One of the girls was gang raped outside yesterday, in broad daylight, and the horror that it has spread through the residents is atrocious. Four men, who sat outside of the building all day ingesting huge amounts of beer, attacked her in the adjacent parking lot. IN BROAD DAYLIGHT!! I think that is the fact that hurts the most...is no one safe?
Everyone there was very pensive for the rest of the evening, most of us selfishly thanking GOD that we were the ones who were spared. A few of the girls of less worldly experience, simply bawling from the reality of the situation. Many could not eat, most going to bed early to make it all go away.
Although we were cautious before, we are now especially vigilant. We now travel in packs, and trivialities like cigarette and drug debts have been temporarily forgotten. The occupancy of the shelter has also nearly doubled in the last 48 hours...now, it is crowded. It will not be long before tempers flare due to the lack of personal space that is afforded.
As for the cat, that poor little man, who has been camped out in my truck for the last 5 days, pity has now prevailed. I have been taking 5 pilgrimages out to the car a day, to spend time with him, turning on the air conditioning, and ensuring that he had a clean litter box, food, and especially water. It has not been that hot the last few days, for which I have been grateful...and when I close my eyes, my last prayer is for him; That he will have a safe night, and that he will be still in the car, and very much alive the next morning. Today I was called to the office, and when the word 'cat' was raised, I was very much expecting the worst. Instead, the workers had interceded and found someone that was prepared to take him for a few days...A Vet. They did not want to call the Animal Protection on me, they knew that I was doing my very best, being faithful of his care, and they knew that the cat was my daughters. So....they helped!!! Oh, how grateful I am. Now, it is the littlest things that you are grateful for, especially when people offer help! Now kitty is at the kitty spa until Monday, and I will be out tomorrow vigilantly shopping for a home. I hope that I can find something that I can afford.
I have so much more to tell, but I have a curfew to honour, and lateness will land me on the street; At present a repercussion that I am not going to flirt with. We will try this again tomorrow.
Wednesday, 17 August 2011
Monday, 15 August 2011
The Heavy Crown
" Heavy is the Head that Wears the Crown, Don't Let the Greatness get You Down"
- Katy Perry -
Today the eldest of the two younger sisters got a hold of me on my cellphone..."Where are you?" was the primary question. Where am I?, I wonder..."I don't think that information is important," I replied, and proceeded to ask her what she was doing.
She mentioned that our father had just left her house, and was inquiring as to my whereabouts. "That is interesting," I replied, "as he knows exactly where I am."
*********************************************************************************
The intervention that I had previously mentioned in another blog post was attended by both of my sisters, and the Mistress in early July of this year; The youngest of the two I still had a major beef with. I had played 'Mom' to her from the approximate age of 13 to around 17 or 18, because she was being beaten by my father. I had to take her in a second time when she graduated from private school, but was expelled 2 days before the graduation ceremonies due to drinking and fornicating. My father, being the model of generosity sent her back to Canada without a cent to her support. Again she became my financial burden until I married. After my wedding, we did not speak for years...she did not need me anymore.
At the intervention both sister attested and proclaimed their love and devotion for me. The youngest then made the offer that if the situation called for it, my daughter and I could stay with her. The elder of the two said plenty in regards to her affection through her tears, but offered nothing...albeit she makes $250,000+ a year. She, like my father love their wallets much more than me, and my daughter.
I left with the eldest sister a 2.5ct diamond solitaire, as well as 2 diamond watches, and other valuable pieces. I told her to give the diamond and the diamond watches to my daughter when she turned 21 years of age, the balance was to be given to her on her 18th birthday.
*********************************************************************************
Just before I left the Mistress' house a week ago, I had two difficult converstions with my family. The youngest of the two who had offered me a place to stay in the event that it was required, renegged her offer due to the cat....She did not want the cat in the house. Hence, the shelter is where I now find myself. The second call was from my father.
My father is very busy trying to impress the elder of the two younger sisters...reason one, she is the boy that he never had, and secondly, due to her income. As he has money, he thinks that she is now his 'social equal'. I was his social equal until the divorce started, and I had to 'purchase' my daughter through the legal system. (Oh, there is another blog to post!!) Now that I have no money, and cannot pay back what I borrow, I have been cut off. I told my father that he was sentencing me to a woman's shelter...His reply, "Do it!! Get off your ass, and review your priorities. Your priorities are completely fucked up!"
What are my priorities? you ask. Here they are:
1. Getting help with my depression, and trying to put myself priority for the first time in a VERY long time. I need to get out of this nervous breakdown rut that I am prisoner in, and get my health back; Then, and only then, can I get back to work.
2. My daughter. She too needs her mother back, and desperately needs another psychiatrist. Her psychiatrist dumped her in June, as he had decided to re-specialize; Now I have to find a new one. She has ADHD and ODD which has been exacerbated by stress. She has now lost her home,...thankfully not her beloved cat yet, who is living in the parking lot in my truck!....and has no security in the documents "Mummy" purchased because they have not been filed!! (yet another post to follow at some point) Poor child!
3. Try and find an income
4. Try and find a home
5. Get my daughter into school in the next few weeks.
These priorities are obviously not in order, but there they are. Could someone please tell me what is wrong with my priorities?
My father has absolutely NO understanding of clinical depression, and chooses not to understand it. I have been hospitalized twice for it when I was in my late teens, and even then, he refused to try. My psychiatrist tried to explain it to him....he said that I was faking, and proceeded to throw a fit in front of the psychiatrist, as well as exercise his filthy temper. As a result, he was banned from any further visits...and that was back then...20 years ago. His ignorance continues, and his failure to try, drives a wedge that will stop him from seeing both myself and my daughter. My love has never been bought, and neither will my daughter's. If I will teach her anything, I will teach her that love is NOT conditional.
**********************************************************************************
"After I was told by our sister that I could not stay with her, I went to the only place that was left...the women's shelter," I told my sister. "These were the options that I was left with." She was apparently horrified, but protested that there had to be another option. I told her AGAIN that my husband had put paid to all of my former relationships while I had been living out of province from him, trying to put put together his dream of returning to his 'hometown'.
'Maybe we can go for coffee tomorrow?' she asked. I did not see the point of that and told her so. 'Well maybe next week when you are feeling better,' she attempted to console..
.'What would be the point of that?' I asked her again.... so that she can continue to try and absolve her conscience. Over my dead body!
'But, I worry about you', she interjected again. Could someone please explain to me how she can have such a poor opinion of my intelligence? People who love each other help each other; They do not leave them with whores, transvestitites, and drug addicts...THIS is why children are removed from these situations...they are defined as being very dangerous. Yes, my darling sister, this is how much you worry; This is how you love.
My sister's reaction was to blame everything on the littlest sister, that had made the offer to let us stay with her. I told her that she was just as guilty as she offered nothing. I was gentle at the beginning, until she said,"Well, you can take the jewellery that I have here and sell it!" Wow! I couldn't believe it. She makes $ 250,000+ a year. She could have given me something...not alot, something to ease the burden...helped me find a home...one needs money for gas to do that, what about deposit money for the property....something! And she knew from my father that I was very good at paying back large amounts of cash.
I have to confess at the time that she suggested that I sell my daughter's inheritance I blew my lid with her. I told her that I was not going to let her hide behind her platitudes. I told her that I was in one of the more dangerous situations that I could be in, but still she would not take us. It conflicted too much with her lifestyle. Then she had the addasity to say, "Well, at least you are where you can get the help that you need." I was mad. Tell yourself that, my sister. Tell yourself whatever it takes to make you sleep better at night. You are very selfish, and at some time, you will be labled for what you are. And as for my daughter's inheritance...she may find out that it is due to her soon, if I do not find my way through this mess. GOD knows that my answers do not lie with those who bear the responsibility to help...this crown of oppression is mine to bear...but it is also mine to remember.
- Katy Perry -
Today the eldest of the two younger sisters got a hold of me on my cellphone..."Where are you?" was the primary question. Where am I?, I wonder..."I don't think that information is important," I replied, and proceeded to ask her what she was doing.
She mentioned that our father had just left her house, and was inquiring as to my whereabouts. "That is interesting," I replied, "as he knows exactly where I am."
*********************************************************************************
The intervention that I had previously mentioned in another blog post was attended by both of my sisters, and the Mistress in early July of this year; The youngest of the two I still had a major beef with. I had played 'Mom' to her from the approximate age of 13 to around 17 or 18, because she was being beaten by my father. I had to take her in a second time when she graduated from private school, but was expelled 2 days before the graduation ceremonies due to drinking and fornicating. My father, being the model of generosity sent her back to Canada without a cent to her support. Again she became my financial burden until I married. After my wedding, we did not speak for years...she did not need me anymore.
At the intervention both sister attested and proclaimed their love and devotion for me. The youngest then made the offer that if the situation called for it, my daughter and I could stay with her. The elder of the two said plenty in regards to her affection through her tears, but offered nothing...albeit she makes $250,000+ a year. She, like my father love their wallets much more than me, and my daughter.
I left with the eldest sister a 2.5ct diamond solitaire, as well as 2 diamond watches, and other valuable pieces. I told her to give the diamond and the diamond watches to my daughter when she turned 21 years of age, the balance was to be given to her on her 18th birthday.
*********************************************************************************
Just before I left the Mistress' house a week ago, I had two difficult converstions with my family. The youngest of the two who had offered me a place to stay in the event that it was required, renegged her offer due to the cat....She did not want the cat in the house. Hence, the shelter is where I now find myself. The second call was from my father.
My father is very busy trying to impress the elder of the two younger sisters...reason one, she is the boy that he never had, and secondly, due to her income. As he has money, he thinks that she is now his 'social equal'. I was his social equal until the divorce started, and I had to 'purchase' my daughter through the legal system. (Oh, there is another blog to post!!) Now that I have no money, and cannot pay back what I borrow, I have been cut off. I told my father that he was sentencing me to a woman's shelter...His reply, "Do it!! Get off your ass, and review your priorities. Your priorities are completely fucked up!"
What are my priorities? you ask. Here they are:
1. Getting help with my depression, and trying to put myself priority for the first time in a VERY long time. I need to get out of this nervous breakdown rut that I am prisoner in, and get my health back; Then, and only then, can I get back to work.
2. My daughter. She too needs her mother back, and desperately needs another psychiatrist. Her psychiatrist dumped her in June, as he had decided to re-specialize; Now I have to find a new one. She has ADHD and ODD which has been exacerbated by stress. She has now lost her home,...thankfully not her beloved cat yet, who is living in the parking lot in my truck!....and has no security in the documents "Mummy" purchased because they have not been filed!! (yet another post to follow at some point) Poor child!
3. Try and find an income
4. Try and find a home
5. Get my daughter into school in the next few weeks.
These priorities are obviously not in order, but there they are. Could someone please tell me what is wrong with my priorities?
My father has absolutely NO understanding of clinical depression, and chooses not to understand it. I have been hospitalized twice for it when I was in my late teens, and even then, he refused to try. My psychiatrist tried to explain it to him....he said that I was faking, and proceeded to throw a fit in front of the psychiatrist, as well as exercise his filthy temper. As a result, he was banned from any further visits...and that was back then...20 years ago. His ignorance continues, and his failure to try, drives a wedge that will stop him from seeing both myself and my daughter. My love has never been bought, and neither will my daughter's. If I will teach her anything, I will teach her that love is NOT conditional.
**********************************************************************************
"After I was told by our sister that I could not stay with her, I went to the only place that was left...the women's shelter," I told my sister. "These were the options that I was left with." She was apparently horrified, but protested that there had to be another option. I told her AGAIN that my husband had put paid to all of my former relationships while I had been living out of province from him, trying to put put together his dream of returning to his 'hometown'.
'Maybe we can go for coffee tomorrow?' she asked. I did not see the point of that and told her so. 'Well maybe next week when you are feeling better,' she attempted to console..
.'What would be the point of that?' I asked her again.... so that she can continue to try and absolve her conscience. Over my dead body!
'But, I worry about you', she interjected again. Could someone please explain to me how she can have such a poor opinion of my intelligence? People who love each other help each other; They do not leave them with whores, transvestitites, and drug addicts...THIS is why children are removed from these situations...they are defined as being very dangerous. Yes, my darling sister, this is how much you worry; This is how you love.
My sister's reaction was to blame everything on the littlest sister, that had made the offer to let us stay with her. I told her that she was just as guilty as she offered nothing. I was gentle at the beginning, until she said,"Well, you can take the jewellery that I have here and sell it!" Wow! I couldn't believe it. She makes $ 250,000+ a year. She could have given me something...not alot, something to ease the burden...helped me find a home...one needs money for gas to do that, what about deposit money for the property....something! And she knew from my father that I was very good at paying back large amounts of cash.
I have to confess at the time that she suggested that I sell my daughter's inheritance I blew my lid with her. I told her that I was not going to let her hide behind her platitudes. I told her that I was in one of the more dangerous situations that I could be in, but still she would not take us. It conflicted too much with her lifestyle. Then she had the addasity to say, "Well, at least you are where you can get the help that you need." I was mad. Tell yourself that, my sister. Tell yourself whatever it takes to make you sleep better at night. You are very selfish, and at some time, you will be labled for what you are. And as for my daughter's inheritance...she may find out that it is due to her soon, if I do not find my way through this mess. GOD knows that my answers do not lie with those who bear the responsibility to help...this crown of oppression is mine to bear...but it is also mine to remember.
What a wonderful women's world...
Here I am after two days in the woman's shelter, although I differ on the authenticity of that title. I will hereby explain as to why...
I was frankly terrified at the time that I walked in. After making many phone calls that would give you no addresses, just phone numbers, I finally found a shelter that would take me in. I went to the address full of apprehension, not having the faintest idea of what to expect but nevertheless, expecting the worst. "Who are you, and what is your name?" came a voice from a vault door, surrounded by cameras. " I have an appointment here to meet with Clara," I replied. The voice from the door went away and came back..."we have no record of a meeting with you," was the response. Now I am not only terrified, as I watch the 'john's' doing their rounds, but annoyed. "I just got off the phone with Clara, and she invited me here...she is one of the workers here, is she not?" The cars started slowing down, one red car particularly, looking at me like I was prey for the taking. "Can you hurry up please," as I addressed the speaker box again. " I am very scared right now, and I am not safe at all out here!" Finally the door buzzed, and I was forced to throw open the mighty door. "Go to the second floor," I was instructed by the box. It was a very unwelcoming building, although you could see at some point that someone had tried. Damage colourful tile decorated the floor, although it was cracked and worn...many tiles even missing. The walls were solid brick, and although there were many windows, it resembled a prison. When I finally got to the second floor, a woman met me there. "I am Clara," she said, with a smile, " and you are?" I repeated my name again to her. "Come with me," she said with a smile, and I followed her into an office, clutching my handbag for dear life. "It is very daunting when you first get here, but you will find that you will adjust." " I am just thankful for the facilities that you offer and I am just grateful that I will not have to spend another night in my truck." I replied as I gave her a small smile...I meant what I said. After intake, I was thrown in with the residents, and what a shock that was for someone who has always lived more or less the whole of their life on the better side of the tracks.
The place was crawling with the unfortunates of society...One woman could barely walk, she was so high on something. Then I was introduced to 'Julie', a black man, wearing men's clothes, with long gel fingernails. I was advised that some of the girls are tough here, "but I am one of the gentle girls here," he/she explained, with the bend of the wrist, and a flourish of the hand. Beautiful, was my sarcastic commentary to myself. I sat in a chair in the smoking room, and proceeded to look around. The girls started laughing. "You look terrified," laughed a 400 lb girl, but then she stopped. "It is not that bad, you will see." She proceeded to tell a story about herself to the other girls in the room; I believe that she was the 'entertainment' in the facility.
"I just made $200.00 last night...no sex!" All the girls pricked up their ears. "How?", asked one, with obvious interest. "I beat a guy last night, he paid me to do it!!" I felt my jaw drop to the floor. "Yeah, I had to tie him up, and beat the shit out of the fucker. He also gave me a cattle prod to use on him...made him cum too! I just laid on him the beating of his life; He loved it!" Oh, my F-ing God, I thought to myself...just when I thought that I had heard everything! All the girls in the room were howling with laughter. I have to admit, I had to laugh too, but I am pretty sure that it was a reaction to the pure shock that I was feeling. "You are a dominatrix," I asked in horror, but with the smallest smile, so as not to have her think that I was judging her. "Oh, yeah," she said, "but I like to get the beats too, don't get me wrong. We have parties; no drugs, no alcohol, are the rules, but don't expect to come and not get bruised," she laughed. " I am 5 months pregnant, so there are limits to how much I can take a beating right now, but I will still take 'em. I LOVE it!!"
A few hours later, I come into the room again, and there is a girl having a seizure on the floor. "What happened?" I asked, feeling sorry for the party writhing on the floor. "Oh, this is her second one of the day", the dark haired girl replied..."She always has one of them after she has crack. She'll have two more before the day is done." I looked at the girl with sorrow. Does she not realize that she is doing this to herself?" It is unfortunate to say the least.
Last night a native american man came in with two huge hoop earrings in, a ladies diamondesque watch, and a cocktail ring...He also had the longest nails I have seen in a while, blood red in colour. He too was a resident of the shelter.
I was frankly terrified at the time that I walked in. After making many phone calls that would give you no addresses, just phone numbers, I finally found a shelter that would take me in. I went to the address full of apprehension, not having the faintest idea of what to expect but nevertheless, expecting the worst. "Who are you, and what is your name?" came a voice from a vault door, surrounded by cameras. " I have an appointment here to meet with Clara," I replied. The voice from the door went away and came back..."we have no record of a meeting with you," was the response. Now I am not only terrified, as I watch the 'john's' doing their rounds, but annoyed. "I just got off the phone with Clara, and she invited me here...she is one of the workers here, is she not?" The cars started slowing down, one red car particularly, looking at me like I was prey for the taking. "Can you hurry up please," as I addressed the speaker box again. " I am very scared right now, and I am not safe at all out here!" Finally the door buzzed, and I was forced to throw open the mighty door. "Go to the second floor," I was instructed by the box. It was a very unwelcoming building, although you could see at some point that someone had tried. Damage colourful tile decorated the floor, although it was cracked and worn...many tiles even missing. The walls were solid brick, and although there were many windows, it resembled a prison. When I finally got to the second floor, a woman met me there. "I am Clara," she said, with a smile, " and you are?" I repeated my name again to her. "Come with me," she said with a smile, and I followed her into an office, clutching my handbag for dear life. "It is very daunting when you first get here, but you will find that you will adjust." " I am just thankful for the facilities that you offer and I am just grateful that I will not have to spend another night in my truck." I replied as I gave her a small smile...I meant what I said. After intake, I was thrown in with the residents, and what a shock that was for someone who has always lived more or less the whole of their life on the better side of the tracks.
The place was crawling with the unfortunates of society...One woman could barely walk, she was so high on something. Then I was introduced to 'Julie', a black man, wearing men's clothes, with long gel fingernails. I was advised that some of the girls are tough here, "but I am one of the gentle girls here," he/she explained, with the bend of the wrist, and a flourish of the hand. Beautiful, was my sarcastic commentary to myself. I sat in a chair in the smoking room, and proceeded to look around. The girls started laughing. "You look terrified," laughed a 400 lb girl, but then she stopped. "It is not that bad, you will see." She proceeded to tell a story about herself to the other girls in the room; I believe that she was the 'entertainment' in the facility.
"I just made $200.00 last night...no sex!" All the girls pricked up their ears. "How?", asked one, with obvious interest. "I beat a guy last night, he paid me to do it!!" I felt my jaw drop to the floor. "Yeah, I had to tie him up, and beat the shit out of the fucker. He also gave me a cattle prod to use on him...made him cum too! I just laid on him the beating of his life; He loved it!" Oh, my F-ing God, I thought to myself...just when I thought that I had heard everything! All the girls in the room were howling with laughter. I have to admit, I had to laugh too, but I am pretty sure that it was a reaction to the pure shock that I was feeling. "You are a dominatrix," I asked in horror, but with the smallest smile, so as not to have her think that I was judging her. "Oh, yeah," she said, "but I like to get the beats too, don't get me wrong. We have parties; no drugs, no alcohol, are the rules, but don't expect to come and not get bruised," she laughed. " I am 5 months pregnant, so there are limits to how much I can take a beating right now, but I will still take 'em. I LOVE it!!"
A few hours later, I come into the room again, and there is a girl having a seizure on the floor. "What happened?" I asked, feeling sorry for the party writhing on the floor. "Oh, this is her second one of the day", the dark haired girl replied..."She always has one of them after she has crack. She'll have two more before the day is done." I looked at the girl with sorrow. Does she not realize that she is doing this to herself?" It is unfortunate to say the least.
Last night a native american man came in with two huge hoop earrings in, a ladies diamondesque watch, and a cocktail ring...He also had the longest nails I have seen in a while, blood red in colour. He too was a resident of the shelter.
Thursday, 11 August 2011
What does a man do with no option?
Right now I am sitting in a beat up motel room in the middle of nowhere, trying to come to terms with my situation, and preparing for the inevitable. Monday, I have to swallow the pill of humility again...I have to go to the Women's shelter. Just when I thought it couldn't get any worse (again), it did. How the mighty have fallen. After having multiple licenses to practice, four houses, top end cars, and more money than I could spend...reduced to one high end vehicle, one child, one cat, a suitcase, and two storage units...that's it.
Am I ever scared right now...Are they going to take my daughter? This will be my second venture out to the 'shelter' world...first time I was 15. I had to live in a Youth Emergency Shelter to escape my excessively abusive father, who could not deal with my mothers terminal illness, and needed someone to take it out on. After living with friends for a month, and then on the street with nothing but the clothes on my back, (I was not allowed to take anything with me from the house), the shelter was bliss in comparison to going home. That story turned out well in the end, but I have no idea how this will.
I stayed there until my 16th birthday, by which time I was able to join the work force. I defied all the odds...and I did really well. I have to say, of that I am proud.
I was going to commit suicide last month...I had completely given up, not to mention that the party who tried to kill me has been held in jail since February. He is on trial in December of this year, and if they do not deport him, he may finish the job. He told me exactly how he was going to do it too, complete with cutting me to pieces. Not looking forward to that if he is let out with time served. The words 'Justice System' is the biggest farce in modern day times. I had it all planned, and then a last minute intervention happened when I started securing items to different parties on the pretence of 'secured storage'...To be honest with you...that would be the preferred course of action, rather than to endure this further humiliation.
I was forced to sell my last house, because I could not make the payments anymore, and have not had ANY form of an income in three years...I was living off of assets. With my line of work, bankruptcy means you lose your license to practice, and I truthfully don't think my pride could have handled that either. Why am I not working? You will find out why soon when we get there, but I will give you this...due to my circumstances, I had a huge nervous breakdown. I have yet to recover from this...I have been enduring life, period. I have not had a cent in child support, no assistance from the government due to the high amount of assets, but no liquid cash. I have systematically sold off everything that I own. Now I have nowhere to go...all options are closed, or are too dangerous to my fragile mental state. What other options do I have?
Am I ever scared right now...Are they going to take my daughter? This will be my second venture out to the 'shelter' world...first time I was 15. I had to live in a Youth Emergency Shelter to escape my excessively abusive father, who could not deal with my mothers terminal illness, and needed someone to take it out on. After living with friends for a month, and then on the street with nothing but the clothes on my back, (I was not allowed to take anything with me from the house), the shelter was bliss in comparison to going home. That story turned out well in the end, but I have no idea how this will.
I stayed there until my 16th birthday, by which time I was able to join the work force. I defied all the odds...and I did really well. I have to say, of that I am proud.
I was going to commit suicide last month...I had completely given up, not to mention that the party who tried to kill me has been held in jail since February. He is on trial in December of this year, and if they do not deport him, he may finish the job. He told me exactly how he was going to do it too, complete with cutting me to pieces. Not looking forward to that if he is let out with time served. The words 'Justice System' is the biggest farce in modern day times. I had it all planned, and then a last minute intervention happened when I started securing items to different parties on the pretence of 'secured storage'...To be honest with you...that would be the preferred course of action, rather than to endure this further humiliation.
I was forced to sell my last house, because I could not make the payments anymore, and have not had ANY form of an income in three years...I was living off of assets. With my line of work, bankruptcy means you lose your license to practice, and I truthfully don't think my pride could have handled that either. Why am I not working? You will find out why soon when we get there, but I will give you this...due to my circumstances, I had a huge nervous breakdown. I have yet to recover from this...I have been enduring life, period. I have not had a cent in child support, no assistance from the government due to the high amount of assets, but no liquid cash. I have systematically sold off everything that I own. Now I have nowhere to go...all options are closed, or are too dangerous to my fragile mental state. What other options do I have?
This is the blog of my life...most consider it for fodder for a soap opera, or a horror story, but the contents of this are all true. The last four years of my life that has been a 'Living Hell' with no apparent end in sight. Every time that you think that it cannot possible get worse...guess what?...it does! I have for the last two years been trying to write a book about my experiences, but with what goes on, and how fast these horrific events occur, the book will have to wait, and at the rate that I am going, the book may never happen; Either by cause or events. I want to document some of this...for myself, and for others. A lot can be learned through my experiences
The reason for the title of Captiva Elizabetha, are some of the similarities that I have with Elizabeth 1st of England. She was continually persecuted and tested, some by fault of her own, more often by slander, rumors, and blatantly persecuted, either by her family, friends, or just the people around her. She also had her life and safety continually threatened....and the irony of it is...people are more willing to believe the worst of people rather than the truth. Many people are threatened and alienated just for their clinging to their morals and standards, and have their motives bastardized for nothing more than spite.
Captiva Elizabetha means Captive Elizabeth in Latin. She signed her name this way while she was held prisoner by her sister, "Bloody Mary". She, alike me, was a captive: Not only physically, but of her reputation, her opinions, moral decisions, beliefs, and her current situation.
Elizabeth always put her subjects first in everything that she did, although most suspected her motivation. Although she was a calculating and conniving shrew at times, she always had her priorities right, putting others first, although sometimes it did not always seem that way. Although Elizabeth and I differ with the ability to connive, there are more similarities than differences.
Although this is a story of my life, and not hers, I thought that I should introduce the inspiration to the title, and this way when reference is made, you, the reader will understand why... Welcome to Captiva Elizabetha.
The reason for the title of Captiva Elizabetha, are some of the similarities that I have with Elizabeth 1st of England. She was continually persecuted and tested, some by fault of her own, more often by slander, rumors, and blatantly persecuted, either by her family, friends, or just the people around her. She also had her life and safety continually threatened....and the irony of it is...people are more willing to believe the worst of people rather than the truth. Many people are threatened and alienated just for their clinging to their morals and standards, and have their motives bastardized for nothing more than spite.
Captiva Elizabetha means Captive Elizabeth in Latin. She signed her name this way while she was held prisoner by her sister, "Bloody Mary". She, alike me, was a captive: Not only physically, but of her reputation, her opinions, moral decisions, beliefs, and her current situation.
Elizabeth always put her subjects first in everything that she did, although most suspected her motivation. Although she was a calculating and conniving shrew at times, she always had her priorities right, putting others first, although sometimes it did not always seem that way. Although Elizabeth and I differ with the ability to connive, there are more similarities than differences.
Although this is a story of my life, and not hers, I thought that I should introduce the inspiration to the title, and this way when reference is made, you, the reader will understand why... Welcome to Captiva Elizabetha.
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