Sometimes I Forget to Breathe: Tattoos & Mental Health

Every time I saw or heard the word “Breathe,” I noticed my body take an automatic very deep breath – like I was observing my body ‘relax itself.’

Sometimes I forget to breathe. Happens sometimes with severe anxiety & ptsd.

But my body knew better 😉

So I decided to get the word tattooed inside my left wrist, as a reminder to relax, & help combat these leftover symptoms from all the trauma.

It really helps 🙂

Sadly, there is still that lingering stigma around mental illness – which I wish was eradicated: I was once asked, “Watcha gettin’ on your other wrist – ‘Blink?'”

Hardy har har.

Just Breathe

Moral of the story:

Do watcha gotta do for yourself, don’t worry even for a sec what anyone else thinks or says!

Keep Climbing


The SOAR Act

Thrilled to announce that the SOAR Act was approved in the House of Representatives this week!

What does the SOAR Act do?

It creates training programs for nurses, doctors, & first responders to help them recognize the signs of human trafficking in patients. A reported 88% of sex trafficking survivors had contact with a health care provider while being trafficked. In many cases it may be the only time that they are separated from their trafficker. Training health care providers to contact law enforcement after identifying a human trafficking victim creates opportunities for intervention.

We’re not done yet! The Senate must pass SOAR before it can be signed into law.

Email your senators now and urge them to pass the SOAR Act.

Source: Polaris


Speak Out, Make a Difference 

Speak Out 

One of my favorite themes. 

Why does our world lack people who do the right thing? 

Is it because of the way whistle blowers are disparaged, attacked, discredited?

So that tells me if I kill someone, & tell my friend, & he tells on me, he goes to jail? 

How is that right, fair, just?

It isn’t.

What is happening in our world? 

We have to say something, do something.

We can’t let this go on.

Don’t be complacent, conformant, silent.

The world needs your integrity on display.

How Can Anyone Say This? #Religion #Fails Again: Kevin Swanson

A christian pastor, Kevin Swanson, has the gall to blame the victims of one of the worst pedophiles of the century, Larry Nassar.

“Christian Pastor: The Larry Nassar Scandal is the Fault of Immodest Gymnasts”

This is outrageous. I will keep posting despicable stories about the church until everyone walks away from religion. They are the exact opposite of what they claim to be. They scam people out of their hard-earned money, while they abuse your children & defend those that abuse children in general. Enough is enough. Seems the judge agreed as she sentenced him to 175 years & said, “I just signed your death warrant.”

Larry Nassar wrote a letter to the judge prior to sentencing, trying to diminish his actions, in order to get a lighter sentence.  I thoroughly enjoyed watching the judge shame him in court by reading his letter, then tossing it to the ground & sentencing him to the max. He got exactly what he deserved. 

“Larry Nassar sentenced to up to 175 years in prison for decades of sexual abuse.”

2:43am: “I Hope My Murder Wakes My Neighbors.”

Nothing would ever be the same again. 

2nd chances - luckyChance

It happened on a random Friday night, in late May, a few years ago now.

Tired from a long week of work, I chose to stay home & chill that night – a little tv & early to bed. I said goodnight to my boyfriend as he went out to meet some friends for drinks. After some tv, tidying & a couple of games of crib online, I decided to call it a night. By 10:15 I was tucked into bed – I think it took me all of 10 minutes to enter dreamland.

Four hours & 13 minutes later, I found myself in the middle of my worst nightmare. Sheer terror like I had never experienced before, & hope I never have to again.

Something woke me up.

I had no idea what at the time. I remember opening my eyes, & the first thing I saw was my clock:


It was pitch black. I couldn’t see a thing. 

I have to get up,’ I thought ..

Something was weird ..

I tried to get up, but realized I couldn’t … 

Wait a minutewhat the


“Holy Fuck there’s a man on top of me in my bed!”

In a fraction of a second I tried n realized I couldn’t move my legs, tried n realized I couldn’t move my arms. I was pinned down to my bed, helpless, defenseless. My mind, racing at warp speed to try & make sense of my predicament. He was straddling me, sitting on my pelvis, thighs, legs; couldn’t use ’em. He had my hands/arms pinned under his knees, couldn’t use those either. Panic set in as I wondered frantically, “How the fuck am I supposed to defend myself? How the fuck am I gonna defend myself??”


His right hand was covering my mouth. He must have placed it there as he was getting on top of me while I slept, in case I woke up. What a horrible thought. When I woke up, he kept whispering ‘Don’t scream, don’t scream,’ over & over again in French. He was a couple of inches from my face. His left hand was already on my pyjama top buttons as he tried frantically to unbutton them. I was terrified –  a terror like I never knew was possible. I thought I would never get out from under him. I couldn’t kick him, scratch him or punch him. Holy fuck, I don’t wanna die ..

My mind shifts into super-high gear – I was going to have to fight for my life here & it could very well get ugly. I could not make sense .. I simply could not comprehend. Who the fuck is this guy? What the hell is happening??!! Did he have a gun? A knife? Would he torture me? Kill me fast? All I knew was I was going to fight for my life. No fuckin’ sneaky son of a bitch was gonna do that to me & get away with it.

Lying there & taking it” was NEVER an option.


The only think I could think of: ‘I hope my murder is loud enough to wake my neighbors before I actually die.’ 

I was out of options. When you’re in that situation, you’ll do anything to survive. The fight for your life is intense. Then, out of I don’t know where, the idea that wound up saving my life appeared. Just like that. ‘Ok, No legs, No arms.’ It was like a basic survival checklist; but I had my teeth. Omg thank you 💖  ‘My teeth,’ I thought, as I bit that mother-fucker’s hand so hard.

It must have hurt like a son of a bitch – he yanked it right out of my mouth.  He then punched me twice, hard. Felt like it was in slow motion. The scream I let at out at this point –  realizing I was no longer muffled – was a blood-curdling, primal scream. It was heard by people who lived down the entire block & the next one over, I later found out.

We rolled off the bed, me screaming, waving my arms, flailing desperately. I think I was trying to hit him, trying to attack him, & he was trying to get away from me. That thought gives me a bit of relief. He was actually trying to get away from me. I chased him to the right, down the hall, to the kitchen, & back door. Looking back, that’s weird cuz my front door was about 2 feet to the left. Instead we ran together for maybe 15 feet. I realized after, that’s the way he came in, so under duress, he went the only way he knew. He was running away from me. Good. I chased him to the back door, as my mind saw & tried to register that my back door was open, & the door’s window, & the window’s screen was on the ground.


During that kind of trauma, your mind cannot comprehend what is happening. It all happens so fast, a split second. So trying to process all that fear, violence, & fear of more violence, & knowing this could very well be it. I was still trying to comprehend how the hell there was a man on top of me in my bed when I woke up, that trying to register: ‘That’s how he broke in,’ just was not computing. I still couldn’t believe that it was happening. I still can’t believe it did.

Needless to say, I didn’t sleep for a year.

I saw a shrink, took self-defense classes, & got an ADT alarm system in my apartment. And I’ve still never felt safe since.

They say time heals all wounds. It’s been years. I’ve moved 3 times since. But it doesn’t seem to want to go away.