Tag Archives: child abuse

One Of Those Days…




This morning started out horrible for me… I sat in the bathtub, bawling my eyes out. I sat in there for a bit and just let the tears flow. For some reason, the abuse my son suffered through has been on my mind alot, and I have been using every technique I know to take my mind off of it.

It hasn’t been working.

So, this morning, I just let it all out… cried until my head hurt.

It has been four years since my sons abuse, and though I don’t know when it started, I do know that it was ended after three months of being in the devils presence. So, he was abused no longer than three months, but this abuse has forever changed our lives. People say things happen for a reason and it makes me sick to hear. I must admit though that I found comfort in my grandfathers words that this tragic event saved my ex-husband… why?… because he was deployed at the time, to Iraq, and the incident with my son got him back to the states in three days and he has never had to return. Maybe my grandfather is right, probably not, but looking for the “positive” in it, that is all the positivity I can find.

My heart breaks for my son  and I punish myself for not realizing what was happening to him sooner than I did. Why did he get abused by someone I thought I trusted? Why was his innocence shattered and stolen from him? What affect is this going to have on him as he grows? Will he blame me? Will he be at peace with it or always struggling because this happened to him?

Will he forgive me…







It hurts me to think of the pain he endured and that he may always be at battle with what happened…

Though I hope he continues to heal, and possibly forget. He was 4 at the time… and turns 8 next month.

As for the person who hurt him? I hope he is hurting every day in prison (arrested for something unrelated)… that it’s hell for him, and that the same pain and cruelty is dished out to him. I want nothing more than for him to be given exactly what he gave my son. I usually wish worse things, but am trying to learn to let go.

An eye for an eye… that is all I want. I want justice for my son… and I want my son to flourish and thrive…

My son is happy… he is healthy… he is safe.

That is all that truly matters.

I will take all of his pain and carry it on my shoulders… that is what Mommy’s do. 


Does anyone know statistically how this will affect him? I know I have a couple followers who may know off hand… as therapists…

I was told by my own therapist that it sounds like my son has processed it well and only reflects on it as a “fact” and not as something completely emotional. He has gotten passed it well… and mentions it rarely. The things he does say though is horrific… enough to send any parent over the deep end, and wanting severe physical harm to come to the abuser.

He is happy. He is healthy. He is safe. ~ I say this over and over when times like this arise… and I imagine his smile and the way he wants me to cuddle him whenever we are together… I remember how loving and how gentle he is with his cousins… I remember him holding my hand… I remember him telling me he loves me… I remember how intelligent and kind he is… I remember his happiness.

He is happy. He is healthy. He is safe.

Disgusting Mankind

Recently I saw a picture on face book with a story of how the young girl, at the age of five, was the youngest mother in our history. Of course I thought that it was a hoax and looked it up online to confirm that it was. What I found was highly disturbing and absolutely wrong and disgusting.

The story was true. This particular young girl had started her menses at the age of three… she also had breasts that formed just as they would when going through puberty. There is a picture of her online, pregnant at age five, and thought I would put it here with this post but then decided against it. It is horrific to me that people in this world think that it is ok to have sexual contact with a child. And even worse, there are MANY cases of young girls, starting at about 5 on up, who had conceived a child and given birth.

I am just sick to my stomach. Many of them never started puberty that young, and even if they did, that is not permission to touch a child sexually. Most of these young girls were raped by fathers, uncles, and so on. One was being prostituted out by her parents!!

It makes me sick that people think it is ok to do this…. to steal the innocence of these poor children…. to abuse them in any way.

Society is depraved… they are morally bankrupt.

I look at my five year old daughter and know without a doubt that I would kill someone if they touched her this way.

It seems that people, as a whole, are disgusting… I am so distraught over this. I really am in need of good stories of human kindness… something to counteract this horrific, tragic, disgusting truth I have come across.

Child Abuse… and More


I have posted about the man who abused my son in the past. This person was not prosecuted for his actions because he was abusing my son in private, behind closed doors as is usually the case when it comes to abuse, and my son had a mild form of autism and at the time, a speech delay  that prevented him from being able to tell me what was happening to him… at the time…

Needless to say…. once my son was removed from that environment and felt safe, the flood gates of what happened to him came crashing open and it is HORRIFIC to say the least. I get physically ill when my son recounts details of what happened to him. How do I know that it is not just information fed to him? Well, many times my son will describe an event of the abuse and then follow up with “It was the day we did “this”. That is information that only I would truly know… and so I know my son is trying to describe the events and makes them believable by also mentioning something off topic that only I would have knowledge of… like the day we went to the park at mountains edge… nobody could have “fed” him that information… he was recalling a memory.

Not everyone thinks that Austin Peterson of Henderson/Las Vegas, NV was capable of such things. Some think he was a family man, even raising his oldest daughter on his own. Read the comments of this post I had written long ago, Bruised. This woman is his ex, and mother to his oldest child. She thinks he walks on water… and “how could he possibly hurt a child”.

Well, many people do things that often shock us or have us saying, “I would have never thought this person to be capable of doing something like that.”  Months after myself and my children were away from this man, with a  restraining order against him I might add, he went on an armed robbery spree. The man who was never capable of anything bad plead guilty to all counts and was sentenced to 15 years in a federal prison. READ ABOUT IT HERE. Once again, the ex comes to his rescue… you can read her comment beneath the article… for the record, she has her opinion about him and I imagine he was depressed and I certainly know he was having financial difficulties… but the first sentence is a lie. According to him, spoken to me when I knew him and unaware he was hurting my son, he told me he never even graduated high school and that he did not have a college degree.

Out of character for him, both the child abuse and the crimes?? Perhaps. What I do know was that he did do these.

If you read the article I linked… and I will link it again here…. he held a gun to the face of the frightened employees. Sited from the article: “Peterson pointed firearms at the faces of the employees, threatened them and demanded money.”

He was capable of the several armed robberies he committed, capable of holding a “stolen semi-automatic handgun” to the faces of people and threaten them… capable of being a monster committing these crimes. If he was “capable” of these things, why is it so far-fetched for some to believe he could not be *capable* of hurting and abusing a child. He was on a downward spiral… capable of anything.

Everyone has rights to their own opinions… but when my son (been healing since the end of 2009) recounts how socks were stuffed in his mouth while Austin punched him in the groin and etc, or how Austin put a plastic “walmart” bag over his head…. I know that my son does not have the capability, at age 4, to describe these horrific things in such detail… to describe what was happening to him, to make such horrible things up. And I must add, I am describing the abuse he suffered in VERY vague words. The details that my then 4 yr old son gave would literally make you sick. I kept asking in my head, over and over, how bruises could be in the area between his testicles and his rectum… well, sadly, it is quite disgusting and simple… and my 4 yr old could not only explain how in horrible detail, but he could also demonstrate the motion and momentum needed to inflict injuries that caused his genitals to swell up to the size of grapefruits.
Thank God this did not go on for much time… he could have very well killed my son.
In my opinion, a person who can hold a gun to someones face and threaten them… well, this type of person is capable of being a monster in many ways, including being a child abuser.
*Everything written here is backed up by the article I sited, and true to what my child has revealed happened to him. I can show proof of the crime spree… I may not be able to show concrete proof that my child was abused by him… perhaps I will write another post of how I know that my son is telling the truth… but this post is not to bash, it is to share my experience and state facts as they are in the paper, and as I know them.*
If anyone comes across this via the google search engine and disagrees with the information here, contact me through my contact page and lets discuss this as  adults, don’t leave a hateful comment and threaten me… it is immature, and this is a public venue where all can see the threats made. I am human and I am not hateful or vengeful. If you speak to me with respect, as one person to another, I will certainly treat you with respect back and will be logical.
On a happy note, my son is healing remarkably. When he does speak of it, he speaks matter of fact about it, sometimes asking if Austin was “trying to kill” him. Breaks my heart… but I always remind him that he is a good boy and never did anything wrong to warrant that type of treatment.
On an even happier note… the last couple years have been Austin free. My son is healing… and THAT is beautiful and a demonstration of the amazing resilience children have. His healing will always be ongoing, but with his Dad and me helping him all the time, soon it will be a distant memory and hopefully one day, a memory that will no longer reside with him. ♥

Its Not Often…

It’s not often that I think of you…

I don’t like the vomit in the back of my throat…

Nor the acid burning me from the inside out.

 Hate flowing through my veins, choking on smoke.

I erase you out of my memory…

You do not deserve to be held there.

My anger, rage, my hatred… grows

The evil things dance about, without a care.

If I were to see you tomorrow…

You would be better off to turn and run…

Pray to the Gods, for it will be your last chance…

I will assist you to your funeral, it would be fun.

© Bipolarmuse 2012

** Some days I am able to keep the asshole who abused my son out of my mind… yet once in a while he pops into my head and it brings back so many raw emotions. My hatred grows every time I think of the abuse my youngest son had to endure at this disgusting persons hands. Writing helps me to heal… I just hope my son can heal as well.**

World Suicide Prevention 2012

World Suicide Prevention day just passed and I feel like a bad Bipolarmuse for not addressing this topic and bringing it to light yesterday.

I have certainly endured my share of loved ones killing themselves, and as a survivor, it is one of the most traumatic experiences I have dealt with in my entire life. For those of you who have followed by blog… you know I have certainly been through a-lot. A-lot of ugly, sad, and horrific experiences, yet surviving a loved ones suicide is certainly at the top of the list for the most difficult circumstances to live through. The only thing more difficult was enduring the fact that my son was physically abused.

I have loved 3 people who have killed themselves.

*Kevin Ammons- My Uncle who took his own life… a drug addicted, depressed man, with horrible life experiences to add to his sorrows.

*Brandon S.- My ex who took his life nearly 3 months after he and I ended our two year relationship.

*Keith Leavitt- Another Uncle who took his life because of a broken heart.

All three were unique, yet all three suffered greatly and felt the need to end it… to escape their mental pain.

Suicide is preventable. Most people who commit suicide do not want to die but want to end their emotional suffering.

People are afraid of talking about the subject… afraid that mentioning it will somehow give others the “idea” if they had never previously considered it an option… they are afraid of the stigma associated with suicide… they are afraid. We cannot allow fear to control us and need to speak openly about suicide, prevention and education, and mental health… bring it to light instead of allowing it to fester in the dark. Education is golden… a step towards prevention.

Stop the stigma.

Start talking.

** If you are depressed and contemplating suicide, please reach out to someone. Even a  hotline if you need to be anonymous. Do everything within your power to fight for your life. You are worth the fight. **

Melancholy~ Part 1

Over the years I have used many “self-help” books to “cure” me from my mood disorders. I have stated before that I was in denial for quite some time that my problem was deeper than I truly let on. I am going to give you a little more in depth timeline of how my mental health changed over time.


As a preteen/teenager I was the type of kid who had a few friends… more acquaintances than anything else. I was average looking… meek… yet I could be the class clown at the flip of a switch. I wore mostly dark clothes though I wouldn’t say that I was “gothic” or “emo”, as they call it these days. Black was simply my favorite color and I never realized that it was a reflection of my inner thoughts until I was approached by one of my Jr. High School teachers named Mrs. King. A woman I will never forget. She pulled me aside one day and asked me if I was OK because she was concerned about me. I was wearing more black clothing than previously and I seemed sullen to her. She was the only person in my entire life that looked at me and truly could “see” me. Of course, I broke down and cried to her about my troubles at home, and she shared with me that she was married to an alcoholic and had been for more than 30yrs. She told me that she understood and that I was not alone…and she let me know I could speak to her at any time…even offering her telephone number to me. She could see in me what others couldn’t or would not acknowledge. At that time in my life, my Mom and Step-Dad drank a-lot and it was normal for intense arguments and screaming to take place on a whim. Classic rock music would be playing, often too loud for my sister and I to fall asleep but we would often pretend to be sleeping so we were not included in the arguments that always took place. They were not happy drunks to say the least. When on a happy buzz, everything was fun and great…but as the day and night wore on, the buzz became evil and toxic. And more often than not, we would be brought into the middle of the insanity where words were like daggers and apologies would often come the next day when sobriety, embarrassment, and shame came together…where eye contact didn’t take place because if you looked into my eyes or my sisters eyes, the intense pain, anger, and resentment was too much for the parental figures to bare.

Depression came to me when I realized that I was a separate entity from my parents. When I realized that my childhood was not what it should have been. When I realized that people had no right to invade my personal space, yet did (sexual abuse). When I realized that I was a teenager that had to take care of weekend alcoholic parents. When I realized that the turbulent lifestyle I was surrounded in was not healthy. When I was aware that my real Dad had no right to physically harm my Mom and our pets. When I realized that the drugs/alcohol/rock & roll childhood I lived was not normal. I could go on and on. Lets just sum it up and say my childhood was not pretty.

***Side note–-I must say though…and feel it truly in my heart… that my Mom did the absolute best she could with the skills she had at that time. She was a young Mom and gave birth to me just days after her 17th birthday. Happily, she is no longer the same person I described above. I learned so much in therapy these last 3 years, but I learned the most within the last 15 months. During DBT (Dialectical behavior therapy). I had an amazing therapist named Anne. She absolutely rocked… she was honest, to the point, and didn’t sugar coat anything. From this therapy, I learned to stop pointing fingers at the past and also learned that the majority of us don’t wake up and say, “I am going to make the worst mistake of my life today.” Decisions are made in the moment, some good…some bad… some the lesser of 2 evils, but most are made with good intentions. I also learned a great deal about self-medicating which at one point became a problem for myself and one I battle with always. I will get into that a bit more later.—***

As I grew older, into my teens, my depressive, suicidal ideation poetry was traded for writing songs. At this time in my life, I was dating the man I later married… so my “sad” poetry turned into love songs and true to life little stories…some upbeat but always a touch of the “blues”. My puppy/1st love distracted me from most of the melancholy… not all, but most. Depression already had its fangs in me and would not release me anytime soon. It was always in the background lingering…just waiting for the opportune moment to hit me like a Mac Truck. And that it did….

Time to get real- 2

Me and my gorgeous little ones.

Years later I remarry and have 2 more children… beautiful and amazing babies. My ex-husband was in the military and we moved away from my big kids to TX. While in TX, he had 3 deployments in 3 years. On his second deployment, they deployed him weeks before the due date of our second child, so I gave birth alone… and had to care for my toddler son. After I had my daughter, I started to “crack”. I had in upwards of 5 panic attacks a day… to the point of being afraid to drive. When he returned from the deployment I expected everything to go back normal, but it didn’t. I couldn’t sleep, was psychosomatic, depressed, and suffering horrible anxiety, mania, and rapid cycling.. When his 3rd deployment came along, I thought I could handle it but I couldn’t. I must state that I was in denial about my mental disorders. I decided to leave and go back to my home state. So I packed me and the babies up and instantly ran into the arms of another man. I was so f*cking stupid. This man was abusing my youngest son under my nose. At the time I had custody of 3 of my children… the 2 little ones and my oldest daughter. Finally, I noticed horrible marks on my son and took him to the doctor… they didn’t know what was wrong with him… said he was slightly anemic… but I knew something was wrong. I took my son to 3 doctors and then the ER where they determined it was abuse. Read here about his abuse. I wasn’t even thinking it was the guy I was with… I was blind to that at first. My son is Autistic and had a moderate speech delay at the time and would give me many answers when I asked him how he was getting “booboo’s”. At the ER, CPS got involved and I had to speak to the detective. While talking to the detective, CPS ran off with my son… LITERALLY. I almost died. I had to meet CPS at my residence to hand over my 2 daughters. My oldest could go to her Dads but she refused and went to child haven with my little ones…she didn’t want them to go alone.  Everyday I wanted to die for not recognizing the abuse going on…things would have turned out so different if I had.

Of course, I called the babies Dad back from Iraq so he could take custody of the kids. CPS was making me take “Non-offending” parenting classes to recognize the signs of abuse. I was the ONLY woman in the group who believed it was the boyfriend…all others made excuses.

The babies Dad got there and took custody of the kids and we agreed to divorce so that the kids wouldn’t get pulled back into the system in the event that he got relocated to another station. The divorce was only for that reason. He led me to believe that he and I would try to fix our marriage. I truly thought that we would.

When I got the divorce papers, there was a restraining order against me, and I was ordered for a Psych evaluation. I called him instantly because there was no reason to play dirty…we agreed to divorce and as soon as I was done with the classes I planned to move back to them in TX. Needless to say, that never was his intention and we never tried working on our marriage. For a second time, I had lost all that mattered to me and it made me face the very real debilitating illnesses I was inflicted with.

I can’t begin to explain the depression that happened. I have cried every single day since the end of 09. My oldest daughter went back to her Dad and I had a complete breakdown that still lingers in the background to this day.

I know my babies are healthy and happy, but I don’t feel healthy living without them. It breaks my heart that I was so foolish a 2nd time… I was gullible. Everything I lived for was taken from me and I wanted nothing more than my heart to stop. Then, one day, I decided that I needed to start living for ME so that I could be there for them…and so I struggle, yet move forward. My children have been my heaven… this life has felt like my personal hell. One day, hopefully soon, I will not hurt so much and know to my core that this life is worth more than my personal hell.

It certainly has been brutal, yet I stand and I will continue to do so. ♥

“Hello, Hello”?

Echos, the only voice I hear is my own.

“Hello”, “Hello”?, “Who can be the one to save me”?

To save, I say, is a triumph that must come…

        from the will of “me”.

“Hello”, “Hello”?, “do you see the devil too,

the darkness that shadows… menacingly invades”?

I see it dear ‘Me”, I say, the devil has no power over you

        No matter how easily it can persuade.

“Hello”, “Hello”?, “How do you know? Have the faith

that the devil is a losing entity, losing power”?

Dear me, I say, I know it to be so because of you…

        You are emitting light and power…we no longer cower.

© bipolarmuse 2012



Will You Ever

Will You Ever

Today your words cut at me…

Like a razor blade. Making me bleed

From the deepest depths of me.

Will you ever forget, or lessen the pain.

The threshing of your tongue, echo of blame…

Will it cease? Or in the least, lessen the sting.

I know who is. The one to rest this evil upon.

Will you see? That it is not the box that I stand on?

Can I help your heart, soul, and eyes to see beyond.

I stand in this place so very dark, with doubt and shame.

My protection should have held strong. I question if I am to blame.

Will your spirit forgive… see past the hurt, blame… my name.

I look to you for strength, purpose, and beauty…

Will you ever look toward me and ever see” just me”?

The one who sacrificed all… for you to be well and free.

Will you ever look to me again and only see your “Mommy”.

© bipolarmuse 2012

I was having a wonderful conversation with my youngest son who was abused when out of the blue he asked me why I took him to “Las Vegas” to be hurt by “Austin”. Of coarse I had no idea that he would he be abused by such a horrible person…. yet I am the one who has to answers the hard questions. I told him I was “sorry” and that I did not know he would get hurt… and that I NEVER wanted or knew he would get hurt. He then told me “Yea, I got allot of BooBoo’s”.

Can you imagine such a heart breaking conversation. There are so many people out there who ignore abuse or who are not fit to be parents at all. I adore my children… all of them. My son is one part of my heart and I have to convince him all the time that I NEVER intended for him to be hurt. Today… my heart broke… again.

Dalai Lama Quote

Self-discipline, although difficult, and not always easy while combating negative emotions, should be a defensive measure. At least we will be able to prevent the advent of negative conduct dominated by negative emotion. That is ‘shila’, or moral ethics. Once we develop this by familiarizing ourselves with it, along with mindfulness and conscientiousness, eventually that pattern and way of life will become a part of our own life.~ Dalai Lama quotes

I often read of ways to combat depression. I think many of us who suffer it regularly read allot of self help books and look up information online. One option I read about was to keep a counter on you at all times and each time you have a negative thought, you click the button on the counter. This makes you aware of truly how many negative thoughts you have daily, and the number is usually astounding. This process makes you “aware” of your negative thought pattern and if each day you practice this, using the counter, you will make yourself more aware and the number will start dropping. Just the awareness, and mindfulness of the negativity you hold inside, will break the pattern of negative thoughts.You will begin to incorporate positivity into your mind and life, which will generate more positivity.

I found this piece of information very interesting and helpful. Though I do not use a counter, I do practice mindfulness and when a negative thought comes up, I will acknowledge the pain associated with it, then redirect my thoughts to something positive. For example: I think of my sons abuse. I acknowledge the pain, perhaps cry, and then I picture him how he is now… happy and healthy. What more do we want for our children?

Just a thought I wanted to share with you and I hope you take it to heart. Everything is worth the effort if it will bring peace of mind and happiness into our lives… keep this in mind my friends.

Have a beautiful weekend. Love and Light to you all. ♥

The Sunshine Award

I cannot begin to describe how happy I am that my blog is touching others in such a beautiful, positive way. I would never have guessed that it would to the extent it has. Every time I get an award, I am so very humbled and full of joy that I was thought of for this blessing from other beautiful writers/blogs/poets.

I would love to give a warm Thank you to Sirenia- My Own Avalon. A wonderful poet, beautiful blog, and we share something in which I just found out recently… had I read her “about” page I would have known and remembered (shame on me). I am so honored that you thought of me for this award. ♥

Now on to the award duties that call. 🙂

First step:
Thank the person that nominated you and in my case this is Sirenia- My own Avalon. I so much enjoy the beauty of her words and her blog. She writes amazing poetry with a style I would love to emulate.

Second step:
Share some tibits about yourself. I will try HARD not to repeat myself… 😉

Favorite colour:
So, so, many! Red wine, Silver, Pink glitter, Dark purple, Spanish red, China Blue. (I use to work at lowes, a lil familar with paint).

Favourite animal:
My second favorite would be a polar bear. They are so amazing to watch swim under water.

Favourite number:
13 is my second favorite. I know I said before that I like even numbers, but if you add them together, 1+3=4, so it evens out. LOL

Favourite Non-Alcoholic Drink:
Ice tea is second to Dr. Pepper

Facebook or Twitter:
Facebook, I am not Twitter savvy but I try.

My Passion:
Poetry, lipgloss,

Favourite day of the week:
No more Favs… they are all the same to me for the most part.

Favourite Flower:
Easter Lilies, carnations, the little ones my son picked for me at the park ♥

I will pass the Sunshine Award on to the following blogs:

‘Nessa (Bluesander) – A wonderful writer, and a sister to my heart. I go back to her blog over and over. Her poetry is riveting.

Picnic with Ants – Such a wonderful Lady who battles many chronic illnesses and has a heart or gold. Very inspiring as she battles what life has thrown at her.

moonlightvenus – A new blog to me but I am very much enjoying the poetry, plan to visit again and again.

Happy Wednesday to you all. May this day bring you love and light♥

Child Abuse

This post is going to be a hard one for me. It has to do with my sons abuser… of which I do not want to say his name. Here is a link to the post I made about him in 2010 http://bipolarmuse.com/2010/04/25/who/ , and also, here is a link about my sons abuse, also written in 2010 http://bipolarmuse.com/2010/06/07/bruised/. Please look over any curse words, I was in a very, very dark, sad, lost state of mind.

Recently I received an email from an ex-girlfriend of the abuser. She stumbled up my blog after googling his name and had some questions for me about this despicable man. Since my sons abuse I had 20/20 vision of coarse and have openly believed and claim that he has a disliking for boys and LOVED girls. Sounds perverted right? I believe this because his actions and simple mannerisms make me feel this way. And of coarse, he abused my son, and not my daughter. He openly professed that he was ecstatic that his children were girls, not boys. This lady contacted me because she had a son and was around the despicable man when her child was a young child…she was concerned that maybe her son had been abused as well. She specifically asked her son if he was abused by despicable man and he assured her he had not been.

I was so grateful her son did not endure what my son had. I cannot even repeat the cruelty he inflicted upon such a sweet innocent boy at the tender age of 4, my son. Hearing from her brought back a wave of emotions and images that I cannot shake at the moment. I take comfort in knowing my son is healthy, happy, and that he is flourishing. 2 years later my son still remembers the horror he went through. It haunts me. He associates me with that horrible man in little ways. I hope in time, that will lessen.

Child abuse is disgusting. And sadly, people get away with it all the time, get a slap on the wrist. When I was going through group counseling to recognize the signs of abuse, all the women were in denial. They did not believe their “boyfriend/spouse” was abusing their child. I was the only person in the group who knew it was despicable man and made clear that it was.

I am mad they didn’t have enough evidence to arrest him for my sons abuse… but I am happy too. Why? Because what he did after sent him to federal prison for 15 years. He robbed banks, and restaurants and did not get away with it.

Justice sometimes comes back around… maybe not in the way we would like. For child abuse, he would have had a light sentence, for armed robbery, 15 yrs is wonderful.

But why my son? I ask that question all the time. Why my precious little boy?

I am Learning Still

I am Learning Still.

” Oh my son, Look at what I’ve done.

But I am learning still, learning still,

Know that I am learning still. ” Missy Higgins

~When I was visiting my smallest children this past week… my son (who is six) was asking the difficult questions that parents often face. I wish they were easy questions, like why is the sky blue? Or, why do birds fly south for the winter?

Oh, no. His questions were about broken hearts, and why I hurt his Dad… and why I moved him to a new place where he was hurt ( he was abused by a despicable person ). All I could do was cry, and apologize over and over, for I know he hurts so.~

**My dear son,

Some things just cannot be answered.

I would have readily taken your place,

Taken the abuse, hurt, pain.

I just pray you do not question my love…


For you,

I would take away your painful memories.

I would sacrifice my very life.

Readily take away every sliver of your pain, your strife.

Take the poison. To prove my love for you.


I cry every single day.

For all the pain my actions caused.

Still a fresh wound, a kind of mourning.

Know that I am learning still. Please forgive me.

Standing, or kneeling, for you I constantly pray.


© bipolarmuse 2012


~ Anger is like fire. It burns all clean. –Maya Angelou~

I have lived Hate…

Though it was not an emotion

I previously knew.

I have learned HATE…

To foam at the mouth and feel unbelievable,

Uncontrollable rage.

I have tasted HATE.

If I had one moment with you,

I would more than gladly remove life,

From your eyes, the air from your lungs.

I have breathed HATE.

I have struggled with injurious effort

To move past your cruelty,

To turn the page. To burn away this rage.

I have fed off of this HATE.

I loathe you. Hope you know, smell…

The depths of Hell.

My son, inflicted by your inhuman hands,

I have become grievous HATE.

My son bruised, by you…

A monster. Undeserving of being.

I have become HATE.

But now, my beautiful son healing…

I must heal…

Release what binds me, hurts me so.

I must learn to release this HATE.

My son: my healing light is for you.

© bipolarmuse 2012


Bruised….swollen… Tired. I lay next to him, heartbroken and fearful, trying to desperately figure out what happened.
In instinct… I knew. But how could someone be so cruel.
I slept on the floor. I held my baby as she cried. Was she crying for her brother? I cried so hard my bones hurt… My head felt as though it could explode… My body shook violently.
I took my son to urgent care. Blood work was ran. Just slightly anemic.I asked if it could be abuse….
Following morning we went to a followup appointment…. Had me scared to death he may have cancer. Oh my God, please not cancer. But the alternative was a horrid thought as well.
My son and I cuddled and held hands and talked. He said he didn’t feel good but the doctors would make him better. I became even more worried.
On to the cancer doc we went.
They found nothing wrong. Thank god it wasn’t cancer, yet now my heart broke in a different way.
On our walk over to the emergency room, holding hands… I knew. Someone was abusing my beautiful amazing son. And I knew that CPS would step in and take him. I hoped and prayed not.
Then the unimaginable happened… They removed him from my care, along with all my other children.
I wanted to die.
I wanted to step into traffic.
I wanted to jump out of the moving car.
I wanted my heart to just stop mid beat.
In pain from crying already… The pain intensified. Became brutal.
My head became clouded. I couldn’t think. Time disappeared and became painfully slow.
Functioning felt impossible.
Eating caused me to become sick.
Drinking water made me sick.
I found blood in my urine.
I prayed for death every second.
Every fucking second… With every breath, I pleaded for death.