Raising five kids eight years apart. For so many reasons it was the right thing for me- for us- to do. After surviving an abusive childhood and undergoing years of therapy I was hopeful I would not perpetuate my abuse. Rearing my children while trying simultaneously to heal and love myself while learning to love them was an unequivocally wearisome and titanic feat. I believed that our kids would benefit from bonding together with one another. I strongly felt that having a large family would dilute my chances of saddling these innocent, loving souls with any remaining shards from my abuse. Piercing a heart is a heinous crime, especially when you know the life sentence it can bring. Sadly, it is our children, who at our hands will serve the life sentence.

 A life cracked, broken and shattered; no glue can fix the fact that this was/is a decision WE CHOSE to make. It's ALL on us. The healing that will be all on our victims' shoulders to bear. To have given such a heavy load to a soul so undeserving of the lingering pain they never signed up for is unconscionable. We... WE are the villain here. I will neither lie nor underestimate the gravity of this travesty.

Yesterday my dad died.

He also died the day before. Even the one before that. 

He first died on his 74th birthday, on March 24, 2003. But since that day, every day I say goodbye to a little more of him.

Every so often in the middle of mundane, monotonous tasks in my everyday life, I come across leftovers. Some say leftovers are even better the next day.  My opinion? Not so much. Really, never. 

I guess you can't escape abuse completely unscathed. Don't we wish we all could?

"Dana, your surgery is over now. Everything went very well."

I opened my eyes and struggled to process this information. The searing pain emanating from my abdomen needed no substantiation. It was was unmistakable. 

Free me from this pain. 

I've often wondered where hope comes from. Is it inherent in our being? How do we hold onto it? When it's lost, where has it gone? 

I wish there was a Red Cross for hope. When you have extra hope, you could donate some. When you have lost all hope, you can become a recipient. Just imagine the possibilities in both donating and receiving! All types are welcome; after all hope is hope, right?