I am a survivor of sexual abuse by my real father. I saw him twice and both times he did this. It took me several years to even tell anyone about it. It took me even longer to realize that it was not my fault. I am still trying to cope with it but nightmares have started to set me back a little. I have never seen anyone about this but am beginning to wonder If I dont need too. I also have written some poetry about it, but writing about it is even hard. I think I would benefit greatly from help of others who have been through this and maybe I can help someone myself. I dont know. I do know that I have to deal with this and not just hope it goes away because it aint gone no where yet!! Thanks for you help and this wonerful site.

Susanne
ICQ# 33205749

Anne L.

i was first molested by my stepbrother Troy at age 7...he was visiting and one day we were laying down watching cartoons and he put a blanket over us...he proceeded to put his hand down my pants and put my hand on his penis...he had me stroke him while he "played" with me - the hard thing to come to grips with is that i remember thinking this is wrong but it felt good at the same time - my therapist reminds me that God made that part of our bodies to respond to stimulation - but it still makes me feel like a child-whore. I tried to tell my mother but she said, "stop trying to be a princess and get all the attention"...she didn't believe me even though at this point i was wetting my bed and sucking my thumb! her first betrayal...at 9 i was already developing and had small breasts - one hot day my stepdad told me to take off my shirt if i was hot - that it was ok - i ran into my room and hid. i began to do that a lot because as i got older he made more comments about my blossoming body andhe made me feel dirty - he made excuses for us to be alone and he used to sing this fucking song to me - some old song that had my name in it - he never touched me besides rubbing against me but i think if he'd have had the chance...he got me drunk at 10 - thinking it was funny - my mom just said "well you'll feel like shit in the morning"...i started drinking daily after that...i started doing drugs at 12...at 13 i got caught for my only time ditching - me and 3 males friends had gone to this clubhouse behind a golf course and spent the day drinking a few beers and smoking pot - when i was found out my mom didn't ask if i'd been hurt by these guys she beat the shit out of me and accused me of fucking all three!! she kept yelling at me "do i need to take you in for a pregnancy test?? do i need to have you tested for vd??" *i had only been kissed once by this age and not counting the molestation i knew almost nothing of sex* i ran away at 15 after my mom left her 2nd husband and was pregnant by some alcoholic she moved in with - i was very heavy into drugs and alcohol at this point - i'd tried the "perfect daughter" route already but nothing was ever good enough for her - i lived in fear - being mentally abused daily by her.

While i was on the streets i became a junkie and one time i was "sold" for drugs to a disgusting old man who ran a burrito shop...i can still remember his fetid breath and missing teeth...his scalp was mottled and his hair greasy...i cried the whole time and he enjoyed fucking me the more i cried...every time he was done i tried to move off the bed but he'd pull me back and force me to lay next to his fat body. he made me get into degrading positions and he was very rough with me, bruising my wrists, arms and legs...even though i'd had sex before this was painful physically and emotionally - i just wanted to throw up each time he touched me. i tried to keep my eyes squeezed shut because i felt i would go insane if i had to look into his eyes - and i couldn't sleep cuz i'd been shot up with speed. i was able to escape the next day...barely able to walk.

then a year later my friends dad decided to send us to england as a way to keep us from hitchiking to new york to follow a band...so he hocked a bunch of stuff, my mom signed guardianship to him, and away we went. we had been badasses on the street in san francisco so we felt we could take care of ourselves in london. we had heard about a guy named mad jock and told to keep away from him but when i met him he was charming and i thought the rumours had been just that...also i could handle myself. so we went back to his flat - grateful for a place to stay - and the hell began. he tried to get me into the bedroom and i told him i didn't want to so he went in and came back out with a machete. he pushed me into the bedroom...he made me tell him i wanted to have sex with him. he held the machete to my throat and pushed open my legs with his legs...i wasn't even wet..he spit on his hand and rubbed his penis with it and just jammed it into me...i blanked out...i tried not to see his face above mine - eyes gleaming like a madman..i turned my head and stared at the door...i felt sooo humiliated when he pushed my legs up to my shoulders - i still can't have sex in that position - he would shove me into the living room when he was done and brag to his friends about "fucking the american bitch"...he made me suck his dick - it smelled. he would put his hands on my head and force me to take him deeper until i gagged and he would laugh. he would run the machete down my body, between my legs, across my throat. he and his friends never touched my friend because she of was japanese descent and they were prejudiced - they kept joking amongst themselves that her slit ran sideways...he would force me to take baths standing up and scrub myself...if i didn't do a good enough job he would do it all the while yelliing at me for being a "dirty american whore"...i remember dried blood on the rag when i clean my vaginal area. finally one night after he tore up my passport and took my friends he made me take a bath then shoved me into the living room, my towel fell off..his friend was there..he tossed me clothes - no bra or panties - made me get dressed right there..they began sniffing glue he offered some to me but i was already feeling so sick i said no and he said he'd have something better for me to huff in a while..i was gonna vomit so i tried to get into the bathroom but i knocked into his arm and that pissed him off so he slammed me back down onto the couch, leaned over me and bit my cheek. it hurt so much..his eyes were murderous..i remember seeing him pulling his face away...smiling with my blood on his lips..i knew that he would never let me go...i had already lost track of how long we'd been there..days. he gave our passports to his neighbor and told her to watch us while they went downstairs to the pub...we left all our stuff and crawled on hands and knees to pass her flat, ran to the tube, we had no money, we jumped the train and took it to trafalger square and ran to the first bobby we saw. i was sooo scared jock would find us...the cop took us to the police station where we spent the night going over our story with some very kind detectives (thank you!) they sent some officers to retrieve our stuff...jock said everything had been consensual and that the bite was from rough sex but i wanted it...the cops knew differently by looking at my beaten body. apparently jock had done this before but no one would press charges - well i decided not to either because at that time in england the accused got to choose his level of court meaning he could be free for a long time before his trial. i did not have the mental strength to deal with that - i feared for my life. i called my mom from the embassy to arrange for her to help us pay for passage home (he had stolen all our money) but she said.."you got what you deserved (she didn't know about the rape-i tried to tell her but she said "i don't wanna hear what happened - you got yourself into trouble now get out")..my friends mom managed to come up with the money and as soon as we got to the states our friendship deteriorated so i moved back home...during the 2 years on the streets i'd been violently raped twice and forced into sex many other times because i knew it was easier to say yes than to say no...

at 17 i was having horried nightmares and was sucking my thumb again...i once more tried to tell my mom what happened and she looked at me and said, "i don't want to hear it - i can't deal with it" i thought "you bitch!! if you can't deal with it how am i supposed tolive with it?" i got heavier into drugs to try to escape...got into an abusive relationship that centered around drugs...i'm pretty sure i got pregnant by him cuz i missed my period for a few months then had a horrid one...i never stopped doing drugs during that time tho...our relationship ended after it had escalated to us doing crack and him beating me when we'd come down one night i caught him in bed with his ex girlfriend...it was enough to make me get sober. unfortunately my mental age was all of 14 even though i was 18 and i met my first husband when i was only 5 months sober. sexually i felt frigid - full of fear and i put him off for 4 months when we finally had sex i got pregnant the first time. i went into denial and he figured out i was pregnant befoe i would admit it to myself...i was scared so i went along with his familys pressure and married him...my beautiful daughter was born 6 weeks early but healthy...he could not be found in the hospital when they were wheeling me into surgery (i had to have c-section)...the mental abuse by him started right after we married..he told me i looked like a cow, i was fat, nobody would want me but him, that i looked like my car (a vw beetle), but of course he still wanted sex even tho it hurt me. after my 1st daughter was born i tried to get out of sex...but he pressured me constantly and reminded me that he was the only one who would want me. when my older daughter was only 9 months old i got pregnant again - he was very pissed at me and blamed me-wouldn't talk to me and made me sleep on the couch. he was passive aggressive and just like my mom - knew my weaknesses and mentally manipulated me. i took the abuse until my youngest daughter was 14 months old...by then he had moved us 3 hours away from his family and 4 hours away from mine. he was cheating on me and lying to me all the time..while still telling me how worthless i was, what a horrible mother i was, and how no one would want me.i would wake up at night with him over me..ready to thrust his penis in me-this brought back horrible flashes of jock and the fat man-I would freak out and he would yell at me that I was his wife and it was my duty. he would push my legs apart and do his thing I just laid there. I finally had the strength to move out...i began an obsessive relationship with a man who was seperated from his wife, had just had a child with his girlfriend and was also fucking me I felt I deserved nothing better. and went through a horrible divorce during which several times my soon to be ex brought over his 44-magnum - just to "show me"...in the 8 1/2 years since we've been divorced i've done therapy on and off...had a nervous breakdown, relapsed into drug addiction and alcoholism, attempted suicide twice, was finally diagnosed with manic depression/bipolar and got on meds...during which time i met my current husband and he has been a godsend. he has stuck by through thick and thin and together we had a beautiful daughter who is now 5 years old. i've been working in therapy on the incest and sexual abuse/rape as well as parental betrayal...trying to get to the point where i want to be healthy - physically and mentally - and where i love myself and believe that i deserve good things in life. i am sorry this was soo long and thank you for listening. if you want to write me please do so at: jenn_ntz@yahoo.com or icq 51033013 thank you for this forum, jenn b

A while ago, when I was 8, I was raped. It was by my brother's friend. I didn't realize what was happening at the time. I just remember waking up when I flet someone on top of me. He was supposed to be babysitting me. Instead, he was on me, forcing himself on me, and there was nothing I could do. He was 13, and too big for me to push off. So I laid there and cried, it was painful. I never told anyone about it. To this day, I've only told two of my friends. I realize now it wasn't my fault, and I should've done something about it. I still have guy problems. The rape left me with a total fear of intimacy, and a horrible relationship with all guys. I still have a hard time letting my guy friends hug me, or tell me I look pretty. Although I long for a guy, I can't handle it. Someday I will, but right now, I still keep my distance from guys, and avoid hugging or any touching. It's sad to think about it, but this is what rape does. It ruins lives, and I don't know anyone who deserves to be raped, because no one deserves to be raped.

Princess Ve
http://welcome.to/mystic-cave
ICQ# 52677723

I was not only abused by them, and the sexual abuse I suffered was not only by my father or mother, whom I live with today. I was abused in many ways, physically, emotionally, spiritually, mentally,racially (something a bit complicated, but not the place to discuss. My parents didn't respect the sacredness of what they undertook in a sick world, and a sick world didn't respect me for who I was. I'm proud of who I am.) And oh , yes, sexually.

Things I remember:
Seeing my father and mother in bed and wondering why he was wearing underwear, when they were supposed to be having sex. I was under 6.

Going to bed with my father one night, and sleeping alone in the bed with him I was under six.

Being in between my parents having sex. My father died when I was six, of alcoholism.

Being touched on my vagina when I was naked, by a nurse in the house who worked for a sick friend of my mothers staying with us at the time, and then being blamed for it, because I'd been changing at the time and I was naked. She'd done it and laughed at me, the bitch.

My mother forcing me to hear about her sexual exploits. My mother french-kissing me 'to show [me]what it was like'. My mother telling me about the sexual pleasure a woman received from breastfeeding that allowed her to form a bond with her child.

Being naked from the waist down in the back a school bus, while older children played "doctor" with me.

Being covinced that I would be deformed if I didn't let a thirteen year old boy 'massage' my 'breasts' at nine.

At this point I was ten. My mother has been sexually innappropriate and molested me except when I stopped it to this day. I'm repulsed by her touch.

I'm a suffering addict trying to recover. I have violent, painful fantasies and can't have a decent relationship friendship or romancewise with men or women.

I'm eighteen

I molested my grandmother and a female child at the age of seventeen.

Me

My name is Tiphany and I am 21 years old. I live in Georgia and have been here for almost 3 years. When I was 8 years old and I lived in Oklahoma I was walking home from a friends house one day and it was a beautiful day and a guy that I knew but didn't know wanted to talk to me so I went over to the fence where he was at and started talking to him. I knew him because his cousin was a friend of my brothers and I had met him several times. When he got me to the fence and we were talking he wanted me to come in and see his puppies so I said okay. When we got in the house he left me in the living room and went upstairs for a few minutes. When he came back down he was carrying a gun with him and pushed me to the floor and told me to take all of my clothes off and being 8 years old and him having a gun I did what he told me to do. Then he got the gun and put it in my face and said if I scream or if I cry or make any noise he was going to kill me and then kill my brother. So I tried really hard not scream or cry or make any noise but I couldn't help doing it. I cried and cried to go home and that I wanted my mom and he said,"Well, I'll be done in a minute and then you can go home. But it you tell anyone about this then I will kill you and your brother." So I didn't tell anyone for 2 years. There are times I think it would be better if he had of just killed me and got all of the pain and suffering over with then because the memories and the nightmares are the hardest to live with. I praid every night that I would be good if God didn't let it happen ever again.

Then when I was 13 years old I was moving from Oklahoma to Wisconsin and I was leaving my bestfriend of 7 years and I spend the weekend with her and on the last day of me staying with her,her dad raped me so I wouldn't forget about him when I left. This one was bad but not as awful as the first time it happened. I think to this day that I did something wrong again and God was punishing me for it.

My dad married a high school sweetheart when I was four. I don't know what I did for her not to like me, but she never did care for me and I could tell that I was a nuisance to her. At the time of their marriage, my dad had become a "born-again" Christian and the two went to Bible college together in Dallas Texas. Sometime after they completed their course there, they moved to Bangs and Brownwood Texas. I am not sure as to which location these events occured.They found a little rock country house. The floors were of wood, and they barely had a stick of furniture. I had gone to visit dad, and my sister R was just a few months old. She was born in June, and it was the heat of summer...so I am guessing it was August. Dad had a few outdoor projects going on. He was clearing brush in one area to accomodate a hog pen. In the back of the house, he was constructing a hen house. One evening on the back steps of the house, dad began having this conversation with me "I want you to pay very close attention to what I am about to tell you , it is very important..do you understand what that means? This is life or death." Instantly, he had as much of my four year old attention he could get. He went on to describe these ferocious, mean, ugly dogs, "hounds of Hell" "If you ever wear make-up , or cut your hair..these dogs will eat you and you will go to Hell." That night as I lay awake, his words seared into me. I began to cry as I started to think of all of my aunts who wore make-up, and felt like I had to save them from Hell. My mom had ten sisters, and my dad's sister's wore make-up too. I was beside myself.The next day, dad was starting to burn the pile of brush that he had been working on, and a snake slithered out from the flames. At the sight of it , I ran for the house. When suddenly, my dad picked up the snake and beckoned me to come to him. I felt bad, I was so afraid. Yet, he persisted. I approached him, he said something about "You can tell when someone is a child of God, because they are able to hold a snake without being bitten." With that, He ordered me to put out my hands. I was terrified. I thought I was going to wet my pants I was so frightened. I couldn't understand why my daddy was doing this. No one had bothered to try to educate me concerning my dad's mental illnesses. He obviously was not in a "sane" state of mind. I held the snake, closing my eyes feeling the hot tears roll down my face. Waiting for the moment to pass. The rest of the day is a haze. I just know that that night, I wanted to sleep with the closet light on, and my dad wouldn't let me. He even went so far as to take out the lightbulb. As I lay still on my bed, the room was so dark, I couldn't focus my eyes on anything. It was as though my eyes were closed, even though they were wide open. My mind and eyes began to play tricks on me. I thought the floor was moving and that there were snakes all over the place. I even dreampt of snakes that night, and many nights thereafter. The next day, I begged and cried to go back to my mom's house. My stepmom was more than happy to accomodate me. She drove all night long and dropped me off at my grandmother's house at sunrise. She didn't say two words to me the entire trip back to Oklahoma. I was so glad to be back there.While my Dad and S were in Texas, my mom and I lived in one apartment or another. She was in NO way religious like my dad was, and I struggled to know the balance. Mom had lots of friends. She was very strong-headed, and tried her best to project herself as independent. We use to dance every Saturday morning while watching American Bandstand, and in my mind all I could see were snakes, and hounds of Hell. I tried my best not to think about them, or about what dad said to me. I just couldn't forget. That was when I really became bound by fear. I lived a lot in my imagination, and didn't have to have playmates. I went to daycare center after daycare center, and hated every one. I can recall at one center, we were making arts and crafts. I didn't want to do it. I had so much anxiety sitting at that table with all of the other kids. I felt like I was going to smother. So, I got this bright idea to lay my head down on the table and pretend that I was asleep. I lay there very still, concentrating on not paying attention to the noise. I was rescued and carried to an office to lay down on a cot. I remember lying on that cot that day wishing that I wasn't a weirdo. Why didn't I like to do things that other kids did? Why did I have so much anxiety around them? I don't know.Not long after that day, my mom got married to a man that I didn't even know. He had a fancy sportscar. Oh yeah, I remember that car. He told me "kid, you better not spill your drink in my car, or I am going to beat your ass!!" Sure enough, I spilled the dumb drink. He made good on his word, dragging me from the car by the arm all the way to the apartment. It was up two flights of steps. He finally let my arm go and I ran for my life to my bedroom. I was so scared that I started shaking all over, I felt the tears streaming down my face. " I am sorry God..please make him go away, I didn't mean to spill it..I want to be good." Down my britches came, panties too and on my butt came the sting of his belt. I don't know how many times he hit me. My mom wasn't married to him for much longer. I was glad. Frequently when my mom was single, if her sister K was single too, they usually moved in together. I am sure to help each other financially, and otherwise. K had two children that I knew of. She has a second son, but I just became aware of him a couple of years ago. Terry was the oldest, and at this time, he was in his mid to late teens. Cindy was four years older than me, but she had thyroid problems and she was stunted in her growth. I loved Cindy. She was about my size. She had a darker complexion, and very long pretty sandy brown hair. She had a scar on her butt from sitting on a floor furnace. She was thus dubbed "waffle butt", by me and a few of my other female cousins. Terry was mean-spirited and wicked. He was often left to be in charge of Cindy and me, sometimes for a couple of days at a time. I know that this was a very short time frame, but for a four year old, being molested, it seemed as though tommorrow would never come. The events that took place under that roof would rule me for years to come.The first time that Terry touched me inappropriately..that I can recall, he wooed me into his bedroom which had formerly been a garage. He locked the door after I came inside, and the lock was WAY out of my reach. Instantly, dread swept over me. I thought, "uh-oh, I don't think this is good", panic set in. He pulled down a jar of candy with a lot of lollipops, and suckers..he reached in and grabbed a great big, fat, round, red sucker. After he tossed it to me, he told me to suck it. I said, I don't want it..and threw it at him. I guess it was the wrong thing to do , but I was very uncomfortable. I was trapped. He walked over to his sink and grabbed a bottle of lotion and began to put it on his hands. He said, "ya want some?" I said.."no". He put some on my hands anyway. I started growing even more and more uncomfortable, when he reached under his bed and pulled out a stack of probably ten pornographic magazines. "Come over here , he demanded." I slowly went over to him, and he pulled me down on his lap and began to open the pages. I couldn't believe what I saw. I didn't want to see what I saw. I HATED what I saw!! "What do you think your mom does? She leaves you with me so that she can be with men, and take her clothes off." Those words, just as the words of my dad had, pierced my soul. I was trembling, and he hugged me. Then he pulled his penis out, and moved my face down to it. There "it" was, staring straight up at me. I wanted to run, I wanted to evaporate. I wanted to be anywhere but here. "Do you want that sucker now?" I said "yes", so he reached over for it, and unwrapped it. He put it in my mouth, and then pulled it out and said "ok, now, when you put your mouth on my friend, it won't taste so bad". I wanted to vomit. I know that I would have had there been food in my stomach. I closed my eyes, and put my mouth on his penis...crying the whole time. When he was through with that adventure. He let me go, just before he unlocked the door, he told me "and if you tell anyone...I will kill them". "Them". ~Please someone make it stop! I am not sure how long we stayed with my Aunt K. It always seemed like a very long time. Every time I drive by that house when visiting my grandparents, I am taken back to the time that Terry would molest me. I remember eventually telling Cindy about what her brother did to me, she would do her best to fight him off. I won't ever forget this day that Terry had me locked in his room (the usual location) I am not sure how much time had passed, Cindy was outside of the door banging on it relentlessly. "Terry, you stop it!! You leave Mona alone!!!" She would bang and bang on the door untill she was exhausted. I even remember hearing her body slide down against the door. All the while, Terry would continue his rituals with me. Thanks to him, at the age of four, I knew what my "clit" was, and he told me about the "g spot".As he would pull out those magazines. I remember developing a fury and a hate for the women sprawled out in them. I thought to myself. "I ain't ever gonna look like that!!!" I hated those women, I partly blamed them for what Terry was doing to me.I had concluded that Terry wouldn't touch me the way that he did, had those women not posed in those magazines. I would continue to focus my anger on these women throughout my life. The abuse also caused a huge chasm to come between my mother and me as a result of the words spoken about her. Terry would suck my toes, he would lick me between my legs, he would use his fingers, all the while telling me how much fun I should be having. He put a coke bottle up me once, and it even got stuck. I was so scared, I could feel the suction of the bottle each time he would move it back and forth. He would use lotion to try to penetrate me with his penis. I am not sure if he ever did, my eyes were always closed tight. He always caused me pain physically, it burned to go to the bathroom. I remember blood coming off onto toilet paper. One time, Terry invited one of his buddies to come and have a little fun with him. I will never forget it. As Terry began to put his penis between my butt-cheeks, I could hear his friend say. "Man, Terry, you are sick!! I want no part of this!" As my face was in the carpet, I thought surely my rescuer had come. I never saw him again. Nothing was said by him to stop what was happening. If he did tell someone, I was never aware of it.During the middle of the night, even when my mom and Aunt were there he would come crawling into the room where Cindy and I slept, on his hands and knees. He would instruct me to go to bed with no panties on, so I always lay there in bed wondering when he was going to come in. Some nights he wouldn't show up, other nights he did. I could feel his hand under the covers, finding it's way to my panties. * I wore them anyway*This must have started when I was four because I wasn't in Kindergarten yet. This started to take place before my Aunt Patty got married. When I was invited to her home to help take care of Samuel, she was watching the movie "Sybil", with Sally Field. As the mother had the girl on the kitchen table, filling her up with water via a hot water bottle, hanging from the light fixture I could feel myself wanting to explode with sobs. I tried to keep myself together, but all I could think about was that coke bottle on the inside of me.I think she must have sensed my anxiety, because she said "Mona, if anyone ever hurts you like that, you tell me, I will take care of it". My mind began to race, as I saw the images of my cousin Terry, with his words : "if you ever tell anyone, I will kill "them". My little heart pounded as I struggled with the words to say, or if I should say them. I began to think about my love for my Aunt Patty, and I didn't want her dead. Terry had been so mean, and vile, I had no reason to believe that he wouldn't do what he said. It had to come out, and I didn't trust that many "big" people in my life. A small handful.Patty was at the top of the list. I told her, "someone put a bottle in my pee pee". "Someone made me suck his pee pee." Her face went red, her eyes filled with the look of horror. She grabbed me and held me close to her, I cried and cried, and told her that he said He would kill whoever I told. She said "Not if I kill him first". I didn't want anyone dead, not even Terry. I just wanted it to stop. I felt relieved, getting that off of my heart.A new set of anxieties took over:Would Terry make good on his threat? I left my Aunt Patty's house and went back to my mom's. I had such a good time with the baby. I loved my Aunt Patty so much.Approximately two weeks later, on a cold December afternoon my mom bundled me up, and we took a walk down to my grandparent's home. I knew that something was wrong, because my mom's eyes were all red and swollen from crying. I kept trying to get her to tell me what was wrong, and she couldn't . She just said, "your daddy has some things he needs to tell you." When we walked into the house, the atmosphere immediately made me nervous and anxious. I wanted to know what was going on, and I hated waiting for answers just because I was "little". My dad picked me up, put me on his shoulders and took me upstairs to the toy room. We pulled out a wooden puzzle, and I said. "Daddy, that puzzle is for babies, I am a big girl now, why don't you just tell me what is wrong with everyone. Why is everyone crying?" He began by talking about Heaven. I knew what was going to come next, so I pushed . "Tell ME!! Who died daddy?" His eyes began to fill with tears, and he said, "Mona Beth, It's Aunt Patty, darlin she is with Jesus now". My eyes grew black, my head grew faint. I wanted to run, so I did, I ran screaming down the stairs yelling at the top of my lungs. "You are a liar!! Liar! I just left Aunt Patty's she isn't dead, she isn't!! Don't be mean to me like that!!"All of the thoughts were swirling around in my mind. "Terry killed her because I told, is she in Hell because she wore make up?" Then , it got worse, I settled down a little bit and asked, "where is Sam? I want to see Sam!!" I ran all through the house looking for him, looking for Uncle Ron, but they weren't there. Grandma caught me in the living room, and had me sit on her lap....she proceeded to tell me "Mona, honey, they are with Aunt Patty in Heaven". (the 3 were asphixiated in their home) With that, I asked, "When is the funeral?" And..I am really angry about this, but I know that they were only trying to look out for my best interest , I guess...but as it turned out, the funeral was the day before. I was in anguish, and mental turmoil for weeks. I don't think we had a Christmas that year. I am sure we got together.(I usually spent Christmas,and Thanksgiving with my dad's family). My life would never be the same.

Today I am still on a healing journey. I have so much of myself to empty.. Thanks for letting me share part of my story..

Mona
Mona's Closet
ICQ: 77979408