Forewarning: This book is intended for the brokenhearted person stumbling through life looking for meaning — trying to end their pain. It is a tough read by all measures. If you have been through trauma, take good care while reading it. It will open wounds.
The audiobook will be available in about two weeks.
From the book A Prisoner by No Crime of My Own,
Chapter 9 – Trains, Planes & Automobiles
“Let yourself be gutted. Let it open you. Start there.”– Cheryl Strayed from Tiny Beautiful Things
My brother had moved to Hawaii to run from illicit-drug complications at home and began working for Hawaiian air. Richard was a brick mason and belonged to an international union that had an office on Oahu. We decided to move our family to Hawaii and rent a place with my brother. After a very short year, we returned to the mainland and moved into a small town in Washington.
My oldest daughter, Brit, was in kindergarten and my little one, Brooke, was just three. I was a stay-at-home home in those days – the best job I’ve ever had. My girls were opposite in nature but close. Their thick dark blonde hair, beautiful skin, and striking eyes showed sisterhood.
One night, we had a party at a friend’s house and Richard left to run to the store. The girls and I went home because he still hadn’t returned by nightfall. About 4 or 5am, he came home.
The next day, I received a call from an angry husband, screaming on the phone, “Your husband did coke with my wife last night. I need to talk to him – now!”
Richard took the phone from my ear and hung up. I was devastated. I was just like my mom in the sense that this was now my family. He was my husband. I didn’t want to share him. I wanted him to be devoted to our family. But this was my normal by now, still too broken to leave.
I tried to write whenever I could. When Brooke was a baby, I had a vision of this book. On the cover was a woman wearing a prison-issued dress sitting on a concrete floor. One window cast a shadow on her downtrodden appearance. The title of the book was, A Prisoner by No Crime of My Own.
. . .