didn’t rub off on me. In fact, spite “him”, I befriended many more people like the ones I had growing up. I didn’t see anything wrong with it. I guess I didn’t see colors like “he” did. Guess I was color blind!  I had no clue what the issue was. How immoral and illogical was “he” for not even knowing that as a Italian man, “his” nationality originated from Sicily, which if you do the research people were black. I loved telling “him” that! Boy, did “he” get pissed off when I told “him” that the very people “he” didn’t like was in “his” blood and that it was “his” ancestors! Hilarious!!! Screw the bastard!! Funny, my mother didn’t seem to mind. In fact, the same sex toys “he” chased me around with and tried to scare me with were black! Did that mean “he” was using a “black” toy on my mother and yet, “he” was prejudice? Ironic? Yes. I think so! It was this type of behavior and role model that I had in my home growing up until I left at the ripe age of about 12 or 13. I decided that whatever fate had in store for me on the outside world was a much better chance than sticking around this “HELL HOLE””” called home!  I would just have to take my chances! Abusive situations, mind fucking, and emotional roller coasters…ups, and downs…I couldn’t keep up with it! I knew it was up to me to survive. Survive I did! I had gotten this far on my own….being out in the harsh environment in the middle of Winter with no clothes or coat….well, like I said, I’d would sooner take my chances then to stay another night at that Wack house, rotting from the inside out! I hated the feeling that I didn’t belong and was invisible until someone wanted something from me! I didnt have much incentive in that part of my life. I was alone, and depressed. I had few friends…I mean REAL friends. 


From the beginning of time man and animal alike have been born with animal like instincts. They have been genetically bred into this machine… fight to stay alive…..this animal like instinct we call “SURVIVAL”


 noun, often attributive \sər-ˈvī-vəl\

: the state or fact of continuing to live or exist especially in spite of difficult conditions

: something from an earlier period that still exists or is done

Full Definition of SURVIVAL


a :  the act or fact of living or continuing longer than another person or thing


b :  the continuation of life or existence <problems of survivalin arctic conditions>

:  one that survives
“Before you give up, think about the reasons that you held onto for so long.”
I wrote a poem for survivors awhile back, my brother-in- law gave me a little black binder that had a strap on it..perfect for my poems when they come to me. I can be awaken in the middle of the night and feel compelled to write poems or blog….I have it here for you…I read it to some people and the impact was more then I expected. It brought my husband to tears. I had no clue until that moment just what an impact I had on people and how my story affected others lives, in giving them hope, and encouragement…by sharing in my story and pain it helps to bring the reality that we are not alone in this fight! 

Like a message in a bottle

the sands of time dont sway

just as the innocent by stander


and the heavy price thats paid


Isolation, loneliness and fear fed

into the raging demons that plague our lives even in dreamscaped heads


Fear that consumes us and our

thoughts weigh heavily on our grief stricken hearts

for the fear of rejection and this being our one last shot.


The fierce fire that burned within

snuffed out by abuse over so many years

constant reminders of words like sharp pointed daggers

thrust into our heads.


Rejected by love, affected by pain covered disgracefully on bodies

in greys, blues, and greens, all done in vain.


Promises unkept and rules all broken

bidding goodbye to a normal life, trapped into another world unspoken.


The only touch was pain

regrets with no gain

living a secret life of nothing but shame.


Courage to us for seeking the light

For bright futures and doing whats right


We will not back down and say its ok

For you were in the wrong, its you fault, you pay!


You took it all you ruined our life

Like sharp blades of glass Karma cuts deep like a knife


We’ve reclaimed our worth, sold disgrace and rejection

It’s not our disease, its your infection


We are free from your bonds, no more burdens to carry

Hang on tight to life, its gonna get scary


Loneliness and Shame will follow you to the end

I wish on you pain, sorrow,and isolation with no friends!


Moving on straight ahead

leaving that circle

Surviving the death of my soul being reborn to another…… enough said!


Freedom to choose, to lead on my own

to stand on two feet and do it alone

I left it all behind never to look back

Now I can say my lifes on track!




Survival is NOT how you end an experience, but how you live through an experience.
It means not being a victim of circumstance, but taking hold of the experience, the circumstance, and turning it into an achievement!”
Don’t let others in your life influence you to be, do, or become that which you despise most. You have made it this far. You were born to survive and have been a survivor from the moment you took your first breath! Search deep within yourself and you will find that you have possessed the strength and courage to do what you need to do! You have gotten this far, and its been a fight, but in the end its worth every step, every tear and the reward is your freedom! Sometimes we need a little reminder that you still have it in you!
“You can take the dog out of the fight, but you cant take the fight out of the dog!”
Be that dog…use your animal instincts to fight and survive! 
“Change is difficult, but often is essential to survival!”
Peace & Love to you all….May your life be filled with balance & harmony, and may your troubled souls find calmed waters and seas! Blessings to you on this journey, and may you ALWAYS know… are NEVER alone!