Guest Post: A bird looking for her song

I read your blog and since I am not a blogger I couldn't respond on the blog.

I had problems with anger since it was not the lady like thing to do or not acceptable for girl children to have a voice in my family or in the Catholic school system in the 1950s.

When I confessed my sins--like I was being molested by a adult--the priest called me a sinner and stared me down next day at mass. So at 10 years young I kept my mouth shut, since then I had many sore throats from eating my sins. My relief was my best friend Yogi, my dog. He was a good listener and still loved me.

As a young woman I was kidnapped and raped, luckily I was kept alive and I think it was because I didn't say a word. I ate my fear and became immobile.
What was anger? What was happiness? What was joy?

I was the perfect lady. My family was proud of me.

Who was I?

Time passed quietly.......

Then a friend came along and shared her pain with me , I opened my wound and she allowed me to cry and to be angry. My friend was me and since then I have been talking till I had no need because I had me and some good listeners. I try to surround myself with friends now instead of isolation and depression. I am thankful for birds, pets, L*, Yo, Yo2 Bec, and countless listeners.

I am not the perfect lady and my family is proud of me.

The priest can go to hell !!!!

This has been a guest post by YoMo