Tea began as medicine and morphed into a beverage of choice!
I don't quite remember when I fell in love with tea but I do remember the most 
Until recently I had never drank Peppermint Tea made with loose leaves. And Honestly, I will probably never go back. The freshness of loose Peppermint Tea cannot be denied. When I open the can of 
I love to read! Inside a book I escape into someone else's life. There is something wonderful about turning to the next page of a wonderful story. Something intoxicating about the smell of the book and the story it brings to life. Reading brings me joy, and these days with my health in the balance, I find solace in my books.
Looking back, for most of my life, I understood that my childhood had been riddled with physical, emotional and sexual abuse. But it was always as if I was on the outside looking in.
Even the first version of this memoir that was under a book deal with a big time publishing house. I put a lot of information in that first manuscript, but I did not unpack not one story. Maybe I just needed to get it all out of me as a base line. Or maybe I was also protecting myself, from my own story. Let me tell you, walking head on into a deep black hole of abuse is no easy task. You have to have a lot of nerve and equal strength to examine every horrible thing, but at the same time not allow it to consume you. I believe that I could not have done this that first time around.
But truth be told, under pressure, she couldn't do the job. Before the book was sold, another major publishing house asked us for a sample chapter and rejected her efforts two times, like what the fuck is this? As a result, my literary agent said it lost us a six future book deal. He was royally pissed, especially since literary agents get their payment up front.
Then, my second writer, could deliver a sample chapter, but after about five chapters it was clear that she couldn't complete the task. It read like a six year old had written that bull shit. I fired her and she walked away with the ten thousand dollar advance that I had given her up front in good faith.
My back was against the wall. I had to deliver this manuscript to the publishing house that actually signed me, so I wrote it myself. At the time, I did the best that I could with what I had. I knew that it needed revisions, but I also understood that my editor at the big time publishers would guide me through that process, that's why they get paid the big bucks. But she didn't make sense to me. I remember one time she told me, "I want it to read like a Jame Frey, embellish, embellish, embellish, just don't lie." WTF?
About six months later, my good friend, George Curry, who was the editor of Emerge Magazine, said so. But most importantly, after he read the manuscript, he said to me that this is one hell of a story that must be told. That publishing house he felt, made a mistake. He told be to do the re-write, and not worry about who validates me. But I was so paralyzed, no matter how many times I tried I bulked.
I could tell the stories of what happened, but I would never re-enter them. Maybe that was a tool of survival for me, just like when I was a child living it. I had learned to keep the pain at a distance. Today, I can honestly say that I have held little Rae's hand. I have cried with her and nourished her as she told her truths.
Even when God gives you an assignment, when the time is right, the Universe lines up with every move you make. Today I am writing my ass off, telling the story that needs to be told, in spite of the pain.
I have a wonderful editor who is working her ass off with no money upfront. I have five readers on the team who are walking this painful journey with me. Not to forget my therapist and my psychiatrist who has helped me to unpack every painful thing that needed attention. They have listened to me read chapters with patience and compassion and helped me to unpack every horrible thing that happen to me.
But writing this memoir has been a journey into myself. Looking into that black hole that was my life, has been one of the most important parts of my healing.
I know that I will walked away better for giving my journey up to the universe for God to use. I hope and pray that those who read my memoir Unprotected will not only hold onto the hand of little Rae, but the little girl, the little boy that walked their own journey. Although, we may not be the same issues, we, hurt nonetheless.
What I know for sure, at some point in our life, we must release the pain, so that you can fully heal.
