Coral’s Healing Room at 505-269-9242 I rise early. I go to bed early. If you need me, I will make myself available to you.

I will rise from these ashes.

I lingered and then lingered some more, as I knew that when I left, I would not pass this way again. All of the memories and horrors…all of the expectation and disappointment and disgust…all of this fucking pain. I stood in all of that pain. As the pain kept raining down, I stopped seeking refuge and shelter. I just stopped. I decided instead, to let the rain and the tears wash me away. Wash me all away. I have never really done much more than existed, and that was a chore at times. Standing here though…being here and repeatedly trying to leave here…all while trying to find a way to stay here. Something broke in me. I let it break. Literally being shredded and mocked and taunted with tones and rigid jaw lines and then being rendered lifeless by the contempt. There’s no fight for this. There are no words for this. There is no reprieve from this. This has never been okay. I have never been safe. I have been thrown away and I grieve as though I am the one who left. I would never have left. I know I am not the leaver… I am the left behind…a pattern I’ve learned and repeated so, so many times before. I won’t act like this is okay. I forgive. I cannot forget. I love. We are the best thing that ever came of all of this. We stand alone. I stayed and I held space. This pain though…I have never known pain like this before. Foreign and so familiar is the pain that finally hit me hard enough for me to go down. We closed out a couple of lifetimes standing there. There was no budge and I cannot bend anymore without fracturing myself beyond repair. I regress. This morning though…first thing when I opened my eyes… the tears continue to fall. No dam can hold the flood of tears on their way down. No force can stop the flood and there is no comfort to be found. I haven’t spoken much of this, as I don’t even begin to know how to find the words. These words, somehow jumbled and coded, edited into “I” statements. These words are so void of all of the pain inside. These words are the best that I can stammer out, in an effort to relieve the tension that holding them has caused.

This is about me. This is about me and how I feel about what has been done. I have the power to make decisions best for me. I am not powerless. Making someone else wrong will never make any of us right. Lies are an attempt to hide a truths that don’t align with us. I have been invisible and I have been hurt repeatedly and on purpose. Over and over, and over again, I’ve not been seen at all. And I…I am barely breathing and moments away from ceasing to exist anymore at all. I am dying and I have been blatantly denied life support. I am drowning and the flood gates have been opened anyway. I am broken as the cord that held my world snaps and crashes down on top of me. I am struggling in the rubble and I extend my hand. I see the shadow pass before me and the hands shoved in the pockets of the dark image passing by. I am but a lowly beggar and my basket is nearly empty. My heart nearly broken. My face tear stained and aged and lined. I stand alone and so I am going now too. Another thing and the worst of things is that I would fix this if I could. I cannot. I cannot fix this. I did not break this. Unaccountability and anger and greed and rage and entitlement and contempt that can no longer be disguised or hidden behind other words seeps out and drains my soul. The mask has fallen off and the truth, scribbled across the shadows of a face I used to know. I can. I won’t. The rhetoric in my head, that I repeat on accident…unsettling. A broken little girl in a woman’s body. Sam and Coral and Coral and Sam, tumbling about, being tossed and turned out…A golden boy falling from grace that never befell him. And she in her casket. We have fallen apart. We have fallen from grace. We have lost more than we ever could have imagined. And my soul shrieks in the most agonizing pain of this lifetime. The bloodstains and the tears…the flashbacks and the right nows…the horrors and the lifelessness…the lovelessness…and I must go on.

For each painful thing that befalls me, and oh how it has befallen me, that I cannot turn seem to turn positive and to the light, I offer three positives and I give thanks. And I am on my way to that, in the midst of all of this.

In the loss of all I’ve truly ever known, I have gained the opportunity to be myself. And I give thanks.

I have done enough here and so I must go, as I’ve much good work to do our there. It rips my heart into bits to be begrudged the little bit of happy I have found and to feel the venom seeping out. Our house was full of strangers and friends…friends who who aren’t even friends back…and we watched from the outside of the glass. We had our little faces pressed against the glass, peering through the window at the Christmas of someone else in a home that we used to call our own. And we cry…God do we fucking cry. And I must go on. Without the knowing of how, I will go on.

Brand new, I return to the rooms of AA. Beginning again, from my lowest point in four and a half decades, I crack the cover of my big book for the first time. I begin again. I die this death to be born anew. I die this death to begin my life as me, for I will not dwell here any longer.

For the gifts and the lessons and for the endless and abundant blessings, I am so thankful. I truly am. I know how blessed I am. I write to heal myself. I write to get all of this out. I write to try to sort myself, my life…this. I intend to harm no one. And, I will not be silent. I have carried the sins of many. I have endured the beatings of nations. Today, on this day, I decide. Tomorrow and the next day and all of the days after that, I decide. From now on and for always, I decide. My decisions will be in my own best interest and in my own highest good…in the highest good of everyone, for we are all the same.

I am in the throes of something that I must go deep within to resolve and sort out. I have pulled myself out of circulation today and will not be available, as I repair my heart and lick my wounds. As I prepare my inner warrior for spiritual battle, I must prepare a place and I must ready myself for the letting go that is taking place, to prepare for all of the good things coming. These embers are still hot and cooling down, and as I patiently wait for them to become ashes, I prepare myself to rise up. I will rise from these ashes. And so it is.

As always, I send all that does not serve us, back to the universe to be recycled for the greater good of us all. I love you. Have a beautiful Sunday!

The letting go has taken place…

Good morning everyone! Happy Sunday! I was up early this morning. I was anxious to wake and get through the morning hell of missing my mom. Walking down to the studio, she was shining down on  me in the moon and the stars. I know she knows my pain. I feel her feel me in this indescribable loneliness, as I stumble down the driveway this morning. I truly cannot find words to articulate the raging and ripping and tearing and splitting in my soul as things once sacred to me fall away from me.

Have you ever loved someone so much that you just wanted to be in their presence? Even making excuses to stop by, just to sit and stay a spell, in a place that feels familar to you? Coffee…water…nothing…just them. Just being there with them. After my Mom died, my Dad became that to me. I needed to occupy that space with him to soften the blow of her abrupt absence. His abrupt absence on top of that sent me into a place from which I’ve not returned. I went somewhere when he left. I go further there, the more distant he becomes. I feel my lifeforce falter as every step between us seems to tear at me, rip at me and own me for a few moments. No one can tell me not to feel this, although they do. In their well-meaning words, they try to bring me some comfort and some solace from this excruciating pain. I have come to accept that there is no reprieve. Hope crushing and soul shattering is the reality that I cannot make you love me. It’s me. You love me. I just cannot fucking feel it much anymore. You love me in your way. Your way is so different now than it has always been. I think you loved me through Mom and when she died, you stopped being able to reach me. I kept trying and you were already gone. Now, you tell me so I won’t find out through the grapevine, things that stop my fucking heart…,things that we once told each other. I don’t know why you don’t want me to know that something is wrong with your heart. A specialist…a trip to the ER for chest pain…and you toss it in at the end of the conversation, like it’s nothing. I do not understand. I called to say I love you yesterday, because I do love you so much. You didn’t call me to tell me that you had been in the ER the morning before, thinking you were having a heart attack. My brother doesn’t tell me he’s been in danger either and I don’t know why it hurts me. We used to be in touch and we used to see one another before we left town and let each other know when we were sick or leaving the country. We don’t do any of that anymore. My pelvic injections and my trauma and my pain…I shared mine with you, even though mom isn’t here to tell me how to do that anymore. I am here every single fucking day if you are wondering about me. I am an open book in a library full of books that you aren’t reading anymore. God damn it! Do you know how that fucking hurts me? It really doesn’t matter anyway, does it? I mean, we just learned that we don’t have to do anything we don’t want to anymore. When mom died, so did all of the rules that governed us into being a “family”. Three years and this year is no different…there is nothing fucking left. “Hey Dad, what are you doing for Thanksgiving? We are going to Carlsbad to be with her family.” Right on. I mean, I just didn’t know that we were done here, being a family ourselves. I cannot not know what I have come to know in these past three years…my family is gone. I have spoken of it and my soul cries in inconsolable pain knowing its truth…You don’t want to hang out with me anymore and mom isn’t here to make you. You have a new life and I am just too much, too little and too painful to fucking look at. I am akward and inappropriate and I say “fuck” too much. I’m offensive and overbearing and a fucking embarrassment to you, aren’t I? All of these years, your quest to keep me silent and appropriate and tucked away and now I am free too. I am not going to be silent. I am not going to edit myself. I am not going to do what I am supposed to do either anymore.

I have sat here every day of my life loving you so much. I have wanted so badly to be someone that you approve of and who makes you proud. I have tried and failed enough times to disappoint any parent or sibling. I have gone astray. I have never left and yet I’ve never really been here. I am not your version of me. I am not your idea of me. I am not callous to your nothingness. I am not less than you. I am not more than you.

I decided to do Christmas early this year for my family. I have decided not to buy any gifts. Instead this year, to each and every one of you, I gift you a free pass. This pass grants you exit from this fucking circus. Upon your exit, your pass will be invalidated and your access to all of the shows and events will be denied. This pass sets you free of any expectation I have had of you, just because you’re my family. This is a onetime pass and once it is handed over, you will no longer have any obligation to me. This pass will be the only pass you get, so use it wisely, as this is the only pass you get. Your pass, the greatest gift I’ve left to offer you, let’s you let me go. No more illusions or facades. No more masks and tolerating the time and language…the offensiveness and the stupidity of me. You are free. With all of my love, I gift you the only thing I have left. I gift any hope and all of my expectations of you. Three years of being excluded by nearly every single one of you has given me plenty to think about. All of the weddings and family reunions and funerals I attended because that’s what family does…every single Thanksgiving and Christmas for my entire life with my family…until my Mom fucking died. Unbeknownst to me then was the fact that everything else in my family died and is gone from my sight also.

Today, as the sun prepares to rise, I raise my face from the pool of tears in my cupped hands and I pray.

Dear God,

Thank you for this life. Thank you for those who brought me here. Thank you for the years I got to spend with the family I loved and cherished so much.

God, I come to you today to ask you to help me to let it all go. All of my hopes, especially the ones disguised as expectations, I release them now. All of my delusions of grandeur about how my life was and who we have all been to each other…I release it all now. God, I grant anyone and everyone who does not want to be in my life, safe access out of my life, no questions asked and no strings. I accept that I am your child and I am here to do your work: I set the circus down to free my hands to do your work.

God, please forgive me my many sins and transgressions. Please make me new and whole…complete and real in your eyes. Please take from me that which no longer serves me and my highest good. Please tell my mom that I love her and ask her to help me through this letting go of the things she insisted I hold on to. Please God, enlighten my ignorance and open my heart to only love. Please remove my fear and any doubts. Please use me to your service and to the service of others.

Please God, as I turn to go, bless my family always in all ways. Keep my Daddy and my little brother close to you and please keep them safe. Please forgive our family for their illness and for the pain they have inflicted upon so, so many.

Please allow me to trust your will and to accept it as my own. With all of my love, I release all that no longer serves me. With all of my thanks I close my prayer this morning God and thank you for hearing me. And so it is.

Have a beautiful day everyone. I love you.

What my CPTDS is to me…Why the doggie in the room?

Good morning everyone! Lucky day for us all to learn something, as I’m in a PTSD spin and can’t get out. For me…for Tamara..for you…for the unknowing passerby…I am going to attempt to blog from this space this morning to help you to understand me and those with this diagnosis.


This is a hard fucking write and I imagine it will be a hard read also. Take what you need and leave the rest. I love you. Have a beautiful day!

The C is for complex. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Agent Orange. Vietnam. Desert Storm. 911. All PTSD. Multiple tours in Iraq…EMS and Fire responders…Sexual abuse and incest survivors. You. Me. We have been so egregiously harmed. We have so egregiously harmed. The complex in my PTSD diagnosis is because of the repetitive and unrelenting nature…the family dynamics…I am a triple diagnosed C-PTSD incest survivor.  Did not ever get a break from the abuse, like coming home from a war. I had to stay at war to survive. I still have not come out of fight or flight. I am still at mother fucking war. Every PTSD attack is like the same fucking war. Rest and digest…ya…never…not even now…because the war is in full on battle. Choosing to leave this battleground does not come without its costs. This war waged upon me at one time is now a fucking battle that is only in my mind and only with myself. You witness this in my attacks. The dog in the room and it’s over for me. Why? You don’t want to know. You ask and you won’t be able not to know. You ask again. And again. Why are you as you are with your dogs? Why do you want them near you and push them away when they come to you? Why don’t you love them the way I love my dogs? Why? Why would you surrender Nicholas? Why do you even have dogs? Why is your service dog, Taos, not with you? Why? Why do you put your dogs in crates? Why are you as you are with your dogs Coral?

I am as I am with my dogs, the dearest creatures to my very soul and existence, because as long as I can remember, I have been taught to treat animals as less than human beings. Dogs have no place inside our house. They are animals and we are people. People live inside and animals live outside. Dogs are a nuisance and they are nasty and they don’t belong. I was younger and I didn’t know then what I have come to know. I was one of them. I was in belief of the things I witnessed and was taught. Some of those beliefs hang on tighter than others as I struggle to shake them away. I was forced to intoxicate dogs. I was then forced to jump on the trampoline with them, intoxicated myself. I remember the vodka or gin I was made to pour in the water bowl. I remember my soul dying and tears welling up in my throat. Threatened with my own life if I cried or showed emotion, I began to laugh loudly, to cover and muffle the tears in my throat so that they not dare show through my eyes. “Make sure he drinks it all. You drink yours and I’ll get you another. Put that soccer ball away. You aren’t good enough to make the team anyway, and wouldn’t you rather be doing this than practicing all of the time anyway? If you were good enough, like the girl you love so fucking much, you wouldn’t have to practice all the fucking time, would you? Now get that dog and get your ass on that trampoline. Now. Coral. NOW, and I don’t want to see you crying like a baby. God damnit. Do I have to put him up there? Jump! Coral. Fucking jump. You start jumping or I’m coming up there. Do you hear me?” And the world went black and I jumped. And she yelled and I jumped. My soul died and surrendered and I jumped some more. I jumped and I jumped. I saw his face hit the springs. I saw him struggle and his eyes beg me to stop. I heard his cries as they echoed the cries of being my very soul, as I finally collapsed and fell to the springs myself. I don’t remember his name. He may have been a her. I don’t think he made it because I do not ever remember seeing him again. My soul shrieks now, recounting and sharing this with you. I could lose all of my clients over this. I can never tell.

Why do I freak out at the dog in the room you ask? I go somewhere else. I see and hear and think and feel and know another time and another place. Distant and yet so close, and all at the same time. Out of body. Only my soul with that dog in the room…the dog that I do not even deserve to look at for one fucking minute. Why Coral would you put your dogs in crates? I can either put them in there or me in there to keep us all sane while I try to dodge the land mines of my past, to reach the other side, safely for us all. “Coral, why don’t you love Taos? Baby Taos is the best dog ever.” First of all…Baby Taos is the best dog ever and I love Baby Taos with my very soul. You see, Baby Taos is Sam. Sam got treated how Momma Coral sometimes treats Baby Taos…with contempt and erupting anger for seemingly no reason at all. Baby Taos is Baby Coral and so sometimes we can’t be together as much as we would like to. You may not get it and that is okay because Baby Taos does get it and she loves me just the Sam.

A long time ago and just moments ago, the doggie in the kennel in the corner of the room didn’t trigger me at all and I was so happy to go and bring her out to be with me. The kisses she bestows on me and the tears she licks away. With her or without her, she is with me every day. My soul screams for her and my spirit will not rest. Not until I try my hardest and can say that I have truly done my best. Because I’ve no idea what the corner brings and no idea how I may react, we sometimes keep our dogs in kennels, to keep us all intact. Tamara didn’t come from here and she’s the one who asks the most…when will you be better so we can all become close? You’ve no idea how I pray for it or to what lengths I will go. You see the little doggie on the trampoline, she took me with her soul. I cry for her and I miss him and I cannot even recall a name. A boy or a girl I cannot remember, my soul knows him the same. He was white with a black spot or two…maybe his name was Jack? I will never know for sure, but I cannot give him his life back. So the doggie in the kennel and Taos deprived of momma Coral kisses…prayers for every second and any love that she misses. For Taos is momma Coral in a different time and space. Sometimes when I get lost, I only see another doggies face. A doggie I sent to Heaven long before his time. I was forced to choose his life or me and I chose mine. I do not have regrets as it got me here to tell you this. But God damnit I would give my life if I could only give him one more kiss. The doggie in the kennel and Coral in a little heap upon the floor. I will fight this battle I am fighting until it’s not a battle anymore. For the love of baby Taos and any feelings I have hurt. For Aliah and Rocky and Momma Tamara…all I can say is I hope I am worth…all the trouble I have caused and the hell that I am in. With your love I’m coming out and I beg you not to push me back in. So the doggies in the kennels that you may not understand is the hope for my beginning and my means to an end. To end a war that I have been fighting for every moment of my life…please God if it’s your will, may I sometime have my life? A life not built on torture and trauma of the worst kind. A life abundant and content…a life that I can call mine. With baby Taos and baby Prajna in tow at all times, with Rocky and Aliah and the bears following behind. I see Ali aging and I’ve wanted so much time. You’ve no idea how that kills me and how hard that I try.

Anyway…I am headed to clients, if I still have any after this. Either they will call and book me for an extra appointment because I am only able to do my work so well because of all of this…or I am about to get fired Apprentice style. Either way, I speak my truth to heal us all, as we hold hands and walk each other home. I love you. Have a beautiful day as we take what we need from this and send the rest back to the universe for the greater good of us all. And so it is.

First day of my new life and I’m loving it!

Good morning everyone! I hope you are all to a beautiful start today. I am doing very well and happy to be feeling so much better. It occurred to me when I was flat on my back, that I’ve much to do. I have a lot of life left in me and a lot that I know I am here to do. I am so thankful for the lessons, turning moment by moment into blessings.

I knew I needed to write all that I could as my life was occurring for me. I knew I would never go back to these places, once I found my salvation from their captivity. I knew once I detached from the pain that I would never again be able to capture its essence again. I am a survivor. I am a mother fucking warrior and I am ready for my call of duty. Waiting in the wings, nursing my wounds, until I felt whole and ready enough to make my way into the light.

My life just got really simple. I love with all I’ve got, like a verb. I live in compassionate action. I am because you are. I’ve no time for people who have ulterior motives or games to play. I am retired, once and for all, from interactions that take life force from me. My life is mine to create. My need to know why is dwindling and my desire to go back is gone. To go back anywhere…it’s gone. I did the best I could do with the tools available to me at the time. I no longer wallow in unaccepted apologies. I fully and completely forgive myself and anyone who has ever wronged or harmed me. It is as it should be and I am thankful for the lessons I have learned. I hold no grudges and I harbor no resentments. I am here to to let you know that I have come to let it all go.

I hope each of you have a blessed and most beautiful day today. I pray for each of you and for all of us collectively, that we may be love. Always, in all ways, let us be the change we wish to see in the world. Take my hand and let’s get building, shall we? The biggest obstacle standing in my way has been me and so I step aside, and allow me to emerge. I thank you for being here. I love you!

Fear is a liar…


89A59EEC-38A8-4186-B36F-86EA4FE9D00A.jpegGood morning everyone. Thank you for all of the love yesterday. My anesthesia and my injections went well. I am doing better today, in terms of discomfort. I am healing and I am so thankful.

My life has been consumed by debilitating fear. My thoughts have been fearful and my feelings and emotions saturated in fear. My outlook has been fearful and my memories and recollections are plagued with fear. My greatest fear of all…losing my parents and my little Brother…and I’ve come to believe that maybe with all of this fear, I am attracting exactly the things that I do not want in my life. My sister has told me and constantly reminded me that fear is a liar and yet, I think I have spent most of my life believing fear, attracting and manifesting fear. I am not afraid anymore. I went to bed on Monday night and I made a very conscious decision to not be in fear anymore.

You see, there is fear and there is love, and that’s it. I am learning that I cannot be both in fear and in love. I cannot be here and there. I cannot remain debilitated by fear and also be occupying the love space that I am here to occupy. I must make a conscious choice and Monday, after much reading and praying and meditation, I consciously chose love. I consciously chose love over fear.

I woke up different yesterday. I woke up with a knowing in my very soul of who I am and where I belong. I do not belong in the unrelenting depths of despair and in the throes of depression. I do not belong at the very bottom of all that I am and all that I intuitively know in my heart to be true. I am love. I have always been love. I got caught up in the terror and the fear of my past. I’ve been stuck reliving it my whole fucking life and Monday, after 45 years, I heard and felt and understood the caliber of my situation. Fear is a mother fucking liar. Since I cannot be both fear and love…it was an easy decision…I choose love.

Anyone who knows me well, knows how debilitating my past and my fear about it has been. Anyone who looks at me for two seconds can see the wreckage left by the death of my Mom. I am not this. I am not broken down and done. I am badly bent and sick to death of feeling broken beyond repair.

If any of you have ever had pelvic injections, it’s no fucking joke. I couldn’t not know what brought me to this place and I couldn’t not feel anything about how I got here. I saw the stirrups and I started to get scared. I made a different choice. I took my pants off and I sat down with a paper towel covering me and waited for my doctor to come back in to begin our journey together to my new life. I wasn’t so concerned about being brave as I was concerned about not living one more moment in fear. Fear, he is a liar!

I dedicate  this blog to my sister Michele…I finally hear you sister…thank you for always reminding me that fear is a liar. I love you!

Have a beautiful day everyone! I love you too!


Hanging out in the healing room…come on in…

Good afternoon! What a wonderful opportunity to meet you in this sacred space! I hope your week is off to a good start and that you’re here ready to heal!

I am ready for some significant healing, aren’t you? Is there something in your life that you have really been battling or wrestling with? Is there a decision you just can’t make? Are there words in your heart that have fallen on deaf ears so many times already, that you’re worn down of trying again? Is there one thing stopping you from all other things? Is your biggest obstacle, in your way right now, you?

I am feeling today that my biggest obstacle has been me in many situations. I was not aware of this and yet I think on some level, it has probably been apparent. I haven’t loved me the way I wanted to be loved. I haven’t valued me as I wish to be valued and so others haven’t valued me either. I haven’t stood up for me and so others have not stood up for me either.

In this room, all of these things are okay. Maybe everywhere else, it’s fucking shitty, and in this room, you can say it anyway. You can let it down, let it out…let it go. You decided how you feel in here. You must feel something or you wouldn’t come back, right? What do you feel here? What do you want to feel when you are here?

I know I want to feel aunthenticity. I want real. I don’t give a shit how bad it feels, I always want the truth. If it hurts me to know something, I want to know it all the more. I want to feel, and I mean really fucking feel when I am in this room. I want to ride to the summit of anger and gently allow myself, to gracefully fall back down into its depths. I want to know why I am fucking angry…why I am hurt…why I feel abandoned…I want real. I always want real. In this room, that’s all there is. There is real….My real…my reality…real as fuck and true. That is how we do it, in this healing room.

I have been afraid to speak my truths. I have been stifled for years and my truths have fallen upon the most deaf of ears, when I did speak. I do not come here to wallow in my pain. I come here to invite my pain, to re-visit my pain, and I mean to really spend some quality time with this pain, so that I may feel it, at its deepest depth and then I may let it go. I come here to come clean. I come here to cleanse us all, of things we cannot speak of, as I remind us that we can speak.

Have you ever watched someone fall down and scramble to get to their feet, before anyone sees that they fell? Why do you think we do that? Truly, why are we more worried that someone saw us stumble, than we are worried that our fall may have hurt us? Why do we look outside of us first? Why do we hide our pain so fucking fast and so fucking deep?

What about when you see this scenario…someone else falling and no one helps? Phones video players running, calls and texts left and right, and yet, why don’t we help each other? In this room, we help each other. In this room, when someone falls…we stop what we are doing and we help them back up. We stop and we help.

I want to take this opportunity, which I’ve not done too much of in the past, to ask you something…What do you need from me when you come here? Once a day, for 365 days, I will be here. I promise. So…how can I help you? What, if anything, can I do, to lighten your load?

Do me a favor and think about that for a bit. Really give some thought to what I can do for you and shoot me a private message. Tell me what I can do, on this blog, as a service to us all, to help us all. What would you like to see? To hear? To say? To do? Shoot me a message and let’s brainstorm this together…what can we all do for each other? How can we individually and collectively, heal ourselves and our world? You tell me what you need from me and I will see what I can do for you.

As we leave this healing room today, I feel a new energy…a little lift, to start making big strides in my life, toward all of the good things coming! I hope you feel it too!

The struggle is real…

Good morning everyone and happy Sunday!

Thank you for all of your love and prayers. As surgery draws closer, Sam is much more present than Coral. Sam has done amazing and I am so proud of her! The struggle is real. An adult survivor of childhood abuse, trying to love their inner child through rough and rocky terrain, without her Mommy. I will say again, the struggle is real.

I know that my story brings up your stories. I know that my abuse may have reminded you of your own. The pain that my story touches in you may well be a pain in a story all your own. With that being said, I love you. I really, really do. I will remind us all that we are just walking each other home. Be kind. Be gentle. Be mindful. We all have stories that no one else knows anything about. We all have pain that has gone unloved, not healed and ready to come out. I see you and I know that you are struggling too. I know your struggle, the struggle, is real for you too.

I know that people who hurt me, every single one of them, are hurt people. People do not just go around inflicting that kind of terror and abuse on others, without a story of their own. We all have stories of our own. Every single one of us have been angry…really fucking angry, and taken it too far somehow…in ugly words and actions, haven’t we? I know I have. Although it doesn’t excuse abuse, doesn’t it explain abuse to know that hurt people, hurt people? Truly, stop for a moment and think about your own abuser…who hurt them?  Did you ever wonder about that or care about that or think about that before? What happened to the people who hurt animals and children? What becomes of those children? What becomes of their family? We must begin to realize the connection and to heal the hurt, or the hurt is going to get worse. We must love more than we hate or we are going to do far more damage to ourselves and our world than our abusers have done already.

How many of you who have been abused have inflicted abuse? In some form or another, be it someone else or yourself…hurt people, hurt people. We must heal the hurt and love the people who hurt us…or we will not heal. We must love the unlovable and forgive the unforgivable if we are to heal.  We must be the change that we wish to see and the example to everyone else, to be that change also. I nominate myself to go first today for this challenge. Today’s challenge is to forgive your abusers.

I imagine a few of you will stop reading here and I get that. I encourage you to keep reading though, because this is where the healing starts.

I woke up this morning heavy. Racked in physical pain and drowning in fear and misery. My remembrances and my memories have been painful to revisit, to put it mildly. I realized that I have done my work here. I have spoken my truth, as much as I can get out. I have spoken my truth in love and light. I have been wrapping little packages like it’s Christmas, to put them in my uterus before my surgery on Tuesday, so that everything can be cut loose and set free during my spay procedure. I have been in constant prayer and meditation and I have and will continue to ask for your love and prayers. On this day, I really did wake up and say to myself, that I do not want to feel this way anymore. I do not want to carry this pain and this hurt in my heart anymore. I do not want this inside me anymore. I surrender, in this moment and I forgive each and every person who has knowingly or unknowingly caused me harm or pain. I ask for forgiveness from anyone I have ever knowingly or unknowingly caused pain to.

Dear Debra,

You must know somewhere deep inside of your heart, how very much I loved you and looked up to you. You must have felt at one time, something for me also, something pure and untainted. I am not a liar. I wish that I were. I really wish that there were some way for it to be possible that I could have fabricated all of this. I did not make it up, and I know that you know I didn’t make it up too. I think you must be feeling attacked because the abuse inflicted by so many others, all got put on you. I can see that more clearly since I began writing and people began calling…I was not the only victim and you were not the only perpetrator. I named you because you abused me. In naming you and being contacted by others, I realized that you did not act alone. You are not solely responsible for all of the terror reigned down on top of me, are you? Unfortunately the truth in that is more sinister than most people can fathom.

I feel you. I have always felt you. I love you. I have always loved you. I forgive you because up until this moment, as hard as I have tried, I could not, completely forgive you, for how you hurt me. I forgive you now and pray for you to find your own peace and forgiveness.

Hurt people, hurt people, and I’ve no doubt what so ever that you too, were hurt. We come from sickness, generations of sickness and alcoholism. We come from pain and we have carried it right on down the line, all of us, in our own way. The enablers, worse in many ways, than the abusers, who saw injustice and did nothing.

Children and animals have been harmed. Lives have come undone. Death has come for your sister and taken her from us without healing, without closure and without any fucking mercy. We have taken so much and we have lost so much. We have been a hurt bunch of people, out there hurting people for a really long time, haven’t we?

We have kept secrets and screamed deep inside ourselves until our lungs,  bloody and raw from the screaming,  all at the same time, as we have tried to be heard, to no avail. You know my story because you lived it too, didn’t you? You call me a liar because someone called you a liar too.

On this day, Debra, I want you to know and everyone else to know, that I am finally able to forgive you for the harm you brought to me. I forgive you for hurting me and I release the venom attached to your name, around my story. I know you probably don’t care either way, and that is okay…I forgive you just the same. I love you, just the same. I release all of this, which no longer serves me, just the same.



Today, I set down, with all of my intention, things that do not serve my highest good. I release the pain that has stifled my heart and imprisioned my soul. I forgive my abusers, each and every one of them. I forgive myself. The struggle is real and today I do my part to lighten the load and to heal us all.

I know you all have someone or someone’s who have caused you harm. You carry pain that is not yours, don’t you? You don’t know how to let it go. I know because I didn’t know how either, until I knew, and now I know. I want to encourage you to let it go too. For the healing and for the love of us all, my challenge to you today, is to forgive your abusers, and to free your own soul. Go ahead…I dare you!

Happy Sunday everyone and thank you for being here with me. I love you!

Struggling to come with it again today…

Good morning everyone. I have been sitting here a while this morning, praying and meditating and trying to get started writing. Millions of words bouncing around in my head and I am diverting to my heart to chose the kind, necessary and true ones, and to leave all the rest.

I have come into knowings of things, awareness and remembrances of things from my past, that have literally rendered me fairly lifeless and debilitated. I am allowing myself this time and asking for continued love and prayers. Even with the millions of words, I have none for this, right now. I just can’t, right now.

In other news, I am going to begin with a huge thank you to everyone loving me…like a verb, loving me, from wherever you are. I feel you and I thank you so much, for reaching out to me right now. I feel the subtle nudges, the cyber hugs and the prayers and I know you are with me. I thank you for staying with me.

A writing, to attempt to find some of my words;

My world went black. Color escaped and eluded me.

All of my color. All of my clarity, my peace and my safety…they were all in my head and so I spent a lot of time there.

Dodging blows and counting footsteps. Keeping in corners and always facing the door. Living in blanket forts and squeezing eyes shut. Holding breath and saying prayers. Playing possum. Being dead, only for moments, and abruptly coming back to life. Violently clinging to a life that I must have asked for and yet couldn’t make sense of. Being silenced. Being wrong. Being terrified and wearing fear like a mother fucking shroud, because there was no protection.

Being Little. Not little enough to be invisible to the blows coming. Worthless enough to be invisible otherwise. Invisible and invincible and clearly divisible. My life, my simple life, was anything but simple.

Walking away from death more times than I’ve actually truly, lived at all. Picking up jagged pieces and cutting my own flesh with the reality of my life. Nothing softens this blow and nothing consoles these tears. Nothing reduces this gap or plugs up this gaping hole. Nothing gives back what was taken. Nobody and everybody knows but me and I can’t even hear it right now. Undeniable, unmistakable and without argument or fight…As the memories come together and the blanks begin to fill themselves in a bit more, I am leveled and lying low. I am hurt. I am mortally wounded. I am nursing my wounds. I am in constant prayer and meditation. I am sad and getting mad. I am.

Walking through fire like this is teaching me to appreciate the beauty of the flames. Gather the heat in my skin. Pull the heat and hold it close. Look at all of the illumination, that comes to the darkness, from this light. Watch the shadows scurrying to escape the light and ricocheting off of each other. Listen to the murmur or the truth, illuminating this room…lighting up our world…one truth at a time.

I am not alone. I know this to be true. I am not the only one. You are not the only one either, you know?  You are not the only abuser. I am not the only victim. We are not alone in this. I never knew that…I truly didn’t. Is that why you call me a liar, I wonder? All of this, raining down on you…it isn’t yours alone, is it? You all kept me in silence and literally in the darkest places, drunk and unable to remember…and yet, I am remembering. Do you know what this is doing to me? Knowing how much I was despised and hated and abused and mocked and silenced and hurt and abandoned…the contempt and the disgust…do you know what your feeling like this about me, all of my life has done to my life? To me? To my relationships and friendships? To my jobs and careers? Do you know that your hatred of me and your contempt for me hurt me to the core? Do you care? I mean, really…do you care, any of you, for what you have done to me? Does anyone, anyone at all, feel badly for hurting me? Does anyone feel sorry for destroying my life? You call me a liar because I put all of this on you, when there are others? I started to feel bad, like I should apologize to you, for putting all of it on you, when you had accomplices. I owe you no apology. I haven’t owed more than half of the apologies I have given out, have I? You calling me a liar encouraged my due diligence, and what do you think I found out? Upon investigating further and after being defended, for the first time, ever in my life, by my cousins who called you out, what did you think I would find? You know…you know what I am finding out, don’t you? Does it make you as happy now, as it always has, to see me struggle so? Does that still gratify you, to see me in pain and unable to get out? Do you still get off watching me fight to cling on to my own life?

I could not remember, to save my life. Now, I cannot forget. I didn’t know and now I cannot not know. I was anesthesized and I could not feel. I am sober and have chosen no pain management and I cannot, not feel. I am crawling around in the worst agony of my life, bleeding out, all over my rock bottom. I will not stay down here. While I am down here though, I am seeing the sights. You all put on quite a show, you know? Truly, this wasteland is like none I have ever seen before…this wreckage and carnage and bloodstained tapestry, that is my life…you guys really did it up, didn’t you?

And I sit here alone, just as you predicted, don’t I? Defeated and bleeding out…blank stare across my tear stained face. Everyone scattered and having chosen everyone but me. I sit here alone. I always have, haven’t I, I always sat alone? Awkward and cowering…silent and clumsy…always falling down and getting hurt…there are doctors who never reported, aren’t there? There are people outside of our family who didn’t protect me either, adults…doctors…you’re right, it wasn’t just you. It wasn’t just me either. This is all a bit too much, isn’t it? Unfair and unregulated…no way to defend yourself and no one who believes you…not even you, deep down, can believe you, can you? Deep down, no matter who you lie to, you have to go to sleep with yo and wake up with you.

I do too, you know? I have to accept that I have never really had sleep or peaceful slumber…always been in fight or flight. I have to figure out how To begin to pick up the shattered pieces of me, that the adults in my life left…me, a shattered and broken pile of no one and nothing to anyone ever. So, please forgive me for being unable to feel too sorry for you, for any of you, for how this is impacting your life, all of these years later, as it re-emerges, as I remember, as I speak, about the horrific things that happened to me, for an entire lifetime, while you all stood by and watched. We are not silent anymore. We will not keep your secrets and hold your demons at bay any longer. We rise up…every single one of us, harmed by each of you…we rise the fuck up. So, with that being said, you may stand down now. You will stand down now. We rise where you have fallen and we offer you our hand, one last time, as we help you to the door. You may go now. All of you, who have harmed all of us…you may go now. We’ve got this and we’ve got each other and you are free to go.

As the demons come to visit me and open up their memory chests, I sit with each one, as long as I must, before moving on to the next. I will sit here until I am satisfied and then I will rise up. I will rise up. We will all rise up.

Have a beautiful day everyone and go easy on yourself today. I love you and I thank you for being here with me again today.

An open letter from the Scapegoats to the Abusers…


Good morning everyone! I am still smiling from my visit with my beautiful cousin Regina. I am overjoyed to look out and see Karuna and Ahimsa finally together! I am so blessed to wake up and share this amazing life with my beautiful girl and all of these amazing sentient beings. I am gathering my own tribe and we are rising up. My surgery is in a couple of weeks and so my pain can finally be addressed. I am so blessed and so thankful. I am honoring my commitment to myself in my writing and I’m coming in out of the pain of my life a bit.

With that being said, I’ve a letter in my head, that I’ve wanted to write for a very long time and I always thought I was a single scapegoat in this hell. This letter is not singular…this letter is to all of the abusers, from all of the scapegoats, in your family, in your life… and in mine. We rise up and will not be silenced any longer about things that really matter.

My writing has one purpose and one purpose only…to facilitate healing, to release what does not serve me and to offload what is not mine to carry. I am here, walking each other home, just like you are. I want peace just like you do. I want to be safe and secure and loved, just like you do. I want my life to matter, just like you do. I don’t do mean and bully. I don’t drink alcohol anymore, and I won’t be in close proximity to those who do. This isn’t about judgement, as much as it is about self preservation.

My tribe, the people I am choosing to be around…they are all sacred and beautiful to me. You don’t have to love them like I do, and you won’t be unloving to them or about them in my presence either. I will not stand by and allow for injustice any longer, because I am afraid to speak. I will not accept behavior from anyone that harms someone else. If you have something to say, please say it. Don’t ask other people to hold for you, to deliver  your messages, to do your dirty work, to keep things secret…do it yourself. Asking others to not say something to so and so, because why? What is all of that? Just fucking say it…whatever it is, to whomever it is, about whatever it is, and let’s be fucking done with it, shall we? Truly, think about it…whatever you are holding, that you’ve just been dying to fucking say to someone…I mean really, really dying to say to someone…just say it! We would all feel much better if you would just get it off your chest so we can all offload it…Are you willing to do that? Are you willing to pick up the phone and to have that really difficult conversation, so that all of us don’t have to walk on eggshells around you all if the fucking time? I am ready and I am willing and I am going to share my letter with you now. Maybe you will find this letter helpful, as a template of your own, to go and do some healing in your own life? I hope so…I really do! So, go grab yourself another cup of coffee and let’s do this!

I begin this morning by offering up a prayer of protection and safety for us all. I channel a white light from source, through the center of my heart, as a protection portal for us all, so that we may be authentic and real and true, and not be harmed for it. I offer up the same prayer of protection for all of those we love and hold sacred, that they may also be protected from any harm or backlash from our bravery to stand up. I cover us all in love and courage and humility, so that we may openly speak our hearts and share our stories. I send this love and this protection to the abused and to the abusers as well, as we all try to come together to come clean and heal together. We are all just walking each other home and so I pray for enlightenment, healing, courage and serenity for us all. I lift every single one of us up, in prayer and love overflowing, to experience substantial healing from our willingness to open up and come clean, to open up and be cleansed…and so it is.

Dear people who hurt me and people hurt by me,

My name is Coral and I have been wrong. I come before you today to tell you that…I have been wrong. I come and ask forgiveness for my shortcomings and my failure, for not knowing what I didn’t know, until I knew it. I have learned who I am and how to be from some people that taught me stuff I don’t chose to take with me anymore. For those I have harmed along the way, partners, friends, family members, animals, children…Mother, Father, Little Brother…cousins, aunts, uncles, grandmothers and grandfathers…second cousins, ex-wife, ex-girlfriends, Tamara, Regina, Sigrid…anyone I may have bullied or teased or made fun of…laughed at or ignored completely…step-children, teachers, coaches….I stand before you now and I tell you that I have been wrong.  I ask your forgiveness and I offer you mine. I forgive myself for all things, even if you cannot find a way, yourself, to forgive me. I finally forgive me anyway.

To those who kept me in dark corners and to those who saw me go in those corners afraid, and did nothing at all, I forgive you. I don’t understand how you have been able to watch children get bullied and taunted and teased, all to the point of terror and fear, and do nothing at all. I forgive you, and yet I cannot understand you.  How were you able to be standing on the other side of closed doors, hearing what you heard, and not break the door down and kill the adult, hurting the child  on the other side, is completely beyond me?

I ask everyone to stand with me for a moment in solidarity, remembering the life of Victoria Martens. I ask each of you to send love and light, awareness and healing to the beautiful little girl who lost her life and the family who took that life. We must realize that we all must heal, in order for true healing and peace in this world. Victoria, May God rest  her sweet little soul, lost her little life because of some very sick people.  I am here to tell you, until we get care about getting them well, until we love them too, we will all stay sick to some degree. I know you don’t want to hear it and yet, you already know it to be true…we cannot be discriminate in our love and our love must be unconditional, if we are ever to truly heal ourselves, to heal our world, to grow and prosper.

We have been the victims of some heinous crimes. We have been on the receiving end of some torture and abuse that most people cannot fathom. We have been touched in untouched places, that took not only our innocence, our virginity and our concept of self worth, but also our ability to be as we would have been, untainted by your sick mind and your grubby, greedy little hands. We don’t know what we might have been doing if we weren’t used as little props to get your Dick hard while your forced us to sit on your lap, look at your pornography, listen to you disrespect women and children, and even each other. We aren’t sure why we don’t remember anything other than how we got there and being back…where did all of the time in between go? Why do we remember being dropped off at your house and yet we remember nothing else, absolutely nothing else…because it literally went black, and it’s missing? For us, the black and fuzzy is becoming colorful and clear and we are sick to our stomachs. We are all remembering and we aren’t going to be silent anymore. We know we aren’t alone and we know that we aren’t lying. We know what you did and we are damn well going to say so. We are sorry you are sick and we are here to tell you to get some help. We want you to get some help, for us all…go and get yourself some fucking help, for God’s sake!

Look at what you have done man! Look at what you have done. You cannot, ever, no matter what, undo it…you just can’t go back and make what you did not have happened. You might start by not doing it anymore, but you dont, do you? You don’t stop…you have hurt many others, besides me, haven’t you? The hell that replays in my mind, in my relationships, in my battle with my own addiction and my own demons…that reel doesn’t just play over and over for me, does it? Does anyone else in my family have the same reel playing, in the deepest and darkest place in the darkest corners, over and over again? Do you? Does your family have a film that everyone has been forced to watch over and over and over again, that made everyone sick and uncomfortable?

Those of us who have been packing in and out with all of your shit for all of these years, are tired. We are fucking exhausted, carrying your packs and your demons and your shame…your secrets and your filthy alcohol tainted breath. We don’t want you touching us. Is that clear to you, I mean really clear? Do not touch our kids or our grandkids or their kids. You keep your filthy hands off of our children and keep your dick in your pants and your alcohol to yourself…we are rising up and you will not hurt our children. Are we abundantly clear? We are watching you and we will not stand for you hurting our children the way that you have hurt us. We will protect our children and you will stand the fuck down. Statute of limitations may or may not have run out for all of us, but the mother fucking clock is ticking now, the security cameras are on and we are watching your every move. Sherry is on our side now, and from where she is standing, she will be our protector, and you will not harm children anymore. You harmed Sherry’s children and the children that Sherry loves so much and you are being called out…you are on notice and you are finished here.

We have taken your packs and your demons and your guilt and your shame and your sin and we have placed them on the ground in front of us. All of your packs, every single one of them, off of our backs and sitting at your feet. Pick them up. Leave them there. We don’t care. Just be clear, as we all join hands together, that we stand together and we set this shit down right now…we will not pass this way again.

We are not scapegoats. We are beautiful souls, with soaring spirits and open hearts. We were not destroyed by you. In fact, we are more than we might have been, because you busted us so fucking wide open, that we had no choice but to learn to grow by ourselves. We are beautiful and we are resilient and we stand hand in hand with each other now, and we send you on your way with your packs. You can take your wife too, the one who enabled you. You can take the kids, the ones who you destroyed by teaching them to be unaccountable like you, and you may all leave this place. You don’t want to be here, where we are…you’ve always been clear about that; your disdain for us, our lifestyles, haircuts, outfits and mouths…so please go ahead and go. We don’t want you here with us either and we never have. Adults don’t belong in kids forts and kids beds and in kids play time…and yet, there you were, weren’t you? Playing house, for real with your sisters daughter….and I am fucked up?

So, you all have your packs and we all have our lives back and I believe we are done here, at least for today. We will be checking the security footage on all of the cameras and we have placed extra security around the children. We are watching you and you are finished. You can stand down on your own and right yourself on your own, or we will be back to help you to be accountable. Make no mistake, we are not alone and we are silent no more, about things important to us. We are watching you and we are watching each other and we now have people watching us and we rise up!

This concludes our letter for today. This letter was just to let you know that we know what you have done, what you continue to do, and we are not liars and misfits and losers…we are beautiful people, rising from the ashes of the hell you ignited on top of us from the moment you laid eyes on us. We are here and we are not alone. We come in peace and we have our knives at our sides. We will not, for any reason, ever again, be reduced, discarded or ignored. We are here and we have as much right to be here as you do. As we rise up, we invite you do the same. We encourage you to rise up too. We want you to rise up too. We lift you up. With all of that being said, be very clear, that if you don’t rise with us, you will fall beside us, because we aren’t going down again. Very literally, I will not go down again. Am I abundantly clear, so that we can begin to move forward together? We rise up! We hold hands and join our hearts and we rise up! You have all seen our descent…now watch our rising!

I love you my beautiful cousin, Regina…..


Good Morning! Happy Tuesday! Let’s grab our coffee and get ready for our time together, before the world calls And whisks us all away.

I had an amazing day yesterday! Fucking amazing! Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Truly, what a blessing, to see my long lost cousin that I have missed dearly, for over 20 years. Estranged by our own issues and addictions, we are reunited and it feels so good! (Thank you Tamara, for that).

I know that I am writing about some hard stuff and we talked about some hard stuff yesterday…some really, really hard stuff. My cousin was unable to be at her Aunt Sherry’s funeral. Hell my cousin was unable to be a lot of places, and the reasons I heard, are not the reasons she gave. I learned yesterday that the broken ones aren’t the misfits and the liars. The losers aren’t really the losers. The hero’s are actually bullies. I learned that we are fucking resilient and we have only been misfit because our hearts were too tender to be bullies and hurt others.

Here is the really cool thing…this is my blog and I write what I want. I write how I feel. I write about my experiences and my life and how things occur for me. I am honoring a commitment to myself, to write and get it all out, rather than keep it in for 365 days. I began blogging in December, and my writing is taken on an experience all its own. Words flow through me and I heal as they are finally able to leave me. I am here to heal. I am here to heal us all, to walk us all home, all of us, even and especially the ones who have harmed me. I will not be silent about things that matter to me. I will speak about things that have happened to me. I will honor me and my experiences and my journey at all times. I am not here to call people out and crucify people. I am not here to throw names around and ruin lives. I’m not here for revenge. I’m not mentioning names, unless I have permission, unless it is so blatantly obvious (my brother, my Dad, my mom…) Tamara and my cousin Regina have given me their permission to use their names and write about them. I named my abuser, which had obviously connected some dots.

Here’s the thing, I’m not here to cause harm and at the same time, I am not here to be harmed. If me talking about something that you did to me is causing you discomfort, maybe you want to look at why that is? How do you know I am talking about you, and why are you uncomfortable? Truly, if I am speaking of atrocities that you had no part in, why are you so upset and reactive? If my speaking about my experiences in my family, with my Dad, having lost my little Brother or my deceased Mother, God rest that poor woman’s soul, are offensive to you, why is that? My talking about abuse inflicted on my for 18 years is upsetting to you, when you are one of the people who silently stood by…here’s a mirror man. If in all of this, I’m not talking about you, you probably haven’t thought much about it at all, other than to send me a loving message. Oh wait, my phone did not blow up with loving messages from my concerned family at all. My phone blew up with more stories like mine…more hurt like mine. My phone hasn’t rang since my Mom died, more than a handful of times, my family checking on me, loving me through this…(those of you who have, you know who you are and I love you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.) Those of you who haven’t and those of you running around in a fucking tizzy over this blog, why is that? You have not called to check on me, to say you love me and you are so sorry for what happened to me…why is that? Why have my Mom’s siblings not called me to offer condolences for what your sister did to me? Do none of you feel badly for what Debra did to Sherry by destroying Sherry’s daughter and her relationship with her? I’m just saying, I’ve not heard from you…and so it seems that everyone has scattered like cockroaches, as the light is being shed on things kept in the worst kind of darkness and under the filthiest of rugs. Shame on you for still being more concerned about running and hiding and covering for one another than you are about the children harmed in the making of your Horror story. Put the bottle down and put your dick back in your pants and for once in your life, take some fucking accountability man. Seriously, grow the fuck up and help us to heal and to protect the children who still live under this dark and sick cloud. Stop covering your fucking ass and mitigate some fucking damage here! We owe the world more than we have put out there so far, don’t we? Kicking dogs and hurting children, screaming and slithering around in drunken stupors, “hugging and teasing and tickling” children…for real? Is this what we came here for? Is this all we’ve fucking got…blame and no shame and glory days of beating faggots and niggers asses? Is this the legacy that my Moms family of origin is going to leave on this universe? Be the change. Be sorry. Be wrong. Be something…for fucks sake man,  be something…stand for something….rise the fuck up. Set the bottle down, leave the dogs and the kids and the little girls alone. I am not here to call you out and yet, your guilt put you pretty front and center, didn’t it? Think about that and then feel free to give me a call. I will be more than happy to sit down with you and we can talk and try to do our due diligence to this world, to atone for our sins, apologize to those we have harmed, get sober and be good and kind and decent productive members of society. I fucking dare you to heal with me.

Debra, I am sad, and not at all surprised to hear that you are calling me a liar. I am going to have to decline your invitation to come and say these lies to your face, at this time. I actually have nothing to say to you and have wasted much of my time and energy putting myself in positions so  that you could say something to me. I guess you are right, I am stupid, because I really thought, that you would be so sorry for what you did to my Mom and to her daughter and to the little family that she wanted more than anything in this world. I really was ready to forgive you and tell you I loved you just the same, at your daughters graduation from college, when you assaulted me again and told me that not only were you not sorry, that you would do it again. I went into convulsions on the way home and cried like my soul just died. When we got home, I was carried upstairs to the couch where I didn’t move at all, for three fucking days. I was mother fucking catatonic and when I came out of that, I got up and headed straight into my shower to scrub the you off of me. So, now is not a good time for me to come and see you, and your reaction to me writing about what you did to me is not only juvenile and fairly incriminating, it is really fucking pathetic. My Mom is dead, just how you wanted her…just where you put her. My Dad is in your neck of the woods way more than he’s in my neck of the woods anymore. My Brother and I, after so many people and places and things pulled us apart are trying to find our way back to one another. Your daughter and I, who have never strayed too far from one another, have had a very strained relationship because of what you have done and your fucking reactions to us trying to stay close. Your daughter, estranged from her own family, because of what you have done and I am a liar? You are a sick, broken down alcoholic who harmed children Debra. Correct your fucking self…put the bottle down and be fucking accountable. Your name only crosses my lips so that I can heal, and I love you just the same. I’m not ready to talk to you just yet though.

I had a beautiful day of healing and inspiration yesterday with my beautiful cousin. I don’t know when the last time I started to run across a parking lot to embrace someone was or when ever cried in front of a family member like that. I don’t ever remember a deeper and more heartfelt conversation with a family member, other than my Mom in her last two months of life, than the eight beautiful hours I spent yesterday with my cousin Regina.

Let me tell you what a beautiful fucking soul that girl is…my cousin. Yesterday, as I sat across from her, a white light illuminated her beautiful face the whole day. My spirit calmed and Sam came for a visit…maybe even more present than Coral yesterday, was Sam. Regina knows Sam and Sam knows Regina. Sam has loved Regina her whole life.

So, for every bad thing being said about me, for the haters and the naysayers…it’s all good…I’ve got my love goggles on.

Love that never left my life, although absent and distant in time and space, returned to center yesterday when I sat with my cousin, one of my best childhood friends and confidants…and she still is. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. We found our way back and we are walking each other home. We hope you will join us. I love you Regina. Thank you for one of the most beautiful days of my life yesterday, healing and growing with you..I love you cousin!

Have a beautiful day everyone! I love, love, love you too!