There comes a point when you have got to stop relying on other people to make you feel okay.

 

My dad isn’t coming back. I’m in shock right now. I’m scared, I really don’t know how to feel or what to say right now so I guess I’m going to start from the beginning.

Today is that anniversary of my rape by my ex. 9 Years ago today I had my virginity stolen from me. I have everything ripped apart and to this day it still has never fit right back in the pieces the same way again. So I’m home alone today for the first time since it happened. Every year I have always worked all day on this day and this is the first year I’m coming at it with an open mind and heart. Bu I can’t handle that issue right now because I’m still trying to deal with that my father will never wake up and the mother I never had.

 As if this could come at a better time right?

So the day my dad went into the hospital because of the minor heart attacks he had I broke down and cried. I cried so hard I couldn’t breathe and I remember my husband saying, it’s ok, he will be ok.

When we got there he looked normal, acted like himself, still being funny and sarcastic and loving. He wanted to get out and go home and when I looked him in his eyes I just had this unsettling feeling like it was only going to get worse and he looked at me as if he was saying I’m tired. When he left the hospital, they said there were only going to keep him for two days; I just had this bad feeling and couldn’t brush it off. Nothing I did could numb the upcoming feelings I had. Which I think is why it hurt me so fast. 

That night the nurse told us he coded 3 times, that we need to hurry up and get there because they don’t know if he was going to make it. We sat in the waiting room for hours in pjs, still asleep, scared and worried (when I said we I meant all of us including my 13month old daughter). That date was March 17, 2012. So we went back home and everything was blurry, they called us up to the hospital several times a day that whole week. By that Saturday March 24( my birthday) he had went into a coma, that Tuesday we went up to see him because later on in the week he had to have triple bypass surgery.

I guess I knew that from the first heart attack and from what the doctors were telling us I knew he wasn’t going to make it. He eyes told me that when we were in the first hospital. I kept it all inside because I didn’t want to say anything and take away everyone else’s hope of him coming back.

At the end of April I remember looking into my dad’s eyes and seeing him telling me to let him go.

My dad was the only person I kind of had on my side. I don’t have a relationship with my mother anymore. The only contact I have with my sister is cordial or concerns my daughter or things like that. The reason why I don’t choose to have a real relationship with my sister is because she acts like my mother so much. I don’t feel like I should have to deal with someone like that who is constantly hurting you on purpose.

I feel like I’m breaking down because my dad isn’t here anymore. It’s hard just knowing that he isn’t coming back.

It means remember a time when you did not have the power to protect yourself. It means remembering your shame, vulnerability and pain.

"Not having that little girl in your life means that you have lost something. You have not had access to her softness, to her sense of trust and wonder. When you hate the child within, you hate a part of yourself. It is only in taking care of her that you can really learn to nurture yourself."

So in this healing process i have decided to start from the begining of it all. Lately i have been jumping all around trying to put the pieces back together and ive found out that its just not going to work out for me if i do it thisi way. So as painful as it might be, I'm starting over from the start.

Because of everything that is going on with my "mother" and daughter, I found this to be bring back flashbacks of emotional abuse from her and feelings that I had after I was molested. After years of trying to figure out what I had did wrong, why didnt anyone protect me, I realize that none of it was my fault. My "mother" knew that I was molested and she knew who had molested me but she did nothing about it. I had to find this information out from my sister when i confronted her about it. But then again there was no logical reason why I should really trust her on issues like this because all she does is back my mother up in ever single circumstance. "Mother" can do no wrong, shes God of all Gods.

I knew and understood fully at a young age that no one in my family would protect me. My "mother" being the Malignant Narcissists that she is did everything in her power to tear me down to the ground to her level. She wanted to have absolue control over everything I did, from what I ate, what I wore, to the way I wore my hair to the music I listened to and why I had chose that particular type of music.

At the age of 5 we were walking home from my elementary school(I was in kindergarden at the time and the school was maybe a 10 minute walk from my house) and she had my hair cornrowed with beads on it. While we were walking I had flipped my hair back over my shoulders with my hand(everyone else in my class was doing it so I guess I must have picked it up from there). She completely flipped out, she told me that I wasnt a little while girl and only little white girls flip their hair over their shoulders like that. And that if I ever did it again she was going to cut all of my hair off.

Really was that reacion really nessicary? I was 5 and who cares how I flipped my hair, I WAS A KID. To get so hostile and threatning over a flip showed me her true colors. I knew at 5 that she was a monster. I think it was about a month later i had started being molested by an older boy who rode the bus with me. I didnt tell her a thing. I remember one time she asked me if anyone had touched me and I told her no. Why the hell would i want to tell her someone touched me in my privates? She threatned to cut off my hair because I flipped it, who knows what the hell she had in store for me if I told her this.

The molestation went on until I was in the 3rd grade. He never raped me or made me touch him but he always had his fingers inside of me and for some strange reason he would always rub them together and smell them. Every time he did that it made me sick to my stomach.

I had to take a break from writing this post just now because it brought back so many other memories that I have not delt with and that I had pushed back just to continue to life. Ummmmm....Im actually at a lost for words right now.....

I bought the book, "The Courage to Heal" by EllenBass & Laura Davis. It is a really good book and has helped me deal with being molested, i have been through some of the chapters already but its just so much information that its taking me a while but thats ok too.

I guess i never really thought that being molested would affect my life but it has. After I was molested I had became so quiet, shy and emotinal in school that alot of times I couldnt concentrate with anything in school. My grades were never the greatest even though i knew the work like the back of my hand, i was too busy working on trying to keep the memories hidden so that no one would find out. On top of my grades falling I didnt have that many friends in school. The only person who wanted to play with me was the boy who was molesting me so I tried to cling on to the other kids and would always cry when no one would play with me because I didnt want him to play with me because of what he did. My teachers would send notes home from school saying that I was crying in school again. My "motoher" being the type of "mom" that she is, never asked why i was crying or if anything happyened that made me cry. Her only response was stop being such a cry baby. You would cry if you were molested too. I was 5 and no one cared.

My dad was always working and my sister was younger. It was always them against me. I never was the person my "mother" wanted me to be and im so happy of that. I would hate to be living a life like hers. I have enough anger, sadness adn pain in my life without someone elses. I feel as though if someone is wrong, they are wrong, there are no ways of going around it or justifiying it either. I dont believe in keeping peace at all costs or protecting someone who is hurting your child. Excuses are not a subsutitue for an "apology",

so thats it for me for now. Hopefully by monday i will had a list of everything shes done wrong when it comes to my childhool and compare that with the happy moments.....

And this empty lonely feeling hurts a little bit more then heartbreak.....

 Its been a long week for me. I have so my posts that I have saved on my phone that I need to up load. I’m only writing right now because I just pulled an all nighter helping my husband with his project for school. So while I’m looking for a certain picture on the computer I see the picture of my uncles funeral, it was a military funeral because he was in the Navy just like my dad. The shock just hit me  and reality slapped me in the face reminding me that my dad is still in a coma and he might not wake up. I think I’ve been living this whole time pretending he’s on a really long vacation but in my heart I really do know the truth.

I cried when I saw that picture, I didn’t think about it for a second, I didn’t even have a chance to breathe, a chance to blink before the tears started pouring down my face. I don’t want him to leave me, I want him to be here forever. I know that its not reality but that’s what I wanted. My father is the first man I have ever loved. He’s my best friend, he’s never left my side no matter how many arguments we’ve had or how many times I’ve messed up he stood by me. I already lost my birth mother years ago, well………..I never had her to begin with and I don’t want to lose my father too. I don’t want to go through this world with out my dad, but I don’t want him to suffer either. My heart hurts so bad, like someone just keeps stabbing me over and over again in the same spot, not giving me a chance to heal…… but I know that I have to have faith and my dad would be so proud of  me right now especially since I’m keeping my promises.

I love you daddy, please hurry up and come home:(

Trust me, I know how it feels. I know exactly how it feels to cry in the shower so no one can hear you. I know what it’s like to wait for everyone to be asleep so you can fall apart , for everything to hurt so bad you just want it all to end. I know exactly how it feels.

All of those movies you see on TV about how rape victims behave after they are raped aren’t true. They send out a false image of security as if everything becomes normal again after the attack, like it’s so easy to transition back to life after it happens.

The reality of it is it’s the worst thing in the world to have happen to you. But compared to the physical attack, the emotional and mental battle is so much worse and painful because you can see those scars but you feel them everyday.

Survivors go through the daunting task of trying to find themselves again, they struggle with having the right support there for the healing process as well as if they don’t haven’t support. Dealing with family member who don’t understand or blame you for the attack often makes the recovery harder and longer.

We have fought to stay alive during the attack and now we’re fighting just to keep our mind, souls and spit intact.

Some days it’s easier than others. Then you have days when you just want to give up because the fight is too hard and you feel like you’re always losing.

Virgins who are raped often have no sense of sexuality when compared to a non-virgin (I’m not saying one attack is worse than the other but the affect are different when the woman was a virgin at the time of the attack). When a virgin is raped because they have no sexual experience to compare it to, then the only thing they have is the rape and that’s something that is hard to deal with for anyone.

My struggles is that I was raped as a virgin. I had no sexual experience to compare what sex is suppose to feel like. Someone took such an intimate part of me that it is still harming me to this day. 

One thing he told me that bother me(because it is absolutely true) is “you have to think about weather or not you can handle it. You have to think about weather you can handle it before during and afterwards”. it hurt me because it’s true.  My body is feeling the physicality of it but my mind sometimes does the exact opposite which brought on the panic attacks and flashbacks.

It’s such a long process when it comes to sex. I hate the fact that I have to think about weather my anxiety was high earlier in the day, or if I saw or heard something that reminded me of the attack, or if I do have a flashback that day, being intimate is much harder and more frustrating. I shouldn’t have to have a check list to go through just because some animals decide to take what wasn’t theirs.

I know the flashbacks aren’t my fault and neither are the panic attacks. I feel like it is my fault because I’m the one dealing with them; I’m the one who is suffering. As a wife I feel like a failure because I cant be with him. And the thing is it’s all because of another man and that makes me feel ashamed.


I’m just so angry that I cant get that part of me back again. I’m angry because it feels like all those years of hard work I’ve been doing has been erased and I have to stat all over again……

Where the fuck is my parole board? Where is my hearing going to happen? How many years do I have to serve before i’m free again?

If rape was committed in the per-pubertal stage then it will cause certain difficulty in understanding what sexual intercourse is really about. At puberty, rape becomes the determining factor of how sexual relationships should be. It has a remarkable effect on how the person expects sex to be later in life.

I don’t think I’ve every been so angry in my life. I don’t even know what to say or how to say it….

I don’t feel lost, I feel hurt, I feel like i’m carrying around blame that is not mine to carry but because of its results, i’m the only one who has to deal with them, he doesn’t.

People don’t understand what rape does to a person. They don’t fully understand that after it happens its not over. It could be a situation where a woman is raped, her rapist gets caught and put to jail for life, that doesn’t mean its over. There are so many different  layers that are under it all that it feels like you’re pulling them all the time.

Its such a stressful and painful feeling when you have to deal with the flashbacks and panic attacks especially when you’re in a relationship.

For me its embarrassing. Like how do you explain to someone that they did nothing wrong but you just had a bad moment. And then it gets to the point when it starts to affect your sex life and its not even your fault.

I don’t understand why we are the ones who are violated and put through hell and then still have to suffer through hell in our every day lives. Why we are the ones suffering with panic attacks and night terrors, affecting our spouses, our children, our families. Meanwhile they walk away free of charge.

Its not fair and i’m pissed the fuck off. This whole time I haven’t been angry at any of the men who raped me until now. Now its starting to affect my family and i’m angry. I’m the one having flashbacks while being intimate with my own husband. I don’t see how that’s a fair trade. Like I haven’t dealt with enough pain already.

I’m angry because I feel like i’m being punished for something that I had no control over.  I’m angry at them because I’ve worked so hard to get to this point and now I have to start over again.

I have enough things to read and research on, it feels like everyday week there’s another book added to my library of problems. Sometimes I feel like it would have been so much easier if he would have killed me instead of being toured right now. Some days I feel like I don’t deserve my husband because I think that it would be so much easier if he was with someone with out my problems. Sometimes I really do think that if given the option, most men wouldn’t date rape victims.


Today we were driving to run some errands. And it was warm and sunny outside. I’m sitting in the passengers seat having a flashback because it felt exactly how it did I was raped for the first time. The sun was in the same spot, the wind was blowing in the same direction and the air had the same scent to it. I blinked my eyes and saw my ex and me in his car driving up the road to his house. I had almost lost it until I touched my ring and snapped back to reality.

I don’t like the summer because of everything that happened between us, I
still remember it all…….

Me and my birth mother talked today only about the situation with my father. She cried, I didn’t because I know that she will forever be a narcissists, they show no empathy for other people, only empathy on how that person is going to affect them....

 I put on his coat as if he was wearing another one. I sat outside on The porch waiting for him to walk down the street from his daily Walks.

I blinked and realized that he’s not going to walk down that road.
I realized that he’s not here right now.

Every time I look at his car my heartbreaks.

It breaks because he’s not here. It breaks for the times I was angry at Him and slammed that door.
It breaks for the times he’s never ever turned his back on me.
It breaks because of everything he left for us.

It breaks worse than heartbreak.

The last time I saw him, he looked at me and opened his eyes.
And the look he gave me was saying to let him go

I didn’t tell anyone else about
This look because I did not want to discourage them.

I hear a car horn and turned my head looking for my dad and then I Saw his car parked in the driveway

Tears poured down my face
As I try to "keep it together"

His car.......
Every time I see a car like his
I get excited but I know it’s not
Him behind the wheel.....

i feel fat, ugly and very lost.....

My father had a heart attack on the 17. He had went to a clinic that morning because his stomach was upset. Turns out he had a mild heart attack there. So they took him to southern maryland hospital and he had a major heart attack there and coded 3 times. They flew him out to a different hospital where he had another major heart attack. He had tripple bypass surgery and is still on life support. That Wednesday he had another heartattack and was unresponsive for 33 minutes. So right now they don't know if he's going to make it. Tuesday they said that they were going to give him until this Friday to respond to not being sedated. They don't know how much brain dage he's suffered or if hell even wake up. He's in a coma.

I'm scared, I'm lost and I'm hurting. I'm trying to stay strong for him and my daughter but it just hurts so much. I just want to cry all the time because my dad isn't here. I miss him being at home and bothering me. It really hurt me because today my daughter was looking at a picture of my dad holding me as a baby and I said you see pop pop. And she looks at me and crawls towards the bedroom door to try to get it open so she could see him. And the terars just came from my eyes but I held them back. And I had to tell her pop pop isn't here hunny he's in the picture. She looks at me and starts to cry and trys again to get the door open.

The past two weeks have been hell for me. I've been sinking into depression but I catch myself from going there. I'm trying not to cry now but I keep telling myself that everything will be ok. The only thing I wanted for my birthday was for my dad to come home....he's my everything but it will be ok....

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so i had an epiphany...........

When i was raped i had lost my faith in God. I had lost hope in him. I have always had it in the back of my head that God would always keep me safe. That he would always protect me from bad people and thats not true. He gives us free will. He can not stop free will or jump in to intervene. I couldnt understand why he would let babies be raped and molested. But until i truely understood what free will is. He has the power over life and death. Thats when he intervines. And thats when i realized that i didnt lose my faith in god it was my faith in man and i had lost.....'>So i had an epahany.....

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Did you know that those who appear to be really strong, are often the most sensitive? Did you know that those who spend all their time taking care of others, usually need someone to take care of them? Did you know that 3 of the hardest things to say are: I love you, I'm sorry and Help me.

I'm really exhausted, all these new emotions I'm having are trying to break me down. I habe to admit that it is very tiring and overwhelming at times. But I do feel like I'm going to be ok in the end.

On another note I've decided to end the "relationship"(because you can't have a relationship between a narcissists due to the fact they only think of themselves) with my narcissists mother. I've come to realize that someone that selfish and self centered, who lacks empathy. And refuses to change is not worth my time. The only thing she was good for is giving birth to me. In her atempts to raise me and my sister she was selfish and still is, she's a habitual liar and to this day twists the words of other people around to make it seem like she's the victim and everyone else is the bad guy. Lying to us about things going on in the house and then going back and telling our father the exact opposite. So many times her lies have come back in her face with all three of us confronting her and all she does is twists our words, or deny ir, bring someone else into the conversation or projects it. When she does apologize shell say I'm sorry but you were acting this way or that way or shell pull the half ass apology where she say if I hurt you I'm sorry. Now when someone told you that you hurt them why would you offer a bullshit apology like that?

I don't trust anything about her, I don't believe anything she says, I don't believe anything she's feeling. If she were to come up to me today and started crying I would walk away. She's fake, she's good at wearing masks and acting like she cares. But because a lot of people don't understand what narcissism is and how narcissists behave, when you try to tell other people what's going on they don't believe you, especially when they know that person and don't live with them. Narcs are very good at impressing other people and its hard to see the truth.

What cracks me up about my mother is her gift giving. She knows what size clothes I wear and what I like. So what she does is she will buy me things for christmas and buy my clothes 3 sizes smaller than what ill wear or shell buy them 4 sizes too big. After I tell her don't buy me anything. And then has the nerve to bitch about it when I throw the shit in the trash. What am I going to do with it, its too small for me and too big for my sister, you should not have bought them. Then she will keep buying me gold earrings when everyone knows I wear silver. Or she will buy big hoop feathered earrings knowing I don't wear them. She buys for herself so when you don't like her gift she gets to keep it. The worst part is; she does it to my daughter. She buys her clothes that are way too big for her to wear that will take her 5 years to grow into. Her excuse is that's the only size they have. Such a damn liar, cut the bullshit lady. Can we say psycho???????

My father is constantly making excuses for her behavior and why she acts the way she does. I'm like stop sticking up for her when she's wrong. Say something to her. He's like get along with your mother, she's like that to everyone. Ok so I'm suppose to still get along with her even though she treats everyone like shit? I don't think so and just because you may do it to everyone that doesn't make it right. His whole thing is your family and you should stick together no matter what. Yeah ummm I don't think so, if that's really you're opinion and how you feel does that apply to someone elses family where a child is being molested by a family member? Its ok for it to happen because they are family. When you don't stand up for the person who's being hurt and you're just standing by looking and making excuses then that means you agree with the abuser. And that makes you just as bad if not worse than them. If someone is hurting me I have a right to leave, as a human I have a right to stay away from that person, I have a right to not talk to them as long an I need and not be harassed by other family members. I refuse to be a victim all over again and yes I'm willing to let go of family members if it comes down to it. My health and sanity comes over your happiness.

So I'm really happy and excited to start my new life without her. Its already feeling better and a lot more positive.

But the reason I came on was because my body hurts. I was looking in the mirror last night and saw the scars on my back from when frank beat me. I was in total shock when I saw it because I was going to get my first tatoo on my back until I noticed the bruises and that's when it bothered me. I had felt sad and ashamed because of the bruises. I was scared because of when I went to get my tatoo that everone was going to see the brusies and ask me what happened. But then I thought to myself I'm getting a sexual assault and domestic violence tattoo on my back why not have it near my wonderful scars to show I survived? Yay me I'm actually starting to make a negative into a positive.

So on to the nightmare I had yesterday morning. I was dreaming about the end of the world and the myans prediction about 2012. This whole thing started because I had a pic as my wallpaper on my phone and I guess it was the last thing I looked at. A friend had got this pic off of fox weather page and it was seen in ga I do believe.

Who ever knew a simple common action could take you back years.

So.........

I was lying in bed this morning trying to get my daughter to go to sleep. So I petted my pillow trying to get her to lay her head down and as soon as I did it, I have the most vivd flash back I can ever remember.

The actual flashback was only like a second but it felt like hours. I had a flashback of frank laying down with just his underwear on and petting the pillow. He use to do it all the time before he raped it. It was like his secrete signal for me to come over because I knew what would happen if he had to get up.

But I saw the color of it, the pattern of the sheets on the bed, I remember exactly what I had on and how my hair was. I felt the expression on his face the way his beard looked and felt and that emptyness at the bottom of my stomach.

I ummmm.......its hard just even writing about it, my hands are shaking I'm getting hot and my body is getting so irritated. Ugh the only thing I want to do is scream. But for me I scream through my words. It took me over 12 hours just to even get up the courage to write about it. Because I know if I actually put it down on paper then id have to deal with it.

But yeah I'm still shaken up about it. But I'm really glad that at the second I hit my hand on the pillow my daughter started laughing at me and banging her head on the pillow and snapped me out of it. Thank God she's my saving grace.

Sometimes I feel so bad about having panic attacks and flashbacks around her because I feel like I'm letting her down. I feel like I should be strong enough for her and me. And then I take a second to breathe and realized that I am so much stronger than I think.

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My birthday and the events around it.

I know I haven't been posting a lot lately I just haven't found the time. I do have my journal that I have been writing in and I just uploaded the blogger app to my phone so hopefully that will make it a lot easier for me to blog.

I have a lot going on right now. I still haven't went into the details about Franklin and myself but I'm slowly getting there.

We all have our own triggers. Something that sets us off, weather its a sound a scent or a noise. I'm very sensitive to certain months. I met Frank(my hand was just shaking as I typed that name out I felt like I was going to throw up) in February when we first started talking. It was around the 10th because he got me roses for valentines day. (I despise roses now) but our first date was march 14 because his birthday was on the 10th and mine is the 24th I remember we went to see bringing down the house with Queen Latifa and Steve Martin.  We went back to his car and just kissed. Ummmmm he was my first real serious boyfriend and he was older. I was turning 16 that year and he was 22. I felt excited because an older guy liked me. None of the guys at my school did because of the way I looked. I was short, big butt and breasts I had thighs no waist or stomach, I didn't talk like the other black girls and I was in all the college classes and I was in theatre. So ummmmm yeah that first feeling of attention is a dangerous thing.

Anyways its like the past couple of days I've just been so overly emotional, like I felt like I had lost something but I didn't know what it was. Like I feel like crying at stupid things and even the not so stupid things.

Yesterday morning I had a nightmare about frank and my ex-husband and his bestfriend were in it also. It started out as I had to take some kind of test for a grant for school and I was suppose to be there at 2pm so I kept hitting the snooze button because I was tired and didn't want to get up. So he woke me up and was angry because I had overslept and we had to rush to get there. For some reason we were driving to the mall(it was where I had met frank and that same day he raped me for the first time) well it looked exactly the same way it did that day the same cars sounds and everything. Well we picked up his bestfriend and my ex-husband was mad at me because I didn't want to take the test. We started to go to mcdonalds and when everyone was getting in the car I thought I was driving but he sat in the drivers seat and I had to squeeze behind him. He pushed his seat all the way back and I started to panic and jumped out the car. I was on the same side of the mall that frank had picked me up at and I had saw his car sitting there. My ex got out the car and started yelling at me until I started crying when I told him that frank was sitting there but didn't see him. And that's when I woke up from the dream in total shock. My daughter was sleeping beside me and I woke up sweating and ready to cry.

I feel like bawling my eyes out right now because I know that he hurt me on purpose. That he tried to get me pregnant on purpose. It hurts and its sad because I'm actually dealing with and coping with what he did to me. Every single time he raped me I write about it so I don't hold it in. Its hard but ummmmm yeah.....

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Just a simple Thought

Ughhhhhh it sucks that I have to keep a notebook and pen by my bed just to get all the hurt out. It’s really cool how it’s coming along but it always seems to hit me before I fall asleep. Well at least now, I can rest with a free and relaxing spirit.

We must embrace pain and burn it as fuel for our journey. She who loves roses must be patient and not cry out when she is pierced by thorns.~Kenji Miyazawa~

I had spent 30 minutes crying my eyes out because of my daughter. After dealing with my own molestation and emotional neglect from my family. I realize that I cannot protect her forever. That I can’t hold her hostage for the rest of her life from the boogieman.



Then it hits me. Because of the ignorant world we live in, she could go through the same thing I went threw. That sickening feeling started to engulf my body then the tears started streaming down my face.


I do read up on child abuse and the prevention, warning signs, and all the pre-cautions. I know my daughter like a book, from head-to-toe and front-to-back. I am a firm and avid believer in I will always believe my child over everyone else, no matter what she says to me. As she’s turning 1, it just gets scarier every day.


Being a parent is the scariest thing in the world. I would give up my life, my heart, my world if it was a guarantee that it wouldn’t happen to her. While I was crying, I started having visions of what would happen if it ever happened to her. I saw myself asking my daughter,” Who touched you?” I saw myself in the dream hugging her tight, telling her everything will be ok. I had felt myself break down crying for her, trying to take her pain away. I’m so glad it was just a dream but it still hurt me to my heart.


People don’t truly understand what sexual abuse/violence [molestation & assault] does to the human spirit/soul. It takes a piece of inner most private places [that hiding spot only you are suppose to know of]. And rips it to pieces. That’s something that you just can’t get back. That piece of innocence that you had stolen cant be brought back. No one deserves that kind of life because it’s not something that you chose to happen, it’s not what you ever imagine, it’s not your fault. But living with a life sentence is an enough burden for an adult to bear, let alone a child.


What scares me is that it seems to run the family (Sexual Assault, Rape, Molestation) like its caner. Through each generation and it seems it’s still such an unspoken word. Nothings changing, nothing is being talked about. No one seems to want to acknowledge what’s right and what’s wrong.


The statistics say that 1 in 4 women will be raped/ assaulted by the time she is 18. I cry that I was that 1 in 4 for her. I plead to be that 1 in 4 for her future generations. My sorrows are so deep and worn in that I pray all the abuse that I had went through is enough to protect my own family and spread knowledge and awareness. My heart screams and beats just to be the 1 in 4 woman for her.

My tipping point was when I later found out why everyone left the hospital (while I was in labor, after only staying for 30 minutes). Because my mother didn’t want to sit in the hospital all night.

Lady you really can’t be serious. I’m in labor with your first grandchild and the only thing you can think of is what you don’t want to do.
And this, when I think about it, made me wonder what the hell is wrong with my mother. Seriously, all jokes aside what is mentally wrong with her that she can [chooses not to] function as an adult.

Through my long road to recovery, I realize that I will never be healed of the abuse until I find what the root of the problem is. And that would be my parents, especially my dysfunctional mother.

I had just learned that my mother has Narcissistic Personality Disorder. In some ways, we are all narcissistic but in a healthy way. She on the other hand pushes towards the evil side of the spectrum. She is a malignant narcissist. Which I will go into detail later on.

As I look over my childhood, I see how my parents dropped the ball with me [as my husband would say]. And this is 100% true. I’m just now coming to terms with this.

It’s just a relief to know that there is an explanation and that I am not crazy.

I feel that we {black women} should write because after all there are a lot of us out here that are hurting and don’t know where to turn and we keep it bottled up.

So I’m still trying to manage being a mother, a woman and a blogger. But I can say that it is getting easier every day

I have been writing about the assaults and rapes in details that way I can finally get it off my chest. The only way I feel I can have peace in my life is to actually tell what happened. It actually really doesn’t matter if anyone reads my blog, I know it’s someone out there who will benefit from me writing my story.



The one that kills me the most was when my innocence was stolen from me by my ex. I was in a relationship {abusive} with him from 16 to 18. It’s something that has changed my life forever. As I look over each assault I see how it has shaped the woman I am today. Although it has caused me a lot of pain and worries, if I had the chance to go back and change a thing, I wouldn’t. And I have never been more proud and honored to say it and truly mean and feel it.

 So begins my process of healing…….



I thought I would always be known as the weave queen. I always thought that I would die with a head full of tracks on a permed scalp. I went nowhere without my weave. I had always spent hours perming, flat ironing, sewing, parting, covering up and curling my tracks. Just to look “pretty”. Thinking that all men, especially black, want their women with straight long hair, so I put my mask on and played the part.



When I started going natural it was the summer of 2007, I put no thought into how it made me look. Because I had the preconceived notion that I would be ugly and unattractive without straight hair. I thought I could turn men off. That no one would notice me…that maybe it will prevent me from being assaulted again….it didn’t. Up until a couple weeks ago, I kept it in my head that if I stay unfit, kept the baby weight and wear sweat pants, men wouldn’t notice me. That wearing my natural afro and a new mom shirt would be a complete turn off. Trying to make my self fat and ugly isn’t going to stop the looks, the stares or from being assaulted again. And that was my biggest fear.



In November, I started to lock up my hair. For some reason in my heart I felt like it was the right thing to do for myself. My soul and my mind felt like it was being healed and I could feel my spirit come back to life. I’m starting to feel alive again, like my purpose of being here is starting to show. It’s coming to me now.


My hair has always been my way to represent myself and stages in life. Growing dreadlocks represents my process to healing. Right now, it’s the beginning stages. I know I have to set up the foundation correctly or it won’t grow properly and the progress will be more difficult than what it has to be. This rule also goes with my healing too.


The reality is, my locks aren’t going to look fresh everyday. Some days it will be tangle up and ugly looking and others neatly polished and with clear parts. But it is a growing process that will need a lot of nurturing, intimate care, meticulous work and hours of much needed time. It is worth the effort even though some days it will feel like the tears and pain will never end. I can always look in the mirror and finally smile with my soul.

Mama said that some sacrifice comes without permission, that some sacrifice just comes without fair warning.That God can't always protect you from the boogieman so some baby girls will reach the pearly gates and she, she won't be tall enough to turn the handle. Mama said that some men, some men will just be too guilty to claim innocent with Christ. But what did, what did I do?

If you focus on the survivors of child sexual abuse, rape, domestic violence, sexual assault, sexual harassment…, it’s NEVER complicated.” ~ Lisa Factora-Borchers

So I’ve been procrastinating for over 2 weeks now about writing this particular entry. It’s taken me that long to contemplate about weather I should even write about this but if I really want to do this healing process and get through to other survivors then the only thing I can do is tell it all, even if I have to cry and break down in the process….

I was 5 years old when I was molested. I first met him on the bus C-7. I can still remember the bus drivers name, an older white woman who was so nice, my father cried on my first day of school. We still tease him about that to this day.

At first he was my friend, we talked and sat on the bus together. There wasn’t that many kids in PM kindergarten who rode my bus, it was many 10 of us so the bus was empty most of the time. The first time it started I had on this dark pink polka dot  skirt with a matching top and pink shoe strings tied around my braids. He put his finger in my anus the first time. I don’t remember how I felt at the time. From then it just kept continuing.

Underneath the saddle on the play ground was when he put his finger in my vagina. After that incident in the classroom we were doing sand art and I had knocked over all the sand. I remember Mrs. Miller grabbing my arm and pulling me into the “circle” yelling at me how I had spilled the sand and that she didn’t have anymore for the other kids and what was she suppose to do now. The next morning my mother was getting me dressed for school and I remember her asking me has anyone been touching you and I said no. Me and him had rode the bus together for the next two years. All I remember is him putting his fingers in my vagina and anus until I finally got away from him in the 3rd grade.

“Come on, I’m not about to let a good man go down” Franco Harris Defense attorney for Joe Paterno.

The Penn State case is what made me tell about what happened to me. I just don’t understand why so many people are still naïve to what is going on. Everyone wants to blame the children instead of the adults.

I agree 100% that Joe Paterno should have been fired. I also agree that Mike McQuery SHOULD be fired. Why did McQuery watch Jerry Sandusky molest that little boy in the shower and not stop him? If you saw him touching that child and didn’t go over to grab the child? I understand that he reported it to his superior which was what he was suppose to do but were you thinking about the child? How could you walk away from that little child and just leave him there with that monster?

According to Penn States code of conduct, teachers/coaches only have to report sexual abuse to a higher authority i.e., their supervisor. Legally they are not held responsible after they report it. Now what I’m wondering is because they have this code of conduct ,doesn’t that give the university the free-way to deny that it was every reported? doesn’t it give them the chance to protect the coach? Keeping a good name clean?

People are so caught up with Sandusky and Paterno that they forget about the victims. This grown man has come out and said,” I was showering with a 10-year old boy after hours but we were just horsing around”. Seriously people? And you still deny it? Ummmm……this sounds like Michael Jackson and Never land Ranch in his backyard. What NORMAL adult man has an amusement park in his backyard for kids when he had no kids at the time? Stop being so ignorant and in denial about what’s really happening. OPEN UP YOUR EYES.

“Children who are sexually abused typically will not fully learn the developmental tasks they would otherwise learn during the period when the abuse occurs. Sexual abuse reduces children’s feelings of self-worth, often resulting in self-degradation and difficulty in accepting themselves. The children also lose a sense of their own competence, as the assault comes from a powerful force outside herself.” ****

After I was molested I remember always feeling so ugly and insecure. I cried all the time in school because people wouldn’t play with me. My teachers would send home a note saying I was crying again and my mom telling me to stop being so sensitive, stop being a cry baby.

I’m so happy my daughter is so beautiful and not “ugly” like me. Maybe she wont have to deal with being called ugly and people pretending to be nice to you just to use you. No I know I’m not “ugly” I just don’t feel “pretty”  some days. Being called ugly and fat for so many years does hurt and still to this day makes me teary eyes. My self confidence have gotten stronger over time, I just never realized it would take this long just to acknowledge the problem.


I remember having to go to school after I was molested. Going to PM kindergarten and still having to see him every day was the worst. He was just a year older than me but still twice my size.

I had just started to remember being molested when I was in middle school, 8th grade. Having to ride the bus and sitting behind him because we had assigned seats. That day I told my 2 best friends and having this sickening feeling at the bottom of my stomach when all these feeling came back to me.
It just amazed me so much how I could remember every little detail from when I was 5. From that dark pink skirt set with black polka-dots to the pink shoestring in my cornrowed hair. Its scary how at 5 years old I kept it inside and didn’t tell anyone for over 10 years.

He lived on my street, he still lives in my neighborhood. The molestation went on for over 2 years and I have just started to try to avoid him. I think the part that pissed me off the most is that the adult in the neighborhood knew that he was molesting other children and no one did anything to stop it. He has tried to rape someone I knew and assaulted him on many occasions. 10 years after he molested me, he started molesting one of the my friends little brothers. They were about to jump him and that’s when he moved away for a year but came back..

Years after it happened apparently my mother knew who was molesting me. That has got to be the biggest slap in the face yet. You would think because shed been raped by her brother she’s be more protective of her daughters but that’s just not the case. Is it wrong to me? Personally…..yes.
But I’ve learned to accept that I cant change how other people react to certain situations, I can only control me.

I believe the cycle of abuse begins and ends with the parents. What you say to your children will carry on into the next generation until someone stops it. Having an ignorant “back in my day this never happened” mentality helps no one. We all know about your “Uncle Russell” in the family which no one talks about but keeps inviting around all the kids and steadily ignoring the cries of your children. The rumors going around the family that you purposely try to keep a secrete.

So now at 25 a mother of a 10 month old girl I find myself scared out of my mind. So terrified that some monster will hurt her the way I was hurt. However I am doing everything possible to be as education as much as I can. When my daughter is old enough to understand I will teach her also.

Every time I look into her eyes I see such innocence that it breaks my heart. Knowing that I can’t possible protect her from everything in the world but I can do whatever it talks to keep that innocent look in her eyes until she chooses to give it away.

****Recovering from Rape by Lind E. LedRay, R.N., P.H.D

People don't ever seem to realize that doing what's right is no guarantee against misfortune.

The area’s historical and contemporary racism might have made the local NAACP feel compelled to take the stance it did, says Lester Spence, an Africana studies and political science professor at Johns Hopkins. This is not the first time the NAACP has advocated for black men accused of sex crimes. The organization came under fire in 2008 for rallying around a group of black teens who gang raped a black woman and forced her to have sex with her 12-year-old son at the Dunbar Village Apartment Complex in South Florida. The NAACP held a rally supporting the accused that included fliers labeling the men “victims.” They were later convicted, and the main assailant received eight life sentences. The state NAACP issued an apology, but the national NAACP stood by its original stance.

There’s a difference between Silsbee and Dunbar Village, however, points out lawyer-turned-blogger Gina McCauley, who led the black feminist critique of the NAACP’s Dunbar Village stance:

[Hillarie], a young White woman, has infrastructure in place to advocate on her behalf, but the majority of the time when the NAACP is running around coddling and defending violent predators, the victims are Black women and girls who don’t have such support.

So on football Sunday I’m in a crappy mood. Its nothing personal just that ladies time and I’m trying to control my own anger as far as my emotions during that time. So I decide to get on the internet and do some researching and blogging just to get some things off my mind I guess.


I come across an article of this high school girl who was raped by a football player. While she was being raped, there were 2 witnesses outside who heard the girl say no and heard what was going on outside of that locked door. So to get the point of things when the case goes to trial the football player and the other young man involved in the rape plead to a lesser charge. They ignored what the witnesses had heard and never took that into account when it came to the victims testimony. She was put into a position to where either she had to cheer for the boy who raped her or get kicked off the cheerleading squad. The whole town had been harassing her and still does to this day.


Now what is with the victim blaming? When is it ever ok to rape a woman? Is it ok to rape a woman because she’s drunk? Is it ok to rape a woman because she’s showing skin? Is it ok to rape a woman because she flirted with you? Is it ok to rape a woman because she agreed to fool around with you but when it comes down to actually having sexual intercourse with you she said no? is it ok to gang rape a 11 year old girl because she “dresses” like she’s 20? Is it ok to rape a mother and then force her to have sex with her 12 year old son? All I want to know is when is it ok?


The funny thing about this is the NAACP. Every single time a black man is accused of rape they come out like flies on a pile of shit. So eager to defend his rights, claiming that they should have the same rights as white men. Now I’m not saying that black men should not have the same rights my problem is you are defending a man who gang raped a mother and forced her to have sex with her son and your issue is not that he did it, that he couldn’t get out on bail……am I the only one who sees a problem with this? I don’t see them flocking out to protect the rights of rape victims no but they will stand up for the black man.


Again with the victim blaming, this has gotten to the point where men accused of rape are now the victims and women turn into being the ones who turned them on/lead them on/knew what they were doing.
Rape(Sexual Assault, Domestic Violence) is the only crime where there is an “Alleged Victim.” You hear it constantly all the time on the news, all you have to do is turn the channel. It is the only crime where the victims behavior is being determined on weather or not the crime actually took place. I’ve said this a million times before, if you get robbed the police don’t come up to you and blame you for having money in your pockets at the time you were robbed. They don’t ask you why you were wearing your diamond necklace or why you had on $300 shoes. Yes they might comment on it but that’s as far as it goes and they move on with the case. No one blames them for having MATERIALISTIC VALUEABLES taken away from them. When a woman is raped, What was she wearing? Was she drinking? Why was she out alone? What was she doing in that neighborhood? Why didn’t she scream for help? Why didn’t she fight back? Did she lead him on? Why did she let him into her house?
People put more empathy when materialistic items are stolen then when a woman’s body is stolen from her. Why does money have a higher value then a woman’s body? Why do materialistic items have more value over a woman’s body? Doesn’t that pissed anyone else off other than me?


We need to stop protecting the perpetrators and helping the victims. Blaming the victims for what was DONE TO THEM doesn’t solve the problem, it only enables them to keep doing it over and over again. Seriously what does protecting them do? Do you knot want other people to know what’s going on behind close doors? Because rape happens its nothing to be ashamed of, the shame comes from those people who like to sweep it under the rug to try and cover it up, to keep a good name clean.

“I think the black family itself is just so different from the white family. When a black woman is rape, it kind of weakens her as the female part in that family”***

“I think you learn it from watching your mother. Not being taught, just watching. I know my mom, when she would so something and injure herself, she’d say, “Damn.” Then she’d wrap something around it and go back to what she was doing. She’d say, ”Blood coming through there, but got to keep going.”***

“Black women are quick to get up. They may not be ready to stand on two feet, but they do it. You know? They say, “Okay. I need to put this back together. Let me get up.” Say she had this beautiful porcelain vase and say that represents her life and it gets cracked by something like… like a rape. Boom--it splatters everywhere. A black woman would do something like--she would take something like rope and put those pieces back together. It may not be as pretty as the white woman’s vase--taking all that time to put crazy glue on every spot and put it all together real nice and pretty. It may not be pretty but it works just the same. That’s the way we go about putting our lives together. May end up having some kind of little drawback or maybe we have to deal with things like anger and controlling our temper, but we do it. It may not be beautiful, but it gets fixed fast. And it works.”***

Now what my question is does it work? Does it really work to quick fix a problem that big and expect it to work the rest of your life? What is so wrong with taking our time and trying to put the pieces back together again? So what if it takes a long time to individually put each tiny piece back? Wouldn’t that route work out better for us in the long run?

A lot of us take that route of temporarily trying to fix a problem and in the end it always comes back up and bites us in the ass.That vase eventually gets shattered again, even if its by something minor and minuscule.
Those thousands of pieces that were tied together by that rope shatter again.

How many times are we going to wrap a cloth around a broken bone and expect it to heal? Ignoring the pain only allows more time to pass while the anger manifests in your soul. Then you start taking it out on other people. Trying to do your daily, “normal duties” with that mask on your face pretending that nothing is wrong.

Just because we get raped, it does not make us weaker as women, as black women. Because we end up in violent relationships, it does not make us weaker as black women. What another person does to your body is their blame to carry around, not yours. IF you choose to seek help, you are NOT weak. IF you choose not to seek help, you are NOT weak.

Often times we rely on family for advise and how we should handle certain situations. Family IS NOT ALWAYS RIGHT. Just because they are related to you does not make their advice remotely right or even in your best interest. I have experienced this in a negative way. My family chooses to ignore my molestation, my rape, my feelings. They chose to try to keep it in the family, that infamous don’t air dirty laundry tactic that black families are famous for. Hell my father told me not to tell anyone about what happened. When I was raped and he had to come home from work the only thing he kept saying was what am I going to tell my job. Like he was ashamed because I was raped.

Now I find that very hilarious.

I know that families “try to keep your best interest at heart” it does not mean they are going about it the right way. It was always drilled into your head that family should be number one in your life and no one should come before them. THAT’S BULLSHIT to me.

My family only made my healing a more difficult process. Once I finally saw the truth and how they really were that’s when I started to change myself and didn’t care if they liked who I was becoming.
  My families ignorance is their own burden to carry not mine, I cant change anyone else but me. I choose not to be close to them because of that ignorance that was hurting me, that’s my own choice.

I’m not obligated to be involved with them just because we are blood and I think that’s wrong with black families now. When someone is hurting you stay away from them. SOME black families have this no matter how much family is hurting you or what they do to you still be involved with them. No, I don’t believe in that idea. If the victim doesn’t want to be around the person who has hurt them then they shouldn’t be criticized for protecting themselves.

We just need to open our minds and hearts and actually look and understand reality. Accept that black women get raped and its not their fault. Accept that black children get molested by family members and friends and its not their fault. Accept that some black men do rape black women and black men and its NOT the victims fault.

Stop being so ignorant and blaming the victims because you want to protect your family.

A Little Girls White Dress

My white dress has been
Covered in blood.
My beautiful white dress has been
Beaten so much
The back is ripped and its
Seam is torn.
My sparkly white dress is
Smudged whit unearthly prints
And stains that can not be
Removed.
My innocent white dress was ripped
Apart into pieces and
Carelessly put back together again.

I’ve tried to burn it, drown it
Pour alcohol on it to set on fire
And it still finds its way to the
Front of my closet
Dirty, fire stains, muddy, smeared with
Blood reeking
Of Jack Daniels, holding on by
A thread.

Sitting in front of what use to be
My white dress, I scream, I bellow
And finally I cry.

Realizing the blood, the torn seam
Smudges and pieces were only visible
To me.

The damage I had done to my own
White dress can be fix,
Even if I can get the blood out.
©Golden Rays

***Excerpt from Jacqueline a survivors of rape, the above quoted text was taken from the book “surviving the Silence Black Women’s Stories of Rape” by Charlotte Pierce-Baker

She's got eyes of innocence, the face of an angel, a personality of a dreamer, and a smile that hides more pain than you can imagine.

        So the past couple of days I’ve been sleeping ok. I haven’t really had any restless nights but I have had nightmares. It was nothing serious though, just petty irrelevant nightmares that really didn’t bother me they were just stupid. Last night I was just kind of irritated, we had the window open to get some fresh air but that didn’t really help me because I was still having hot flashes and I was restless and couldn’t get comfortable so I didn’t fall asleep until about 5:30am.

        When I woke up this morning I felt like total crap. I fed the little one, went to the bathroom then came back and say down on the bed to see if I could relax but I couldn’t. So I jumped in the shower. Like I had felt so dirty, like my vagina was dirty because of the rapes, my vagina started to hurt like the feeling I had after I had been raped so I got in the shower. I did feel a little better but not really. So I put on lotion thinking maybe that would make my body feel better but it didn’t. My skin felt sticky and I had still felt dirty, like there was nothing I could do to get that sticky dirty irritating feeling from off my skin. I had felt so disgusting with my body but I knew what was going on.

        I’m trying to pay more attention to my body and how it reacts to certain situations that way I can pinpoint what’s going on with me and how I can make myself more comfortable and relaxed. I can start to feel when I’m about to have a panic attack or a flashback and usually it helps me to really calm down and handle them without hyperventilating which is good. It is very annoying and embarrassing when my body feels like that sometimes. It feels like my body is betraying me but I know its not. I know that its apart of the healing process which sucks ass but im dealing with it. I’m trying to try out different ways of coping with what’s going on. When my body feels sticky and dirty I usually jump in the shower put lotion on and then baby powder. I know it sounds crazy but the powder does relax me and it does take that sticky feeling away.


      For me personally sometimes I do feel like I’ve been damaged, like there have been parts of me that were taken away that I cant get back and that hurts. Someone took a part of me that no one was suppose to see until I was ready to show them. It feels like I’m not “pure” anymore is the best way to put it. I use to have a really big problem with feeling like “damaged” goods and I’m still working on it.

The rain falls because the sky can no longer handle its weight. Just like 'tears' they fall because the heart can no longer handle the pain.

***“Only weak black women would have allowed themselves to be taken advantage of or, conversely, seeking therapy or other advocacy is what weak (or perhaps white) women do.”

I don’t really know how to actually begin but I started this blog over 3 years ago and I just happened to come across it again while I doing a search for black women surviving rape and this was the only thing I found. So I decided to pick back up writing because it does seam to heal my soul.

I was molested when I was 6 for 2 years, at 16 I was in an abusive relationship with my first serious boyfriend, Over a period of 2 years I was raped and beaten, he was 23 and I finally left him when I was 18. At 19 I was raped by a friend, i was assaulted again when I was 21, I was drugged and raped and only remember bits and pieces of it.

I am a 25 year old Survivor

And I’m still struggling with it all. I use to wish that none of that happened to me, I use to cry all the time about why does it keep happening, I actually thought that I was only placed on this earth to be used and abused and that was just something that I had got use to. I was use to being hit and raped and beaten and being called stupid and all the names. I was so use to it that it was the only thing I would expect my partners to treat me as. No one should expect that kind of treatment.

After putting everything on the table and looking over what I had been through I realized that I held everything in. I never cried during any of the attacks, I didn’t cry after the attacks. I put on my face and just held it inside. And it started to slowly kill me. It just hurt me so bad some days I couldn’t breathe. There have been days where I prayed to God that I would die, that I wouldn’t ever wake up because the pain that I held in hurt too much for me to keep living. I have thought about suicide, I have thought about jumping out the window, about crashing my car and hoping no one would find me. I had drank so much trying to die from alcohol poisoning.

Ummmm……it still hurts me, I’m trying now not to keep those feelings inside of me. And its not like I’m holding it in on purpose I just feel like I cant let them go the way I did when a friend raped me. I cried years after he raped me and it felt good. For me crying is my way of letting things go.

I feel like when I cry people think I’m weak. Like for them crying is a sign of weakness and it shouldn’t be done in public, like its something that should be hidden. My ex-husband has even told me why are you crying? Its not going to change anything so why are you doing it? My father told me the same thing. And I think women should be allowed to cry with out people questioning her. Black women should be allowed to show how hurt they are with out having a time limit put on them, with out being looked at as weak. Because that’s how I use to feel, like if I got everything out of my system and let it go and let my body relax and cry and then deal with it I’m a weak woman because I had a break down.

I’m just now starting to realize that breaking down isn’t musically a bad thing. As long as you put yourself back together again then its ok. As long as your not completely drowning in your misery and pain with out a life preserver then its ok. Everyone breaks down in their life, its just apart of being human.

I’m a SURVIVIOR who is still fighting. I’ve survived, I’m allowed to express my emotions the way I feel as long as I’m not hurting myself or anyone else. I should not feel embarrassed or ashamed for the way that I feel. And just because I ask for help, I am NOT weak. And because I cry, I am NOT weak.

Eventually I will go into details about my personal experiences with rape and domestic violence but this is just a stepping stone for me.

Until next time

***Excerpt from “If You Called to Say Yr sorry Call Somebody Else I Don’t Use “Em No More When Prototypes Become Stereotypes That Keep Black Women Silent About Rape by Jly R. Shaffer”***

Silence Kills

I created this blog for black women who have been raped, sexually assaulted, mentally, physically and emotionally abused and dealt with domestic violence. I am a survivor of molestation, domestic violence and rape. Through out my journey I have gotten help and I’m still getting help but it just feels like I am the only one out here. There are so many different sites and blogs out there for rape survivors it’s wonderful. A couple of them I have joined and found them very useful but I also felt like I was missing something. Then one day I went through the members list to see if I could personally connect with someone I could actually talk to and feel comfortable with and I noticed something. I was the only black member on each of those sites. It felt awkward and embarrassing at the same time. I wasn’t embarrassed because of what had happened to me, I was embarrassed because I was the only woman of color there. I felt like I had a target on my head. I have nothing against those sites, they provided wonderful information and resources that I didn’t know existed, but I wanted a place where I felt like I could be comfortable a place like home.







It seems like we as Strong Black Women always find a way of hiding, a way of covering up our hurt, our pain, and our tears. We push things to the back of our closet, lock the door and throw away the key. Later when it sneaks up on us it’s usually too late for us to deal with. We’ve become bitter and angry, and so hurt that we hurt other people that we love just to try to get the pain to stop. And it never works out that way. We need to stop hiding, stop lying to ourselves, and be there for others like us. There’s no reason why I should have to search the internet for black women surviving rape and come across my old blog and a book. That’s ridiculous. There’s too many of us walking around with our heads underground, faking that smile just going through the motions in life.


I know it hurts, I know it feels like you’re going to die and some days you wish you did. Like nothing in the world will ever make it go away like there is no end. There is, we just have to stick together and help each other out.

I’m writing this blog so other black women don’t feel like they are the only ones out there. YOURE NOT ALONE. You don’t have to comment if you don’t want to, you don’t even have to be my friend on here, as long as there are people out there reading it I know I’m doing my job. A lot of the posts on here are from my personal experiences and how I’m feeling and how I’ve dealt with and or tried to deal with my past. I’m a work in progress but I feel like this is what I’m supposed to be doing with my life at this moment.

Speak up, silence kills slowly