Bulletproof strong is what she saw behind this wall of pain.

I just received this beautiful review:
"First, I want to tell you that you write beautifully, and I couldn't put it (the book) down. Second, I don't think I even took a breath while reading. The only time I put it down, even for a moment, was to wipe away tears. Third, At this point in my life I am going through some very difficult things. To read this book and know what you have endured and the fact that you came out bulletproof strong, beautiful and successful made me realize that I can get through it. You truly have inspired me to find my own strength and my courage. It breaks my heart to know that you spent your childhood in that way, and I am sorry you had to. This was by far the most brutally, honest recollection and I am honored to have read it."       Melissa B

To be chosen or NOT

"We have chosen someone else. Someone who more closely aligns with our needs." We all deal with rejection, don't we? I have told my children time and time again, "if you choose to share your personal life with others you must be prepared to listen to their opinion/advise/judgement because you have choose to shine the light within." The big Ha! - the process of an employment search is very similar in so many ways. The person in need must be an open book / they must share their accomplishments and failures with hopes that their sincerity with gain them trust. When the rejection comes..... Oh if we could just take it all back!!!

Documenting our past through photography.

Do you ever wonder how children with no documented past (like found through photography,) ever reach that place of personal identity? I was 30years old when I first saw a picture of my brother. My stomach did a flip and tears stung my eyes. I gasped and cried out, "I know that little boy!"  Suddenly standing there holding the picture gave me proof of a life I had only shared verbally. I was so excited to share that little picture with my own children and with my husband. Suddenly I had a starting point of such!
She Ain't My Sister, page 17: "Old photographs were tucked inside dusty books. A shelf held bottles of paint and brushes stiff with leftover paint. Mommy would call us into the sunlight to show us pictures of strange people with unsmiling pasty faces. .........She would read out loud the names and dates scribbled on the back. ............She would gasp when she read the dates and then sigh before dropping them into the garbage can ............................................."

Abuse on the beach

I'm still thinking about what I witnessed on the beach Sunday. I was awakened by the terrified screams of a child. At first I was confused by the mother who was dragging the little girl by the arm. When she pulled her into the ocean the child was crying. The mother allowed her to scoot onto the raft she had carried with her. As soon as the child was safely on top the mother grabbed hold to the raft and flipped it over. The little girl was engulfed with water. When her head popped to the surface she was gagging and clutching at the raft. Crying out, she begged the woman to let her back onto the raft. This scene was played out over and over. At the same time I rose from my seat so did several others. The woman didn't seem to care that she was being 'called out' on the way she was behaving. When she realized someone was calling the police she headed toward her gear on the sand. The little girl followed her along with 3 other children. Before the police had arrived the woman had sped off. We all stood around dumbfounded and worried. What would become of that little girl? Why was this woman attempting to drown her? And the scary thought that continues to linger in my mind.........the crying child and the other 3 children were all of different nationalities.
Where they her children?
Where they kidnapped?
Is she a foster mother?
I don't want to think the woman on the beach was her mommy.................

There is a part in my book where I tell of a similar beach scene. Abuse much the same done to me by a man legally deemed to be my father.

Come Away With Me

Leaving on a plane today makes me think of when I was married. We traveled - know what I remember? Sitting beside him I could smell the fragrance of his cologne mixed with the smell of the newspaper he held mixed with the smell of the cabin filling with passengers. We were on a voyage and I knew he would hold my hand and the journey would be exciting and filled with 'new' experiences for me - things he had already seen but wanted to see again through my eyes. I miss him.

To Choose A New Name

 As I sit here I have had 4 last names and none of them belonged to me. For a very long time I had planned to change my last name to 'Giraffe.' Silly you might think, but I love giraffes, so why not? I knew a man who was born without a middle name. His parents chose to wait until he matured and decided for himself the name he wanted. When the decision was made, they paid to legally add the name he chose. That man was very kind to my brother so I chose to use his middle name (Jake) for my brother when writing our story, 'She Ain't My Sister.'
August 7th I will stand in a court room and have my last name legally changed. It won't be Giraffe as I had planned. It's a much, much better one! I'm so happy.

DWI vs DUI

June 29, 2014
'Driving under the influence.' Back in the day it was called, 'driving while intoxicated.' I guess they changed the acronym so now it encompasses many intoxicants. I've driven while under the influence of love - or was that lust? How about under the influence of a really jumping song? Better yet under the influence of a good burger in hand, a milkshake between my legs and a phone in one hand. I've driven under the influence of a broken heart - -- the kind of influence where tears drop from your chin and the stains on your shirt is mixed with mascara. We're ALL driving under the influence. "Is that a Starbucks up ahead?"