Letters from The Beast

Dear Anxiety,   I know you're fear based and I've learned a lot about my fear. There once was a time that going grocery shopping was like those dreams you have a kid, you know going to class without a shirt or pants or (was that just me?). Anyway the point is it was terrifying. If I had to go by myself (which luckily was barely ever because I wasn't trusted with money) but if I did, I stuttered and trembled like a dope addict. I think the money thing was my excuse to get out of having to do the shopping. I'd buy $14 guacamole that will piss him off. Or maybe I really just wanted the best guacamole in the world. The thing with anxiety is most of the time you can tell what stories, lies or excuses.     I finally feel comfortable going to the grocery store. If it weren't for the memories you wouldn't even know I ever had a problem. The guacamole I but now is only $8. 😉   One down so much more to go. You want to know what   doing now (beside

Dear Northport,   Thank you.   I was fortunate to grow up in the same house for 28 years. That house is filled with ghosts and chaos but outside of that house was a small town in the middle of a big world.     I was surrounded by people who worked for the local fire department, police department, generations and generations who stayed and lived and lived in this one little town. Townies that knew your name, your family, your story. I was fortunate enough to be scared to do something "bad" (although I often did) because all the adults out that night new my mom. Spies everywhere.     Even today a local 47 year old man who lived in the same town and drank in the same bar all of his life passed away suddenly and was loved like a celebrity. I knew him as a child, my sisters high school sweetheart back then he was my brother.     Actually he has always been my brother. That's the thing about growing up in a town like Northport. You were the first ones to rea

Dear G,   You know what the most damaging part of my childhood was? It wasn't the molesting or the drugs in the house. It wasn't even the emptiness, the loneliness of a sick mom, two teenage sisters or a dad that worked in another state. It was the silence.     The silence was when the demons would come out to play. I couldn't talk about or ask questions about my parents locked I their room smoking joints every night. I had to make up my own stories. I couldn't ask my sisters about puberty or sexuality because my father shamed them for theirs. So I made up stories. I couldn't talk to counselors about me feelings, my perspectives or my stories because I was told "I needed help like I needed a new dress".     I was made to believe that being me was bad and I should be quiet. I should make up stories. I truly never thought I was a liar because the stories were real to me. My excuses became my crutch my silence became my church and my self

I will not fear the Beast anymore. I will slay him and his long years of reign will be over. The lawyer says it's going to be a war. His lawyer says I better watch my back.     All these words designed to make me strong and weak at the same time but my blood was spilled long before this battle and I rose up again.     I have nothing to hide. My eyes were shut but now they are open. In dark days all I could feel was desperate. That desperation caused me to act like a fool in my own kingdom. I didn't know life could be better. I thought pain and suffering was just like breathing. I forgot I was a queen not a fool.     You can try to scare me all you want. I have already reclaimed my throne. I have no desired outcome other than keeping my kids safe, reminding them of their greatness and showing them how to be strong.     You can bring up whatever lies you can create. You can use me in your game of abuse if you must. I already know how to survive. I alread

Dear G,   Last week the Powerball Lottery was something like 700million, take home 400 in your pocket. I was like hell yea I'm buying a ticket.     Then I thought about what I would do with that money. I started to day dream like all Americans do. I'd buy Tom a car. I'd finish the backyard and the garages. I definitely wouldn't buy a different house. I love my house. I'd just fix it up. I'd donate money to my school district. Oh, wait, I'd open a hope center for my districts community, not just for kids but their parents. I'd have a schedule of recovery classes and book studies and a gym and...and.... Basically I'd donate. I wouldn't quit my job because I love my job. I have purpose. I believe I am there for the kids, the teachers, the parents. I believe I am where I am supposed to be. Then I thought I'll have enough money to pay my bills. I realized, wait, I can pay my bills. So what would I do?     I'll help! I&#