Iced Out.

The story I never wanted to tell.

It’s been awhile since I use this platform to ‘set records straight’ its been a while since I open up unhealed wounds of betrayal.

To be honest, I foolishly thought that leaving Fredericksburg and with it, twenty years of my life, my blood relatives, my ex husband, my home, my nephew’s burial site and my hard work manifested as ‘art mart’ due to unrelenting violence from all fronts would bring me peace.

I came to RVA with nothing but the clothes on my back and a hundred dollar bill that Saul gave me, which did not even last me my first day of wondering around a strange city with my two kids in tow until my ‘social worker’ for a local anti violence organization finally reached us.

I came in the hopes of finding a peaceful life.

I moved into a shelter for survivors of domestic violence after hiding in a motel for a week. The shelter came as a last hail mary, my time in the motel had run out (the org only offered a week’s stay) and on the very last day I spoke with my Advocate at the shelter. She welcomed us right away and we were dropped off there by our ‘Social worker.’

It was hard to find work for me, to find the proper paper work to get my kids medicaid and food assistance, it was hard to live day to day, to pull myself out of the depths of depression after years worth of abuse. It was hard to spend my Noah’s death day so far away from his grave, not even able to make a proper altar. Also was hard to…