A Pool of Tears will now be available in September. #nothing less than perfection will be acceptable for my readers

 My head ached, and my body felt like a rag doll. I needed mental and physical relief.Miles was accustomed to these shouting matches. I, on the other hand, had come from a homelife of peace.  

On the flip side of it, Miles was giving my brain a serious workout; he was so up and down I couldn’t keep up. He was toxic from the inside out, poison oozing from his pores. He continued leaving clues to his misguided behaviors, clues that I continued to dismiss. Because his actions were never met with any consequences, he was given the green light to proceed. He was someone you didn’t need or want to be affiliated with, a bad habit you couldn’t kick or scum under the bottom of your shoe.The more you walked, the more it became embedded in your sole. I allowed Miles to rant and rave as if we resided in an insane asylum. Joking, I thought, What if he really was an escaped psychopath masquerading around as an abusive lunatic?

When Life Hurts

Life is a journey.

I began to steer clear of family gatherings, parties, and functions. Going anywhere other than work and the supermarket had become a task. I didn’t want to be seen or have anyone get a clear eye view of the weight I had gained. My energy level was low, and maintaining conversation for long periods was draining. When the doorbell rang, I crept to the peephole— floor creaking, TV on mute, hoping for UPS or the mailman. I had no desire to visit or be visited. I hid behind the walls of my home, becoming increasing more comfortable being alone.

Love is a verb.

The relief that came with him being out of the house was monumental. The kids played freely, and I mothered with a carefree hand. For the first time in over a year, I felt somewhat normal again. 

After months of his bad behavior and mean spirit, I finally mustered up the energy to tell Miles “to get the fuck out.”

I was trying to hold my thoughts together, hoping that I could will myself to feel better. This put enough fear in me to make a decision that I should have made months ago. The fear that I was on the verge of losing it was enough reason for me to conclude that if I didn’t get out now I would get to a point of no return.

My thinking became cloudy, and I was beginning to panic.I feared I was going to have a breakdown. My life was slowing disintegrating. I was now on the verge of collapse, and Miles stood passively by waiting for me to fall headfirst. 

I allowed Miles to rant and rave as if we resided in an insane asylum. Joking, I thought, What if he really was an escaped psychopath masquerading around as an abusive lunatic?

There was no satisfying him. He looked for wrong, and when he couldn’t find it, he made it up. He was miserable, drowning in his own sorrows, and instead of letting him drown, I threw him a life jacket. 

Don't forget to send your email address if you're interested in attending A Pool of Tears book signing. #apooloftears

If his own mother was a bitch, what hope was there for the women in his life? If they were this comfortable with me witnessing their fights, I shudder to think what went on in private. Neither bit their tongue on my behalf and hurled one insult after the other at one another. A bit of unsolicited advice, get to know the family first before committing to a serious relationship.   

He talked nonstop about how she had ruined his life. The tone in his voice was nothing short of hatred. Miles dreaded up years of abuse and cruelty by the hands of Ms. James. The visit was no more than a counseling session that had gone horribly wrong. They were in need of a mediator to direct this free for all. Yes, they were airing all their filthy bloodstained laundry in front of an outsider. 

Book signing coming soon. Stay tuned.

I was speechless, unable to engage or elaborate on the subject of abandonment, which I knew nothing about. How does one despise their own mother? Even if she had made some mistakes, was not forgiveness even considered?

Miles described his childhood as a sham, saying his mother looked for perfection and anything less was unacceptable. He drew a timeline of his life from the age of two until now,explaining how he was not wanted as a child and only reconnected with his mother out of necessity and not by her choice. As Miles recalled, he was raised by aunts, uncles, fictitious godparents, family friends, and unsavory house guests. Miles’s mother maintained that she was a woman with desires and already had one son and another child did not fit into her plans. Miles’s mother justified her actions by reminding everyone that she was young and wanted more of a social lifeand time to enjoy herself and his arrival was an inconvenience.