Life can be serious business.

A New Chapter – The Creation Of An Anthology.

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Ever notice when you’re in a small crowd, and one person brings up a difficult subject to talk about, how quickly people are to open up about their own experiences? We want to be that one person, on a much larger scale.

Our plan is to create an Anthology. We have searched extensively online for supportive information for parents who are survivors of physical and/or sexual abuse – there is little to none. This topic is touched on in the vast amount of literature already written on abuse, but there is nothing that we could find specifically for parents.

It’s discouraging that an awareness so vital to a survivor’s ability to raise healthy children, is a mere chapter in a book. There are so many of us, how much longer can we keep so quiet?

We want to give survivors an opportunity to act on the bond that we all seem to share – supporting other survivors. We will support the writers through out the process and will allow any writer to remain anonymous. If there is ever going to be a break in the epidemic that is child abuse, it has to start with us – parents who are tired of suffering in silence. We have to tell our stories, learn from one another and help non-survivors become more aware.

That’s why we want parents to come forward, and share their stories with us. Joyelle said it best, when I asked her opinion on the over-all theme of the book. Her idea was to ask survivors to share how the abuse has affected their parenting, but more about how becoming a parent has forced them to address the parts of themselves that still need healing. And that is exactly it.

When a parent is derailed by the effects of his or her childhood abuse, or a survivor’s loved one is having difficulties understanding what he’s going through, we want them to find our stories.

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We have created a Facebook page to help guide you in submitting your story.

Follow the link to find the details you need, regarding submitting a personal essay for this anthology. If something is unclear, please feel free to email us at

Please, please, please (I’m not above begging, just ask my children) click the link, like the page, share it on any or all social media outlets, and ask your friends to share. Even if you are not interested in submitting a story, odds are, you know someone that may be. We need your support to get this project off the ground!

Every single survivor has a story, that has the potential to help build a more empowered community of parents. You don’t need to be a professional writer or a blogger to participate in this project. We’ll help you craft your words.

Just Be Brave.

**This project was ignited by Joyelle’s reaction to a piece I wrote, Raising A Girl As A Survivor, for Scary Mommy. It is an article about my own experiences on being a mom, and a survivor of childhood sexual abuse. It may give you an idea of what we are looking for; however, please let your story guide you.

My co-editor wrote a post today as well, on her thoughts about this passionate and crazy adventure we are starting on. Here’s the link: Passion, Purpose, and the Journey

Don't take life too serious.

My Children’s Hero.


As a girl who grew up with an absent father  and an even worse replacement, everything I’ve ever known about what it is to be a dad, I’ve learned from watching my husband with our children.

My husband, Chris, is a guy’s guy. He’s hardworking, loves the outdoors and appreciates drinking a cold one after work. There is a side to him though, that not many see. I have the best view, everyday.


As soon as my belly started to look more like a beach ball and less like a beer gut, I could see the change happening in him. His love for our child was growing, with every inch I grew.

His first diaper change may have resulted in the diaper falling right off our daughter and on to the floor, but he just simply tried again. My husband is a very hands on father. He is a true partner in parenting. Diaper changes, baths, hair braids, discipline, praises, kissing boo boos – he does all that stuff. He looks forward to reading to the kids before bed, and does so almost every night.


Chris builds our children up. He instills confidence in them by taking the time to teach them how to do things. He enforces manners. He encourages and demonstrates qualities that will help my children grow in to self reliant, caring, intelligent individuals. He teaches our kids what real love looks like every time he grabs me away from whatever I’m doing, just for a hug. He respects me. That’s one of the greatest gifts he could ever give our son and daughter.


He includes the kids as much as he can, whether it be by turning yard work in to a game or letting our daughter tag along on an errand. I know it makes him sad that he misses out on things like school field trips or summer days in the back yard, but he never complains. Despite knowing he will miss even more, he will never pass up the opportunity for over-time at work. He doesn’t care if his kids have everything they want, but he will make every effort to make sure they are comfortable and have what they need.

I am envious and proud of the bond that my children have with their dad. I don’t think there is anything my kids believe I can do, that their father can’t. That’s an amazing feeling, both for me and the kids.

My children have a very different life than I did growing up. When I was a young girl, I never dreamed about getting married. I didn’t trust men. There are still very few that I do. And then I fell in love with Chris. Because of him, I knew I could have a family. I knew I could trust him to never hurt a daughter. I knew he would teach a son to be the kind of man he is. That may seem like a very strange thought to some, but I never had the luxury of thinking any other way.


As I sit here this rainy afternoon, while both kids nap (for once), I realized the best gift I could give my husband for father’s day, is to tell him what I don’t think he even realizes about himself. He is an amazing father. My children couldn’t have a more in-tuned, loving father than they do. I’m not sure they will ever know how lucky they truly are.