Today is the anniversary of the day everything was taken from me.

You may have read my sometimes humorous accounts here, and while I was attacked by some for adding halves of smiles to my tragedy, I am of the belief that if you can't laugh about something then there is something seriously borked inside your brainz ;)

This month celebrates my birthday, my two month Steemitversary, and the anniversary of when I lost everything.

August 1st. I found myself in the wilderness with 23 fractures, three teenage boys- one of whom was on crutches and missing 8% of his skin, and a backpack of belongings each.

Sharing a tent with three teenage boys and six special needs cats. Sounds like the beginning of a bad joke.

Prior to this my three boys and I lived in a $750,000 home, paid HOA dues, possessed every gaming platform and had access to all the special channels on cable. Being athletically inclined, my boys raced between practices and games, carving time where they could for homework and meals. We sometimes felt like World War Z zombies on Black Friday.

I had several careers. In addition to writing fiction and non fiction books, I was the volunteer Media Director for a local inner city youth athletics initiative, relished the soundbooth as a Radio Personality, ran a few websites and updated my and my clients social media daily, and on top of all this I operated a rescue home for severely abused pets.

I was an absolutely single mother- having never received even one dime of child support since the boys were 3, 5 and 7. I did it all myself, I was Mom and Dad. Dealer of punishments and hugger away of pain and sorrows. Breadwinner and homemaker.

Suddenly we lost everything. All that we had worked for all our lives. Mementos. Comfy beds and rooms we had finally decorated to our satisfaction. Vehicle. Security. Sanity. We had three days warning. Attorneys informed me all would be fine, but it wasn’t. We were left with our bank accounts ravaged, mutual funds and investments wiped, and only what we could grab which included a backpack of items each and comforters as we knew we would have to sleep outside.

We didn’t even own sleeping bags.

I was fortunate to have enough cash in my wallet to buy a cheap tent from Walmart and afford cab fare to the forest outside of town where the attorneys and state sent us because there wasn’t even a shelter with room.

The attorneys informed me this was all going to be fine, that there was no judge in the circuit what would allow this. This was not the case. Never trust the system. Never, not even one little bit.

The first day we found ourselves homeless was one still filled with hope. I hadn’t yet come to the full realization of how alone we were. I did, however, sit the boys down and inform them that we would be targeted by the hundreds of homeless in the woods. A single woman with well spoken boys wearing brand new Nikes… Yeah, I instinctively knew we wore great big bullseyes. But not even in my terribly imaginative writer’s mind did I ever dream it would be as bad as it became.

But that first day we set up our meager belongings for ease of access, with the valuables in our packs on our person at all times. We folded our comforters to provide as much cushion vs warmth as possible. We chopped wood for cooking and warmth and hauled and boiled water from a nearby river. I had purchased the fixings for s’mores as although I had been honest and transparent with my boys about the situation, I tried to ease the stress where I could with small semblances of normalcy.

Looking back, I guess I was in a state of shock the first couple weeks. I moved and acted on a sort of autopilot. Even though at the time I absolutely felt the physical ravages of the stress I was forced to endure, a part of me separated that and compartmentalized it so that I could function and complete the absolutes for our survival.

Being suddenly without a vehicle made life even more difficult. The nearest bus stop was 6 miles away. So I relied heavily on my phone, making countless phonecalls and emailing anyone I could think of. The stress piled heavily on my shoulders as the hours passed and I found myself with less and less hope of getting out of this.

Over time, our situation became more and more hopeless. We were assaulted by other homeless people, our “neighbors” in fact, once. We were the victims of a multi Church “Christian” cult that preyed upon desperate homeless families in the area. I almost lost my life. We witnessed death.

In the coming weeks I will be posting a sort of serialized memoir. Both in hopes of a possibility of healing through writing as well as with hopes this helps enlighten some and help others.

7 weeks ago when I found Steemit I was sort of at the end of my ropes. We are no longer homeless- we have a quaint house with quiet neighbors. But this has come with a terrible price I will be paying for some time, however that is a different set of words for a different time. I was naieve to believe we could rebuild our lives rapidly. Hell, we had been living a certain way for so long that it seemed right to think that. Cleaning up the mess from the 2016 tragedy has proven to be much more than I can handle by myself. But I am all I have, there is no one to rescue me. And what is the hardest is I have three cherished but distraught mini me’s I have to rebuild, also.

I am fortunate that I have a pro bono copyright lawyer to regain my stolen works so that I will someday receive my due royalties again, however that process could take 2 to 12 years. My reputation was obliterated and I lost all my contracts and writing networking I had been building since 2009. I am quite literally starting life and my career from absolute scratch. I cannot work a “traditional” 9-5 outside the home due to my medical conditions. I have a disability lawyer but that process can take up to three years as I was told and I'm only in year one. I spend my days as I did in 2009, trying to build my business from scratch, hunting for clients and projects, working for free for visibility, etc. As anyone who has ever tried writing for a living knows, it’s a long and difficult process. You must truly have a love for it because you will not make a living wage for a long time.

Having been a victim of the system, cryptocurrency and deregulation absolutely appealed to me, which is how I found Steemit. Of course I was awed by the promise of financial rewards just for posting compelling content! But to be completely honest I fell in love with the community. The support and encouragement I have both felt and witnessed are not found anywhere else.

I have worked very hard to get where I am today on Steemit. I post quality content daily, minus a recent brief hiatus due to medical issues. I comment on and upvote posts I enjoy or find helpful, and follow authors I find interesting, talented and fascinating. I firmly and without a doubt believe in the blockchain and all it’s potentials, therefore I work at it for hours every day. I believe Steemit is the future, and I believe you will get from it exactly what you put into it.

Man, I have learned so much since joining Steemit! Seriously, the knowledge I have acquired is priceless. And the friends and connections make me smile every single day.

Steemit truly has changed my life and future.

That’s it for today, tune in tomorrow for more ♡

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