Neither One Of Us Remember


Neither one of us can remember how we first met. She’s pretty sure that she found me through my response to a Daily Post prompt. I’ll take her word for it since memory is not my strongest trait.

For the last few years, she’s been in my corner. She’s given me many virtual hugs and left comments that have made me tear up or laugh or both. She has inspired many posts on this blog through her Prompts For The Promptless series and just by being herself.

She told me once that I’m an inspiration to her, and honestly, without meaning to be humble, I find that difficult to believe since she is such a huge inspiration to me. Her creativity, kindness, generosity and magic are peerless, and I doubt anyone who knows her would challenge that claim. I can’t see how anyone could dislike her. I just don’t see how it’s possible to dislike someone who has helped so many, including me, with a kind word and genuine caring. She is thoughtful, funny, smart, talented, wondrous and one hell of a writer.

I can be talking about none other than the inimitable Rarasaur, my friend.

My friend is going through a rough time now and she has been for nearly four years, which is longer than I’ve even known her. For years, she’s had injustice hanging over her head, but you’d never know it from the way she interacts with the world.

Almost four years ago, she was accused of a crime she did not commit by rich bastards. I have absolutely no doubt that Rara is innocent. None at all. She did not do this. If you told me that she is an actual dinosaur with a pet unicorn, I would believe that over believing that she is guilty of the crime of which she is accused.

She has spent all of her time and money fighting this injustice and it looks like she might lose. She might go to jail for something she did not do because she doesn’t have the money and energy to fight it anymore. That makes me rage.

Many of you know that I spent years in my own battle with the legal system. I lost. I never got any justice and it looks like Rara won’t either. Justice shouldn’t be doled out only to those who can afford it. It should not allow innocent people to go to prison and let guilty people walk away, but it does. Our system is broken. The justice system is a misnomer. There is little justice in the justice system, at least, not for those of us on the bottom.

I am hoping against hope that some sort of karmic miracle happens and Rara can fight the legal battle facing her. I am hoping against hope that she will be acquitted of this heinous crime and she is returned to us where she belongs. I rearranged my bills for a minute so that I could donate an embarrassingly small amount. I wish I could do more.

If you can help in any way, please, consider donating to help Rara and her family.

Read Rara’s story in her own words and donate here.

Help spread the word with Bloggers for Peace Emergency Challenge.

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A Letter To My Mom


Where do we start? I guess the beginning is as good a place as any. You were in labor with my 10 lb. 14 oz. bulk for nearly two days. I was a month overdue; I did not want to come out and this was before the days of induced labor. Nowadays, I wouldn’t be allowed to get so fat. They would have sprung me the month before.

I was a really fat baby. In my hospital baby picture, my head is wider than it is tall with my Jabba the Hut neck. I didn’t realize it until many years later, but I was the reason you weren’t able to have any more children. I was fat and very sick, though you didn’t know it then.

A month later, I was in the neonatal intensive care unit fighting for my life. You were told to prepare for the worst. I died several times. I nearly didn’t make it. When I survived, you were told to expect side effects from the disease that had ravaged my brain stem and spinal cord. These could include paralysis, brain damage, learning disabilities and hearing loss among others. I was too young yet to know what damage it had done.

It must have been awful for you not knowing what side effects I would have. You must have hung on tenterhooks for the next few years, waiting for the damage to present itself. It’s no wonder you distanced yourself from me. It must have been too painful to be the mom you were for my sister for a child you thought you’d lose, for a child who was damaged.

Seven years later, when it was evident that the worst side effects I had were partial hearing loss and severe migraines, you allowed a monster into our home, but you didn’t know. You didn’t know that this stranger you let live in our house was tying me up, torturing me and raping away my innocence. It seems like you should have known, that some mom sense in you should have set off alarms, but that didn’t happen. The gap between us, probably the result of my infant meningitis, was too great. You invited him inside.

I can forgive you for letting the monster in, because you really didn’t know, but I cannot forgive you for siding with him. When I finally worked up the courage to tell you about it, absolutely the bravest thing I have ever done, you did not believe me. You let the abuse continue. You sent me right back into the monster’s lair. It was a betrayal that cut so deep that I’m not sure I’ll ever truly get over it.

You made a seven-year old child feel entirely alone in the world with no one to talk to or turn to for help. You abandoned me to the wolves that lived inside my mind. You let the wound fester. You swept it all away and pretended it never happened. I cannot forgive you for that betrayal.

The repercussions of your betrayal are still rippling through my life even now. When the people whose job it is to protect you abandon you to the monsters, it makes it impossible to trust anyone. If I can’t trust you, my own mother, who can I trust? No one.

Because you never got me any help, you made it seem as if it was my problem; it was my fault. It was not my fault, but I didn’t realize that until many years later. Sexual abuse is an awful thing to carry around with you, especially when you have no one to talk to about it. You left me to deal with that all on my own.

I didn’t talk to you for three years because of that. When I finally started talking to you again, only because I heard that dad had cancer, I told you all of that. You listened and understood and even apologized, but there’s nothing you can say to make up for abandoning me as a child. I carry that burden along with you.

You didn’t blame me for not talking to you and you’re grateful that I do now. You don’t nag me for not calling or visiting regularly enough anymore. You don’t balk when I tell you about a new tattoo or something else you don’t approve of. You let me live my life and you’re thankful that I allow you in it at all, because now you know just how easy it would be for me to cut you out altogether. I don’t lord it over you, but we both know our history is a barrier between us and there is nothing we can do about it. We both know it’s there and why, but it will not go away.

I cannot forgive you for abandoning me, for betraying me and not believing me, but I still reach out to you from time to time, because you are my mother. You failed your child in one of the worst ways imaginable and you weren’t a good mother, but you are the only one I have. Some day, you won’t be here anymore. When that happens, I will be sad, but I won’t feel any regret. I’ve already told you everything I need to say.

Written for Bloggers for Peace: We Are Family.

forpeace6More B4Peace Posts:

B4Peace Family –
Dearest Daughter –
Bad Dreams – A Letter to My Mother –

And Let There Be Peace


Another year, another Bloggers for Peace challenge. Here we go ’round the world again, spreading peace and cookies. At least, I was promised there would be cookies. I still haven’t had any cookies.

This month, Kozo wants us to come up with a peace mantra of sorts: What one thought will you focus on this year to bring more peace?

This is a tough one. I don’t really have any mantras, mostly because I can never remember them and I never find they work all that well (perhaps because I can never remember them). If I had a motto, it would probably be “eh,” possibly “meh” or maybe “more cookies.”


I think it’s best if I use someone else’s words besides my own (see above), since so many amazing people have said it better than I could. There are a billion awesome quotes about peace out there.

Initially, I thought of personal heroes, like Martin Luther King Jr. or Nelson Mandela, but I’d like to choose a simple statement that I could wake up and see, like a metaphorical sticky note on my mirror. Something that could not only make everyone else think differently about peace, but make me think differently as well.

Without further ado, I present my quote for peace in 2014:


This post is part of Bloggers For Peace.
More B4Peace posts:
B4Peace: Keep saying it and it will come true – Electronic Bag Lady
Start with one – VernetteOutLoud
January Peace Post – bodhisattvaintraining

December Peace Party


Crappety crap crap crap. It’s over halfway through Decembar and I haven’t done my Bloggers for Peace post yet. I nearly almost forgot. So, what is it?

Plan a party that will ripple peace to the world.

Crappety crap crap crap. I’m not good at parties. I don’t like attending them and I don’t like throwing them. I will come to your party, find some alcohol and a place to chain smoke while making fun of all your guests. Then, I’ll leave without saying goodbye to anyone. The next day, you’ll come over to my house and say, “Where did you disappear to? One second you were there, and the next, you were gone.” I know this because those were the exact words a friend of mine said on Sunday morning after Saturday night’s party. I’m like a bad party ninja.

Party planning. Shudder. Alright fine. Let’s plan a party for the world.

1. Invitations. Everyone is invited to my party. I do mean everyone. It doesn’t matter where you live, what ethnicity, religion, sexual orientation or race you are. My party will take place everywhere including the internet. Everyone is invited and there will be no squabbling. If you are involved in a kerfuffle, you will be escorted to an area where you can settle your differences diplomatically.

Since there are bound to be clashes, we will have a get to know you type of thing. Everyone will be assigned a random party buddy so no one has to come alone or feel like a wallflower. Your job is to get to know your party buddy. If they happen to be your enemy, you will set that aside. The aim is to have a good time, not settle political differences. Your party buddy is your friend for the night. Tomorrow, you can go back to killing each other.

Unfortunately, some people will have to work on the night of the party. If your job is one of those imperative jobs where you don’t get holidays off, like emergency services or bartender for my party, you get to pick a day off at some other time of your choosing. All you have to say to your employer is “party night” and you get 24-hours off no questions asked.

2. Booze. I have social anxiety and the only way I can really get through a party is with at least one drink. It’s a requirement unless you want me to hide in a corner, chain-smoking and glowering. So, everyone can have one drink with a maximum of five. Tipsy is okay at my party; drunk is not. If you are drunk, you will be excused for a little while to a sober up area. My bartenders are the arbiters of drunkenness. If they think you are too intoxicated, they will serve you placebo drinks for the remainder of the evening.

3. Music. So as not to exclude anyone, we’ll be playing the biggest dance hits from around the world in every decade from the 1920s up, heavy on the big band and swing music, because I don’t care who you are, you can’t hate big band music. If you’re under 70 years old, you might groan about it, but I don’t care. Learn to dance like your grandparents. They knew how to do it right:

4. Food. What would a party be without food? This party will be a pot luck because I want to try all of your food. I ask, not require, but ask that you bring one item of food that best represents your city, region or country. If you live in the American south, bring sweet potato pie or something. If you’re from Boston, bring clam chowder, etc. I would like to try one bite of food that best represents every city on earth. Please make sure that dishes are clearly labeled with an ingredients list. We don’t want any anaphylactic allergy reactions.

5. The big event. At midnight in every time zone, if you became separated, you will find your party buddy. We’ll hand out champagne or sparkling cider and everyone will count down like it’s the New Year, even if it isn’t. At the stroke of twelve, we’ll be celebrating a new openness in the world. Hopefully, by the end of the evening, you will have made at least one new friend from a different culture. You will have tried some food from a part of the world that you might not have tried otherwise. You will realize that maybe we’re not so different after all and this enemy business is kind of silly.