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The Trauma Parade

Originally Published:


It has been 28 years since I escaped my

Wednesday, March 2, 2016, I visited the site where it all began.
*(As well as the house I lived at where the year long pain occurred).

Everything in between was different.
Stop lights, more parents, safety.

My Memories, the same:
Walking home from Third Grade, heading west bound toward the
Memorial Rock as a Silver Hatchback approached me.

The driver screaming out my first name, informing me to get in the car with four other men.
I walked faster as my eight year old body could.
I had already experienced his pedophile wrath, and I knew what awaited me inside that silver car with plastic red bucket seats.

He persisted.
Putting the car in Gear 1 to follow my footsteps away.
His way of controlling my fear.

As I looked at the car creeping beside me, I could see the faces of the other 4 men.
One, belonging to his best friend.
The other three, strangers.
One of the strangers spoke,
‘Just grab her and go.’

As the driver threatened to tell if I didn’t get into the car with them.

I yelled,
Where am I going to sit?

And from their facial responses, I took off running, to save my life.

As I ran, I knew inside my childhood heart, I would have been gang raped and in a dumpster.

I made it safe to my friend’s house who gave his secret to me
(He had a hidden go-cart when he had to escape the violence inside his home).
I never found the go-cart, but the
Police and the driver’s Father located me walking alone down one of the busiest streets in town.
I was returned right back into the Trauma Parade.


The Driver became a repeat/violent Offender,
NEVER spending a second of his predacious life incarcerated.
*(He even had multiple children of his own, one he harmed when he was a child).
The U.S Judical System could care less about the Safety of Children
(Especially, during the Reagan Administration).

So, as an Adult Educator, I became a
Licensed State Mandate Reporter so any child in my former Classrooms would never have to experience becoming the unknown from the Trauma of Sexual Abuse.

*The violence actually began when I came home from school (third grade) and found him and his friend (from the car) in the process of attacking my brother who was only three at the time.
I fought them off until they both overpowered me.
That day, would become the first day of my Year of Hell.

‘Whatever you’re looking for
Hey, don’t come around here no more
Stop walking down my street
Don’t come around here no more
Who you expect to meet?
Don’t come around here no more
And whatever you’re looking for
Hey don’t come around here no more.’ Tom Petty and The Heartbreakers

Tunnels Of Tomorrow

All the things I have not come to terms with.  I will never understand.                                           Your Death.  

I found myself at one of our establishments on Saturday’s moonlight.

The last time I made an adventure there, I was alone, but you were alive.

Before, you, IPA Lagunitas  me, predictable. Laughing.  Making my dark days happy.  Your demons, quiet.

I could be me, never some part in someone elses play.  

I learned to let go, just be.  I even was strong enough to let you tease me.  Something I have NEVER been good at (due to the real abuse I’ve taken).

As I sat there with my Boyfriend (Now, Fiancé), I thought of you.

Two out of the four people we knew, are gone. Tending Bar somewhere else or on the wagon.

We had a good time.  I actually ate.  And enjoyed the few moments I could.  We traveled to our Jewel-Osco after.  A place that is so trivial, but still so painful for me.  To walk down the aging grocery aisles without you picking on me, your ‘Sweet Jesus,’ or your laughter is a tunnel of sorrow. 


It’s too hard.  I’m trapped here with fucking Dysautonomia, so much pain, heartache leftover and new abandonment, and your death.

Everywhere I go, there is a piece of you that remains

That’s not all.

I cannot take, live with or rise above anymore.

Friends Forever Lost

It’s been a year.  

An Entire Year Has Past Since We Met, Crossed Paths, Saved Eachothers Souls

It was a rainy Tuesday night.  I just finished my Teacher Conferences and I didn’t want to drive home alone.  

It had been ages since I had been young, finding a local pub, making connections.

I got in my Ex-Husband’s Truck and drove.  I found myself at Lakeview Grille.  An Establishment I had visited before, but never Solo.

I walked in, reminding myself, of who I once was.  

The Bartender, Mary, extremely friendly.  The Owner had remembered me from my few past visits.  It was a bit Upscale for my taste, but the ambience and cold drink were good.  

I’m a people watcher.  I’m fascinated by life, why we exist, how a man and woman (or same gender) find eachother.  *It’s the Russian within me.  We seek romance with deep tragedy.

I look over at one of the many flat-screen televisions mounted above, and I see you.

One of my kind. (Thank you INXS).

Latino.  Jet black hair, deep brown eyes, beautiful caramel skin, and that smile.  

You smiled at me.  I returned your smile.  Then you were gone.  Off with some blonde.

Oh well.  On to the next one.  Always my Motto.

I was unaware that you were apart of the Establishment, and little did I know, our paths would cross again.

A week later, same situation.  This time you sit next to me.  You introduce yourself as ‘Omar,’ you’re Saudi.  And your Family is in the Oil Business.

So, I spoke in Arabic and you almost lost your entire Blue Moon to the mahogany bar top.

I said, ‘Try Again.’

You laughed that infamous laugh and told me your Truth.  

But, in those moments of our beginning, you made it clear, you did not date White Women as I had a Boyfriend back in Colombia. *(Of course, you asked if he was a Drug Lord.  And my epic reply: ‘Out of all the Colombians I’ve ever dated, not one has been a Narco.’  Your Response: ‘Sweet Jesus.’  A catchphrase I grew accustomed to. *The Blonde from before was just a friend.  And you would soon know that my Relationship was wretched.

We were then set free.

Me, Corona Light

You, Blue Moon

Me, rapping Cypress Hill as you almost fell from your leather highback.  

Your Blonde reappeared to pick you up as she snarled at me, I smiled and said Hi.  You left with every intention of us becoming Best Friends. An upsoken legacy.  Our Friendship lasting until your Death.

Today, Is your Death Anniversary.

Five months.

It’s still unreal and sureal to me.  How? Why?  I’ll never forget how you were that week before.  The last time I saw you, September 4.  Our usual Sunday Night (Except when the Truck broke down).  Something was wrong. I knew.  We spoke every single day. When I was sick, then my Job went on Hiatus,  you were there. Parties, Bands, Local Dives, Late Night Movies. You told me everything, your demons, pain. You knew I would always be your Best Friend.  I met your Son (An occasion you kept from me for seven months). Why didn’t you ask me for help? 

5 Days later, you’re gone. Forever. I cannot accept nor live with it.  

As I lie here sick with Dysautonomia and Stress, I can hear your laugh.  I am restricted from driving once again, but I have not visited one place that was ours since your Death.  Lake Holiday, Casa Santiago, Millhurst, Legends, and most importantly, Lakeview Grille.  When I went to our Jewel, people asked “where were you,” that was enough for me to never step foot on our grounds. Having to explain your Best Friend took his own life is something I never imagined as apart of my own suicide survival(s).  

Puzzle Flames 

​​I never wanted much before      

Never complained about the pain                     Only want my life back                                                 I just need to remember                                             A little piece of my Soul                                           Or I forget I’m alive 
Now I don’t even know if I want to stay     Awake when it came crashing down                 Now I’m alone in this body                                   It’s too late                                                                 I’m a woman of a lesser God                                 I’m in flames
I don’t have another life                                   Don’t remember how to stay here                     I’m let down, abandoned                                             I know this part well                                                     I wish it wasn’t this hard 

But, I was burned before Dysautonomia

The Suffering Kind

​This is how I show my Disabilities 

I don’t know how to ask for help

I blame it on my nuclear existence 

This is how I show my Hardwork

I don’t know how to be a whore

I blame it on my morals

This is how I show my Pain

I don’t know how to be open

I blame it on all my trauma.
So, I Will Leave Soon Through The Jungle Hopefully To Return A Different Breed, A Woman Who Is No Longer Red.  But, Green. 

A Woman With No Patience.  Instead, Emptiness, Mean.

A Woman With No Suffering. Instead, Cured By All The RXs And Her Dreams.


Truth On Fire

​My Heart, completely black, empty

his pain has caused my fire to dim

I walk against the wind

in the shadows 

There is no end 

Alone, aware

I trust no one. 


Why should I feel this?

YOU abandoned me. (twice)

When you are brought forth, stranded, broken, To explain your choice, a second class one at that, You will be the living  proof of pain.

And when your swollen heart is cut, teased, manipulated, you will learn what it feels like to truly suffer.

I have enough evidence to crush your world and the lies you fill it with.  You are not a victim and everyone is aware of your false hope, love you give.

One day,  when you remember me, I will never be there to take that call, as I smile and say to myself you are the meaning of Hell.

*Your lies will catch up with you.  

And all the sorrow you have caused others will be the end of your narcissistic empire.

Sowing Men Shut

Something Occurred this cold autumn’s twilight.  The truth splattered all over my bedroom walls like the woman I pretend to be.

Candlelight flickered as the nightmare became what is enhanced reality, the confessions of a thousand years. Waiting.

​I Know I’m Going To Shake Up The Lines

But, I’m Free To Chose

Tears Were In My Eyes For Too Long

Abandonment, Marriage, Death

What I Was Left With.

Now, It’s My Turn To Taste The Broken Rules, 

The Views Of Their Atrocities 

Just As They Feel The Majority Hearts Should be Crushed.

Thank You.  I have become a league of superior over their lies.  I no longer want to talk.  My heart is now a black hurricane.

And I will never stop.  My Pain runs too deep.