Those are
some touchy subjects. I have encountered both to be exact. I know all about it.
Both can cause deep pain a lot worse than a scar that you can see with the eye.
The pain grows deep down inside and sometimes it just stays there festering
waiting to pop.
Mental abuse
is so raw and sharp and straight the point of a spontaneous combustion waiting
to happen when you least expect it. The torturing of the mind by a bully,
bullies are the ones that cause the most pain when it comes to mental abuse. I
remember my dad as I was growing up and how he treated my mom and my step mom.
It was so wrong on so many levels. I
just got used to it and thought it was normal to act that way. He was so rude
with me too. However I grew up in that environment and that it was the norm. Oh
how I was wrong. But it took to me 37 years to wake up and smell the
motherfucking coffee. It was December 7th 2011 to be exact and I
walked away and never have looked back and stood my ground with all the
non-sense bullshit he swung my way. I don’t have time for it. I have been
educating myself and opening my eyes with mental abuse and I have learned a
lot.
Physical
abuse I have encountered that with my relationships. I have seen physical abuse
as I was growing up too. However if you say something about it people now will
lie their way out of it like it did not happen. I always ignored it back then
now I think how stupid people really were covering that shit up. I have had my
fair share. I remember with my 2nd marriage my ex-husband beat me
one afternoon. My leg till this day has a dent in it. When I got picked up and
thrown at the corner of the closet. I thought to myself, I was not going to put
up with this shit. I went to dad’s and he took pictures and went to mom’s she
took pictures then I bought a throw away and I had pictures taken. That was the
end of that and he never hit me again until the night of our divorce. However
karma will zap his ass soon and I will laugh my ass off long time coming.
Mental and physical abuse is sore subjects to many people in the world. It’s
how you deal with it and I am dealing with mine through writing.As I write I
understand myself more I don’t hate myself like I used to. I am starting to
love myself and that is amazing because I am a damaged person. I am working to
be better and help other people out in the process. I understand the way I am.
I understand the relationships with men I chose. I know what is right and what
is wrong. I know how I was raised is not normal at all. It was fucked up and
the bad outweighed the good and I see that clearly in my 2nd book.
Writing has been and eye opener and a blessing all rolled up into one. It’s
indescribable to be honest about it I don’t know how to explain it. I will
continue to write until the day I die.
A lot of
people that I know don’t understand why I am writing these books and there are
some that I know totally understand why I am writing. I just have enough balls
and guts to write it down and get it out there. I am a type of person that really
doesn’t give a fuck what people think of me. I did not choose to write, writing
chose me through the help of God. Writing is therapy and understanding oneself
is a brilliant idea. I can’t wait to get
published and I can’t wait to get out of Arkansas. I am nothing but miserable
here. One day I will pack my bags and walk away I will never look back and question
my decision to leave this state. I have had enough of the bullshit from the
cops, informants and my dad. It’s that simple. I am done stick a fork in me and
I can’t wait to get published and get my life back in order. I deserve that much
needless to say.
