Going on a ride

We watched three children; two boys and a girl walk toward the white van. It is one of those big white ones with all the windows tinted dark gray private agencies use, that taxpayers’ pay for.

 They are happy to be together again. All the children know is they are off on a new adventure, what they do not realize is this adventure they are on is the last one they will ever have together as siblings. As they wave goodbye to their grandma’s standing outside who is blowing them kisses and waving back. Telling them goodbye with big smiles on their faces, everyone, I mean everyone has smiles on their faces.

 As the big white van drives away and the babies cannot see us anymore, we bust down and cry, cry, cry, from the depths of our Souls. They have taken our babies from us knowing we will never see them, will never hold them, and we can never play with them, we can never make them pancakes again. I lost part of my heart that day. It has never been the same.

Since that day grandma Jean died two months after the children's mother died, and I grandma Denise am trying to document all my memories of a family destroyed by a pedophile.

Months after the children taken from us by the state of Michigan, just before Christmas, December 17th to be exact I got to speak with Beylen for the last time he was 8 years old. He is telling me that he would be living with his birth father eventually, but in the meantime; he would go stay with his grandma, on his father's side. The caseworker had informed me that his father had refused to let me see him again or to have anything to do with him. Beylen was then separated from his siblings; they were put up for adoption to another family. They had same mother different fathers.

While, talking to my grandson I stayed encouraging and supportive. Oh, what a wonderful Christmas present to be able to live with your grandma. Hugs, kisses, and a ton of I love you exchanged. Bye Beylen, I Love you. Love you too Grandma.

After I hung up, this horrendous sound came from the depths of my soul I had never heard before, it came exploding out of me. I could not stop it. I do not know where it came from, but it just comes screaming out of my mouth then the sobbing and the tears and more sobbing, but my baby Beylen never knew his grandma lost another piece of her heart that day. It was his last time to talk to me for ten years.

 

Shove it where the sun doesn't shine

I went to jail for protecting myself from my husband one-time; he used to beat me daily. This particular time he had given me a black eye, bloody nose, and swollen lip after he threw a knife at me that stuck in the wall instead of me.

I had left him a month before and moved to another town miles away. Found a job, rented a room over an old storefront building it was small, cheap, and I felt safe.. The room was quaint with plaster walls, a light hung from the center of ten foot high ceiling with only bare wires with no shade. The wooden floors clean and shiny but needed refinishing. A twin bed snug against the wall, with a small end table next to it, and a window with lace curtains in the center of the wall of the narrow room. I shared a bathroom down the hall with other people who rented similar rooms. It was mine, all mine.

 I was in the middle of preparing breakfast food for the restaurants line cooks. Baking old fashion buttermilk biscuits, frying bacon and sausage, coffee was brewing, the smell was deliciously hanging throughout the kitchen. Country music was playing on the radio, we were happy and laughing. I was feeling almost like my old self, full of confidence and anything was possible for the future.  Little did I know what was lurking outside for me. He found out where I worked. 

After he came in the back door of the restaurant he grabbed me. He was dragging me out the back door when I grabbed the door jamb on both side of the opening. I'm screaming for him to let go of me, my boss grab me under my arm pits but she and I couldn't break his grip. He got me outside into the car and drove off.  The police had been called but they didn't get there in time. He drove us back to the one bedroom trailer we had rented from a church pastor and his wife. 

The police showed up and took us both to jail.

He got out of jail on his own recognize that same day because he was from KY.

I am from Michigan.  Because of that the judge thought I was a flight risk. Ya think so?  I ended up spending 30 days because the judge wouldn't give me back my $100 bail money. So, I told the judge to shove it where the sun doesn't shine. Was not one of my better reactions to an authority figure. Needless to say, the judge didn't find my response humorous.
This happened in London KY. 

Poem to survivor of sexual assault

I searched for words to tell you what not to feel

I searched for words to tell you how to feel

I searched and searched then realized I could tell you a million words

But I did not experience your time and place

I did have my own, so I do know the place

But there are no words to express some experiences

In the end, results are always the same

Violated, hard to trust, anger that comes from know where

In time it will get easier the fear will subside

A day will come, and you will feel at peace again.

I am safer alone

She sits at the kitchen table listening to the water drip, drip, drip. Her memory goes back to a time in life when she remembers how vulnerable she could be. He controlled everything, she feared to make choices, trained from childhood to be obedient. Sexual abuse started when she was 3.

Now at 44, the dripping from the faucet reminds her of a time long ago when he put his hand through the window. They are fighting over his infidelity.

He knocks her down then sits with his knees on her forearms. She can't move, terror red is all she sees. The blood he is dripping on her forehead is running into her eyes.

He says, "In Viet Nam, we use to terrorize our captives this way. It can get worse".

Crying, begging, rocking her head back and forth desperate to keep the blood from running into her eyes. It's causing her to see everything through a red haze. Blood dripped, splattered, ran down the walls. He left after that never to come back.

Crying, sobbing from the aftermath of abuse. She doesn't know what to clean first.

Drenched in blood my vision blurred, I remember it well. Rinsed my eyes out than wiped my face. Didn't figure I should change my clothes.

By the time I washed the blood from walls, ceiling, furniture, and the floor my clothes drenched with his diluted blood, I took off my clothes and threw them away. Standing in the shower sobbing until the water ran clear and cold. I got out of the shower a new woman.

Until the next time, I meet the new one to bring terror in my life.

Now at 62, I stay alone. After 3 relationships that brought me to the brink of death, I'm safer alone.

#MeToo #iamwriting #amwriting

Thank you Letter for my donating to AARDA from my eBay sales

Here is a letter that I was sent and am very proud to know I am making a difference for people with Autoimmune related diseases. Every little bit makes a difference.

September 11, 2017

Dear Donor, Artist Denise Fletcher 

On behalf of the Board of Directors of the American Autoimmune Related Diseases Association (AARDA) and myself personally, I am writing this letter of appreciation. We thank you for your financial support during this past year, whether through your online giving or your payroll campaign participation. 

Over the past year, we have been hard at work on behalf of the over 50 Million Americans living with autoimmune diseases. We could not have done any of it without your generosity. AARDA has;

• Redesigned our website www.aarda.org. We have now included a resource list for patients seeking financial help and other services.
• Focused on federal and state level advocacy issues surrounding patient-doctor-insurance communication, step therapy, non-medical switching, the AHCA, among other issues.
• Worked with others to have PDUFA (Prescription Drug User Free Act) pass both the house and senate (www.aarda.org/pdufa).
• Officially launched ARNet, the Autoimmune Research Network. This patient-powered database will connect patients and researchers in helping to better understand and create innovative treatments for autoimmune diseases.
• Continued our long-term programming including; funding the young investigators' research grant, providing patients with information and resources, holding two scientific colloquiums per year, and increasing public awareness about autoimmune diseases.

You are an important part of this AARDA mission that works to improve the lives of the 50 Million Americans and their families affected by autoimmune disease.  Your donor dollars have positioned AARDA to advocate for improved-therapies and additional research and have enabled us to support scientists of the future. Your dollars have been stretched even further through the valuable assistance of dedicated volunteers and contributed in-kind services. This has enabled us to hold our combined administrative and fundraising costs to only 8 percent of our revenues!

Again, thank you. Your kindness does not go unnoticed.  Your help does, indeed, make a difference.

With appreciation,

Virginia Ladd
President/Executive Director

Diagnoses and Living with Fibromyalgia

Just wanted to write some good news as to what I have been up too.
Been sick for many months so everything I have been doing is just taking care of myself. It is all you can do when you have a terminal disease.

After many tests then experimental natural medicine and Pharmacy drugs I hope to be on the road to normalcy. If you have never had a long-term illness normalcy is not a normal life. It's just the most normal I can hope for.

When I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia the doctor said: "I have good news and bad news which do you want first?"

"Give me the good news first."

"Well, Denise you have Fibromyalgia. Now you at least have a name for your illness."

"And the bad news is there is no cure so you will have it the rest of your life."

I was relieved to know it wasn't imaginary after Ten years of being told it was in my head. I learned how to live and work with it. Knowing I had to use time and energy wisely helped. The main problem was family and friends didn't understand what my body was going through. They would suggest exercise, special food diets, detox chemicals and metals out of my body. People just didn't understand I needed to sleep 14 hours a day. I couldn't go for walks anymore. I had to save the energy to bath, cook, clean house.

I was only 30  years old when I first had signs of the disease.
I continued to work and raise kids until I turned 58 years old. As the years passed the disease progressively got worse.
After getting fired for being sick I went on disability. Its taken three years but I am having some luck with a better life than it had been. Working is a privilege when you have a terminal illness. So many take it for granted, I loved to work. But my body said, "You are done, no more."

Its ok now I do all the things I didn't have time or energy for. Writing, painting, reading, and family on the days the pain isn't taking me down. Just started taking Lyrica, it is expensive but the Fibromyalgia is getting worse as the years go by. I do have a good Doctor who is willing to make my life as normal as possible if being limited is any kind of normal. I smile and try to laugh when I can it helps to accept the miserable existence.

Have a great day I will try

Wean me off these drugs

Been a member of the Fibromyalgia English/Afrikaans quite some time and it helped me through some rough times. This past month I had enough of medication that just did not work. Told my doctor enough was enough, wean me off these drugs. It was tough. I survived the withdrawals. Less pain now, less stiffness, but thank goodness I am not being videotaped daily.

The mood swings from tears, anger, laughter, confusion, frustration and did develop high blood pressure now. I take aspirin and medical marijuana as needed, it does work. Not daily either. Just when the pain is intolerable. Now if I could just get the emotional fixed, but the pharmaceutical drugs has so many negative effects on me I would rather be known as the crazy lady who lives with 2 dogs, artist who paints pictures, and smokes pot.

My energy level skyrocketed from sleeping 14 hours a day and 10 hours of exhaustion to sleeping 6 hours a day and getting so much done that I had never dreamed possible again in my life. I was diagnosed 1996, symptoms started at least 10 years before. Saw many psychiatrists over that 10 years, no one knew what Fibro was. Had many family and friends giving me advice on exercise and diet. Even this past year had someone tell me I just needed to move more, did not respond to her skinny self (20+ years younger than me) with a husband and two sons to help her to do all the things I do not have help with. This is why I call Fibromyalgia the stupid disease, for the stupid things people say to us with the disease. They are not educated in the disease and chose not to understand the disease.

When your child dies, Oh how I miss her

I guess this is how I have dealt with my daughter's death on her birthday and the day she left.

 I do have sad times but mostly I can laugh at the little stupid things that Kathy and I would laugh at. I talk to her and express how she would have enjoyed the experience with me. Then we laugh together, she hears me that's all that matters. I don't celebrate her death or birthday because she wouldn't want me to glorify her death. Instead, we talk every day, just like when she was alive.
I am selfish I don't want to share my special time I have with her of a spiritual nature.

I was by myself when I gave birth to her at 15, there was no family just hospital staff. When she went to a better place for her, not me, it was only her and I. No family, no friends, just my daughter and I. Yes I am crying as I write this, just because I don't often express my pain of losing my best friend doesn't mean it hurts less, it means I am selfish about all the special times we had. RIP Kathryn Martin

Poor me day LOL

She has been trying so hard and getting nowhere.
Tired can't even begin to describe her life.
Denise and her pets surviving the winter until her paintings and prints sell. She is working very hard to get the word out about her paintings.

Sincerely love and blessings,
Matilda and Teddy

Just to tired

Haven't posted since the end of July 2016, just not enough energy to do the things I want to do.
For those who don't know, I have #Fibromyalgia disease.
Lately, illness is just too much to deal with. I don't know if it is the medication that makes me tired, the illness or getting older. Maybe it is just all three.

Positive note finally got to see my daughters oldest child he is 18 years old now. Hadn't seen him for 10 years. Wish I could say he is doing well but he isn't.

Started this post weeks ago and I am just now getting back to finishing it. LOL
But that is what it's like with Fibromyalgia. The other day it took me 6 hours to ship a box with UPS and I dried a half a load of laundry. That was it for the day.

I have been painting pictures to sell on eBay sold one of another artist but I have faith I will sell mine too.

Been going to art class one night a week to learn other styles, it is helpful.

Well got to go take a nap so I can go to class tonight.

Happy Thanksgiving to all.

Many shade's of abuse

Abuse doesn't have a color, religion, gender, age, or financial amount of income.

The little blond, blue eyed child is always happy in school. Yet on the way home, this child becomes solemn and slower in the child's step towards home.

The brown hair, brown eye child is always getting into fights. Why? Could it be that at home someone is always picking on this child?

Two or more children are playing sex games and showing their private parts to others? This is a sign they are being taught this at home or somewhere? Could be church, neighbor, sibling, childrens club, and on and on.

You see these children in the store and their eyes have this pleding or blank stare. The signs are there, you just have to look. It is better to be wrong than say nothing at all, instead in the news later on you hear of a child missing or dead. 

We need more awareness of child abuse

Children have the smallest voices, some have no voice at all to protect themselves. Us survivors must make agencies that are supposed to be protecting them do their jobs.  Untie the hands of those who can help. I would rather be wrong than not say anything at all. I spoke out and nothing was done to the perpetrators of my three grandchildren.  Now they have to live with memories of horrific abuse. And so do I because I did not scream and carry on, if I had they would have locked me up. But at least my grandchildren would have had a chance to a normal life. Maybe.
I  ask all of you who read this share my blog. It isn't much but maybe we can save a few children in the next hour from abuse or death.

April is Child Abuse Awareness Month this link is from legacy.9news.com/

In 2013, there were 679,000 victims of child abuse and neglect throughout the United States.

1. That would be 56,583 per month.
2. That would be 155 children abused or neglected a day.
3. That would be 6.46 children an hour Everyday in The United States of America.

American Human Organization
Here is a paragraph from The American Human Organization website.

The tragedy of child abuse- and neglect-related fatalities has been brought into our homes with increasing frequency by recent media reports. There was two-month-old Tanner Dowler, who died of physical abuse at the hands of his young parents despite efforts by his grandparents to alert and prompt authorities to intervene even before he was born. And there was 14-month-old Demitri Robledo, who was tortured and starved by his male babysitter. Equally disturbing was the story of five-year-old Zachary Bennett who was fatally beaten after being returned to his father despite the fact that his father had a criminal record of domestic violence and drug abuse. And there was six-year-old Elisa Izquierdo who died at the hands of her mother in New York. Born addicted to crack cocaine, Elisa suffered a lifetime of her mother’s abuse.

Road blocks, I see away, then another road block, Just call me lucky

A year ago I was stressing over where I would live this year.  In August 2015, I found a house to rent in October, felt safe again. Worried about having a place to live, food on the table and medical insurance to cover my medical needs.

Here it is Jan. 2017 I get a check in the mail from a lawsuit against the mortgage company Chase

$55,000,000 settlement against them And I received Cha-Ching a grand total of $8.93. Well, just call me lucky. 

February 2016 I found out my medical insurance is being canceled, now I have insurance that doesn't cover my medical needs. They cut food budget down to $16 a month, so no more healthy food that is low calorie. Instead, it is high in carbs to make the dollar go further.

I am not asking for a lot just a place to live that is mine and no-one can kick me out. That I can afford to heat and keep in good condition.  Just would like to feel safe in my old age since I have not felt safe most of my life. No vacations, fancy car or jewelry.  Just a safe, warm place I can call home.

I have no fine jewelry left, had to sell two years ago to buy food January 2014.  That was the winter I got sick and could not run my truck the way it should have been to produce enough money to support the truck and drivers that were driving it. Instead, they stole fuel money from me and blew tires on the truck. Each tire cost $500. Face it, I just make lousy decisions should have kicked the drivers out of the truck then.

In May 2014, I sold my truck paid off what I could. Took three months off to grieve all my losses over the previous seven years.

Last year (2014) I gave up the fight to save my house, overpriced because of the financial crisis that everyone went through.  I fought the mortgage company a little over two years. Sometimes you just have to give up a battle to win the war.

I have a steady income, better off than others, but not enough to get where I need to be. Safe.

Now to where I am going with this story is I recently tried to do a Fund-me page and because of sexual assault and child abuse they have it on hold. I am trying to raise money to get 3 Novellas written.  Because of the topics I have anxiety attacks and have to stop writing. It is taking me a long time, and to tell the truth, it is very uncomfortable to relive the violence I went through.

I keep trying to no avail, to publish the books so I can generate more income. So I can buy me a little house to live out my days on this earth without feeling in constant fear.

Well, I haven't achieved as much as I would have liked by now, Jan 2017. I am painting which is soothing to the soul.

I do have a small house I call home now; it is not mine but I feel safe here.

Waking with tears, fibromyalgia my dependable friend.

I woke up in pain all over my body this morning and my heart from being disrespected from my grandchild. I feel too deep emotionally, don't know why.
So many others in this world have suffered so much more than I.
Did get a painting done yesterday, will finish at least one of the paintings today.

As the morning goes by the pain in my body eases up, but the pain in my heart stays.  I wish I was less emotional and less caring what others want or need.

Why can't I be a cold hearted and a bitch like so many others I know. Selfishness has never been in my vocabulary. After telling someone many times what I needed or wanted then I may go for it.

Life is just getting so hard for so many on this earth. Not enough time, money, or love.