Here I Am. You don't know me, but you might. I'm around the corner, down the block, and across town. I made the coffee at Stripes this morning. I gave grandpa his bath at the nursing home yesterday. I'm a young woman who's not so young anymore, who's feeling like she's missed something, something that can't be brought back no matter what. More...
The Imposter, the Customer Service Rep, and My Superhero Dad. It’s two o’clock in the afternoon, and he is still in his pajamas. He has not shaved or showered. Sponge baths are a way of life. “Love me. Love my dog.” What happened to the dad who put on a uniform every morning and went to work? I remember that. Tall. Handsome. Strong. Certain. What happened to that man? More...
My Angel Gabriel. The first time I saw my son, I didn't tell him how much I loved him. I didn't touch his tiny hand. I didn't ask any questions about how he was doing. I didn't pray for God to watch over him and make him healthy. I didn't do anything other than be selfish and think of no one other than myself. More...
Hardcore. Harley never HAS sex. Harley USES sex—to prove a point, to settle a score, to cope with a mood, to punish someone, to reward someone else, to control a situation, to distract herself, to deny how she feels, to pretend it's all ok. For Harley, making love is never an option. Making love is out of the question. I Hope My Mother Never Reads This.
Grace. Land. What does it take to give someone you love a second chance? What does it take to give one to yourself? What does it take to find the courage to do the impossible? A mother drives cross country to rescue her daughter from an abusive marriage, or does she? Find out in Grace. Land.
Dear Patrick. Childhood memories cut short by tragedy. Missing faces and empty spaces. For the pain that will not die, only one answer will suffice. Only one solution makes sense. Only one outcome makes it right. Can innocence really be restored? Don't miss Dear Patrick.
Getting to Know You. A mother's letter to her son leaves a lasting impression. Voices from the past speak across the chasm of indifference and self absorption. Can we learn something meaningful and lasting from strangers we have never met? For a heartwarming and poignant witness to a mother's love, read Getting to Know You.
The Hero. What if you could change one thing about the past, one thing that matters more than anything else—what would it be? A child's night of terror. An adult's never ending torment. When the screaming subsides, who will be the The Hero?
Angel's Mercy It's still a world of make believe to Angel, but mom knows better. She knows how hard things get, how quickly too. She doesn't know when things will change, or if, but she's figuring something out. The choices you make count. The things you believe in matter. Mom's discovered Angel's Mercy.
White Ruffles. Once upon a time, everyone believed in things that were too good to be true. Soon enough the unkept promises stacked up like past due bills next to an overflowing ashtray. Disappointment. Disillusionment. Sorrow. It didn't start out that way. It never does. Once upon a time, she wore White Ruffles.
The Letter. When a bullet leaves the barrel of a gun, there's no way to take it back. She needed to sabotage her personal plan of self destruction. She needed a way out. She found one. She did the unthinkable. She sent The Letter.
A moving description of determination and its consequences.
A vivid portrayal of a bygone era and those who shaped and were shaped by it.
A stark testament to antiquated ideals and forgotten values.
A candid reminder of what it takes to pull through.
With a husband and kids I felt hopeful. I became something I had never been before, a wife, a mom, a new me. It was a happy me, a me I had never met, a me I never knew existed. I wasn't lonely. I wasn't empty inside and frantic about it all the time. It's dangerous to find your happiness—your identity even—in others. The whole thing is a house of cards that depends on somebody else keeping his promises. It can all fall down right before your eyes. It can all be taken away.
They said I had to write a brief biography for this page. What would you say about your own worst enemy? This should be simple, right? Something like, "I am a forty-three year old vampire living in Oklahoma. I work nights and dolls are just another hobby."
Do you know what it's like to want something so badly that your throat feels tight and your skin crawls at the thought of not having it, because you know what it's like to go without, and that's no longer an option? Do you know what it's like to want to be somebody you've never been, because it hurts too much to be the person you are? Do you know what it's like to be driven by fear and self-contempt because the alternative seems ridiculous and so far out of reach it might as well be on the moon?
Every day not using is like treading water, and when I am exhausted and too weak to tread, I give in. Always for the last time you understand. The lines I said I would never let my addiction take me across have all been crossed. It crossed them. It? We? I? I crossed them even as I insisted that I would not, could not, let myself and others down, again. All my hopes and dreams vanished. There was always a new bottom to fall into. I don’t believe in me, not sure if I ever did. But, I do believe in God. I am preparing to enter a 13 month residential treatment program. I excel at treatment. That isn't the problem. The problem is what I do that day I get out. That has always been the problem.
What if somebody told you that the road you're on led nowhere—before you got to the point of no turning back?
What if somebody showed you that you're making a big mistake—while you still had time to do something about it?
What if somebody gave you a glimpse, a hint, a moment of clarity—before you got stuck in a life that you hate?