I hear people say,
“If it were my child, I would…”
I hear it everyday.
I loathe that statement.

If it were your child,
I would hope,
You wouldn’t have to deal
with addiction.

If it were your child,
I hope you get all the answers,
All the resources,
All the prayers in the world.

The way I’ve handled this,
The cards I’ve been dealt,
The resources I didnt have.
The answers I’m still seeking.

I know, I could have done better,
I know there are better ways
to handle things
I’m learning as I go.

Please understand,
We don’t wish this on anyone.
If it does happen to you,
Have an opened mind.

Be prepared,
To love harder,
To cry harder,
To undeniably, doubt yourself.

I just know,
I hate addiction,
I hate the heartbreak,
But I love my child.

I would hope,
You give it all you got,
You do the impossible
You love, when they are unlovable.

What this has taught me,
To love past the hurt,
To fight with every ounce of energy,
To not judge, anything that is happening.

If it were your child,
I can almost guarantee
You will do everything
Everyone else Is doing.

If you don’t want it
To be your child,
Take charge now,
Educate yourself.

By: Carrie Labiak

Words dripping with destain,
Hatred flowing through your veins.
Vulger spewing from your lips.
Disgruntled look on your face.

Each word hits like a brick,
Bruising my sense of worth.
Belittling me till I’m begging;
For you to stop.
Pleading for the name calling to end.

I cover my ears,
Tears flowing down my face like a river.
I picture myself somewhere else,
I’m numb.
I block out what it happening.

Violating my innocence,
Killing my inner child.
Today I was forced to grow up.
Do adult things.
I’m 9.

Hours passed,
I’ve learned to hate myself,
Hate you.
I’ve learned to spew hateful words,
Towards you.

I’ve learned that,
Being angry,
Being hateful,
Being like you is Ugly.

And I’m not Ugly.

By: Carrie Labiak

The same clothes as the day before,
Dirt stains on my neck,
Hair, a mess
Homework not done.

I remember, walking fast to school,
I was late, over slept.
I was 10, maybe.
And very tired and hungry.

Sad really, the night before,
I was up till 3am-4am.
Defending my being,
Failing to protect my innocence.

Disheveled, disoriented, vacant.
I get pulled out of class.
My second year in 3rd grade.
Asking me if things were ok,
At home.

My one chance,
Only chance to escape.
I froze, I said, “yes”
I missed a lot of school.
But everything was fine.

I’d tell myself, its normal.
All kids go through this.
This hell, my war at home.

Its normal!

By: Carrie Labiak

My gaurdians.
Saved me from a life of hell.
Fighting for my freedom.
Together as one , bonded since birth.

Oh, how I love thee…

Once there was a girl,
So stricken with hatred,
Bathed in ugliness.

Looked down on herself,
She didn’t think she was worthy of anything.
She indulged in drinking at a young age.
Numbing the pain,
Numbing the knowing of what is going to happen.

Contemplating suicide,
To end being a burden and
 a disappointment.

I was shown compassion,
For the first time.
And it changed me.

These warrior women,
Who reached out,
And saved another woman.
All it takes is your time,
A kind word, or an ear.

Stand up for one another.
Thank you warrior women,
For giving me hope and love.
Kindness is a  contagious gift.

By: Carrie Labiak

I’ve needed you since as long as I can remember.
I’ve longed for you,
In a time and place
That was not for us to share.

I sensed you were near at times,
And prayed you would find me.
I survived all I could,
Day in and day out,
Just to be here, in this moment with you.

All I have,
All I’ve ever wanted,
Is you, here, and now.

We are United,
By faith,
By love.
Together, we are one.

Mystified,
 by our urgency to find each other,
Glorified,
by your presence,

Trembling from your touch,
Weightless to your kiss,
Lost in your eyes.

Bound by love,
Tied by faith.

One breath for eternal love.

By: Carrie Labiak

I just want my children to be happy and healthy.
Not to suffer, get hurt, or get sick.
When they were little,
 I could fix everything with a hug, or a kiss,

All the Booboos would be healed
 laughter would fill the room..
My angels…

Now, they are older,
sometimes a hug will be ok,
they dont want me to kiss their booboos,
Although I would,
if it meant it would heal them.
Maybe just the sound of my voice,
a giggle or a song.

When it comes to addiction,
 I cant kiss it better..
although that would be amazing.

I cant hug his brokenness or fill his emptiness yomake him whole.
All I can do is love him,
So that he will love himself enough
to fix himself.

The thing about addiction,
 it’s all about love,
not just our love,
but his love to himself.

As I watched him destroy his whole being,
Hating everything and everyone;
especially himself.
Destroying his faith,
trust,
his will to live.

I’ve also watched him build himself up again.
Stronger than ever before.
I see him with his head held high,
 and confidence rise in his blood.
I see him love himself again.
Love is the key to climb out of any situation. Love yourself,

 always……

By: Carrie Labiak

Mistakes, bad decisions,
Losing all hope.
Fighting for my way to the surface.
Just trying to stay afloat.

I feel so uninvolved, unwanted,
Unworthy.
I feel alone,
Seperated.

I’m climbing,
Slipping,
Gaining ground,
Falling back.

Each step I take,
I take many more backwards.
What can I do?
How do I reach the surface?

I sit with my head in my hands,
Defeated, lost.

I hear a voice,
I dont see anyone.
I look around,
I’m alone.

I hear it again,
“Look at the sky child,
You’re not alone.
Climb to the surface.”

It says,
” focus on my voice,
On my encouragement,
On my love.”

A burst of inspiration,
In my scraps of clothes,
He chose me.
Suddenly I felt a sense of calm.

I started climbing,
I was determined.
Determined to reach the surface.
Determined to be me.

He chose me,
To see me through my troubles,
To push me , to love me.
He chose, Me.

I am deserving,
Deserving of love,
Deserving of compassion,
Deserving of gifts.

Because of Him,
I will succeed.

By: Carrie Labiak

I was afraid of monsters.
Monsters under my bed,
Monsters in my closet.
Monsters in the shadows.

Leave the door open a crack,
Let the light in,
The noises, plug my ears,
Sleeping with one eye open.

Are they childish fears?
The thoughts in my head,
My imagination, is going wild.
Am I imagining this?

Who would have thought,
The monsters I tried so hard to hide from,
Weren’t the ones trying to harm me.
The monster trying to harm me, succeeded.

Who wouldve thought,
The monster lived in the open.
In the light,
In our house.

The monster crushed my innocence,
Crushed my spirit,
Terrorized my soul.
Destroyed my youth.

The monster lost,
The monster is gone,
I stand high on my victory.
I stand high on HIS glory, HIS love.

I STAND FOR ME!

Be yourself; Everyone else is already taken.

— Oscar Wilde.

This is the first post on my new blog. I’m just getting this new blog going, so stay tuned for more. Subscribe below to get notified when I post new updates.

This is an example post, originally published as part of Blogging University. Enroll in one of our ten programs, and start your blog right.

You’re going to publish a post today. Don’t worry about how your blog looks. Don’t worry if you haven’t given it a name yet, or you’re feeling overwhelmed. Just click the “New Post” button, and tell us why you’re here.

Why do this?

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The post can be short or long, a personal intro to your life or a bloggy mission statement, a manifesto for the future or a simple outline of your the types of things you hope to publish.

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• Why are you blogging publicly, rather than keeping a personal journal?
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You’re not locked into any of this; one of the wonderful things about blogs is how they constantly evolve as we learn, grow, and interact with one another — but it’s good to know where and why you started, and articulating your goals may just give you a few other post ideas.

Can’t think how to get started? Just write the first thing that pops into your head. Anne Lamott, author of a book on writing we love, says that you need to give yourself permission to write a “crappy first draft”. Anne makes a great point — just start writing, and worry about editing it later.

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