Tag: home


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There’s always been someone there when I felt like I wanted to end my life. Giving up is harder than pushing forward when there are these indigo children just like you, begging you to listen. So I do. I do not mean indigo children as in ancient aliens or the oval-shaped dudes on spaceships. I mean indigo, the color a child chooses to smear on her oil-painting as she tells me, someone who is three times older than her that I cant control my life, and that when I’m sad there’s nothing I can do but feel something.

There’s always someone there when I want to end my life.

She welcomes me home and does not know I have been trying to be a safe place for others to lick their wounds in, but still I am the altar left to collect dust from their mouths.

She says we’ll get out of here. She welcomes me home, and I forgot that I wanted to die.

There’s always someone there to remind me of what it means to be alive.


Sometimes I forget

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Time moves on, and I have held on 
Still, I will weep for the child 
That got lost in the abyss.

I can feel the ache in me
When I think back to all those homes
That I could not escape

I was too old at eighteen.
I left with nothing.


I am twenty-six now,
and sometimes I forget my age.

I forget that I'm in charge of me
I'm in charge of my feelings, now.

At times, this joyous freedom is too big a responsibility.
This is normal to a degree, but 

Sometimes I forget my age,
When I think of 
What people are capable of 
Doing to a child 


Sometimes, I forget my age
When I think back on where I've been 
Or when I say I want to go home;
I forget that I pay rent 


Sometimes I forget to remember that I am home.
Sometimes my mind forgets that I'm home.


I want to go home 
And know that I am there,
For once 

Passion’s Redirection

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It breaks my heart when something I believed in, disappoints me in the biggest ways. Perhaps, you know this feeling too. At some point, we all do – mothers, wives, caretakers, musicians, scientists – wherever you fall on the continuum, you are appreciated. You are worthy of your purpose.

Your story does not have to end, nor does your soul wish to remain useless; it may just be time to trail off the beaten path, or simply take a break.

As a passionate person, I thrive on fighting for good. I thrive when other people are lifted up. While I acknowledge my ego’s existence, I genuinely love helping people.

As you may have predicted, this sometimes pigeonholes me. I am often put in a position for the world to devour me, without so much as giving my spirit back.

Things are looking up, however. I met a beautiful friend, named Katelynn:
Image and video hosting by TinyPic

I was able to get rent paid, finally; this affords me more time to get all the details of everything together to see where the road takes me. Moving into a bigger state would be a better option for me, for a number of reasons, including better health care.

I’m looking forward to seeing where the wind takes me, and I hope to see you around.

I love you.
Welcome home.
You’re safe here.


F*ck it. Smile.

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You know how we see motivational speakers and when they’re done speaking, for a few minutes we believe the world won’t eat us alive? Me too.

I’m not saying that your dreams are too far out of reach; I’m not saying that you shouldn’t believe their light.

I’m saying that at this very moment, I’ve done all of the things that my spirit and creator asked of me. I’ve pushed myself out of my comfort zone, I’ve let myself see and be seen, and I’m proud of myself.

Still, it sucks when then there is little to show for it.

If you’ve put your last few dollars into a dream, your last bit of faith in a cause that seems to turn it’s head, if you’ve struggled to see results, or if you’ve doubted your purpose at all, I’m here with you.

When It seems easier to light a match and watch it all burn, while simultaneously flipping the debris a middle finger, (I can’t believe I’m about to say this) SMILE.

Can’t pay rent? Fuck it. Something will shake, or you’ll move on. See the road.

Got cancer? Fuck it. You’re still alive and beautiful. Your sickness does not define your legacy.

Homeless? Fuck it. Mortgages are expensive.

Negative in the bank account? Well, now you damn sure cant give those thieves your money.

I empathize with you, and I say these things to help laughter bubble up in your chest.

When we can’t choose anything else, we can choose to laugh.

I love you.

Welcome Home.

You’re safe here. <3

The Purpose of Welcome Home Healing (Part 1)

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Trigger Warning: Abuse, Sexual Abuse, Domestic Violence, Suicidal Ideation

Here I sit, watching in amazement as our community at Welcome Home Healing is evolving on its own, even after my advertising funds ran dry; Even though Pinterest only has a picture of our Logo, and a picture of a flower that I used when I wrote ‘Toothless Grace‘.

It has been pinned and saved by moms, veterans, (Thank you for your sacrifice. We salute you!) students, poets, and way more people than I ever expected it to reach.

For you, friend, (you reading this) I am so grateful. For seeing potential in me, for sticking around through the highs and the lows, for being peace in my life, when for the last sixteen or so years, peace has been the last thing I have felt.

This post is the most honest and important one you’ll read, so, please, stick around for it.

You’ll notice I talk about safety a lot around here, and it is with good reason.
Not so long ago, I sat in foster homes praying for death.

You see,

My mom passed away when I was ten years old, and it was not easy to reach me. It was not easy to get through to me. So, to keep a long story short, foster care was the road I headed down.

I was scared, hopeless, and forced to remain silent about what was happening around me.

If I told someone I was screamed at for getting the wrong mustard out of the refrigerator, I’d just be hurt worse.

When I tried to speak up about how I had to sleep with all of my clothes on, even my shoes because it was snowing outside and I was only permitted to sleep on a bare mattress, the mattress was taken away.

When the girl who slept next to me molested me and I didn’t fight back, I felt dirty and used because I didn’t say anything. I knew she had nowhere else to go either.

Then, when I did speak up about what happened, it was dismissed. I was the liar everyone said I was.

When I had a staph infection on my elbow that oozed yellow gunk and my foster parent covered it in cotton balls and wrapped my arm in duct tape, instead of taking me to the doctor, I wailed in the school’s office when a dean saw me scratching at it, and urged me to go home for treatment. There was nothing I could do but cry.

When I fell face-down on concrete strapped to my wheelchair and was then made to crawl on concrete to the car, while the foster parent revved the engine while half of me was still hanging out of the door, I remained silent.

When I was forced to stay in one corner of a house as punishment between an air-vent and a twin-sized mattress, not allowed to enter another part of the house, still I remained silent.

I would go to school, and it would go by so fast because I was scared to go ‘home’.

Abusers are marvelous oppressors.

Your silence – not theirs – is their greatest weapon.

Abusers isolate you,
they cut off all avenues of healthy communication between you and the people who actually do care about you.

This is easy to do to a foster child, they have no one to advocate for them to begin with.

I spent many nights hoping morning would elude me, but it never did.

Believe it or not, I am so grateful that death had not come for me. I would not be able to sit here in my apartment, that is filled with love, and my wonderful dogs, and hamsters, and my wife who is asleep in our bedroom.

If I had remained silent, if I had not trusted God, I do believe I would have died.

Since then I have been in contact with more bullies, abusers, and the like. Though I may not have wanted to, I have seen them for what they are and opened my mouth (when it was safe to do so). I have helped more people escape abuse, in hopes that they would remember to take their own power back.

I try earnestly to help them find their inner voice.

Abusers chip away at the core of the very person’s willpower – their self-esteem – and their job is done.

They know that communication, big mouths, effective communicators, light-seekers, and lovers, are a threat to their plan.

How do abusers keep a person trapped?

  • Take away their courage to speak the truth.
  • Break their spine, without even touching them.
  • Make them forget who they are, slowly.
  • Poison the water in which they, and everyone else swims.
  • Normalize the behavior.
  • Provide a necessity – money, food, shelter, and make the victim feel as though they’d be powerless without the abuser.

If you are being abused, if any of this sounds even the slightest bit familiar to you, I want you to know that you are beautiful and powerful, and if you are not safe in your home, in your body, mind or soul, you are welcome here at

When you are ready and in a safe place to do so, you can reach out to:

Domestic Abuse Hotline (Do this in a place away from home. Be mindful of your internet usage!)


If you are suicidal or feel unable to cope –
text home to 741741, someone will be there to support you through your moment of crisis.

You are not alone. You are not a victim. There is a life waiting for you.

I love you.

Welcome Home.

Welcome Home! Meet Our Babies.

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Brobee popped out of his house to say hi 😀
Banjo just chillin’.
Annie… waiting to be fanned with leaves and fed grapes.
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