If your heart is hurting, help someone

Various events in my life have built me up and pointed me in this direction. How can I be a service to others? How large of an impact can we make? What can we do? Help people. I received help during my dark times and I am alive today thanks to that help. The state of Missouri, strangers, friends, family, police officers, all of them have helped me. Without one of those resources at a certain time, I could have died. I could be on the street. People are the reason I am alive.

The first initiative was focused on supporting victims of domestic violence. I lived in the Hope House domestic violence shelter in 2016 from June to September. I wound up homeless after a mental breakdown and crashed at the bug infested and smelly house of my drug addict father and disabled mother. I slept outside between two fold-up chairs with a sheet, jail is cleaner than their home. After a few days of walking around finding my resources and connecting with the people I knew in the area, a friend referred me to an AA group. A gal in the group immediately called the Hope House and they reserved a bed for me. Thankfully, I remained in the same room the entire three months, a room with four beds. Two bunks, I was on top. In a pod of four rooms with two bathrooms. Children and women. People. Their babies. So many abused people.

Most had spouses and multiple children. Some had suffered black eyes and missing teeth. I heard crying often. They didn't have a thing. I didn’t have a thing. They didn't have people they could trust. But they were living in a domestic violence shelter. The police escort the “clients” to the shelter and it remains off of the maps. They are hidden. They are behind a fence. They have to find a way to deal with the life they had when they fled their abuse, go to counseling, do their chores, deal with other women and children, apply for food stamps, apply for section 8, apply for healthcare, walk around and find a job and hope someone can watch their kids; because, they don't have money because their spouse, their abuser, has all the control. The money. The car. The house. The power. The control. The abuser has it all. The women in shelter are doing their best to juggle the jagged pieces of their lives and I believe with the initiatives we have created can help them rest a bit easier. 

These thoughts are what spawned Kansas City Babes. 


As an artist, in a cathartic fashion, I have used imagery and words to illustrate some of my personal struggles. These are sensitive subjects that may trigger readers. However unfortunate struggling through negative situations may be, coming out at the end stronger and better equipped to handle life is the bittersweet gift we’re given. I find that sharing gives me an opportunity to raise awareness and potentially help someone.

View Episode One of My Story - Trauma Child

View Episode two of My Story - losing my mind

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