SONS

Dr. Phil once said, you don’t bring children into the world with the purpose of helping you, yet unintentionally, my sons gave me purpose and the courage to keep fighting. I fought for my life so I could love, care, and fight for them.

My son, Cory, walked me through every step of my book. Not the writing of it, but all the computer related aspects far beyond my ability, dealing with the printer then self-publishing it for me on Amazon.

He did the artwork for the cover:

And he also wrote the book’s description on the back cover:

Dad died and chaos ruled.

The only girl in a family of seven brothers, Patricia Grace found her childhood violently ripped away in the wake of her father’s death. Her brothers became tormentors, using their little sister as an outlet for rage and lust. Her mother, reeling with grief and fighting to raise eight children on her own, turned a blind eye to the abuse. Patricia learned to play the loving sister, desperate to maintain the illusion of a happy family even as the shame became unbearable.

Now, after decades of silence, she is telling her truth. Shattered is the astonishing story of a girl coming of age in a house of secrets, and her battle as an adult to make peace with the past. Patricia relays her struggles with weight, depression, and self-esteem with searing honesty and rich emotional depth. Her unsparing prose paints an intimate portrait of courage and hope in the bleakest of circumstances. More than a memoir, Shattered is a testament to the healing power of truth-telling and the resilience of the human spirit.

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My freedom started to become possible the day it was published. My son is the one person with the strength to have walked this path with me, and it is to him that I dedicated my book.

Thank you ~C~

Your search for the truth gave voice to my own.

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Enjoyment of my surroundings slowly returns as pieces of me fall back into place. Exhaustion from whirlwind after whirlwind these past weeks have taken me from myself. A simple filling falling out increased my usual fears to terror as all medical things do. Gratitude for having women dentists who had me in immediately comfort me due to their competence and compassion.

I’ve had no sense of knowing of what I needed because my parts had exploded over and over causing me to become lost, confused and preoccupied, even taking the wrong medicine several nights. But slowly little miracles matter again, the wonder of a robin splashing in the birdbath, the squirrel leaping from tree to tree, birds plucking worms from the lawn, while children play across the road. And of course the usual joys felt more completely now that all of me is returning- my dear sons and their children.

That soft voice rises with the knowledge of what’s needed with permission to take it slowly while rest and quiet help strength return. Though knowing all along that interactions with ‘origin family’ are not safe, I’d forgotten how at any moment a tornado of wounds can be clawed opened from the inside out as if a voracious saber tooth tiger was let loose inside me.

A stressed, wounded heart takes time to heal.