One Book … One Month … One Dollar!!

I can’t believe that I forgot to mention… the reason the book is written with such an urgency, which transpires to the pages leaving it unputdownable… is that I rented a computer, for $1 down & decided to write the ENTIRE book within a month so I could return it without paying for an additional month!!

So… yes, I’m broke… We’ve already established this… fixed income, etc… However, I’m also super driven to get my story heard and become the writer I was meant to become!!

Hopefully I can edit and change this book into the memoir the publishers want on my phone and semi-quickly so that I can use the money they pay me to buy my daughter the laptop she so desperately wants before she starts college.

So… wish me luck!! And… also, please forgive any grammatical errors as I am now writing this blog and editing the book via cell phone!!

FYI~ Not complaining… perhaps even bragging?? I set out a goal to write an entire book in one month and I did it!!!!

. I told my SECRET…

… got it out of my head and into a story and I did so in less than a month!!

Rockstar Mom may be back in action?!?!!

(fingers & toes crossed so hard they are cramping!!)

Much love peeps… that’s all I’ve got today… Happy Saturday (aka… time-with-kids day!)

Chapter 2

Chapter 2
Six months before the wedding
January 5th 2007

My sister Nicole’s father, Henry Miller, came from old money. His great-great grandfather invented the stop light or some other random, yet uber necessary commodity of life. Now, the Miller family just makes money off their money. Even after his passing, Nicole’s extended family and grandparents always helped my mom take care of Nicole. I was not so lucky.

My father, Anthony Ricardi, was our mothers high school boyfriend, turned fuckbuddy. She was sleeping with him shortly after Henry’s passing to help her grieve. When she got knocked up with me, they had to marry. Before my 1st birthday, they were both cheating on each other.

Even though they were both at fault for the destruction of their marriage, they never ceased to blame one another and drag me into the middle to use as a punching bag to warm up to their fights. Due to their inability to get along and my father’s constant struggle financially, causing him to lapse often on child support, I saw very little of him growing up.

Throughout my life, my dad had done so little for me, that I was in shock when he agreed to pay for half of my wedding. I barely knew the man, but I really looked up to him. Once he married his wife Linda and finally ‘grew up’ as my mom would say. Now he had the kind of life, I always wanted. He had a new, big beautiful home, a loving wife and two perfect kids. His life was so perfect-looking it made me wish I had it. I felt like Paul and I could have that life someday and if we spent more time around him, we could figure out how.

Paul and I had so much in common. Not only did we grow up in the same neighborhood (outside of DC in a little town called Brentwood), and socio-economic class (dirt poor) and we both grew up without a father around. Well, he had no father; I had five. Before I graduated high school, my mother had been married and divorced five times. Paul had attended weddings four, five and six. I knew I did not want to be like her, which is why I was so scared to disappoint my dad and mess up the relationship with the man both Paul and I admired.

The night before my dad’s two-thousand-dollar check came in the mail, Paul and I had a huge fight. I, honestly, can’t even remember what it was about. It had something to do with dishes, or maybe it was the trash. All I remember is that he woke up, still angry that day and left without saying goodbye. What can never be forgotten was what my mom said to me that day in response to said fight and post-fight wedding jitters.

Driving up 295 N, headed to Martins West to deposit the check, sitting in stop-and-slow traffic, I called my mom. When she answered the phone, “Tank you fo callin china foortun” in her silly Chinese accent, I knew she was in a good mood.

“Hey, guess what I have in my hand?” I asked giggling at her goofy greeting.

“A big, black dick?” my mom shocked me with her answer.

“What? No! What the fuck?” I was really confused and slightly amused.

“Did you know that black guys have black dicks?” She asked another bizarre question.

“Yes, mom, I know that. Everyone knows that.” I told her as I wondered why she didn’t know that or more importantly why did now.

“I didn’t!… anyway, what do you have?” She quickly jumped back on point.

“A two-thousand-dollar check from my dad,” I said, nervously because I could never guess what her reaction would be when I brought up my dad. Sometimes she playfully made fun of him and other times, she would go on an hour-long bitch-fest about how bad of a father he was to me. I hoped that because I was telling her something good he did, it would be the former.

“wow! great… he actually came through this time. I’m surprised, but happy for you!” She said, sounding genuinely happy for me, which was rare.

“But… I don’t know… I’m nervous to turn it in. We had a big fight last night and Paul left this morning without saying bye. What if he doesn’t want to marry me anymore? If we cancel the wedding after this, dad loses all of this money, right?”

“Oh, Iza baby… everything will be fine. I promise. Paul loves you.” She stated as a matter of fact.

“but… what if I don’t want to marry him?” I continued.

“you will… look, I’ve done this before… I’m kinda an expert, right? So, you have to trust me on this. Everything will work out fine.”

“I know… But, that’s my point. What if I’m really messed up from all of that and I can’t go through with it. I don’t ever want to get divorced. So, if that means never getting married, I’m okay with that. I mean… being with just one person for your entire life? It’s unrealistic and an ancient tradition started back during a time when the life expectancy was only 50. The chances of us actually being together forever are so small.” I tried to reason my way through my fears.

“Baby… forever doesn’t mean forever-forever… forever just means forever-right-now” she attempted to explain the most confusing logic even for her.

“What? That doesn’t even make sense, mom” I said as I looked for my cigarettes.

“Look… every time I get married, I can honestly tell myself that I want to be with that person ‘forever’ and I know that I mean it at that moment. In that moment, I know I will love them forever. So, forever doesn’t mean forever-forever, it means forever-right-now, get it?”
I was far from understanding her logic, but I assumed that she meant we should get married. But, since I’ve learned to never assume with my mom, I asked anyway, “do you think we’ll get married? That we should get married?”

“Do you love him?” she asked, finally, a simple question.

“Yes,” I answered, relieved.

“Does he love you?” she asked.

“Yes… I think” I was starting to see where she was going.

“Then… that’s all that matter, right? That’s your forever-forever answer right there,” she laughed at herself and her ridiculousness, “but… seriously… forever just means that you both love each other, and you want to be together forever. Everything will be fine, I promise. Everyone knows that you two should be together and everyone knows you’ll get married. You’ve waited long enough and it’s time! okay?”

“okay, thanks” Even though her actual words made little sense, she won the argument, because she was right. We did love each other. He was the love of my life. We grew up together and went from best friends to first loves, living together to now. Of course, we would get married. When I decided, 5 years ago to wait until marriage to have sex, Paul agreed without question. This was especially surprising because he knew I did not want to wait for religious reasons. I explained that I wanted to wait because I didn’t want to end up like my mother, thinking the grass was always greener and what not. This was true, but not the reason.

Proof in the pudding…

The access to google has made the job of a writer more difficult than any other time in history. Prior to holding the entire World Wide Web in the palm of our hands, writers had the unique ability to teach readers something new through the entertaining stories of fiction. (ie~”proof in the pudding”~ is not the saying we all think it is… the actual saying is proof OF pudding and it refers to the difficult process of making pudding & if accomplished, you’d have major bragging rights)

Henceforth… my proof and my pudding?? My daughters!!

I’ve recently been “forbidden” from seeing my niece and nephew “forever”. Yes, the same kiddos that I was basically asked to raise when they were babies b/c my sister just “couldn’t handle the whole stay-at-home mom thing with two babies” I was asked to watch them Sunday night through Friday night for an entire year. Therefore, they have a very special bond with me… all four of our kids have a special bond with one another… and I obviously love them as much as I do my own children.

I know why HE doesn’t want me near them anymore… Now that the girls (and his kids) are older… there is no way/chance for us to be alone anymore…. so, there is no reason bring them here. There is nothing in it for him… therefore, it’s just not worth the effort. However, I do not know why or how my mother and sister justify keeping the kids from me?

I am, obviously, a very good mother. My eldest daughter just graduated high school, got accepted and got a full ride to a UNIVERSITY!! *Something my sister couldn’t even do after my mom spent 40k on private HS. Maybe that’s it?? Maybe they are jealous? My kids are doing so great… they are teenagers and they are so well behaved. They get good grades in school.. neither have ever been in trouble inside or outside of school. We all have a great relationship with one another. They talk to me about everything. So…

Why wouldn’t they want that type of influence around their children? Every time they spent a weekend or week here (when their parents are on vacation) I made a special effort to help them learn to read or practice math skills. They love spending time here because I give them my undivided attention and love. Something which, I know, is lacking in College Park with 3 adults under the same roof with them.

They cry when it’s time to go home, not only because they love us, but because they never know how long it’ll be before they see us again. They get in trouble for crying and even spanked… which breaks my heart… AND… in addition to the “*Gun in my Mothers Home”(*prior post) another way HE has changed and brainwashed my mother is how she allows him to spank them! When the girls were little, she didn’t even let my ex husband YELL at the girls… I can’t even imagine what she would have done if I told her they were being spanked for being SAD!!!

I really hope that this journey… this book and this blog… open up the eyes of my mother and my sister, in the process of me spilling my heart and soul out with each stroke of a key… but, at the very least… I know that someday… (sooner than they realize) the kids will be old enough to know the truth… and I know they will remember all of this heart break and being taken from their “Aunt ZZ” and they will never forgive their parents or their grandmother if the situation isn’t remedied asap!!

To my sister,

Those kids need me in their lives.. the proof is in the pudding… do you want them raised like my daughters? To grow up and become like my daughters?? Or.. do you want them raised in College Park.. the way I was raised and have them turn out like ME?? (You know… that girl you hate so much that you still hold me accountable for her sins??) I wonder if you even realize that every time we fight… every reason you have for being mad at me or calling me crazy… every “bad” thing I have ever done in my life was when I was a CHILD.. a TEEANGER under the same roof which you are now raising your kids?? I was the responsibility of our mother!! If my daughters were acting out and doing the things that I did, back then, would you not blame me and ask what I was doing wrong to have teenagers so out of control??

However, since the moment I felt my daughters heart beat in my belly… I instantly GREW UP.. put her first… every single second since.. I have been a good mother, a good daughter and especially a good sister.. to you and your children… even whilst suffering the abuse, manipulation, fear and violent attacks from your husband… I suffered it all in silence.. keeping it to myself in hopes of protecting your family and your children … but, now I’m wondering.. why? Did I make a mistake?? and… if so… how do I fix it now?? How do I make this right??

The sad part… when it all began… HE told me that I could never tell you, because you would never believe me.. HE knew that he was so good at manipulating you and making you hate me… at pretending like he hated me too… that if the day ever came when I found the courage to tell you the truth.. that you would brush it off and ignore me… blame me… shame me….. and… sadly… I know that is exactly what will happen.

He also threatened me with the children and told me if I ever said anything, to anyone.. I would never see the kids again… well, guess what?? That has already happened… so…. fuck it… I’m no longer suffering in silence!! I’m telling my story.. I’m writing my book and I tried to write it in a fictionalized “based on a true story” format… But, the publishers want a memoir..

now, I’m faced with a serious decision to make… do I hide my identity and publish the book under a pen-name?? If that would mean I get to see the kids again… if my kids get their family back… then, sure… I would do that FOR YOU… However, if you are going to ignore me… block me… and continue to keep the kids from us… then, why wouldn’t I publish MY book, MY story, under MY real name???

I hope you make the right decision and for once…. do what’s best for your kids… and for yourself for that matter… you know you are living with a monster… and when you come to grips with that and you are ready to move forward with your standstill life, literally still living at home with your mom… I will be here for you…. just like I always have been!! I just need to know your decision soon because I only have 8 more weeks before I have to send my editor the memoir.

ps~ I love you… and I am, truly sorry for not telling you the truth sooner… I did try

What (not) to do when your child is sick…


I’ve struggled with this concept for many years & I really can’t figure out how my mother takes such good care of one of her daughters (allowing her to move back home after only living on her own for 3 years) with her husband and children, while completely ignoring her other daughter…. the daughter that is SICK, SINGLE & has two teenage daughters. How… How does she justify her unfair treatment? How does she leave my children alone in the hospital while I’m fighting off serious illness… literally fighting for my life with no one by my bedside other than my two young daughters.. and fuck me… how does she leave THEM (my daughters) alone… while I’m sick???

The only reason I can come up with?!?!….

…. because I’m an “addict” … remember?? See yesterday’s post please… and then, read below…

I think my mother denies my illness and justifies this behavior because she thinks I’m an addict… but, let me ask you this!?!

How could I be an addict? I have two teenage daughters that are with me 24/7, literally… especially in the summer time. We are all, always together… Do you think they’d notice if their mother was high? Not to mention, my eldest daughter and I share the same bank & she has access to my bank account. She can see, each and every month, that every penny I have goes to bills and taking care of them. I cannot remember the last time I bought myself new socks, much less went out “partying” or anything even close to adult-fun.

The whispers behind my back make me sad and worried because I had an aunt… lets call her Aunt “Mindy” and she died a few years ago and my mother & grandmother constantly whispered behind her back and said she was an addict too. The truth is, I don’t know if she was. She was a sweet and loving woman and I just think my mother didn’t like her. So, they talked shit about her behind her back and barely spoke to her. She was the black sheep of the family. Everyone turned their back on her & therefore, her children. I don’t know how/why she died, but I can’t help but feel like if she had more support from her family… she may have lived.


because…… Even if it was TRUE!?! Even if I was an ADDICT!?! Their response to this is to leave me alone in WV!?! To leave my daughters ALONE with me in WV!?! That is the response to a family member being an addict!?!


… my mother went to the NIH, to the family support groups for people dealing with my illness … she knows exactly what I am going through!! Which is why… until HE moved into her house… she was helping me and the girls as much as she could… and then slowly… year by year… that help grew smaller and smaller until BOOM…

eEaster 2018… yell at me for no reason.. cut us off.. (what little help she did provide which by that point was ONLY paying for the Girls homecoming/prom dresses and paying for Cheer/dance fees…. but, that was too much and right before my eldest daughter was about to graduate from HS… she told her that she had NOT even paid the dance fees throughout the year that she claimed to pay, nor help with her prom dress.. inevitably leaving me struggling and broke right as she was graduating.. making her last few months of HS beyond stressful & when we should have been celebrating her graduation & acceptance into a University in the fall!!…. instead we were blindsided by the sudden, huge payments that needed to be made in order for her to graduate… I knew my mother had the ability to sabotage my happiness, as she has done so many times… but, I never knew she would do this to her first granddaughter!!

and why??….b/c according to her……  I deserve it!?!

The girls deserve it!?! (Because they shouldn’t have asked to see their cousins–the only ACTUAL reason she gave us!!) ..

we all deserve THIS…????

abandonment!?! Why??

THINK ON THAT… and then reread yesterday’s post one more time…

I am not an addict!

I am sick…

even if you want to pretend I’m not…

and neither me nor my daughters deserve any of the shit you and HIM have thrown our way!!


The other dark-side of the opioid epidemic….

For everyone out there taking pain medication, as prescribed… yet, hiding in the shadows in shame due to the recent press about the opioid epidemic… you’re not alone.

I have an illness which causes constant daily pain due to literal deteriorating holes in my bones… and which causes occasional, sudden and severe full body, intense painful episodes also known as sickle cell pain crisis. I have a rare hereditary blood disorder called sickle-beta thalassemia anemia.

Due to this, in order to function as a normal human being.. in order to get out of bed every morning.. I am prescribed pain medication…. oh wait.. I’m sorry, I’m on “drugs”!!

I have been at the same pain specialist for nearly 7 years… I have been on the same regime of medication for 5. Yes, it took a few years to find the right one/dosage … but, for the last 5 years.. I have been on the same medication.

In those 7 years, I have never once.. ran out early, had my medicine “stolen”, “lost” or whatever other reason addicts come up with to go to the doctors early and get more medicine. In fact, most months, I have extra pills at home because I haven’t taken all of my medicine & one time, I had so much extra medication in my possession that I went down to the police station to, safely, throw away the extra/expired medication.

Each month, I have to pee for my doctor.. proving that, not only, do I have the appropriate amount of the medication in my system, but I also don’t have any other medications and/or illicit drugs which I am not suppose to have in my system.

You can not go to the same doctors for 7plus years and be an addict! I don’t “doctor hop”.. I don’t exhibit any signs and/or symptoms of an addict.. YET, just because I am prescribed and take medications which other people abuse… I must be an addict!?!

Call me crazy… but, I don’t think that’s fair!?! I also don’t think that’s correct.. There is a huge difference to being physically dependent on medication and being an addict and with the media coverage of the “epidemic” … I think those of us who have to use pain medicine in order to live normal lives, are being unfairly shamed into the corners of society.. even into the corners of our own families.

Moral of the story… don’t judge a book by a cover nor a person by their medicine cabinet. Not everyone prescribed pain meds abuse said prescription & physical dependence is not the same as addiction.

If you are a responsible patient, following doctors orders and doing your best to live your best life… you are not alone & shouldn’t let close-minded, judgmental people shame you into silence about your illness or condition.

At the same time… if you do need help… don’t be scared to ask!

Click here for resources to find help!!

…. because I am in, no way, advocating the use of opioids if they are not needed!! I do understand that many people suffer from addiction and if you are one of them… click the link above and please find the help you need!

I am simply sharing my own personal story & asking you not to judge me or anyone else in my situation… or any situation for that matter. Have compassion for everyone… we all have a story. I’m simply trying to share mine & hopefully let someone else out there know… YOU ARE NOT ALONE…. because I know I’m tired of feeling like I am & I wish someone would say it to me ;?)


First and foremost, thank you for taking the time to read my book/blog. Due to the trauma of abuse suffered and secret which I am still forced to hold, I have suffered years of writers’ block. Writing this book and finally releasing my secret has been the most difficult and most rewarding experience. The #meToo movement inspired me to write this book and while talking about my project online, I have had other women come to me and ask me to do the same with their stories. I believe the time has come to share the stories of women who are not famous, yet have suffered sexual harassment, abuse or misuse in general.
The main difference between a man and a woman is that a man can kill a woman with his bare hands. It is this sheer strength that leaves many women scared to fight back with full force. Neglecting to fight back, I think many men confuse this submission for consent. Raising two teenage daughters, I know it is so important to continue this conversation and bring light to all the brave women hiding in darkness.
The reason I chose to write my story in the form of fiction, is because the ending came to me in a dream. I dreamt that I hid a camera and subjected myself to rape one last time to have the proof I needed to make the assault’s stop. However, instead of following through with that plan, I decided that writing my story would be my way to heal and to share my truth.
The reason the book is still in much need of editing assistance, is because my daughters and I live out in WV far away from family and without any support. Therefore, we do not own a computer. I decided to rent a computer for the special price of ONE DOLLAR down for the first month and made it my mission to write the entire thing in less than a month, so I could return the computer without having to pay for any additional months! I did it! The silver lining in my writing with urgency is, I hope, the book reads with fire and intensity. Completely and totally unputdownable! I hope you enjoy and look forward to hearing from you soon.