Why I Write

Perhaps here Dear reader is where I should warn you that 1.) I have a sick, sarcastic, sense of humor and 2.) I swear sometimes. Sometimes when I write I swear a lot.

I write because I am pissed off. The list of things that piss me off is legion: Lets all admit it sometimes getting really pissed off actually feels pretty good. Sort of clears the air



People who abuse kids and or animals piss me off. Liars piss me off. People who can’t mind their own business piss me off. People who take things that belong to other people and break them piss me off. The government piss me off. Bureaucrats piss me off.

Lying Government bureaucrats who can’t mind their own business and who abuse kids in the name of protecting them …..That REALLY pisses me off

And that boys and girls is why we are here. Almost 17 years ago the baby savers of Centre County Pennsylvania came into my house and accused me of something I did not do. They took my children, my life away.

At first I was devastated, paralyzed. It was worse than if my children had died. Like most innocent people I thought there had been a mistake. I do think they realized they had made a mistake pretty quick. We went to Court. I was waiting for someone to show some kind of sense. Their case began to fall apart. They didn’t want to admit it though so they started lying to cover up more lies. We showed them proof they were wrong, they wouldn’t see it


I tried to cooperate with what they said I had to do to get my little girls back .


They wouldn’t give me anything to cooperate with. The accusations grew more ridiculous and outrageous. I did the few concrete things they ask for it wasn’t enough. I began to realize they had no intention of letting my children go. They placed my kids with a foster family that my older child said was abuseing them.



They required I admit that I had done things that never happened. They said I had to accept “criminal” responsibility for the things they said I did. They said I had to admit to doing things I never did and apologize for them to my children . Oh and yes I had to express gratitude to the agency.
And then I got angry


To me staying angry was to stay alive. It kept me going, it kept me warm an night. Anger held my hand and whispered in my ear. It was my best friend for ten long years.

I met someone. He joined me in the fight, Eventually my parental rights were terminated. I moved on. We had another family. Last year my oldest daughter and I found each other. It was like she had returned from the dead. She seemed mostly unharmed. My family rejoiced we prepared the fatted turkey and feasted. Her Aunt Tammie saw her for the first time in at least 14 years.


It took a year but she moved back home.

It was a little rough, she stays up all night, sleeps all day and is allergic to washing dishes. She treated me like the maid and ignored her little sister that she supposedly loves. The little sister let her use her room because she needed to store all of her stuff in her own. She locked the door and wouldn’t get out of bed to let the kid get clean underwear out of her own room.



This week we had the kind of fight that teen-age daughters sometimes have with their mothers. Hateful hurtful things were said on both sides. She said things and acted in ways I could not let slide by. She left to move in with someone that I thought was a family friend, a man more than is more than twice her age. A man who owns a strip club. He had been working on her for some time apparently feeding her fears and filling her head with lies. And I realized how badly they had broken her…


So here I am pissed off all over again. I can’t say I’ve missed my friend anger but for right now I am glad it’s back….. Oh and this time I have a computer.