my hopes and dreams of success are shattered because of a man. he has destroyed every fiber of my being. what good is it for me to follow my dreams if he will only end up destroying me in the end.

God if you hear me, I'm tired of hurting and living in fear. I'm at a breaking point and my world is shattered. Please give me a little relief. I can't push any longer.

Can you hear me?

I smile to hide the pain i feel inside wondering why I can't seem to find the love i deserve to have. I'm trapped by fear not able to escape the confounds of the prison I'm in. The life of my family and those closest to me threatened by the monster in my bed. I've tried to leave, tried to run and hide. my motherhood jeopardized by a man so out of control I fear he will soon take my life and my children will never know me. my eyed bruised by one strike to my temple. i have to hide the evidence by glasses and cant venture out and enjoy life. police dont care. they turn the other cheek. the abuse heightened by alcohol. I'm drained financially, emotionally and spiritually not comprehending why God would allow me to continue to be abused and used. my works go unappreciated. my heart taken advantage of. the dream of a good man shattered by the continuous flow of evil assholes that have crossed my path. this one is the worst one. he has attempted to choke the life out of me, beat me and threatened me. I've been held against my will and its worsening. i wanna get away. escape to an island far away where no one knows me, so noone can hurt me. beginning to fear the general public. My voice is unheard. my cries unanswered.

in search of Americas lowest 3 bedroom rent

my quest has begun in search of the nations lowest rent. yesterday we had to stop in blythe california. after travvelling for a few hours the tranny on my 99 lincoln continental overheated. we cooled off headed to the nearest exit where the associate at foster freezes chiriaco summit pretended to not speak english, tried to sell me a small empty cardboard bowl for a dollar and proceeded to bad mouth me in spanish not knowing I understand the language, just don't speak it well. so I told her in english that I understood everything she said and she looked dumbfounded and replied, okay, I'm sorry. how is that for customer service right!?
I thought my chihuahua went into labor last night. false alarm. maybe another few days. week tops.

the temperature this morning in Blythe at 7am is 90 degrees. its hot and dry. there is nothing around but truck stops and rattlesnakes. it looks cheap here, but because of it still being in California, I refuse to check out the pricing. My goal is to leave calaifornia and find a cheap place with good schools before my daughter begins kindergarten.

So up and attem folks. the hunt is on. after I take a dip in this lovely pool here at motel 6.

well I tried being consisten with my weight loss blogging and, as you can see, to no avail.
My journey lies beyond a choice of two doors. One door houses the familiar life I have grown accustomed to. One of sitting idly collect government payments of either SSI in the amount of 900 dollars a month and accepting that my illness has hindered me from following my dreams or continuing to survive off of welfare and food pantries and accepting that I am nothing but a wasted seed destined to have my family raise money by car washes should I meet my end of breath. There are no haters, no one asking me who do I think I am and no accusation of thinking I am better than anyone else. They are content with me depending on others as it has been what has been expected of me. There is no fear of failure, because there is no steps to succeed. Relationships are the norm for me when they are volatile and insecure. The encouragement I give unto others remains just a dream of me taking my own advice.
The other door is strange. Relocation is a must. I have to clean out the skeletons I have hidden deep beneath the crusted surface of my soul and bury them in a pitt of no return, which means I have to face my ownself and overcome the trials I have grown so used to running from. The door harbors success and greatness beyond its padlocks and bolts. Unlimited endless possibilities and opportunities await me and my creative imagination.
There are no financial troubles after entry. My past is but a mere echo in the hallway and my future lies ahead among every pebble that paves the road before me. TO enter I must shut out the naysayers and develop a belief in myself that had succombed due to the life traumas I have experienced.
The fear of failure blocks the doorway, therefore I must train and defeat it before I can even turn and unlock one lock on that door. The other key must be sought out among the world in which my imagination is welcome, and I must first continue to take the steps toward the holder of that key.
If I never speak. No one will ever hear. If I don't utilize my voice no one will listen. Thus I will be but mere whispering memory in the minds of those who wonder where I was or what ever became of my creative person.

I stand at the unknown door with fear and trembling about to take on waters I once feared to test. If I do not, I will never know what could have become of the mind that God has blessed me with and my life would be but a shallow meaningless life never to have served its purpose. I shake unctrollably as I turn the key, looking back and rethinking my decision. All I can hear is If I don't, I will never know.

Stay tuned for more as I journey into a rebirth and rebuilding of me.

My misconception of life

As a child, I had many ambitions. I was creative and talented in school. Always in academic competions and gifted classes. My second grade teacher called a conference with my dad after I wrote a conclusion to  favorite movie, The last Unicorn, as an assignment. She told my dad that I would be a famous author one day. The teachers loved reading my stories. I was marked for success early in life. In middle school I'd write a story in first period and by sixth period, my pre algebra teacher would read it aloud as the entire class sat in awe wanting to hear more. Seventh period marching band instructor would raise his eye at me when I entered the class, his way of letting me know he too had had the opportunity to bask in my creativity. Even in his clas, I never practiced, I'd memorize the songs before the period was over and be able to play them without hesitation. Naturally, when I ran away from home, the teachers gahtered together to dicuss what was going on in my little pre teen mind. When I returned to school, there was no punishment, just a requirement ot write from my creative genius of a mind. When my grades slipped, they'd call me in at lunch. there was no excuse, I was not living up to my potential. By the time I reached High School, my teachers had already indulged in my previous writings. They too left no room for failure. I was a sure success. One that would bring fame to the little desert hick town of Barstow Ca.
Then I moved away. I found that I could not write myself out of bad grades and ditching. I was held accountable for my actions. Yet some still passed me along because of my courtesy and smile.
By senior year I had written a booklet of poetry and short stories about my own life, in creative form. I was told to write more if I wanted to graduate, and I did, only to have them stolen by a swedish born teacher longer for publication herself. 6 months late, I received my diploma, but lost my muse.

I thought life was all about roses and knights in shining armor. I had longed dreamed of meeting an NBA player tall and thin, sexy, and romantic. One who would whisk me away from my dungeon I had been in and shower me with pink roses and expensive white wines. Life as an adult was sure to be easy. As long as I did not follow in the footsteps of those before me, I would be successful.
Then I woke up. I received divorce papers staing supervised visitation with the children I had spent so much time with. I was left with nothing, and daddy refused to help me. I had to swallow my pride and get on welfare when I had my daughter. Finding myself at 6 months  pregnant fighting for my life and the life of my unborn child, waking up before sunrise in an instrustrial shelter and walking in the hot california sun with nowhere to go and nothing to eat until 4pm when the shelter doors reopened. Her father busy galavanting about with various women and drugs, not concerned with our well being until the eighth month when I gave birth to her. The day I brought her home he beat me so badly that the right side of my face was swollen to resemble that of a possum. I had stooped so low in life that i had gotten ussed to not having anything and came to the realization that this is how my life was predestined to turn out. Everything I said NEVER to had came to pass and I was no longer living but surviving.
Its been 5 years almost since the birth of my daughter and I have grown accustomed to the convenience of the government paying for me to live. I no longer have to pay cash for food and when I run out I just travel to local food pantries and stock up on old expired foods that people no longer deem fit to eat them selves so they give them away to the poor and impovershed who can not afford to be choosy.
I've grown so comfortable in bad relationships as a way of life that hte possibility of rela love no longer exists in my brain. The NBA player I always wanted has been replaced by a lowlife controlling parttime working man who'd rather bark orders and lay in the bed while I, sick or not, catered to his every whim of a need.
Fear of the reality of failure no matter how hard I try or how badly I want it overcomes my need for change and success. I am stuck in a rutt of a life out of comfort and the convenience of knowing what to expect without thinking that I deserve so much more in life.
I spend my days encouraging others in hopes that one day I will hear my own words and encourage myself.

Then there is always someone who reminds me that I am no better than anyone else. I am just a person with a wasted life and should, at my age, accept the fact that life is no bed of pink roses and there is no white carriage prepared to take me away to fantasy land, So I should just be grateful that I still have life left in me.
Ha!

the evil wolf on the prowl

Today I can feel the presence of the evil wolf preying about on  my weakened body. I can feel it as it grabs at my head. Tightening its jaws around my very sanity.  feel t as it is attempting to suck the very breath from my fragile respiratory system. My kidneys are weakened by the force of the blow as it attempt to flare. I can hear the angry growl as it gnashes its teeth into my immune system removing the strength I have from within. Today I feel as though I can not contnue to fght this beast. Its clutches seem to overpower me. I am weary, and tired. I feel the pain shooting through my jaws, and my collarbone. the evidence of something wrong showing as sharp pangs overtake my back. Urine is replaced by blood. Fear replaces strength.

Then I am quetly reminded of my shepherd. He guards me day and night. He watches me. He sees my pain. He hears me cry. and He reminds me of the blood He shed for me. the stripes by which I am healed.
I am encouraged in knowing that no matter how I feel, this too shall pass and I will overcome this. For I have a shepherd who is more powerful than any cannus Lupus wolf.

I hold on to my faith.

this is not for the unbelievers!

 when we have a society airing the unacceptable acts of so called role models, and forcing ppl to agree with ways and lifestyles they don't agree with, yet shutting down christians who are fighting and standing for what they believe in, we have lost our principles of freedom. We are forced to accept homosexuality in schools because we are discriminating if we do not. Yet Christians are discriminated against when they are hushed and silenced. We are not living by the thought of All men are created equal. It should be allowed to pray, learn biblical history, and view the ten commandments in school.
If you want people to be okay with what other people do, than you be okay with it first.
Are you afraid of reality?
i'm just saying that it's not fair to shut us down. Let us speak. We need a new movement! one that will most likely end in martyrdom, but will live forever with our Lord.
One that is non violent, but loving as Christ himself loved us. one that says, Hey Christ died for us, I will speak for Him.
leadership today is too afraid of persecution and finacial fines to really speak out on what they claim to have so much faith in.
Remember, God, through Christ Himself, said if we are ashamed of Him on earth, He will deny us in Heaven. If we can not speak out for him in our home, why should we expect him to allow us into HIS.

get it toghether all you Bishops, Apostles, Prophets, Preachers, Evangelists, Ministers, etc.
You speak the word of God. Live it. You want followers, follow Christ as the disciples did, be the Modern day Pauls, and Johns and etc.
Can never win someone to Christ when you yourself don't really believe in the power He gave you.

I believe in the power.