It’s been 28 years since you killed yourself. Too many Birthday, Christmas, and Thanksgivings. Wishing I could say I missed you but that would not be true. I do have some great snippets, little memories from my early childhood. Other memories, more unstable memories from my teens when I lived with you. Driving down the […]It’s Been 28 years……… —
They say that abuse is a cycle, and I do not disagree. I want to say this loud enough so that the people in the back can hear me. ‘Domestic Violence ‘ is a war that is being handed from generation to generation. Fathers are teaching sons to dominate, control, and terrorize. That there will […]Wars, Lies, and Knives — Victory after Abuse
Did you know the Dopamine royal family doesn’t stop at the queen? That’s right, there are two princes and one princess of dopamine as well. My kids are young, 8, 6 and 6 months. I knew early on I would have to talk to them about my bipolar disorder. It wasn’t until my oldest was […]
From the time I was born to the day my father died, we never had a relationship…
I mean nothing…
All my memories are of a father were of a man who was cruel and violent. Not saying he didn’t provide for the family, he did…
….he just had no interest in me.
Abandonment is tough as a kid….and it was also very sad.
When we first adopted our son as a newborn, complete strangers would come up to us to say he was the cutest baby they had ever seen. Many also choose, without asking permission, to ruffle and feel his hair. This latest throughout his toddlerhood and stopped abruptly when he was in the early school grades.
My daughter came along 16 months after my son, and she also got a lot of attention for her cuteness and later her burgeoning beauty. People often mistook them for twins even though my son was 3 times the size of my daughter due to the difference in age. I sold children’s designer clothes on EBay for a time and my daughter was often my model. People would write to me about my adorable model although they wouldn’t necessarily purchase the clothes.
Children grow up and although I think they are both exceptionally good looking (adoptive Moms can get away with bragging about their children’s good looks as we had nothing to do with them), they have reached young teenhood. For my son in particular, he is no longer the cute adorable baby and toddler he once was. He is now 15, 6′ tall, and 225 lbs. He is dressed like other teens his age, which includies hoodies on occasion. He has now become the “other”, at least in the adult world, someone to be feared and followed around in stores.
My daughter at almost 14 has an easier time at 5’2″, with a great fashion sense. Yet she too has been followed around in stores as though her skin color marks her as an automatic shoplifter. I have seen this in action with both children in stores. When I come up to them and greet them, my white skin seems to validate them in the shopkeeper’s minds and they quickly back off. It breaks my heart every time things like this happen as I will not always be around with my white skin and white privilege to protect them.
Do I get scared whenever there is a police or security guard shooting of an unarmed black teen, particularly when the shooter goes unpunished? You bet I do. I picture my own children laying in a pool of blood, the only crime being the color of their skin.
It is long past time to put the old prejudices to rest once and for all. If you adored them as babies and toddlers, why can’t you live and let live as they grow older, particularly if they have done nothing to arouse your suspicion that they are up to no good, other than the color of their skin. Yes #blacklivesmatter.
Sharon Greene February 14, 2015
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Sharon’s beautiful story of strength and love in her heart.
I was first diagnosed with triple negative breast cancer at age 29, way back in 1988. The protocol at that time was to tell women to wait 5 years before getting pregnant or, as my breast surgeon so crudely put it, “Baby might not have a Mama”. Nothing like the subtle approach to shut down any further questions on that subject!
5 years passed, and I went to my “cure” date mammogram confident that all was well. It wasn’t. The cancer had returned to the same breast and as I had radiation the first time, the only option left was a mastectomy and 9 months of chemotherapy.
I again heard the “Baby and Mama” speech. I was told that chemo could possibly put me permanently into early menopause but as I was still only 34, there was a good chance the menopause symptoms would only…
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This was first published at 4 Times And Counting.
When you are a parent, you want to protect your children from all the bad things in life as you love them so fiercely. You feel like this lioness with her cub, trying to shelter them from all impending harm. But when you are diagnosed with cancer, you are the one that sends your children’s world into a chaotic tailspin. Between the shock of diagnosis, the demands of treatment, and the uncertainty of what the future holds for you and your family, your children can’t help but be threatened by this disease that has invaded their lives.
Although I have had breast cancer 4 times, I only had children during the last bout in 2011. At that time, they were 9 and 11, old enough to understand what was going on but young enough that they still needed a parent who could be there for them 24/7. As a single…
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