Letter to my Rapist

It wasn’t until recently that I came to realize how my rape truly affected me. At the age of 16, I lost my virginity to being raped. I never before realized how for decades, this act plagued me, and my encounters and involvements with men. I minimized the violation, to being passed out for most of it. I would contribute my lack of relationships and non-existent future commitments to my dysfunctional childhood and my parents lousy-at-times marriage. 

My parents had a volatile at times, abusive, demeaning relationship. And, at an early age I never wanted to get married because of the fear that all marriages were what I saw growing up. But now I can no longer be in denial, to recognize the pattern I kept on recreating from the night I was raped and the following day or two after, I had with my rapist. 

Since my awakening a few weeks ago, that hit me like one of the biggest breakdowns that I possibly have ever had, I wanted to go to the middle of a desert and just yell. Yell out at all the things that rape did to me and took away from me. Yell out the rage that has been buried for decades that came from a place, his bedroom, that has to be unleashed. Yell for a girl that lay there, almost entirely motionless, unable to defend herself. 

There was something else I knew I had to do, before yet again, my emotions subsided. I had to write it out. Write out my thoughts and emotions. Vent as I know how. Write a letter to him, as if he were ever to read it. This is that letter and all the things I would like him to know his actions did to me.

To my rapist,

I am writing this letter to you because unfortunately I cannot say in person all the things that I would like to say to you. If I was able to get in front of you, 6 feet apart, with you not being able to say anything, this is what I would like you to know.

It has taken me decades to realize all the harm you have done. It wasn’t until a few weeks ago did I realize that there was actually something that I was in denial of. What I was in denial of was the implications and harm to my future that night would be when you took my innocence from me and violated me. When I’ve spoken of my rape, for decades, I would say that thankfully it hadn’t affected me too much because I was passed out for most of it. Just those brief seconds that I woke up out of my drunkenness from the pain, is all I remember. Of you asking me to help you with it to put it in me. Did you at any time realize I had no idea where it went?! I was still a virgin and so clueless on what sex was. I was a child in a 16 year old’s body. And, how old were you? You had to have some clue that I was very young.

What made you think you had the right to do that to me?!! Was that the price that I had to pay for you and your roommate hosting a party for me and my sister‘s farewell visit to Chicago?! Or, did you think just because my sister left me in your bed to sleep off the alcohol that it was OK for you to do what you wanted to do to me?!

I didn’t come from the best upbringing. You and your roommate while skating up and down Sheffield Avenue, must’ve seen us drinking all the time on the brownstone steps. Supposedly, I drank so much the night that you raped me that I was throwing up all over myself, and your bathroom, that my sister had to clean me up. Yes, my childhood and the things that I had experience and were told and shown to me affected my self-esteem and how I valued myself. But, your brazen judgment to force your needs on me made my subconscious solidify that I was only worth being used and discarded. That I had no value.

I went through life being used, again and again. And at the age of 21, I found myself as a high class call girl which brought a sick sense to me that I had value. If men were going to pay to be with me, I had to have some value, right? I started to think that I was worthy. But, all it was again was the repeated pattern of that night, being used and discarded for another man’s sexual pleasure. I thought to myself, is this the only thing I am good for? For decades, it rarely went beyond that point. The two relationships that I had were dysfunctional. One was with a pathological lier and cheater and the other was on again, off again, because of his drug use and other women he wanted to date. Though he never technically cheated on me, he later died because of his extensive drug use over the years.

What really woke me up to the damage you inflicted and that I was repeating that night over and over and over again was when I finally healed from the death of my ex and the intimacy issues that caused. I found someone that I wanted a relationship with. We had dinner the first time we met, talked for hours, and had sex too. Probably because you did what you did to me, I never learned how to date. I never knew how to take it slow if I really liked someone. Most of the time, I had sex on the first night. But, back to this guy… I left his place in the morning, happy. Happy because I thought he was so great. Happy that we clicked so well, especially even during our conversations and interactions. Happy that I had finally moved on from putting a wall around my heart. And, happy that I could finally have met someone healthy that I could eventually have a relationship with. But, after a few days of texting back-and-forth, I blew it by texting him after not hearing back one time. I thought he had ghosted me. I texted him that if he was ghosting me (because my initial thought was yet again he just used me like most others do) to just let me know. That freaked him out. And, we were done until I brought him back into my life a month or two later, by hiring him as my web designer. We texted and chatted a lot. It wasn’t always about business. But, he made it clear that he didn’t want a relationship right now. I was willing to take whatever I could get from him. And, a little part of me thought that if he spent some time with me that he may actually start liking me. But again, all I had ever gotten is being used and discarded after what needs were met. And after a few months of texting and chatting and not seeing one another, I ended the personal chats. In my heart I knew he really didn’t like me. But, then about two months later I rekindled it because my heart still lingered for him and what could be.

I saw him one more time. He came over late to just have sex with me. It had been six months after we last saw each other. But my naïve, still juvenile, self still had hope that this would mean something more. It had to mean something, right? Sex wasn’t just this act, was it? This thing that men just do to you? About three weeks later, on my birthday, I asked him to come over. He nicely texted me and said he couldn’t do this anymore. That he wanted a serious relationship. And, he apologized if it was coming out of left field because he had said he didn’t want a relationship. I wished him the best, instead of telling him that that is all I ever wanted from him. But it didn’t matter because I think he already knew that.

After that text I threw my phone. I cried. Why not me?!?!!

Sadness turned into anger because it was just then that I realized the connection and who I was angry at. It was YOU!!

It was because of you that I was there, crying on my birthday, yet again a man telling me that he didn’t want to be with me. I was again not worthy for anything more than to have sex with. To be used and discarded. I had been there so many times. I even had a baby with someone that wanted nothing to do with me and my baby. He never even paid child support until he really had to, and by then my son was 22!!

I’ve never heard, I love you. I’ve never been close to knowing what it feels like when a man wants to commit himself to me. Commitment, marriage is something that happens to other people.

I wondered why I ended up in situations where a man didn’t want to be my boyfriend or future husband. I’d always say I had a bad picker. Part of me thinks that since that night that life told me that I was worth nothing more than sex, that even though I can be loving, sweet, gentle, smart, strong, dorky at times, that men will want nothing more than just to have sex with me. That they will not care to let me go. That they will never see me as someone special and want to always be by my side.

Yes, I’ve had guys that could have been those other guys. The other guys that valued my worth and wanted to be with me and not just have sex with me. But, I didn’t want them because I was subconsciously, reliving that moment. The night that everything change for me. The night and act that would haunt me forever as a ghost that I had never realized until now.

But, now I see you! I see the mark you left on me, by you doing what you did to me!! I think that I was just trying to master the situation and turn around what that did to me. I was trying to rewrite history. For decades, I was trying to prove that I had more value than just sex. I was trying to master and change the outcome. As in *The Body Keeps Score, “reenactments were an unconscious attempt to get control over a painful situation and that they eventually could lead to mastery and resolution.” Over and over and over again, I went through enormous amounts of pain and heartbreak without realizing that this is what I was trying to do! I wasn’t being authentic and speaking up to myself and for myself that I deserved better, I deserved more.

This is what you did to me!!!!! You took away 35 years of me potentially having been loved by another. Years of not knowing what it is like to have a family out of love. Years of not sharing life with another. Years of memories not shared with another adult.

You fucking suck!!!

But now that I am no longer in denial on what you raping me did to me, I won’t let this awareness of harm go. I will learn how to unlearn all this dysfunction that your rape did to me. I will be conscious and aware of the repeated patterns my subconscious will want to repeat. I will speak up and say that I want a relationship because I know my worth and I am kind of a great woman to know and be with.

I do not wish you harm. But, I do hope you feel a little sad and remorse about what you did to that beautiful 16 year old girl! And, me.

  • The Body Keeps Score, by, Bessel Van Der Kolk. pge.32 (on Julia) “There is no evidence for that theory-repition leads only to further pain and self-hatred.


Every 68 seconds, an American is sexually assaulted.

Children and Teens: Statistics

  • In FY16 alone, Child Protective Services agencies substantiated, or found strong evidence to indicate that, 57,329 children were victims of sexual abuse.
  • One in 9 girls and 1 in 53 boys under the age of 18 experience sexual abuse or assault at the hands of an adult.3
  • 82% of all victims under 18 are female.4
  • Females ages 16-19 are 4 times more likely than the general population to be victims of rape, attempted rape, or sexual assault.2

The effects of child sexual abuse can be long-lasting and affect the victim’s mental health. Victims are more likely than non-victims to experience the following mental health challenges:5

  • About 4 times more likely to develop symptoms of drug abuse
  • About 4 times more likely to experience PTSD as adults
  • About 3 times more likely to experience a major depressive 

Everyone Is Affected by Sexual Violence

  • Every 68 seconds another American is sexually assaulted.1
  • 1 out of every 6 American women has been the victim of an attempted or completed rape in her lifetime (14.8% completed, 2.8% attempted).4
  • About 3% of American men—or 1 in 33—have experienced an attempted or completed rape in their lifetime.4
  • From 2009-2013, Child Protective Services agencies substantiated, or found strong evidence to indicate that, 63,000 children a year were victims of sexual abuse.5
  • A majority of child victims are 12-17. Of victims under the age of 18: 34% of victims of sexual assault and rape are under age 12, and 66% of victims of sexual assault and rape are age 12-17.


If you or if you know someone who has been sexually assaulted, here are some ways to seek help.

National Sexual Assault Hotline


#daterape #rape #survivor

*Other Image by, @the.holistic.psycholigist

Memories through a Photograph – Innocence Lost

Every once in a while I come across this picture. I have a few pictures from this night in 1986. I always had a camera handy to capture anything and everything. I’ve probably captured too many memories that most would like to forget. But, the more times that I have come across this image, I try to look for something deeper than just people posing to have their picture taken. I guess I try to look for the innocence or at least remember it or try to remember what it felt like. The innocence of that girl to the far right that was so stoked to be there because she had a crush on the guy next to her. The innocence of a night that a few acquaintances, that had only known each other for a few months, were getting together before she left to go back to her hometown in Texas. The innocence that would quickly disappear in a matter of hours because of the consumption of alcohol. The innocence taken from that girl that night. Did she have any inclination that a few hours later she’d be violated and her innocence would be taken from her?

The guy, Scott, that usually wore a tall blue mohawk and would skate up and down Sheffield Avenue, now had the same silly grin as she and was putting his arm somewhat around her to make her feel comfortable being in front of the camera. She was so happy. But, she was probably really uncomfortable on the inside because she didn’t know how to make sense of what was going on with the two people to the far left. The guy to the far left, she had been dating for the whole time that she was back in Chicago while staying with her two sisters. This was her second trip out there. She was only 16 and had dropped out of high school back in Klein, Texas. She’d come and stay with her sisters because it was hard to live with her alcoholic mother back in Texas. She and that guy had only recently, days before, broken it off. They had been dating for over a month. One night, heavily intoxicated, she came back to her sisters’ place after getting in a fight with him. She didn’t want to see him anymore because of his frustration with her not putting out. She had never had sex before. She liked him, but not in that way or maybe she just wasn’t ready. This was the first guy that she had ever dated and now, he was dating one of her sisters.

When I’ve seen this picture in the last few years, I can only imagine how many mixed emotions I was feeling that night. I still didn’t know how to make sense of much in my life, much less my emotions and new experiences. The only way I learned to cope was to either isolate myself in my bedroom, while diving into my depression, or drink too much. That night I drank too much. I remember just a short period of time after arriving at the cute guy with the mohawk and his roommate’s place.

I have a few pictures. I have a few minutes of memory after arriving, about a minute or two in the middle of the night, and the next morning when I got up to find myself naked next to a guy (Scott’s roommate) naked. I remember looking frantically, but quietly, for my clothes and my purse. I didn’t want to wake up this guy next to me that I remembered was on top of me in the middle of the night, naked, trying to put his penis somewhere down there, in me. At the time, I still hadn’t even known that a penis goes into a vagina. I was 16 going on 12. All I remembered was that what he was doing to me, hurt. The pain is probably what sobered me up briefly out of my blacked-out, passed-out self. I remember him grabbing for my hand to help him, and instead I was moaning in agony and was moving my hand up to his chest to try to push him off of me, before I just passed out again.

I had known hurt, sadness, and violence before. I had seen people that said they loved one another, but hurt each other like people that love each other shouldn’t. But, there was still a little bit of innocence when I look at myself in this picture before it was taken away from me. The world was still not yet completely cold,  dark and viciously mean.

All I can think of is how clueless I was. Clueless that someone would do something like that to another. Clueless of what had happened. Was that what sex was?

My 16 year old self, may have been clueless of what had happened (sex, rape) because not only had I never experienced sex, but it was also foggy from all the drinking I had done. It was like flashes of images of that night that has stayed with me for the rest of my life. I remember that morning feeling horrified as I finally put on what clothes of mine I could find and as I was trying to leave I ran into Scott in the living room. I was so embarrassment and shameful to see him. What he must had thought. Did he think that I had been a willing participant?

I said many times, over the following decades, of how it had happened and that thankfully I was passed out for most of it. That because of this, it really didn’t affect me as much as all the other things that had happened to me before that night and what would happen in the years that followed. But is that true?

Did the girl in that picture fully realized how colder, detached, and broken her heart had become after that night? Did she see the lingering consequences that night left in her to lead her into darker and more painful experiences in the following years to come?

She walked in as a little girl, saddened at times by what her life had given her so far, but was still hopeful that life might get better. And, in a matter of hours, she had walked out of those guys’ apartment into a world that was beyond her comprehension and her soul was too fragile to fully ever wanting to understand. At least through seeing this image over the years, I can now come to some acknowledgement of how much that night truly affected me and can connect some of the pieces of when and where it did encourage years and incidents of more abuse or disrespect. 


#rape #Daterape #rapesurvivor #teenrape

Overcoming the Fear of Speaking Up

I’ve lived in fear of speaking up most of my life. I’ve only challenged it sometimes. Covid and quarantining makes you really have time to think. It gives you the time to work on things about yourself that you may want to change or the things about your life that you may want to overcome. Speaking up or writing about anything and putting it out there for the whole world to see, without fear, is something I struggle with.fearful

Fear. It’s hard to be a writer and to be fearful. As a writer, knowing that fear will hold you back, is a hard thing to tackle and overcome. I write a lot about personal or private experiences and my thoughts or opinions on many matters. I am not scared of sharing. 


Though, I am scared of retaliation or backlash or just plain physical harm or threats because doing so. A friend and I recently spoke about speaking up. We both come from addicted childhoods. Alcoholism. Never being allowed to speak up is a condition that comes from growing up in a household that had alcoholism in it. We are supposed to be seen and not heard. You can never rock the boat in a household where anything can set off the alcoholic or the other adult that has to maintain some kind of household that has to deal with an adult that is constantly making a wreck of their lives. So, when I was speaking with my friend, I had mentioned to her that I was in fear of a physical response more than anything. Sometimes I have also felt guilty, too. Even guilty of speaking up when I was hurting. As most adult children of alcoholics do, we swallow everything and try to remain silent. We bury our feelings, our thoughts, our words.

Never being able to speak up was hard. Because for the most part, if you spoke up or confronted anything, you’d sometimes get hurt. A slap could come from anybody. If someone didn’t like what you had to say even if you were being honest, you could be backhanded. Even from a sibling. So, I learned to never be confrontational. Yes sometimes I slipped up, regurgitated my thoughts, but I am only human and it was rare for me to do so.  

speaking upSo now as an adult, I have navigated to try to learn how to speak up without fear of harm and in a more civil manner than shouting or fighting, which is what I saw growing up. It’s hard to learn something you were never taught, so it has been challenging at times, but necessary. We must speak up when something is wrong, we must speak up and ask for a raise at work, we must speak up in court when you’re battling someone that keeps lying and doesn’t want to pay you child support, we must speak up and say what we are looking for in a relationship, and we must speak up on how we expect to be spoken to or treated. But, when I write and have written over the years my fear comes from people’s thoughts and opinions on how I should not say something about something or someone, even though time has passed and I hold no resentment. I cannot help it if they are in so much fear of secrets being revealed, their own shame for things they’ve done, or just that they like to maintain an image that is clearly perfection. None of us are perfect. Time has passed and people have learned and grown. But, some of us are trying to speak up to break the silence, break the cycle of keeping secrets and toxicity, tell others that they are not alone, and heal by sharing and talking to one another.

This fear that I have keeps me back. I’m scared of what will happen to me. The fear is based on physical harm more than anything. It’s just what I was trained as a child, not necessarily that it would happen as an adult. Let me tell you, the PTSD is real, but at least nowadays I am aware what the panic is and where it comes from. The physical harm could happen, but more than likely it wouldn’t. So it’s been hard to overcome this fear of physical harm coming from speaking your truth. But this morning in the rarest of moments that I’ve had, I know that I need to challenge this fear and stop being scared and hiding. I cannot be scared of what someone might do. I cannot be scared of what could happen. Fear in some cases, is irrational and it is holding me back as a writer. I must let go and live my life to the fullest.

Without fear there is only abundance. Without fear there is only freedom. Without fear there is only true fulfillment and happiness.
I will live this day and the rest, moving forward, walking through fear and not let it hold me back.

Wellness – Turning away from Negative Thoughts

I used to be consumed with negative ways, more so, my thinking was negative. It didn’t help that my situation at home sucked. Life within an alcoholic home (mother is/was an alcoholic) is very chaotic and it is especially worse when the alcoholic is not so nice when she is under the influence. Fighting, verbal/emotional/mental abuse, neglect/abandonment, and not knowing what next will erupt is not a situation a child should live in. A child needs a nurturing, loving, attentive, and consistent environment where they are guided to becoming a healthy, kind, and productive adult.

So, as an Adult Child of An Alcoholic, I am very aware that most of us that are either ACoA or come from dysfunctional families that our essence – mind, body, and soul are affected by the shame and abandonment that comes from these environments. We don’t know any different from our environment and especially our home life.

We come into this world as curious, happy, sweet beings. What we learn at first, especially in our first 5 years is critical to our brain development and sense of being. What is going on at home. How individual family members speak and treat each other. How they look at you and treat you. How they feel about themselves and the world. All this is taken in by you when you are a baby and child. All this has an effect on you and how you view the world, people, and yourself. Your self-esteem is formed. Your way of being is formed. Your cognitive skills are developed. The six types of cognitive processes are attention, perception, memory, language, learning, and higher reasoning. The processes are interdependent and occur simultaneously. Perception is very important here!

Basically. Your development. Your child development sets you up on how you grow into adulthood. I can’t discount that genes do play into who you will become. Your temperament also plays a factor. Coming from a family of four girls, me being the youngest, none of us grew up the same as far as it comes to our thinking or how we choose to live our lives. Our selves, our brain development, where the family was as far as in the disease of addiction and abuse, all have had an impact and made us very different in certain ways.


But, my negativity was one of the strongest at an earlier age. Looking back in some instances, this not only hurt me, but has also helped me in fighting against adhering to the dysfunction. But mostly, the negativity hurt me because I could not change my environment and could not find any other way but to be negative toward my environment which lead me to a continuous way of thinking that made my depression more severe and made how I viewed the world and people very badly. It was very pessimistic and the negativity made me view myself in a way that was way too harsh and unloving.

Examples of my negativity were – I just can’t do anything right. I’m so ugly. I’m so fat. I’ll never be good enough. Every single thing that happens bad in the world will happen to me. I hate myself. I hate my life. And I hate the way I feel.

Where is the freaking reset button?

Well, there was a reset button. It took many years, maybe even decades. I still have to stop myself sometimes. At some point, I realized that I had to change the way I thought. My perspective needed to change. And, once I started to re-learning how to think, how to view things, how to stop myself in my tracks in my brain and say things to myself like you are pretty, you are smart, you are strong, was it only then that I viewed myself, the world, and others in vibrant colors and warmth. I feel like I had always been loving and kind. With that being said, I was rarely ever a mean person. Most of my bad way of thinking was internalized. I am just saying that I believe I came into this world trusting and knowing how beautiful things and people are and how even in a difficult situation there can be a silver lining and a way to rise above. My being probably somehow yearned to be that person once again and it took some time to reprogram myself away from what I was introduced and conditioned to for so many years.

Changing my perspective has been once of the most challenging but life alerting things I have done.

By changing your negative way of thinking, to a more positive way, you then become more resilient, can handle issues in a more productive way, are less stressed, you lean away from depression (unless your depression is caused by a chemical unbalance or something else), and you just have a better outlook on life, the world, and yourself.

Please don’t focus on the wrong or negative. Give yourself positive affirmations and focus on the things you have done right or that are good about you. When you stop and think about what you are thinking, say positive things to yourself, changing your perspective. Don’t criticize yourself for thinking negatively. You are harming yourself by beating yourself up. Just redirect your thinking in a gentle and loving manner and find a new way. Much love ❤


If you are thinking of having a child, have children, or being a care-taker of a child, here are some good tips below. You can also read more about child development on Harvard’s Center on the Developing Child site and what they list as 8 Things to Remember about Child Development.


Parent Tip

Recent brain research indicates that birth to age three are the most important years in a child’s development. Here are some tips to consider during your child’s early years:

  • Be warm, loving, and responsive.
  • Talk, read, and sing to your child.
  • Establish routines and rituals.
  • Encourage safe explorations and play.
  • Make TV watching selective.
  • Use discipline as an opportunity to teach.
  • Recognize that each child is unique.
  • Choose quality child care and stay involved.
  • Take care of yourself.

Tonight, 8.11.18

Tonight I cried like…well, like I sobbed.
Baths, those long hot baths I like to take for about 45 minutes do something to me. Sometimes they make those aching muscles go away, sometimes they just relax me, and sometimes they are therapy.
So, I just got out of the bath, dried myself off, and lied down on the floor because a good song was on.

This is not typical. And, then I just started to cry uncontrollably. I began apologizing to myself for being there and drinking. You see, I was raped when I was 16 and still a virgin. I went over with my sisters to some guys place across the street for a small party while living in Chicago. And I drank, until I threw up all over the bathroom, blacked out, and passed out. I woke up in the middle of it, just to only get a few whimpers out of “No”. I’ve rarely cried about it. The 1st time I cried about it was when I was edit my memoir, a few years ago. I never thought it affected me much because I was passed out. But, tonight the apologies kept coming. I’m sorry for putting you there. I’m sorry for drinking. I’m sorry that you’re parents didn’t love you the way you needed to be loved. I’m sorry for everything that was hurting you up until that point to make you feel unworthy and putting yourself there. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…because you are worthy.
How many decades later and I’m really just getting an idea that not only it did affect me, but that it really may have (along with other things) affect my life.
I’m sorry because you (I) deserved so much more. This was the last thing I said to myself as I stopped crying and got myself off the floor.
We all have our moments. I hope you pull yourself out of them with kindness and love to yourself.

Ode to Court today, 5/23/2017

As I sit here, next to you 

I think of all these moments of time.
The moments of my life, so long ago.

My life was adventurous.
My life had promise.
My life had excitement of new loves, new experiences.

Not everyone gets to live the high life of fun times in West Hollywood’s clubs
the glamorous who’s-who parties in the Hollywood Hills
the adoration and reassurance of self esteem of someone like 2pac noticing you.

The moments you and I shared.
The relationship and things we shared.
All I can think,
while I sit next to you here in court – how did we get here?

Why did you choose not to be part of your son’s life
with not even a care in the world to make sure he was properly taken care of.
Is all you have to say to me
when you sit down next to me is –

Holiday Sale


Holiday sale! Make sure that you don’t miss out on this discount. This offer won’t last.

Evolving to Grace is a memoir about perseverance, strength, spiritual evolution, and the choices one must make to change one’s path. Grace shares her life’s experiences, her journey—finding her way out of darkness—discovering hope, positivity, strength, happiness and the right path for the life she chose to live. She writes about many challenges she has had to face and overcome—either due to alcoholism, depression, violence, rape and being a single mother on welfare.

Grace could be labeled many things: illegal, ACoA (Adult Child of an Alcoholic), domestic violence survivor, excessive alcohol and drug user, rape victim, assault victim, hitchhiker, high school dropout, call girl, and single mother on welfare. But, these are just situations she ended up in when she was lost and broken. She has learned from her past and she is evolving to find her grace in this beautiful thing we call life. She believes by sharing her story that we all can learn from one another or at least find more compassion and understanding. We can change our destiny, our path.


#sale #booksale #holidaysale
#cyberMonday #blackfriday #cyberweekend

Spiritual Beauty

She was a girl of abuse
She was a girl of silenceSpiritual Beauty

Those tears were hidden behind
those sad eyes

But, one day she found beauty

Beauty in the sky
Beauty in the trees
Beauty in the birds
Beauty in the lady bugs
Beauty in all things

Even beauty in hurt and pain
because through that she learned
to love life and all things deeper than ever before.




1st page of Evolving to Grace 

1st page of Evolving to Grace.

Chapter 1 – Threats from a Pimp
“Excuse Me—Press Rewind”


Available on Amazon in print and ebook (Kindle). If you don’t have a Kindle, no problem. Just download the software for free to read any kindle book on any device, click here.

Life can be a roller-coaster ride for some more than others. Mine has been this way. Born into generations of educated, privileged, and successful millionaires, in this memoir I tell a story of how one generation’s downfall due to financial, emotional, and addiction problems had crippling, traumatic effects on everyone around them, including myself. This story is about my journey of how I was going to fight with every fiber of my being, so that I would not follow in the footsteps of others. From very dark times as a teenager where I believed suicide was the only option to later entertaining times in my early 20’s living in the City of Angels, hobnobbing with professional athletes and entertainers.

I could be labeled many things: illegal, ACoA (Adult Child of an Alcoholic), doChapters of Evolving to Gracemestic violence survivor, excessive alcohol and drug user, rape victim, assault victim, hitchhiker, high school dropout, call girl, and single mother on welfare. But, these are just situations I ended up in when I was lost and broken. I’ve learned from my past and I am evolving to find my grace in this beautiful thing we call life. I write to share my experiences with others with the hope that no one, despite whatever situation they may be going through, will ever give up. You can change your destiny, your path.





Lttr to the suffering, hold on.

Dear ones that are suffering,

Please hold on. Don’t give up. Life will get better.

It took me a long time to get to other side of feeling hopeless, like life was always going to be hopeless. I am so beyond happy that I survived to the point I never want to leave this world.
PLEASE, seek help. Counselors, psychologists. Talk to someone. Find someone to help you find someone.
When life is over, it’s over. No more chances to do the things you love, no more chances to experience something you’ve always wanted to try, no more saying, “fuck you” and finally walking away from that thing or people that add to your depression.
Please never give up. Life is beautiful.

Much love,




Never as I seem

We should never judge a book by its cover. I was “alternative” before that was even a thing and I was living in a town that was very conservative; all I got were stares. I feel that back then I had more style than I do now and I was trying new things, definitely with my hair and clothes. I wasn’t doing drugs (yet), but I could only imagine that that was what everybody thought.
And here I was at 16, innocent as could be, but as closed off to the cold, cold judgemental world. With a slightly grown out shaved head, no one ever could have imagine that I was anything but happy because of the smile on my face. I was also good at disguises, I was battling depression then, so I’m sure it wasn’t pure “happiness”. Or maybe, I just very seldomly wore my emotions on my sleeve lIke I  seemed to be doing that day. 
In this picture  I was more relieved than happy because that day meant to me, a celebration of freedom. Freedom from the put downs, freedom from inferiority, freedom from the physical attacks, freedom to now be good enough, and mostly freedom to no longer be just “her sister”.

I love my sis, but I was always in her shadow. Now was the first time I saw that I could break free to be me!
Read more in Evolving to Grace.
Available at Amazon.com 

Evolving to Grace available in stores now!

Looking for a X-Mas gift for the book lover in your life? Local to L.A.?
You can now find Evolving to Grace in stores at BookSoup in West Hollywood and Vroman’s Bookstore in Pasadena.

Get your copy soon! Quantities limited!


#inspire #hope #memoir #book #xmasgift