Art Therapy


I have always been a creative type, some of my talent is a gift from God, it’s also a gift from Joan’s high expectations of me. If I created beauty then it reflected good on her.

I have found my talents to be an outlet for my emotional pain, I create constantly in my mind. Since my mind is like the wheels of a watch constantly ticking; in order to stop the negative self talk, anxious thoughts or painful memories on instant replay..I create in my mind instead.

Which is one reason why I love the Dollar Tree! Endless opportunities for my creative outlets. However, the downside is that I desperately need a craftroom or more organized storage for my stash.

You’re creations do not have to become something jaw dropping every time. I find having a quiet house, good music, thirst quenching drink and finger snacks makes for a relaxing friendly atmosphere. Oh…bandages on hand help too if you’re using a hot glue gun. #clumsy

Let your mind soar, no boundaries and most of all HAVE FUN!


The Pig of Teen Sexual Assault

I recently watched a documentary about teen sexual assault in today’s world and the use of smart phones and social media.

The title is “Audrie and Daisy” and aired on FX and now available on Netflix. If you are or know a preteen or teenage girl or boy, you have to watch this.  As a parent or adult in a young adults life, this documentary will open your eyes to so much!

Rape culture isn’t new, but in the world of technology that’s clearly smart and new, we ALL have to take a stand against it. I can’t even comprehend what I would have done if my rape was taped and plastered all over the internet.  I do know that suicide would have been pondered and most likely accomplished.

The bravery and strength these young women have shown by speaking out is astronomical!  The parents that have spoken out are just as brave and strong. So many people choose to point fingers and judge; WHICH IS NOT HELPFUL IT’S DESTRUCTIVE!

Please watch this documentary. Please teach the young people in your life about rape, sexual assault, alcohol, narcotics, safe boundaries, bullying and how to stand up for what’s right.

You can obtain further information at as its time to cut this pigs throat.

My heart, love and prayers go out to all these beautiful young ladies.

The Wild Pig & The Barfly


High school was completely crazy!  I had no supervision once I moved back to Joan’s house.  I came and went as I pleased, no curfew and no restrictions.  A teenagers dream life! I was responsible though for cooking my own meals, cleaning the house weekly, my laundry, having a job and paying for my gas and car insurance.  I was handed a ridiculous amount of responsibility at 16.  My friends loved my mom because of all of this and I pretended it was amazing. Yet deep down I was frightened, insecure, sad and very angry. Little did my friends know I was envious of their required family dinners, doing homework at the kitchen table, having to call and check in after school and be on a curfew.

Let’s start with the free reign to do what I wanted.  If I was hanging out with friends my age, we were required to be to their home by a certain time.  Honestly I loved the freedom at first so I rarely hung out with friends my age. I was typically dating someone 18 and older so our nights consisted of drinking, sex and mischief. In the 80’s we could have parties that lasted all night without any cops being called, alcohol was easy to get and if a home wasn’t available for our soiree then a field somewhere was just as good.

Drinking and driving was normal. No other way to put it, we drank and we cruised, radio blaring Motley Crue or Van Halen. We drag raced, no seat belts and open containers in the car.

School wasn’t optional in my eyes, but I loathed it. I had ADD and didn’t know it, I don’t think it became a real diagnosis until the 90’s, so I was considered rebellious as a student. Teachers thought I didn’t care about my education, so they didn’t care about me. Very simply put, they never invested time in me. I couldn’t focus on reading as I couldn’t retain any of it. I couldn’t understand why I could read an entire page and not have any clue what I had just read. I truly thought I was just stupid and my grades reflected that. I had to take summer school classes after my sophomore year and a full schedule of classes my senior year to graduate with a 2.5 GPA.

I was wild and out of control. I had a mouth like a truck driver, my bark and my bite were both terrifying, but you couldn’t tell by looking at me. I was an underdeveloped skinny girl who had to prove herself as a badass, for fear that others might feel they could treat me the same way Joan did.

My mom, the barfly, despised me. She didn’t EVER want to be bothered by me. Thursday through Saturday nights you could find Joan at her favorite watering hole dancing and drinking the night away.  Typically dressed in a leather miniskirt, pumps, low-cut blouse, big earrings and even bigger hair.  Just picture Tina Turner in the 80’s and you have Joan.

It wasn’t odd that sometimes we strolled into the front door at the same time on the weekends, typically between 2 and 3am. Both drunk, looking like hammered shit and never saying one word to each other.

Joan made it clear that she didn’t care what I did or how my grades looked. She told me to marry into money because I wasn’t smart enough to have a career that paid well nor pretty enough to have my choice of men. No wonder I didn’t bother at trying to be a better student, mom didn’t believe in me so why should I believe in myself.

I have to say that writing that last paragraph made me nauseous! I couldn’t imagine telling my children this EVER! My two beautiful gifts from God are my life and I will walk through hell to make sure they know they are loved and wanted and worthy! I don’t expect them to be doctors or engineers, I just want them to be happy and to follow their dreams. To feel loved and be loved by me. To know they are worthy of God’s love no matter what happens in life. To be kind-hearted compassionate souls to everyone and everything they encounter. To know that love is not conditional from me nor God.

I deserved better from my mother, her mother didn’t treat her this way, there’s no excuse for her behavior. I was her pig.

The Mask of the Wolf and the Sheep


A wolf in sheep’s clothing has been a parable used for centuries.  Except the poor wolf has been labeled as an angry beast and only out for blood, meanwhile the sheep is innocent and prey to the wolf. Both used to describe humans as either predator or prey, the emotionally angry beast could cover up his gnashing teeth with a mask of emotionally lacking sweet innocence.  Is this where we humans learned to cover up our emotions with the proverbial mask?

Did you know that both of these creatures from God represent all of our emotions? Take a look at this wheel of emotions, the center emotions are our core base emotions. Moving outward are the next phase emotions generating from one of the core emotions.


Wolves have our similar core emotions as humans, they don’t show all of it on their faces, but they do with body language and vocally without words.

Sheep also have our similar core emotions, again based on their physical and vocal actions.

So why does the wolf have to be the bad guy in this? He’s the predator plain and simple. Raw end of the stick I’d say!

The “bad guy” is the expectation that we must cover our true identity with a mask.

  • “Never let them see you cry”
  • “You have no right to be angry”
  • “What are you so scared of you pussy”
  • “You know you look stupid”
  • “What are you so happy about”
  • “Don’t just stand there”
  • “Look how you made me feel”
  • “I don’t understand you or where you’re coming from”
  • “Wipe that look off your face”
  • “Keep your chin up”
  • “You have to stay strong”
  • “You’re being dramatic”
  • “Your feelings aren’t fair to me”

Each of these common statements inflict shame, embarrassment, condemnation and conditional love. None of us want to feel this way, so we “put on a happy face” our mask, disconnect from our feelings and become someone we’re not.

Maybe this is why I loved Halloween for so many years, I could dress up and be and act the part of my costume. Freedom for one night of the year.

I took my mask off 16 years ago when the Matriarch of our family died. I was no longer ruled over by her, I didn’t have to please her any longer. I got to confront her destruction head on and find the lost little girl who was never good enough. I cried for the first time in front of my psychologist of 6 years!  I found my angry voice and let people have it who’ve hurt me. I was like a shaken can of soda opened for the first time, I exploded in emotions.

Ironically at this time a homeless wolf hybrid showed up at my house.  While most were afraid of her, I saw her pain in needing love. I took her in, I loved her, fed her, bathed her, took her to the veterinarian and gave her a home. She in turn protected me, saved me, comforted me and loved me unconditionally.  This emotionally connected creature was a gift to me from God.

The sheep in all of these parables, is the mask. The mask of being stifled. Such an interesting word to describe “the sacrificial sheep”.

stifle [ stahy-fuhl ]

Definition: prevent, restrain

Synonyms: asphyxiate, black out, bring to screeching halt, burke, check, choke, choke back, clam up, clamp down, constipate, cork, cover up, crack down, curb, dry up, extinguish, gag, hold it down, hush, hush up, kill, muffle, muzzle, put the lid on, repress, shut up, silence, sit on, smother, spike, squash, squelch, stagnate, stop, strangle, stultify, suffocate, suppress, torpedo, trammel.


I will no longer be insignificant in regards to my feelings.  This doesn’t mean some of my feelings don’t scare me. I do know for many getting into touch with real feelings is beyond painful and more than they can handle. Doesn’t make them weak.  I’ve always liked the song Bridge Over Troubled Waters, because the bridge is much like the mask, protecting you from unforeseen trouble.  That water represents so much in our lives. Crossing that water without the bridge is going to be very difficult, scary, unforgiving, you’ll get pulled under, swallow water, have stinging pain from the cold, you’ll trip, question yourself and your sanity. Yet after you get to the shore and crawl to higher safe ground, you’ll be physically and emotionally wiped out. You’ll feel a sense of accomplishment and relief you made it through all of it.  Then after you practice crossing the troubled waters more and more, you’ll learn how to survive the trek across again and again. Make sure though before you take this adventure with another person, you know this person is safe and won’t attempt to stifle you. I believe you know what I mean.

The stifling pig in my life has been sacrificed and my emotions and feelings are my very own and no one can take them away from me again.

The Promiscuous Pig


Sounds like the title of a children’s book. a jacked up sort of way it is.

Experiencing an abandonment in my preteens, then being raped in my teens coupled with poor self-esteem because I was never good enough for my mother and stepmother…I viewed sex in an unhealthy way.  My parents NEVER spoke to me about sex…NEVER!  Plus it was the 80’s where big hair rocker bands had women falling all over them, when MTV actually played music videos of sex & drugs with provocatively dressed women being promiscuous.  THAT’S where I learned about sex.

In a sick way I was trying to “make” a guy like me and want to stay with me. I thought it would happen through sex and that was my “tool” to get them to stay.  Well they didn’t stay, in fact they knew how to “use” me to get what they wanted.  Then tossed me away along with the condom we used…IF we used one.

Are you now questioning in your mind “how stupid could she be”?  I wasn’t stupid, I was uneducated, no one invested their time in me to teach me nor make me feel valued.  I know my reputation was dirt by the end of my junior year of high school, but that didn’t stop my behavior.  Plus I wasn’t the only one.

I look back now through my life and can see that promiscuity played a huge role until 10 years ago.  Anytime I felt not good enough, insecure, break up with a boyfriend or divorced…the promiscuous pig reared is ugly head.

Besides a bad reputation, I suffered and still suffer for my poor choices. I never got pregnant but I did get venereal diseases.  I first contracted venereal warts, treatment at that time was slicing them off with a scalpel without numbing, then cauterizing with a small burning tool.  Also used liquid nitrogen to freeze and burn them off.  Basically PAINFUL!

Secondly I caught chlamydia, which was treated with antibiotics through a painful injection. Caught this a couple of times.

My life long mistake was genital herpes.  Caught this in my twenties and has been a humiliating, shameful and destructive disease since.

Why did I choose pictures of Jodie Foster roles as my top picture for this topic? Because 1. She’s my most favorite actress and 2. These 3 roles defined me psychologically. I was a young promiscuous teen who could have ended up as a prostitute, I had a dysfunctional family who didn’t teach me the basics in life about sex and I behaved many times as her characters did in those movies.

It wasn’t until I discovered and learned why I behaved this way that I stopped being promiscuous. Not until I was in my 30’s. Then I discovered Jesus and learned that God loves me no matter what I’ve done and He’s not ashamed of me. That through grace He understands, but that it doesn’t mean I can still behave that way without consequences.  I learned why my body is a temple, it’s the vessel God gave me to be on this earth and I am to treat this gift with respect and love. Not defile it to get what I want.  There’s so much more there, but I was redeemed and still am!

Promiscuity will kill you, emotionally and eventually physically through contracting a terminal illness. Whether it’s HIV or cancer from venereal warts, or severe depression which could be a life sentence of hell.

It’s a pig I no longer wish to put lipstick on. This pig has been sacrificed.

Learn more about teen sex and promiscuity at:


Teen Rape in the 80’s



In the middle of 8th grade I decided I could no longer live with my mom, I yearned for a home where I was included and loved…significant.  My dad moved to California with his new wife Velma.  I visited them over summer and spring breaks and it was always so wonderful.  Always had dinner at the table together, took day trips to tour Cali, cleaned house together, worked in the yard together…real family stuff.  I felt included.


I took the leap of faith and left all my friends to move from an area of mountainous beauty to the ocean.  Moving to a new area at 14 is scary and invigorating at the same time.  I didn’t know anyone, I stuck out like a sore thumb.  I came from a place where you wore Levi’s 501 button fly jeans to miniskirt central.  Yet I was a friendly survivor able to adapt to any situation at hand, a core trait I learned at such a young age of alcoholism and narcissism.


By freshman year, which was still considered Junior High School, I had friends from all circles and clicks.  The teachers loved me, I increased my GPA from 2.1 to 3.5, I was a teachers assistant, the administrative office hung my artwork in their offices, I played softball AND was 1 of 6 girls chosen to be a cheerleader.  Cheer leading in Cali is competitive, not about popularity, flat-out skill.  I felt like I was on top of the world.  Yet I couldn’t seem to get a boyfriend, I was a virgin and I didn’t dress provocatively.  Velma and dad made sure I always looked classy and fashionable.  Most of my friends weren’t virgins, spoke of sex a lot, dabbled in drugs, had parties, etc.


There was one boy I was interested in and I’m pretty sure I made myself look like an idiot each time he was around.  By January of that year I know he knew I liked him, then all of a sudden he took interest in me.  Talked to me, sat with me at lunch, flirted, kidded around and showed me interest.  It meant a lot to me.  I wasn’t the prettiest in school, extremely skinny and underdeveloped.  I considered myself pretty enough, many of the other boys flirted with me and were awkward around me; but this other boy….I was drawn to him.  On a Saturday night he invited me over to his house for a movie night with a group of friends.  WOW!  I was so excited an all giddy to go, dad was okay with it…so I went.


I dressed cute.  I wore a jean-skirt, kind of mini but not too short, tank top with a button-up sleeveless shirt over it.  When dad dropped me off, he was to come back and get me at 11:00pm, no problem.  I thought I was one of the first to arrive.  Because it was only Jake and this other boy Jon.  We all sat in the den, drinking sodas and talking.  An hour went by and no one else showed up, I asked Jake where everyone else was, he said they all must have changed their minds or their stupid parents wouldn’t let them come over.  In my mind, okay no big deal, lets watch a movie.


Then he offered to give me a tour of his house. In my mind his parents were there, most likely in their room allowing the teenagers to chill together.  He took me to his bedroom, it was covered in posters of Depeche Mode and The Cure. He closed the door and walked straight up to me and started kissing me. My heart was fluttering and beating so fast. He sat me on his bed, kept kissing me and leaned me backwards to lay down. I don’t remember how long we were kissing for, I just remember the force.


In a flash he was sitting on me over my waist, hands above my head and wrists in his grasp.  With his free hand he shoved a sock in my mouth and then shoved my skirt up and ripped my panties off.  I tried so hard to straighten and squeeze my legs together, wiggling around.  I was just to small and had no ability to fight.  He kept saying, “Relax. This is what you wanted.  Just let it happen.”  I couldn’t scream, couldn’t say no and had to stop fighting it. It seemed like forever, but it was only like 10 minutes at most. I just don’t remember.


Then he got up and was buttoning his shorts. Told me to clean myself up and come out to the den when done.  My panties were ripped so I shoved them in my skirt pocket. I was shaking. Frantic and just wanted to go home.  This was all my fault, I should have never flirted with him, I should have not let him kiss me or sit me on the bed.  I put myself into that position.  It was like 10pm and if I had called my dad to come get me he would have asked me why along with 10 other questions. I went and sat down on the couch back in the den and watched the clock as if it were in slow motion get to 11pm.  Jake and Jon were sitting there talking like nothing had happened. Did Jon know what Jake did?


I was embarrassed and humiliated. I took complete ownership for what happened.  I lost my innocence and identity in one night.  Dad honked the horn and I’m pretty sure I ran out of that house.  Got home, took a bath and cried into the hand towel.  I told no one.


On Monday at school I created a facade of happiness and fun, had to pretend to be me.  I never spoke to Jake again. This is when I started to change for the worse and started to create an alternative identity.  No longer innocent.  Clearly not wanted by boys unless I’d have sex with them.  Insignificant AGAIN!