Sunday, May 29, 2016

You know I read some hard criticism about myself today for writing a book about me being abused. Even though the people agreed that I was abused they chose to attack me full force. Some of the things they said were true some things they said were just ignorant people striking back with things they know nothing off. and I will add the definition of ignorants just for the ignorant (lacking knowledge, information, or awareness about something in particular.)

First I want to say my book is my story about me being abused for 28 years. It's not a story about my next door neighbours or his family or my father. It's a story about my abuser and the life I lived with him  If I did anyone such a terrible injustice than they need to write a book like I did. I never ever abused my ex-husband but every thing I wrote in my book is true and I have blocked the things that were worst. I said in my book that I wouldn't write about the abuse that was inflicted on my children because that is their story and if they ever decided to write about it or post it on a billboard I will be right there by their side because I still live in guilt because of my inability to walk away from the insane man I had married.

There is only one important thing here and that is not to let what you think of me or if you think I deserved what was done to me stop you from thinking  of my story as the story of thousands and thousands of other women and let my story enable you to be more aware of the torture and pain these women are living with everyday. Maybe by reading my story you would gain a greater empathy for these women .  Most people will say why didn't you walk away but again that is because of their lack  of knowledge and awareness of a woman being abused.  I don't have to make up things and put it in a book to fulfil my life. I have a very wonderful life now and despite the fact that because of the abuse I suffer from depression, anxiety disorder, post traumatic stress disorder and panic attacks I want to open up myself to ignorant and mean people just to help others. If my story can help just one person than it is all worth it.

So please follow the link below and buy my book Lost of Innocence and help me help someone else. 

Monday, May 23, 2016


Hi everyone

I had a couple of people asking me how they could buy my book and I wanted to explain it here so to make it easier for you

So when you click on the link to my Etsy site  You will end up here

In this screen just click the green button that says "ADD TO CART"

Then you will get this screen This is where you either choose credit card or paypal

and then proceed to checkout

The next screen will ask for your shipping address although the eBook is not shipped but proceed to fill it all in and make sure it's the same address as your credit card address

The go next and you will see this screen  This is where you put your credit card number and make sure to click my billing address is the same as my shipping

Once all that is complete and your payment clears you will see a download button This is where you download your files and then you can choose PDF for computer or laptop, ePub for Tablet or iPads and Mobe for Kindle 


I hope this helps 

Friday, May 13, 2016

Here is a little preview of what you will find inside Lost of Innocence

   I could still see where he tried to fix the wall by the entryway to hide a big hole that he had kicked into it and how it was stuffed with paper, stuffed with bags, taped and plastered; if you pushed in on it, it would move back and forth and come close to breaking.  All of this would go through my head as I would look around the house.  Whenever I looked in the living room and I could only remember the time he had held me against the wall choking me.  I could see myself on the outside of the window peeking in to see if he had gone to bed so that I could try to sneak back in after he had kicked me out into the dark so many times.  I would see the corner where he would have the gas can and an axe when he would tell us he was burning the house.  The stairs were all nicely done now, but I would always be able to see that they had chop marks in them because he had taken an axe and chopped up all my clothes and shoes one time when I was trying to leave him.  I would see the bathroom where I had spent so many nights either trying to hang on to a little sanity or maybe trying to let it go, but always praying for courage to end it all.   No matter how much he tried to dress up the house and cover all the terrible things that were done to it, he could never repair what he had done to my mind. He could patch it so that no one else would know what had happened there, but he would never be able to patch the damage he had done to me.  I was broken beyond repair.

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