if emotions were trees


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A little bit of story

                       From The Start


              I am the child of an Iron Butterfly and a Flawed Leader. When you are the child of this particular couple, male or female, you learn early and quickly where your place is within the dysfunction. My place at first was as an accessory, for the Iron Butterfly loves attention. The ohhs and ahhs are symphonies to her love starved ears. Her greed for every inch of focus is relentless.  

All was well with the world until Life kicked down the door with addiction, infidelity and divorce. On top of that, I was finding my personality and my voice. Saying what I thought or what I felt didn’t earn me encouragement from her. Indifference, anger at my audacity to think and feel without her permission. This was the response from the one person who was supposed to understand my childish words and questions.

Without ever realizing it, I became something else, a target. A scapegoat. My world changed in ways that I could not explain (because Iron Butterfly’s rule was never to discuss house business) nor could I understand her violent contempt towards me but I knew even then, that I would spend my life thirsty for the answer. I felt the loss of something beautiful. I became the reason for her change in mood or bad day, the reason why she was late for work or whatever she could devise. I was someone unworthy of attention or care, even the most basic kinds of care was burdensome. I had learned that my needs were not important, but I had to tend to the needs of others or lose their love.

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Coming from a broken and dysfunctional upbringing, I vowed never to be a mother. My parents’ marriage was a good enough indication to me that being married was difficult and having children in the midst of that difficulty would cause the same pain that I had endured.

God had a plan and plucked me out of that life of violence and abuse, but I was carrying the heavy remains of it. It sat on my soul and distorted my already chaotic emotions. I didn’t know the first thing about being a mother, since my birth giver was pretty absent in every way you can imagine. I had no guide, or map to show me what to do and how to be.

Yet with that knowledge deep inside me, I basked in the joy of each son God blessed me with. I held them close and promised to be the best mother I could possibly be and as they grow I began to see how ill equipped I actually was for raising children. It was a learning process to put them before myself at a time when I was all I had and I didn’t think that would be enough to not screw them up somehow. Whether we like it or not, children are in the trenches with us during times of turmoil in the marriage, they soak up all these subliminal messages that twist and turn with age creating these personalities that make you squint in wonder. You never really know the impact until it comes to the surface and it lights up their eyes.

I’ve learned a lot about myself being a mother. I’ve learned that it’s okay to not like them. It’s okay to let them do things for themselves. I learned to trust that I have sown good seeds in them. I’ve learned the difference between a good mother and a bad mother. I’ve learned not do make their happiness my responsiblity all the time and it’s okay to take time for myself. It is NOT a weakness to ask for a break. I’ve not to expect them to understand things the way I want them to.  All these things have come on slowly but it has helped relieve so much pressure for me. It’s not easy to the one to hold everything together, especially during times when you feel like you’re falling apart. When I take the time for me, I am better for them.

Thanks for reading 🙂

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Announcing IF Books!!

Hi there wonderful followers,


I have put up a new website!



Keep writing 🙂

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new picture work


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What would you say?

What would you say,

if I said my day is gray

and how much it would weigh

in the middle of the fray?

Would you say okay,

I’ll stay at bay and keep away?

What would you say,

and would your words lead me astray or

betray while pelting me with bouquets?

Do I wait for them to decay, so I can go my way

and cheer my last hooray?

Let me convey that you are a Monet,

really nice from far away. So different from what you portray.

What would you say? I couldn’t give a hay

because you will have a last day and believe me, there’s no valet in the place you’ll stay.

They have your dossier.

Each day you will replay and repay.

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Three years ago, I started this blog thinking I was wasting my time posting things, my work, etc., that no one would be interested in what I had to say. I am happy to say that I was wrong in thinking that and the followers and those wonderful people I follow have given me inspiration to continue writing, sharing because everyone has a voice, something worth expressing any way you can.

Thank you for your support and keep writing !

God bless


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