The end & The beginning.


You have been gone a week, well in like 8 hours technically

But still.

You are gone.

Because of me!

I finally found the strength that you thought I never had.

The strength that you thought you had stolen from me for years.

And maybe you did,

but guess what,

I found it!

My babies and I are free.



I lost myself because of you.

I lost myself a few times.

I did not recognize the girl in the mirror.

You scared me.

I scared myself.

We could not go on like that forever.


I will never have to see another needle again.

I will never have to see cocaine or heroin again.

I will never have to again watch you try to hit for over an hour, ever again.

I will never have to be near anyone ever shooting up ever again.

I will never have to see your blood everywhere again.

I will never have to watch somebody almost die in my kitchen from an OD, again.

I will never have to be afraid of you lacing my food or drinks again.

I will never have to lose sleep over the fact that you may kill me while I am sleeping, again.

I will never have to walk on eggshells again.

I will never have to listen to you degrade me or the kids again.

I will never have to physically fight with all my might for my life ever again.

I will never break another wall while trying to get past you, again.

I will never have to be paranoid of a police raid ever again.

I will never have to be anxious about getting into trouble because of you, ever again.

I will never have to spend my days and nights tracking you down again.

I will never have to be expecting to find you dead ever again.

I will never have to speak to you again.


You will never be able to hurt us again.

You will never tap an aluminum bat on my forehead ever again.

You will never hold another gun to my head.

You will never dangle my addictions and insecurities above me again.

You will never speak to us with such disrespect ever again.

You will never see or speak to us again, period.


I ended this cycle of abuse.

Nobody should ever have to live like this.

Enough is enough.


We met for the second time almost 6 years ago, he was finishing 2 college degrees and fresh out of prison, I was dumb and naive and 1 month out of a 2 year relationship. He saved me instantly. He found out my family was super toxic and saved me even further and moved my daughter and I to his home 2 hours away. I was almost 3 years clean when we met and he had assured me that he was not using. And I believed him. Why wouldn’t I?

His traps were up to his ears, his biceps were larger than my daughters head, he went to the gym daily and ate mackerel right out of a can with a spoon, was doing amazing in school—dean’s list, was in a business fraternity, he won a sustainable business competition and that business plan was supposed to make his dreams come true. He was a nice guy and he was amazing with my daughter. His mother had died when he was in prison and left him a house, a car, money, he was set. He moved us in June 6th of 2013, and by September 20th of 2013, my world had flipped upside down.

2 days before our 1 year anniversary I was in the garage looking for a lighter for my cigarette….. And as I checked his backpack pocket for one, I instead found a red plastic Dora The Explorer spoon (it was my daughters spoon) and tied around it with a dirty shoelace was a syringe with an orange cap and a package of suboxen sublingual strips. I will never forget that day. I hardly knew what I was looking at back then and believed it was just heroin.

My daughter had already been with my parents for the weekend because he and I were going to celebrate our 1 year anniversary in Pittsburgh. I screamed. I screamed like it was from a movie. It was the most theatrical scream I can remember and I had no idea where it even came from. I fell. I cried. I collapsed in the house. I called him. He panicked. Assured me it wasn’t his. He got home, held me. No words. Then told me it was actually his. That is probably when the crying for me began. I have cried so much in the last few years I could probably drown an entire small country.

I just moved my life 2 hours away. left my home town, my apartment, everything and everyone. And I loved him. I was in recovery so I had to try to help him. I felt like it was my mission. It was why we met. So that I could save him. As an empath… I am not going to fight this urge for the rest of my life.

But very soon after, I would take the blame for that Dora spoon kit… for “snooping” through his stuff and finding it…. He would blame it on me…. And shortly after this his true colors would appear… I remember the night it happened, he yelled at me and insulted me over a cup of apple jacks… yea the cereal.….

But I still loved him. I didn’t wanna give up on him… so without realizing, I gave up on myself.

Thursday night (4/19/18) the day before I had him arrested, he told me “you’ve been making me nervous since you started writing your memoir…… you know you’re going to have to lie in it, right?”

*Insert middle finger*


Well now the tables have turned. And wow do I have a story to tell.


Enjoy bad food and men, asshole!


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