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Into the Light book

Into the Light
by Sharon Rose Poet

Copyright 2010 with all rights reserved.

Poetic Publications
PO Box 383
Mont Vernon, NH 03057

VIP UPDATE 2017:    I understand that there has been some issues with my "Into the Light" book. This book had been up on the web for several years and needs some explanation, as I re-post it. I cannot do much at this time. I have not had the chance to completely comb through this book, but I remember the basics and what has raised issues since then and will address them below. . I am in the process of making a few important statements about this book, which may not be finished. So please check back later.
1.  Surely everyone who has become aware, and is able to care, from heavily Targeted Individuals and their families on up to the highest government officials, have struggled with how to handle this horrible situation. . .and have made mistakes along the way. And I can not help but to feel that many mistakes, when not hidden or erased, are lessons to learn and grow from. . .for ourselves as well as others. And in sharing those mistakes we enable misunderstandings and blame to be replaced by understanding and forgiveness. I am asking you for that understanding and forgiveness as I do my best, in between rounds of  targeting, to feel it for others.

2.   I beg may family, and all others whom I mention in my "Into the Light" book, to please let your Hearts try to understand and refrain from negative reactions and feelings. Please read these statements and try to understand that my writings tend to focus on feelings, because its the nature of my work, and I cannot stop and think to articulate things when I am in that feeling mode. This is actually good when it comes to healing, but I am learning that it is not so good in situations where clearer facts are needed. Please forgive me.
  My "Into the Light" book was not written for publication in its raw form. It was a rushed creative way for me to comb through my past and try to figure out who was targeting me. It was written in a fiction format, and unimportant bits of it are embellished, but my experiences and the names are very real. I had not intended to share it the way it is/was. But after I finished it the targeting vamped up to terrifying levels and I posted it during a time when I was literally fearing for me life. Then I forgot about it. (I now wonder if posting it may have saved my life, but it probably was not very good for at least some of the people whom I had named in it.) At that time, I figured that, if I ended up physically dead, its being shared could perhaps help other people to know what happened to me. Please forgive me.
  This book now stands as an example of what a heavily Targeted Individual can go through when we do not realize the technological and other covert parts of the sadistic targeting and struggle to figure it out.
   Because those who target me have sometimes altered my writings, I am not sure if the pdf, that was posted, was the original. The original, that most likely was less interfered with, was at www.poeticpublications.com/Into the Light.rtf from 2010 to 2012 when I re-posted it with an explaining introduction, after receiving a threat, from my sister, to publicly slander me if I did not completely erase it. It is less apt to be the original since then, due to my computers being infiltrated. In 2016 I had tried to read and edit it but huge chunks of it appeared to be being cut out by those who target me and infiltrate my computers. And ended up re-posting only the first chapter with more explanations. Now, in March of 2017 I am re-posting the whole book at www.poeticpublications.com/booklight1.pdf. I have not made any alterations to this document. It should be as it was in 2010, unless those who target me have altered it, which was being attempted in 2016, while I tried to comb through it. Due to the targeting I have not been able to completely re-read it, but had re-read enough to know that it has some things which need and deserve explaining.

3.  I regret posting my "Into the Light" book, in 2010, but I did and there is no undoing that. However I have gone back and forth on whether it was a good thing to do or a bad thing to do. I often feel confused about how to handle this situation. At this point I can only pray that posting it in 2010 did not cause the criminals, who target us all, to do further harm to anyone.
  I have since become concerned that there me be a danger for anyone connected to my situation who can be a witness to it, whether I name then or not. Those who target me surely were already aware of all the people whom I listed in this book and even appeared to be using some of them in the covert targeting program. . .and people, especially those whom I have been closest to, have been being targeted. Some have been being tortured like I have. Some have been tortured or recruited into the program that targets us all. And some have been killed.  I have even been concerned for those who were actually part of the targeting, because their leaders do not seem to want to leave witnesses behind. I have gone back and forth on whether it is safer, for people whom I had named, if I take "Into the Light" down or put it back up. . .and have come to the conclusion that it is safer for them if I leave it publicly exposed so that crimes can not secretly take place against the people listed, especially if something were to happen to me, until this hell is over.  I am deeply sorry to all the people whom I had named in this book. I hope that my re-posting it will prevent more targetings from happening. 

4.    A serious problem with the covert targeting is that it is sometimes set up in ways that actually use unaware people and make us blame the wrong people or those who may have been only lightly involved, especially when we are unaware of being targeted. Now that I am aware of how it works, I have become extremely concerned that most, if not all, of humanity seems to have already been enslaved to some degree.
    I have learned that, in the heavy targeting, fabricated phone calls and phone messages and emails are just a small part of their deceitful tactics and I feel certain that a lot more of this has happened than I realize.(I have seen two emails change before my eyes...etc.) Now that I am aware of this I can not help but wonder, about many past situations. I sometimes wonder, "was that call really from her or him or that organization?" or "Who is really instigating that?" or "Was that email really from that person and did I get it in the same way that it was written?" or "Is he or her a perpetrator or just a mind control victim that is unaware of being used by something bad?"I have come to the conclusion that most of them are mind control victims. Its all just too confusing and impossible to fully figure out while still being targeted. There are things that may never be able to be fully figured out.


5.    In my "Into the Light" book I had shared an emotional statement about my experiences with the New Hampshire Department of Transportation taking of my Loudon, NH home, which happened in 1994 and 1995. I am sorry that this was shared this way. Please try to understand that it was due to the nature of my "Embracing Feelings" writings, which is a part of my work.  At this time, I do not have the freedom to fully process what happened and the things I wrote about it in my Into the Light book. But there are a few things that I feel a need to address. (More about this situation is in my "Targeted in America" and "Ramblings of a Targeted Individual" books. And more about the targeting is on www.targetedinamerica.com)
    Since I have realized more of the tactics in the sadistic covert targeting, which was happening before, during and after the DOT taking of my home, I am perceiving things a little differently.
   It is impossible to know exactly who instigated the taking of my home, and what appeared to be a plan to ruin me financially in that process, between the town, the bank, a couple DOT employees and others who were targeting me before and after this and may have had influence over or within some of these places as well as the news report, which made it all look like a good thing.
   The DOT statement in this book was copied from writings that were an exercise in embracing feelings, in order to release my suppressed pain. This was not a legal statement. It was just a venting of my pain that I had not intended to put on the web.
    When I wrote the emotional venting I was not aware that I had been being targeted by someone else both before and after the DOT took my home. . .and that the DOT was probably merely used in the process of sabotaging my home and job...etc. My homes continued to be sabotaged after this. The painful loss of my homes included the DOT taking of my Loudon, NH home, a suspicious fire in the next home I purchased, harassments that drove me out,  and a suspicious flood that wiped out my Alstead, NH neighborhood in 2005. Too much has happened to justify calling all of them "coincidences."
    I am sorry that this emotional venting was publicly shared and that it heaped too much blame onto the DOT. I  now feel concerned that some of the DOT officials may have been victims of the targeting as well. There were a few officials, in the beginning, who treated me with kindness and consideration. A large part of my feeling of being "railroaded" in the beginning was due to my personal situation and plans that had come to a halt with their initial plan to take part of my property. I am sorry that my venting appeared to only blame them. My personal situation, and my own behaviors, surely didn't help. 
     As I faced the pain, and wrote it out, I was crying and not paying attention to detail and had generalized some things; I think that I had said the bank raised my mortgage by "two hundred dollars" and I was not, and still am not, sure of the exact amount - I just remember that this mortgage went from four hundred and something up to six hundred and something. The generalization, that I feel bad about, especially since I have realized the covert targeting of America, is the way my venting blamed "the government."  I am sorry that I heaped too much blame onto the DOT. I had blamed my ongoing hardships on them, because their taking of my Loudon home was the point when the rug began to be (most obviously) yanked out from under my feet. It was not fair for me to do that. And I do not feel that my whole government is responsible for what happened to me around the DOT taking of my home. (I can not hide the fact that that experience, due to the way it was handled by the DOT, did hurt my children and I, and left me with bit of fear and distrust, because it never had a positive closure.)  I do believe in the good in my government, although I know that nothing is perfect. Since realizing the scope of the sadistic covert targeting, I believe that government officials have not been immune to it and its devastating effects. I believe that many of them, and/or their family members, appear to be victims too. My family is one of those families. 

   I now see a bit more about what was happening to me around the DOT taking of my home. I now believe that, during the DOT taking of my home, I was probably being periodically drugged, possibly by a woman who later proved to be used in the targeting and who had rented a room in my home during this time period. I believe that this possible drugging, along with technological interference with my brain, caused me to  handle the situation in ways that were not common to my own nature. (A horrible part of the covert targeting, that seems to happen at strategic times is orchestrated so that they can blame and/or shame the victim, especially in situations where the targeting is obvious and can be used for proof. They build an axe over our heads, and/or threaten to use our own mistakes against us if I say anything about what they have done or are doing. This has been happening in this situation.) There are at least two things that lead me to believe that my brain function was being interfered with during the DOT taking of my home and business. 1. I am, by nature,  fairly good with situations that require mediation. . .and during the DOT situation my mind kept going blank (frozen) during times when there was a need for me to express my concerns with the first batch of DOT officials that handled this. (These initial ones seemed like good guys, particularly one of them whom I have been worried about since I realized that I had put their names into my "Into the Light" book.) 2. After the next batch of officials took over and set a date to close on my home, causing me to close my in-home day care business, and then after they delayed the closing leaving me without an income. . .I wrote a letter to them that included a swear, which was not even a part of my vocabulary at that time. I was probably more shocked by my behavior than anyone else. 3. Among other things, that had nothing to do with the DOT, I had legally changed my name from Sharon Buck to my pen name - "Namatari" Neachi, in the middle of the process.
   This name change thing is a regular pattern in the covert targeting process. I have received recent covert pushes to change my name again, in order for the targeting to let up. This name change thing appears to be part of the targeting and a method of further isolating victims and hiding past documented proof of the targeting. It also includes the forced changes of address and phone numbers. Though I had wanted to use a pen name with a book that I planned to write there was no need for me to legally change my name at this time. I now believe that I was pushed into it by the woman I had rented a room to and a man who also later appeared to be involved in the targeting (I now feel that they were mind control victims as well.) Technological brain interference appears to have also been used on me - I now strongly feel that the name "Namatari" came through a V2K transmition into my brain, which I had thought was an unusually clear message from God, in answer to a prayer, at that time. It worked because I had no awareness of the technological targeting or that I was even being targeted.
   One effect of this name change was to further isolate me from friends, as I moved to a different location. (One friend who found me and was upset about losing track of me, experienced the death of her husband after reaching me. This is just one example of another horrible pattern in the targeting. The infliction of trauma, often the death of a loved one, to those whom the technological mind control vamps up on, in order to make them forget me...etc., when pharmaceuticals can not be used. This woman was a nurse who had a heavy focus on healing and probably could not be pushed into taking the technological mind control's aiding pharmaceuticals.)
More may be coming soon
6.    I beg all of my family of origin members to please try to understand my writings and listen to your Hearts above all else. I understand how all of you may be upset that I have shared such personal things. I am sorry. I had not intended to share my birth name, in order to protect you. The targeting has forced my hand in that direction. . .and I actually exposed it to help all of us - I'd hoped that we could put aside the issues with my childhood writings, and pull together against the technological targeting that I firmly feel we have ALL been victims of. I love you always. . .no matter what. My fight to expose the targeting has been more for you and my children than anyone else. Please forgive me for any hardship my writings may have caused you. I wish we could have all heal together. I had always wished that, especially back in the late 1980s and early 90s. But, now that I understand more about the mind control part of the targeting I realize that that was impossible. The targeting would have to be stopped, in order for that to happen. And I believe that our Hearts could soar above the issues, in order to reunite and recover if we were not being targeted with the mind control technologies...etc. The fact that there seems no end to it in sight hurts indescribably. My grief is huge for all of us. . .it runs as deep as my love for you, even for those of you who appear to have been used to help target me. God help us all.
 I firmly believe that my family has been victimized by remote technological targeting since at least the mid 1970s and that we have all suffered the horrible consequences of it.  Some of it may have been technological experimentation. All of it was hurtful to us and still is. My youngest brother (Kevin LaBree) was the first one to start realizing that something was wrong, and I think that this is why he was taken from us. I strongly feel that, if we had not been targeted Kevin would not have had his "accident" and our hearts would have overridden any issues we had with each other. Find more information in my "Targeted in America" and "Ramblings of a Targeted Individual" books and on www.targetedinamerica.com.)
   Looking back to make this statement is very difficult for me. My love for my family, the ways that some of them have been used to help target me and the whole situation being unresolvable until the covert, technological and pharmaceutical targeting is fully exposed and stopped, has been excruciatingly painful for me and still is. I imagine that it has been painful for most of them as well, especially since they do not believe that the targeting is happening. Some of them appear to have even been completely enslaved, especially the one who has been most used to help target me. I have prayed hard for their freedom and that of other targeted families. My fight to expose the targeting has been for us and them as much as for my own children.
  I have been separated from my family of origin through most of my adult life, except for a couple years around the time of my youngest brother's death. The separation is as confusing as the rest of the covert targeting, and its array of sly manipulations. Since I was isolated from my family for heavier targeting (which is what really happened), my siblings and father seem to think that I left them forever. . .and, until I realized the targeting more fully, I had felt that they had shunned me in 1994 when I tried to return to them after taking some time to myself. 
   The discord, which lead to the family separation began in the late 1980s. I had watched John Bradshaw's "Home Coming" series on public TV and the flood gates in my heart flew open. I recommend John Bradshaws Home Coming series to EVERYONE! Its profoundly healing. (I feel that John is another victim of covert, sadistic targeting since he did this series.) Thank God John made this series for us. I wish I could watch it again. But anyway... After watching this show I launched into healing mode - aiming to heal my inner child and free my heart from suppressed pain. But my father and siblings did not understand. Rumors flew and included them thinking that I had joined an occult and that something was wrong with me. "Nothing good ever came from looking to the past," was being drilled into me often. I knew, with every fiber of my heart and soul, that what I was doing was good and healthy. My heart was opening to levels that it hadn't experienced since my early childhood. I needed to stick with my healing process, but two of them fought to stop me. . .and this lead to my telling them that I needed some time to myself. My request for time to myself, did not include the whole family, but it somehow got turned into that and I got about a year of harassing phone calls...etc., instead of the peace I needed. Now that I look back, with awareness of the technological mind control, it appears that members of my family were being used, in order to pull me away from my focus on healing my heart, which seems to be an issue with those who target us all.
   Since the mid 1990s I'd used a pen name, and even legally changed my name so that I could freely write and stand with my writings without it hurting anyone or raising more issues in my family of origin. But in 2012, after I realized the technological parts of the targeting, and felt sure that my whole family had also been being targeted, in various ways since the mid 1970s, I publicly shared my birth name and tried to help them realize the targeting with hope that our hearts could pull together, stand up against it and bring it to an end for ourselves as well as others. I failed miserably with this. It appears that we have all been being targeted for too long. There has been too much discord around unresolved issues. And too many brain-washings have happened, especially in members who take the aiding pharmaceuticals. I was not able to reach any of them.

7.    The most painful part of this book was about my father and my eight year belief that he had sexually abused me. I now feel certain that I was brainwashed into thinking this. But let me explain the core of this situation so that it is more clear.
   In 2002 my youngest brother (Kevin LaBree) was killed and I had reconnected with my family around this time and began rekindling my relationship with my father...etc. This was very important to me. I'd missed having a family in my life. But then things quickly started a serious down hill slide after I had expressed concerns about some dreams I was having about Kevin's death not being completely accidental, and as I worked on resurrecting my "Embracing Feelings" book. Hell broke lose again! Around discords raised by a sibling, my father got really upset and just suddenly started ripping into me about things that made no sense. Apparently he got some sort of email or letter that he was convinced was from me or was told things about me by someone whom he believed.  Something had been fabricated by those who target us all, and it worked because none of us knew about the targeting, at the time I had assumed it was an email, because my email account had been hacked into and then taken over. This was really confusing and it hurt indescribably. My father was also obviously deeply hurt by whatever it was and blamed me. . .while I blamed my sisters - assuming it was more of their jealous tactics. I do not know what really set him off against me. Nobody would explain it to me. My father refused to tell or show what it was and who it was from, which was odd. And this is just one example of the hell that sadistic covert targeting does between unaware family members.
   After this, my father was one of two family members who started launching into trying to convince me that something was wrong with me. In the next couple of years I received such disturbing harassing phone calls that I had to change my phone number. I tried to convince my father  that whatever he got was not from me. . .and he couldn't believe me and kept trying to tell me that there was something wrong with me.
   By May of 2004 I'd  had about all I could I take and actually hung up on him after telling him that he was a fool and was wrong. (I still feel bad about this.)  After I hung up the phone on that day, my self-doubt soared. I cried and prayed and begged God to showpicture of my father laying on top of me in Micheal Jackson's home. (This was around the time when Micheal Jackson was being accused of sexually molesting children.) The meaning of the dream was blatantly obvious. At that time, I had absolutely no awareness of being targeted or of the psychotronic weapons that can project dreams into a victim's brain. I trusted that dream to be an answer from God and, linked with my fathers past issue of not wanting me to look at the past, and his unexplainable persistence with wanting to convince me that there was something wrong with me...etc., it seemed like the final piece to a long confusing puzzle had clicked into place. This was one of the most painful days of my life. I cried and cried and cried and did not want to believe it, but I did. 
    Since I have become aware of the technological mind control technologies, and their capability of projecting dreams in the form of pictures, and even voices, into the human brain, it has shed a lot of light into this horribly dark and painful situation. Aside from the obvious here, I feel that my father was/is a long term mind control victim and that this made the original issues too un-resolvable and my truth too unbelievable. And I now wonder if this situation, which now seems to have been orchestrated to re-separate my father and I, may have also been to help slander me, because there appear to have been many set-ups to frame me as a pedophile. . .and threats to do so if I do not leave and/or remain silent. This would be easier for them to accomplish if I proclaimed a history of being sexually abused.
    As for my childhood, I have not had the chance to fully process and remember all of it. But I am 100% sure that my father was not capable of the sexual abuse, which was portrayed in that dream - I am now 100% sure that the dream was projected into my brain to make me think he was. I keep wanting to say, "I'm sorry Dad - I'm so incredibly sorry," and I am, but the Truth is that it was not my fault. BOTH, my father and I were victims of cruel sadistic targeting and BOTH of us were deeply hurt by this as well as many other parts of the targeting. The word "hurt" even seems too mild for this situation. I guess wounded would be more accurate.
   I have deeply hoped, under all the hell of trying to expose the targeting, that the targeting would end in time for my father and I to fully re-unite and heal from what has been done to us. He's my dad and I love him. . .no matter what. I always have. My love never wavered for a second. It is the depth of my love for him that made it all hurt so much. It still hurts a lot, especially since it is all too completely unresolvable under to constraints of the mind control. I beg my family members to do everything in your power to let your Hearts override the mind control at least enough to not react to this negatively. I love you always. . .no matter what.
New “Into the Light” Book Address
Original “Into the Light” Book Address
 "Into the Light" Page on Poetic Publications
Please also read my “Targeted in America” and “Ramblings of a Targeted
Individual – the Introduction” books for more information on the targeting.

My primary websites:

I hope to gain the freedom to write a better conclusion to this book, which will explain more about the covert and technological targeting…etc. I have not altered or edited the book below. But please also read the 2016 notes at the end of it. Please do not judge anyone based on anything I have written in it. And please read my other books or website, in order to gain a better understanding of what was really happening.

I have not altered or edited the book below
It should be as it was in 2010

Into the Light
by Sharon Rose Poet

Copyright 2010 with all rights reserved.

Poetic Publications
PO Box 383
Mont Vernon, NH 03057

- Introduction –

    Into the Light is a unique story, which shines a light into some of humanity's darkest closets and is sure to test our ability to listen to our hearts and remain open minded.
    It is a true story about a woman who is lifting her pen in an effort to pick the shattered pieces of her life from trenches of adversity, while fighting against unbelievable odds. Her old rusty car is the home she writes in and her faith is all that keeps her going as she ventures out onto the fragile ends of limbs to share her story.

WARNING: This book is filled with depth and rushed, unedited writing. Please do not consume it with your mind. For best results, read with your Heart. When ingested properly, it offers countless opportunities for growth.

   - Chapter One -

    Sharon reluctantly woke, after just a couple hours sleep, as February's frosty New Hampshire morning crept into the rusty 1989 Oldsmobile she slept in. She stretched her cramped legs, quickly shoved her blanket aside, climbed into the front seat and quickly drove to a nearby gas station, in order to use the restroom.
   After relieving the pressure, which had been causing discomfort in her abdomen through half the night, she rushed back to her car, cranked the heater up and tucked her cold hands under her legs. Her long brown hair, which was streaked with grey, fell forward and helped keep her face warm as she rested her forehead on the steering wheel and shivered, while impatiently waiting for warm air to rise from the floor vents.
   As she began warming up she pulled a small green cooler from the floor in front of the passenger seat. Her hands still quivered as she unzipped the top and pulled out a loaf of bread, an old plastic knife, a jar of peanut butter and a sticky container of honey. She jabbed the knife into the jar of honey, finding it too hard to use.
   After making a plain peanut butter sandwich she licked the knife until it was clean, and tucked it back into the cooler for use on her lunch sandwich. Sanitation was not one of her primary concerns, these days.
   Deep, rumbling sounds echoed from her lungs as she coughed. If she had the money and time she'd do a bit of research and make an herbal remedy for herself, like she used to in the days when she'd owned her own home and had more resources available to her.
    But what affected her lungs was not a normal illness. And there wasn't much she could do about it at this point, accept the Reiki, which did seem to be healing them.

   This morning was similar to most others since the Alstead flood in 2005. But this February of 2010 was delivering the coldest, most challenging winter to her homeless plight.  
    She'd stuffed her pride in her pocket to aim for a welfare office on a couple occasions, but because she has no young children and is not permanently disabled and has no home, there was no real help available to her. She was on her own.

    Sharon was feeling hurt by the lack of care in the people around her. The chips were down - had been down for a few years, and she was finding out who her friends were. Actually, she'd already found out that she had no true friends in the people she'd been closest to in past years. They had faded into the past as she climbed into her writings and then crashed financially.
   She had faced so much tragedy in the past decade that some of her friends had found it too painful to continue witnessing; Some looked down on her because she no longer had the money to own her own home. Some resented her courage, her strength, her heart; and most of them added to her pain through obvious lack of care for her. She'd written this poem for one of these friends who had heartlessly turned her away with expressed disgust for her homeless plight.

Final Mile
By Sharon Rose Poet

Life is not about smiling and pretending all is well.
We can still feel the good times, while comforting the hell.
When I dance the joyful part, you love my cheery smiles.
But then you turn away when I wade the teary miles.
I must walk them both, until my work is done.
And I don't want to cry my final mile alone.
But can I be for you all that I need for me?
Can I hold your hand until your heart is free?

    There was a time when Sharon owned a large, comfortable, country home. But she's been through so much since then, that her memories of comfort and safety seem to drift in through a thick fog and arrive in such a faded state that she sometimes wonders if any of it was real, even though she knows it was.
   After washing her sandwich down with a few sips of water from a plastic gallon jug, she drove to a quiet spot next to a bridge, which spanned the narrows of a small cove near Rye, New Hampshire. She locked her doors, pulled a box from her back seat and hugged it while sending a silent thank you to her daughters for pitching in to buy her this new lap top for Christmas. She pulled it out of the box, popped the battery into it, plugged the cord into her little 400 watt power inverter and pushed the power button.  
   "Thank God I can still write," she said out loud as she glanced around to be sure no one else was there. The coast was clear. So she climbed into the back seat, covered her legs with her blanket and pulled the lap top onto her legs.
  This was a difficult step for her to take. It would have been much easier to head in another direction. With her writing she was mounting a road, which wove through some of the most painful times of her life.
   Part of her didn't want to look back - didn't want to deal with any of it. But her need to write it burned like a fire in the depths of her soul. This is something she HAD to do. And, on this day of February 11th 2010, she aimed to start.
   She leaned her head back onto the rear window and took a few deep, slow breaths - summoning up the courage to re-visit the events that lead her to this state of devastation in her life. She wasn't sure if she could bring the shattered pieces back together. But she had to try. She had to give it her best shot.

My heart is wrapped in pain as I walk through the past again.
I hope to write out the day when I'll come out the other way,
The way of peace, Love and care, the way that I will need to share
With other struggling souls like mine who need a world that's far more kind.

   She'd been writing for about an hour when a police officer pulled up behind her. As the officer approached her car she lifted her lap top and struggled to move forward in the cramped back seat. When he saw her computer he stopped and waved her off while calling out, "just wanted to be sure you were OK." Then he yelled to someone who waited on the road, "She's just using her computer," before climbing back into his car and backing out to the road.
  About an hour later Sharon was startled by the sudden angry, blaring of a horn from a slowly passing car. Was someone trying to disrupt her by calling the police and this horn blaring? Yes. They were. But this was nothing compared to what she'd already experienced. She pretended it wasn't happening and continued writing.
Through the past few years she had struggled to follow her heart into her writings while a group of people fought to prevent her from doing so. This had been happening since the year 2005, as she started producing a bi - monthly publication called, "The Personal Journal". She wasn't sure who these people were or if it was more than one group of people. But they seemed to be part of some sort of dark occult, which also used spiritual methods in efforts to harm her aside from invading her homes, vehicles, computers...etc. They had even attempted to kill her in ways that would make it look like an accident or a natural death.  
   She wonders why this is happening to her - if it is all "just in her head," as most people seem to assume. Unfortunately it REALLY is happening. But, BECAUSE it is, there've been times when her fears have run away with her.
   The truth is that more has happened than even Sharon realizes. She has escaped many snares, through subconsciously listening to her instincts. Examples of this exist in the times when she's caught herself aimlessly driving in circles, wondering why she can't make up her mind on where to go. . .without even realizing that she'd been being followed and was losing the stalker.
   There have been countless times when she's breezed past their traps like a comical female version of Forest Gump - oblivious to what might have happened. This must have exasperated the people who target her, which is why they're approach has become more direct and obvious.
  But she wonders how long her luck will hold out, especially since her car is stumbling through the cold as much as she is. If she loses her car she'll most likely end up in a homeless shelter or on the streets. And she's afraid that she won't survive long in that sort of environment, especially if people keep foolishly assuming she's "just paranoid" when she tries to get help or protection from the police.
   In recent months she wakes each morning not knowing if she'll live through the day. She stays in populated areas, in order to keep herself safer, even though she deeply needs the solitude of the country, which she'd been accustomed to before all this started. To her, being constantly surrounded by people is like being in a prison. And being stalked and harmed is more difficult than even these words can imagine. She's becoming too overwhelmed. Her faith, is all that keeps her going.
   Sharon has a lot of inner strength, but her plight has been taking its toll on her. Its been too much for her to handle on her own. And its been going on for over five years now. She's almost completely crumbled a few times. But she keeps rising back up into the faith that there is a higher purpose for what she's going through and that it will end, somehow.
   However, she fears that time may be running out - that they may succeed at killing her the next time they try.  So she digs deep into her heart and gathers up the remnants of her strength with a prayer that what’s left of her courage can write a path through the mess she's trapped in. . .for the sake of her own sanity and that of others who may experience similar things.

God, as I write my way through let my hand be guided by You.
Then let courage post it’s page before I pass beyond this age.

    Slowly, she fills page after page with the types of poetic writings that have naturally flowed from the depths of her heart since she was a young child. Each day she parks her car in a different place. Each day, horns blare next to her and people harass her. At one point, at a beach-side parking lot, in Rye New Hampshire, a couple of college age girls stood behind her car loudly talking and laughing - trying to get her attention. She'd ignored them, thinking they were just inconsiderate kids, until they hit her car and laughed as Sharon turned and shot them a scornful look, which ended up in the cell phone they took her picture with.
   They think she'll crack. They think she'll give up, because she almost has several times. But these delinquent harassments are making her more determined than ever to share her story before it gets worse again. She continues writing.
   There are times when she tries to write from an objective perspective. There are times when her heart opens to cry out the pain, which oozes from the depths of her wounds. And there are times when she savors rare moments of peace, because she doesn't know how long it will last.
    Sharon is not as alone as she often feels - she is sometimes blessed with the presence of birds that gather around her to sing love into her broken heart.
   As she writes, she begins to see, with more clarity, what had been happening to her and what mistakes she'd built into the courses of her life. As she writes she reaches deep into the wisdom of her soul.

Lady by the Sea
by Sharon Rose Poet

I wonder if I'll grow to be
A wise old woman, walking with the sea,
Letting courage dip more than just a toe.
Finding the depths as soothing as they are cold,
And every wave as youthful as it is old.
Noticing my footprints in their long crooked row,
Seeing each stumble as wisdom's chance to grow,
And every single step. . .the right way to go.

   Sharon was born with a depth of wisdom, she'd not been able to live up to, and this has made her feel like a failure. She was born with a deep yearning for more love in the heart of humanity and a relentless desire to help it come to be. Through her writings she has tried to reach this aim, over and over and over again.
   But her life has been filled with unusual levels of challenges. Its been like a series of obstacle courses. . .each one more difficult than the one before. And she's stumbled more times than not. There've even been times when she's completely fallen off the path she was born to be on. Though she's always climbed back on, lately, her strength is running out.  But she digs deep into the corners of her soul to find the courage to comb back through the most difficult parts of her life, starting from the beginning, with the hope of making some sense of it all.

- Chapter 2 -

   Sharon grew up on a farm in Southern New Hampshire - in a family of eight with two younger brothers, one older brother and two older sisters. In her younger years she had long, wavy, honey-brown hair and large, deep brown eyes that often looked beyond the surface of the world around her. She was like an ancient soul trapped in the body of a child. She was no more gifted than any other child. But she was gifted in ways that were unusual to most of the people around her. In her dreams she sometimes saw into the future and into a past which existed before this lifetime.
   Sharon was a sensitive, introspective child who often preferred being alone with a notebook and pencil. Poetry naturally rolled from her pencils before she even knew what poetry was.

My Friend
By Sharon Rose Poet

I often prefer writing
Above talking to someone.
My paper sees and understands
All that I has been done.
It can't criticize.
It doesn't mind the
Tears in my eyes.
It always takes
All I have to give,
Never expecting more
And never wanting less.

    Sharon knew at a very young age that she was meant to share her writings with the rest of humanity. Most of her family members thought she had an "over active imagination" and was "over sensitive."  But she was as she was supposed to be - she was as insightful, sensitive and creative as she was born to be. Because of her sensitivity, Sharon was an extremely compassionate and empathic child. Her heart often felt the hurt in others. She cried easily and couldn't stand seeing people get hurt. Sharon actually needed to grow into even deeper levels of sensitivity, in order to make sense of it all. But she often took on her family’s view of herself.

By Sharon Rose Poet

I grieve for things
I should let go
And wonder about
What I don't know.
I feel too much
When I shouldn't care
And often seek
A friend not there.

   In her younger years, she had a recurring nightmare. Within it, dark skinned people, with long dark hair, were tying and nailing her to something on the ground, with her arms pinned straight out from her body and her feet tied together. Sharon would wake up struggling to get free, either crying or screaming.
   On one of those nights she woke and saw a woman, with long black hair and a ghostly white face, hatefully staring at her, while standing next to her sister, Vivian's, bed. When she screamed, her parents came running up stairs and convinced her that nothing was there. But the spirit of an angry woman had really been the there glaring at her.
   Through her childhood she'd sometimes be caught sleep walking or talking in her sleep. She was afraid of the dark and struggled with her fears when her sisters refused leave a light on for her.
   She often believed the family members who suggested that there was "something wrong with her." But there wasn't anything wrong with her. In fact, there was more RIGHT with her than many people would want to realize. There were times when she possessed deep levels of insightfulness and had a connection to parts of our world that most people just couldn't understand or comprehend.

How Long
By Sharon Rose Poet

How long does it take to be
A rolling sea, a willow tree,
A flower growing wild
Or a breeze cool and mild?
I want to shed my clothes
And be one of those.
  In her younger years she didn't like wearing shoes and ran bare footed as often as she could get away with it. She ran almost as wild as the animals she deeply loved. She could sing like a bird, into the end of her hair brush when no one was watching her. But she had a strong intellect also. She could excel at almost anything she tried to do. In school she was good at sports and could get high grades without much effort, when she wanted to. She was a deep thinker who often asked questions like, "What is the purpose of life?"

Don't know
By Sharon Rose Poet

Why we live
And why we die,
I often wonder
And ask why.
Answers come
And answers go.
Still I don't -
 I don't know.

By Sharon Rose Poet

What is tomorrow
If I can't find today?
Where am I to go
When I've lost my way?

However, her grades didn't always reflect her intellect, because she stopped trying when she was in her early teens. And she intentionally got bad scores on IQ tests, because she’d learned that being smart meant that some of the people she loved would hate her.
   Her childhood was painfully difficult. Her parents were caught up in a relationship, which caused more harm than good for their children. They fought often and most of Sharon's siblings also took their own pain out on each other. Her home was filled with turmoil far more times than not. Sharon couldn't stand the discord. Although she escaped it as often as she could, she lived with her family of origin for nearly 15 years and through many nights of crying herself to sleep.

Lonely Nights
By Sharon Rose Poet

Throughout my childhood
I'd often lay awake at night
Hearing the silence creep in.
When only crickets could be heard
And every light had dimmed,
I'd hear her quiet sobs.
Each time, like the first,
My heart would loudly throb
As tears flooded my eyes.
I wonder if she felt as sad -
If she felt as alone as I.
On those long, dark nights
When sadness engulfed our home,
I wonder if Mother knew
That she never cried alone.

    On the coldest winter nights, in the old drafty farm house she grew up in, Sharon often snuck down to get the large bear-fur coat, which was stored in a closet at the foot of the stairs. When she dragged the heavy coat up to her bed and curled up in it she felt as safe and warm as she could feel in this troubled world she was born into. The spirit of the bear often wrapped its arms around her.
   By the time Sharon was 6 years old she was showing signs of the chaos around her. She had a bit of a stuttering problem and had developed a severe case of asthma, which often flared up on the evenings when her parents fought.
   Through many nights she sat on the edge of her bed with her hands gripping her knees and her arms held rigid, in order to hold her body up, as she used all her strength to pull in and push out each breath. This became difficult, because Sharon shared a large bedroom with her older sisters, Evelyn and Vivian and her wheezing disturbed them.
    Evelyn sometimes threw shoes at her and yell, "GET DOWN STAIRS," and as she headed down stairs her mother would often yell, "GET BACK UPSTAIRS!"
    There were too many times when Sharon had to hide in some remote corner of the house so that no one could hear her wheezing - times when tears streamed down her pale cheeks as she fought for her life, alone. She nearly died on a couple of these occasions. And she sometimes felt Angels holding her as she struggled to breath. She thought she'd imagined the Angels, because she needed someone there for her, so badly. But they were really there. There was always someone there for her. . .even when she didn't feel it or know it.
   The thought of dyeing didn't bother her much. Sometimes she even wished she would. But her family's lack of care for her pain and discomfort cut deeply into her heart. She felt like they didn't care if she died or not, as long as she didn't disturb them through the process. She felt deeply unloved by her family. Her asthma was a nuisance to them and she knew it. But it seemed like the more she wished it would go away the worse it got.

Earthly Home
By Sharon Rose Poet

I get tired of walking
This painful road alone,
Tired of being a stranger
In my own home.
If there's some one there
Who can truly care,
I wish You'd let them in.
I don't want to be hurt again.
I know what I need to do
But God, I sometimes wish
You'd take me Home with you
I sometimes lose courage to fight
These endless, lonely nights.
But then I see and touch your hand.
I feel your Love and understand.
I know you guide me. I'm not alone.
It's just that, sometimes, I get lost
Within this earthly home.

Angels were not the only beings who were there for her when her family couldn't be. Nippy, a little golden, tiger cat often climbed onto her lap when she felt lonely and needed to know that someone cared. But her horse, Russet, was her dearest friend. She'd often ride him out into the forest, which surrounded her home, where she'd sit for hours, writing in note books next to a stream where moss covered rocks, surrounded by soft ferns, created her favorite place to be.  She loved the peace of the forest.

Road to Love
By Sharon Rose  Poet

This road is empty
I walk alone
Where no one else
Has dared to roam.
A bit sad it is
For it's full of love
This is where
The kindest of hearts
Grow in every tree.
Love often rolls
Off the leaves
Hoping to find
A soul in need.
I feel it's kindness
As it glides
Down my brow.
And I wonder
If anyone else
Has ever felt
What I feel now.

   Sharon dreaded returning home from the forest and often fantasized about escaping the home she lived in - running away to work on some big farm in Maine or something like that. She loved her parents. But because Sharon internalized her pain, instead of taking it out on others, she didn't understand why her parents and most of her siblings struck out to hurt her and each other so much. Her heart often filled with a deep yearning for levels of love, peace and happiness that didn't exist in the world around her.
   But she felt lucky to have Russet who helped her feel loved and wanted. And her treks in the woods often delivered the peace she needed.

By Sharon Rose Poet

I walk through the fields
Of this place called home
Where up and down the forests
I have often roamed

I barefooted wade through a stream
Loving how cool it feels
Then lay awake at night
Awaiting calls of whip-poor-wills.

I wake at dawn to dash outside
And see my favorite friend
Jump on his back and gallop over
Fields that have no end

    Russet sometimes broke through his fence and snuck into the family's large vegetable garden. Her mother would yell up the stairs, "SHARON, COME GET YOUR HORSE OUT OF THE GARDEN!" She'd run outside, cut lose a high pitched whistle, and he'd come running to her.
  One of the times when Russet got loose he broke into a 100 pound bag of grain and ate until he nearly died. Sharon was terrified as they fought to save him. She'd sat by his side crying until the vet came and helped her get him up. The vet explained to her that Russet needed to keep walking - that if he laid down he'd die. Sharon walked him through half the night. Each time he stumbled or tried to stop she cried and pulled on him and begged him to not lay down. She didn't relax until she knew he was ok and then slept in his stall for the remainder of that night.
   On a warm summer day Sharon had been walking out in the woods when she saw two horses - a tall palomino and a small grey pony.  She thought she'd found a couple of wild horses. So she excitedly ran back to the house and tried to gather up members of her family to help her round them up. But before she'd completed the task, Mr. Thompson and his daughter, Glennis, drove into their yard asking if anyone had seen their horses, which had gotten lost the day before. Sharon was disappointed, but she and Glennis became close friends. Ironically, they had the same birthday and were the exact same age. And the Thompsons just happened to live at the end of the old woods road which joined their properties.
   Sharon began visiting Glennis as often as she could. Sometimes they'd sneak out into the woods and try smoking cigarettes. But most of the time they went horse back riding with Glennis's little brother, Andy, or played tag foot ball with her older brother, Joe. Sharon had a bit of a crush on Joe. But she loved all of the Thompsons. Her days with them were some of the happiest times in her childhood. But she never confided in Glennis the way she'd wanted to. Glennis’s family seemed so kind that Sharon felt ashamed of the things that happened in her own family.

I Can't
By Sharon Rose Poet

I need someone to talk to
Someone to hold my hand
Someone who cares enough
To try to understand.
But how can someone care
When I won't let them in?
How can they understand
When I don't let it be known?
I need to tell you
But I can't let you know.
I want to show you
But I can't let it show.

    During Russet's routine visits from the Veterinarian or Furrier Sharon had to stay home from school, because Russet gave them too much of a hard time when she wasn't there to hold him. Sharon and Russet were able to comfort and understand each other in ways that seemed almost supernatural. They became extremely protective of each other.
   There was a time when Sharon rounded the corner of the farm house and saw her youngest brother, Kevin, throwing rocks at Russet, who was frantically racing around the corral trying to dodge them.
   Through many years Sharon's father would laugh and tell the story about how Sharon leapt, briefly touching one foot down on a stone wall, which stood between her and Kevin, to fly through the air for an unbelievable distance and land on top of him. Sharon was not a violent child, but she couldn't bear seeing Russet being hurt. Once she landed on Kevin and had him pinned to the ground she tried to hit him, a part of her even wanted to hit him, but she couldn't. Something inside her froze. She couldn't hurt him no matter how angry she felt with him. But she had to stop him from hurting Russet. And that she did.
   Russet was just as protective of her. When her mother became worried about Sharon spending too much time alone with Russet, Sharon set out to show her how he took care of her.
   Russet stood about 16 hands tall - a giant next to Sharon's petite body. The top of his back came about even with the top of her head. But, on this occasion, she grabbed his main and leapt up onto his bare back with ease. They raced down the driveway and turned to canter back. "WATCH, MOM," Sharon yelled as she let go of the reins and started sliding off of Russet. Her mother laughed as Russet slowed down and started shifting his body in awkward ways in an attempt to boost Sharon back up onto his back. Sharon beamed, "See?" as they came to a halt in front of her mother. Her mother smiled and grumbled "OK! OK." as she headed back into the house. 
   But this wasn't the end of it. Sharon didn't realize that Vivian was becoming jealous of Sharon’s connection with Russet, and had been complaining that her own horse, Lady, got too upset when Sharon took Russet out alone. Their mother ended up telling Sharon to take Vivian and Lady when she went out riding. But Sharon loved being alone in the forest with Russet and she didn't want to bring Vivian to Glennis's house with her. Vivian didn't really want to go, either. She usually refused to go riding when Sharon wanted to. Sharon felt deeply hurt by not being able to freely do her sacred treks with Russet, and by this interference in her friendship with Glennis. But because she didn't realize Vivian's part in it, she blamed her mother.

By Sharon Rose Poet

If I walk this path again
I hope I walk alone.
If I do. I don't know when,
Further I would roam.
Solitude I'd find
In its peacefulness.
I'd drink from streams of wine
Sweetened my natures caress,
And over the hills I'd climb.
I'd stop to rest my limbs
At a special little place
Softened by tall grasses
Where the sun can warm my face.
And all I'll ask is to be alone
With an empty heart and mind.
Leaving life's confusions
Far - way far behind.

Sharon had also often visited a neighbor who raised Arabian horses - a young couple, Lynn and Lee, who welcomed Sharon and also had a deep love for animals. Sharon didn't like the way Lee sometimes took a whip to his horses, but she liked him, because he was kind to her. Both Lynn and Lee taught Sharon many things about caring for and training horses. Sometimes they'd tease her about how she looked like a "little Indian" because she rode Russet bare backed, bare footed, and sometimes even with just a lead line instead of a bridal. 
   When Sharon visited they often saddled up a couple of their own horses so they could ride with Sharon. They taught her how to ride English - how to sit up straight and post, while holding the reigns correctly. Sharon took to it right away, but obviously preferred riding like a "little Indian." She loved the time she spent with Lynn and Lee and the attention they gave her helped her feel cared for.
   On one of the days when she helped Lee fill a large grain bin with dry oats, she had a terrible asthma attack. Lynn tried to call Sharon's parents but Sharon begged her not to. As the attack worsened, she had to beg them again, "They'll get m-m-mad at me f-f-for having an attack. PLEASE d-d-don't call them," Sharon cried. Sharon seemed so scared of going home that they finally decided to take care of her themselves. They brought Sharon into a bedroom and had her lay down and focus on relaxing. When this didn't help, Lee's mother, who was visiting from Europe, brought her into the bathroom, steamed it up by turning on the hot shower, and sat in the steam with Sharon until she began breathing more easily. Sharon secretly wished that her own family cared to help her this way.
   Lynn and Lee filled some of the gaps in Sharon's childhood, through parenting her in ways that she deeply needed. As Sharon experienced their care for her, she grew more and more unhappy in her own home.
    In her youngest years her mother was more loving with her than she remembers. But by the time she was 5 years old her mother had two new babies to take care of. Her brother Mike was 4 years younger than her and Kevin was 5 years younger.
In the winters Sharon didn't spend much time with her neighbors and, to her, they seemed to drag on forever. Not being able to freely ride Russet on her own deeply tore at her heart.

By Sharon Rose Poet

My days are empty
I feel so alone.
Feel like a stranger
In my own home.
Nights are long
Peace seldom finds me
I anxiously await daylight
To put darkness behind me.

   Part of Sharon's story is similar to the classic "Cinderella" story. Both of her older sisters were hatefully jealous of her.  Sharon often felt deeply hurt by their lack of love. When Evelyn hit her or tried to trip her or pull her hair...etc., it hurt more than just her body. And when Evelyn worked at convincing her that their parents didn't love her and that she had been adopted, she believed her. Because Vivian hid her plots against her and usually pretended to be her friend, she didn't realize how much Vivian joined forces with Evelyn. 

Hard to Bear
By Sharon Rose Poet

At times life is so hard to bear.
Too many people don't seem to care.
They carry on in their selfish ways
Then wonder why, the empty days…

It hurts so much to see
What the world has come to be.
At a time of desperate need
Rarely exists a helpful deed.

Every person seems the same
Never caring for another's pain.
But when it's them who need someone
It's not thought of - what they've done.

   One example of how Vivian and Evelyn treated Sharon is in the time when Sharon was walking across the yard of their house. "HEY! SHARON!" Evelyn called from the attic window on the third floor. Sharon looked up, and then shrieked in horror, as Evelyn threw Nippy, out the window. Sharon didn’t know that cats could survive such a fall. So, she frantically ran into the house crying to her mother - hardly able to pry the words from between her sobs, "M-M-Mom, Evelyn k-k-k-killed Nippy."
    But by the time her mother finally understood what she was saying, Evelyn had come rushing down stairs and was saying, "Mom, she's just making it up. Nippy is fine." "Look," Vivian said as she burst through the door and held Nippy up in front of their mother. Her mother got so upset that she stomped her foot and yelled, "GET TO YOUR ROOM, SHARON!"
   As Sharon stopped in the stairway and tried to defend herself her mother angrily slapped her face, screaming, "I SAID GET UP STAIRS!" Sharon stood there, frozen to the step as she gripped the rail, and stared at her mother with shocked, pleading eyes, sobbing so hard she couldn't talk. . .her tears flowing faster than the blood that dripped from her nose.
   Sharon's mother often didn't know what to think when her children did things like this - she didn't know who to believe and Sharon was the easier target because she usually just silently walked away, as she ended up doing on this occasion.

By Sharon Rose Poet

They say I am that
When I am really this
And wonder why I am
When I'm really not.
They say I will
When I know I won't
And think I do
When I truly don't.

No one knew how much Sharon cried once she got to one of her private hiding places. And no one cared to read between the lines of the poems her tears spilled into her notebooks as the turmoil in her family took its toll on her.

By Sharon Rose Poet

In public I'm happy
In privacy I cry.
Outside I live
While inside I die.
My mind lives
In hope for tomorrow
But my heart lives
In only sorrow.
I smile
With people around.
But alone,
I'm one big frown.
Even though
I'm burning inside
With a smile
I try to hide.

   Sharon's mother knew that Vivian was often behind schemes, which aimed to hurt people. But even though she was aware of Vivian's hurtful behaviors, the wool was often pulled over her eyes, because they were executed so slyly and manipulatively.
   This ordeal with the cat was just one of the countless times, when Sharon got punished for what Vivian and Evelyn had done to her. Pain was heaped upon pain and Sharon often cried it into her note books. But sometimes she turned to Vivian who always pretended she had nothing to do with it.
   Vivian had learned these types of behaviors from her own father. This sort of confusing chaos also existed in her mother's relationship with her father. Yolande, Sharon's mother often felt as hurt and confused as Sharon did. Her escape was in going out drinking with her friends more and more often.
   Consequently, as Sharon approached her teens, her mother was often not home and her father was usually out in his saw mill or working in the woods - leaving the children to care for themselves. With the older siblings taking their pain out on the younger ones, I'll give you one guess at what that was like. Evelyn and Vivian were two and three years older than Sharon.
   I know this is all sounding like Sharon was too much of and angel. But the bare truth is that she truly was a child who had a HUGE heart and didn't want to hurt any one, which is why she became the victim of those who did. Because of her kindness, her sisters hated her and often called her "Little Miss Perfect," with a disgusted twist to the words. Sharon was the "Cinderella," in this family. And she often took on the pain of her family members on top of her own, even Evelyn and Vivian’s. And it soon began catching up with her.
   Eventually she started shutting down and retreating within herself - blocking her memories and feelings. At one point she became so depressed that she even began to avoid and neglect Russet - sometimes forgetting to feed him as she reluctantly climbed out of bed to rushed off to school. She stopped doing most of the things she enjoyed. She became more quiet. Her heart was breaking.

Reason To Cry
By Sharon Rose Poet

I used to think,
In another place and time,
"Life would be different."
"Life would be kind."
But, love doesn't grow on trees and
Kindness doesn't drop from the sky.
I pray to God down on my knees
To take away these reasons to cry.

   But no one noticed what was happening to her. The rest of the family was so busy, either fighting, or escaping the fights, that they were rarely there for each other in ways that were needed. Sharon often felt scared for her parents when their fights became violent. She hid in closets and often prayed for God to not let her parents hurt each other any more. But the fighting and hurting continued.
By Sharon Rose Poet

Daddy, when your angry
Mommy, when your mad
Don't you care that I feel
So scared and sad?
But you say
My tears are a lie,
So, I hide in the closet,
Where you can't see me cry.

God heard her prayers and the tears she wrote into her notebooks and Angels came to hold her on countless occasions. But Sharon needed love in the physical world around her. Without it, she began to close her own heart.

Help Me Lord
 By Sharon Rose Poet

Reach forth, Lord, and help me go
Through silver fields covered with snow.
Give me sight, Lord, so that I can see
A world of happiness in front of me.
Give me ears, Lord, so that I can hear
The words, I love you, from someone dear.
Give me legs, Lord, so that I can walk
Away from being the laughing stock.
Bring me there, Lord. Please bring me there,
Where all the people have love to share.
Give the ability, Lord, for me to touch
The hearts of the ones I love so much.
Give me feelings, Lord, so that I can feel
A depth of Love that's really real.

    In grade school Sharon curled up under the wing of Mrs. Sladam - a compassionate fifth grade teacher who cared to notice the bruises on Sharon's face and the sadness, which steadily grew into her big brown eyes. Mrs. Sladam sometimes kept her in the class room during recess. More times than not, when she asked Sharon how she got the "black eye" or the bruise on her cheek, Sharon's reply would be, "Evelyn hit me.” Sometimes it had been her mother. But these were the days when child abuse was reported even less than it is today - when people rarely involved themselves in personal family problems. But Mrs. Sladam did care for Sharon in ways that her own family was not able to.
   One winter, she gave Sharon a long blue coat, which her own daughter, Shelly, had out grown. Sharon loved that coat. Tears streamed down Sharon’s cheeks the first time she heard Dolly Pardon singing the song, "Coat of Many Colors," because it reminded her of this blue coat. But Sharon’s entry into seventh grade, which was in a different school, brought an end to her visits with Mrs. Sladam.
   Though Sharon had some wonderful people who were there for her through various periods of time, her sadness grew. There was more that happened to her - things she wasn't going to fully face until much later in life - things that threatened to break her spirit as well as what was left of her heart. As her heart began to close she wrote this poem.

Yesterday Today and Tomorrow
by Sharon Rose Poet

Yesterday went wrong
Today is almost gone
But I will face tomorrow
In hope for no more sorrow.
The troubles in my mind
Will all be left behind
For in the future I see
What I've hoped to be.
I have learned by my faults
As pain comes to a halt.
My tears will all run dry.
No longer will I ask why.
I'll be happy once again
Like I as way back…when?
I'll look at life like it's not there
And for my Self, for once, I'll care.
I'll become satisfied with myself
Throwing people onto a shelf.
I will live in a world of my own.
Letting my heart be turned to stone.
I'll thank myself for being me
For I'm not what people see.
They think they know who I am
But, know the truth, only I can.
My life to me has gone away.
I left it in a yesterday.
But another will soon be born
As from pain I am torn.
In today I see nothing
But I wait for what tomorrow will bring.
I'll keep looking straight ahead
For the past is now dead.

 Sharon had loved Russet more then she'd loved anything or anyone else. But she continued to avoid him. She'd stopped caring about everything that was important to her. But she felt something when her parents decided to sell him.
   When the horse trailer was pulled into the yard and the back of it opened to load Russet, Sharon watched from a window on the second floor of their farm house, with tears filling her empty eyes. Silently, she called to Russet, "Run, Russet. RUN!" Through the chain of love they still had for each other, he heard her and raced around the pasture.
   Her parents, and the two men who came to get him, had spent over an hour trying to catch him before Sharon's mother ran into the house and yelled up the stairs, "SHARON, GET DOWN HERE AND GET YOUR HORSE!" But Sharon couldn't help them take him. She began sobbing uncontrollably as she ignored her mother and kept saying over and over in her head, "Run, Russet. RUN! Don't let them catch you. NO! NO! NO! Don't let them take you! You’re all I have here! I'm SORRY Russet. I'm so sorry."
    But they did eventually catch him. And something in Sharon's heart completely broke as she watched them haul him down the driveway. She blamed herself as much as them, because she had neglected him - because she had turned her back on him. She hated herself for that. His absence left a painfully empty void in her life - a void that filled with guilt, grief and a loneliness that ran deeper than anything she'd experienced before this. Her self esteem was drowning in the trench she'd filled with guilt. And her poems reflected her dismay.

By Sharon Rose Poet

Life is short. Life is old.
Winter's warm, while summer's cold.
Skies are gray. Earth is blue.
The sun went away. What can we do?
Life is dark. Death is light
Daytime's gone. Nights are bright
Sand is wet. Water's dry.
But don't ask yet. Don't ask why.
But don't ignore it. Don't throw it away.
This could happen to you on some sad day.

 Shortly after losing Russet, Sharon decided to run away from home. With Russet gone, there was nothing there for her anymore. A few of her school friends helped her plan the escape after attending a car wash to raise money for Saint Peter's Orphanage, which her art teacher, Mr. McDunna, had brought Sharon's class to. But, because Sharon had left a note at home, and because she had taken too much time at the car wash, a police officer caught her before she'd gotten very far. 
    She was hauled into the police station and finger printed as if she were a criminal. They never asked her why she didn't want to stay with her family. They just hauled her in and sent her back. 
    Neither of her parents understood her need to leave. They were so caught up in their own turmoil that they didn’t see what was happening to her. To them, Sharon was just becoming another problem they had to deal with on top of too many others. This surprised them, since Sharon had been the more quiet one.
    Sharon's quietness began disappearing as she grew more and more angry and began expressing how she felt about the ways they all treated each other. But nothing changed.
  Her parents kept fighting. Her mother kept running away from all of them. Evelyn's behaviors remained blatantly cruel. And Vivian continued manipulating people against Sharon - sometimes gathering her friends in the school hallways and having them loudly sing to Sharon as she walked by, "FLATTSIES. FLATTSIES. SHE'S FLAT. AND THAT'S THAT!" (Unlike her older sisters, Sharon had a thin, petite body, which was slow to develop.) 
    Oh, how Sharon hurt  - mostly due to their lack of love for her. "Why do they hate me?" She'd ask her parents. Her father would carelessly brush it off and say things like, "They are just jealous of you. That's all." And her mother would try to make it better by saying things like, "They don't hate you," and then try to make up for it by giving her cookies. But none of this helped. Sharon felt the lack of love in her sister's jealous/hateful behaviors and it cut deep into her heart. This was no small thing to her.

   Sharon's Mother actually adored Sharon. Through her early childhood Sharon was her "little angel" - the quiet, wise one, who reminded her of herself. "She's wise beyond her years, that one is," her mother would often say to her friends. And her mother didn't understand the sudden change in Sharon. There were things she wasn’t aware of.

I'm The One
By Sharon Rose Poet

I'm the one….
Who cries all day - who has to pay
And face the shame. I take the blame.

I'm the one…
Who cares too much - Love can't touch
Who can't fight and has no right.

I'm the one…
They all use - who has to lose
Who's in the cloud - who cries out loud.

I'm the one…
Who prays all night - who has no sight
Who's not the same - who lost their game.

I'm the one.

    But Sharon’s mother opened her eyes a bit more on a night when Sharon had gone to a "sleep over" at her friend, Becky's house. Evelyn and/or Vivian had convinced her that Sharon was just partying with boys and that Becky's mother was not really going to be home...etc.
   When Sharon's mother went raging into their home, without knocking, and came face to face with Donna, Becky's mother, she was shoved into a depth of humiliation that dislodged a realization of what had been happening for years.
   But Sharon didn't feel much when her mother apologized to her. Too much damage had already been done through the countless times when her mother had yelled at her, hit her or thought less of her due to things Evelyn or Vivian had done or said.  Sharon felt deeply hurt by all of them. It would have taken a lot more than one apology to wash away all those years of the kind of pain no child should ever have to endure.

By Sharon Rose Poet

I have suffered many a loss
And many times, when not need be
I'm the one who pays the cost.
I have felt your pain
And shed many a tear.
But I will find contentment
In a future year.
I have paid for your mistakes
And grieved for your grief.
But I love you still and always will
Pray for your sorrows relief.
For your wrongs I am blamed
You shove your pains onto me,
Never seeming to feel ashamed.
I take it all, reluctantly,
As if I have to.
And wonder why you don't care
About what you put me through.

    At 15 years old, Sharon felt too painfully trapped in her family's turmoil, and still carried deep levels of grief over losing Russet. But she had found David, a boy who became a dear friend before he’d asked her to “go steady”.  She loved him as much as her heart could love, at this point. He was her life line - her light in the dark.
   When Vivian told Sharon that Dave didn't want to see her anymore, Sharon felt so hurt that she made one of the biggest mistakes of her life - one that she'd deeply regret for many years. She tried to end her own life.
   On that night, she laid in bed crying and feeling overwhelming levels of pain, which she had stored in her heart through the loss of Russet and Nippy, who had been killed by this point. (Vivian had told her that Gerry had taken Nippy out into the woods and shot him) There was no one who could be there for her on the levels she'd needed, and she'd hit a point where she couldn't take anymore. Her pain ran so deep it became unbearable. She couldn't live there anymore. But she felt that if she ran away again, the police would just haul her back and everyone would become even more angry again. She felt completely trapped.
   As her pain completely engulfed her she went to the medicine cabinet and began swallowing every pill she could get her hands on. Then she numbly went back to bed and figured she'd just die in her sleep. But her stomach began feeling upset. And when Vivian came into their bed room, Sharon was vomiting what looked like blood.
   Sharon's mother carried her into the back seat of their Jeep Wagoneer as her father jumped into the drivers seat to rush them to the hospital. "Please just let me die," Sharon weakly begged her mother as she began losing consciousness. This was no “call for attention” as some foolishly thought. Sharon really wanted out.
   The next thing she remembered was waking in a hospital bed feeling groggy and weak. She wondered if she was dead until her mother leapt from a nearby chair and rushed over to her. Sharon couldn't bear the pain she saw in her mother's eyes, and couldn't bear the thought of returning home. She turned her head away from her mother and fell into silence.

   They brought her to a counselor at the Easter Seals building in Manchester. But she refused to talk to the counselor also. She sat in silence each time her mother brought her there, until one day when the counselor got angry with her, and raised her voice to scold her, saying, "Your mother and father are worried about you. They love you and want you to talk to me." Sharon suddenly broke the silence by angrily yelling back, "NO! They DON'T love me!"
   When the session was over Sharon was sent out to the car while the counselor talked to her mother.
   Sadly, the lack of love Sharon had expressed was clearly demonstrated when her mother stormed out of the Easter Seals building, angrily climbed into the car, slammed the door shut with her left hand and drove the back of her right fist into Sharon's face, while screaming, "HOW DARE YOU TELL THEM WE DON'T LOVE YOU!"

   Sharon still wanted to end her life, but she couldn't bear the pain it would caused her mother, and she knew it was the wrong thing to do. She'd promised God she'd never try again. And this was a promise she was to keep.
   After the attempted suicide incident, Gerry kept calling her the "mental case." Her foolish attempt at suicide also gave Vivian and Evelyn more to harass her about. Her parents were fighting more than ever, if that was possible. And Sharon became even more determined to leave home again.
   Anger, like she'd never known before, began rising up in her. One night as she helped her mother cook dinner, Sharon made some sort of sarcastic comment. And her mother raised her hand to slap her face, but was shocked when Sharon ducked the blow and struck back - slamming her fist into her mother’s stomach and seething, in a low voice, through clenched teeth, "YOU will NEVER hit me again!" Her mother silently turned and walked out of the room. When Sharon heard her crying in her bedroom she felt horribly guilty for hitting her own mother. She'd never hit anyone before. Sharon didn't understand her own behaviors and how they came from a deep need to not be hurt anymore.
   Hitting back was certainly the wrong thing to do. But from this day forward, her mother stopped her habit of striking her children when she got angry. She never hit anyone again. This blow coming from Sharon - the one who never tried to hurt anyone, hit more than just her stomach. It hit her into realizing her own hurtful behaviors. Unfortunately she turned to drinking more and being home less instead of heading in the other direction to heal it. She felt like a failure as a parent. And Sharon blamed herself.
     Shortly after this, Sharon had a talk with her mother. And her mother knew she meant it when she said that she was going to leave home one way or the other, and that it would be best if she'd just let her go, because if she didn't, Sharon said, "I will be sure to succeed at killing myself the next time." Sharon hated threatening her mother this way. But she felt that it was the only way she'd get to leave. It worked. Her mother even took her to the YWCA in Manchester, paid for a room for her to stay in, and bought her first guitar at a small music shop on Elm Street.
   "Free at last," Sharon thought as she spent her first night in her own new home. But she wasn't really free. She'd brought with her, all the hurt, all the guilt, all the memories and all the painful loneliness, which rose through her love for her family and her wish that things could have been better than they were.  She was a small 90 pound girl with a ton of weight in her heart. She wrote,

By Sharon Rose Poet

A person has been truly blessed
If they can find, within their heart
A place where they can rest -
A nice peaceful place
Where memories roam
Through the comfort
Of a loving home.

   She spent hours gazing out her window at the church steeple, which rose into the distance. Like a ray of Light, it reminded her that Love was there for her.  As she began frequenting churches, she was lucky to find Pastor Bradstreet and his wife - another kind couple who took her under their wings. The Bradstreet’s deeply appreciated Sharon's connection to God and the courage she found through her own faith. Sometimes it seemed like God wrote messages for her, into her own poems.

Someone For Everyone
By Sharon Rose Poet

When days are empty
And nights are long
Don't fall down.
Stand up. Be strong.
There is someone there
Who will always care,
And even help you
No matter what you do.
If you believe in Him
And face every sin,
When you need someone
He will come.
Just call on Jesus
And he'll be there
To lighten your day
And show a new way.
He knows how you feel,
Knows your pain is real.
He won't let you fall
If to him you call.

   Sharon quit school at 15 years old and began working as a nursing assistant after a summer of working as a chamber maid at the Carpenter Hotel. Although she needed a more spiritual lifestyle she began angrily doing things she'd been accused of and punished for at times when she was innocent.

   She became pregnant and had an abortion when she was 17 years old. She struggled with her decision through many years. . .feeling unsure if she'd done the right thing when she aborted the child she and Dennis could have had, especially after hearing the views of people who judge the act of abortion. But eventually she realized that people need to follow their own hearts and instincts into such decisions and do what is best for their own unique situations. . .and that God is the only one who has a right to judge it.

    After Sharon’s mother was diagnosed with Leukemia, she started re-visiting the rest of her family. And, though she hadn't seen much of Evelyn, things hadn't changed much. But Sharon had hit a point where she spoke up more often. There was even one more time when she angrily struck back and then felt horrible about it.
   She'd met Evelyn, Vivian and Vivian's friend Stephanie - (the one who liked to sing the "flattsies, flattsies..." in school hallways), in a Pizza parlor. As they sat at a table eating, Evelyn began bragging about the cleavage she showed off under the sweater she’d squeezed over her fat body. She shot Sharon a look of pity as she sarcastically said, “At least SOME of us have cleavage to show.” Vivian, Stephanie and Evelyn exchanged glances and laughed until their cackling turned to shock when Sharon suddenly slung out, "Well, when your fat everywhere else you can't help but to be fat there too." But this shocked Sharon more than it shocked them. The words seemed to have popped out of her mouth before she even knew what she was saying. She quickly got up and escaped to the bathroom. Vivian soon came rushing in laughing up a storm, saying, "Evelyn just left. I CANT believe you said that!" Sharon couldn't relate to Vivian's joy over it. She felt terrible. No matter how much Evelyn had hurt her she hated hurting her back. 
   But, Evelyn never put her down in public again. In later years, Sharon learned that, sometimes, it takes one good slam to stop a bully, and if she had fought back sooner it could have saved her a lot of pain. But she still felt bad about it, because in her heart she knew that it would have been a lot better if she'd opened up to talk to Evelyn, telling her how she felt about the things she did and said. But with Vivian constantly bad-mouthing Evelyn when she was with Sharon and then sneakily jumping the fence to bad-mouth Sharon when she was with Evelyn, and because BOTH Sharon and Evelyn let Vivian do this, they didn't have much of a chance to patch things up or make things better between them.  Vivian constantly manipulated them against each other and had been doing this for many years without anyone realizing it.

Sharon's older brother, Gerry, actually felt proud of Sharon through some of their childhood. But his ‘Clint Eastwood’ attitude wouldn’t let her know it. He relentlessly ridiculed her and put her down when he was with her. But then he'd brag about her to his friends when she wasn’t there. Sharon thought he hated her. This hurt her because she had looked up to him. After she left home and turned to religion, Gerry often teased her about being a "Jesus freak." But when Gerry hit his down points he’d turn to Sharon for comfort and understanding. She sometimes wrote him poems like this one, which came from the depths of her heart.

For Gerry
By Sharon Rose Poet

Life goes on through the rain
With it's confusion and it's pain.
And hearts can not rest
While searching for happiness.
It's hard. Yes. I know,
But progress will soon show.
Just hang in there. I know you can.
This is the road to becoming a man.
I know your life has fallen in,
But you must try, try again.
A long road stretches ahead for you,
A difficult one, I know, it's true.
I've walked that road before
And know I'll walk some more.
I was broken, at one time, like you
There was no one to help me through.
So remember, if you ever need someone
You can always count on me.
I'll understand how you feel
A true friend I'll always be.
I know what it's like to have no one there
So I hope there will never be a day
That you will feel this way.
Remember, I’ll be here for you
I'll care and understand
No matter what you do.

    Gerry’s response to this poem was a disgusted, “You and your STUPID poems!” as he pushed past her and raced out of the room to hide his tears. Sharon didn't see his tears and didn't understand that she had touched his heart in ways that he just didn't want to show or admit. She felt hurt and rejected by his reaction and never wrote another poem for him again.

   Because of the ways her sisters treated her, Sharon had often tagged along with Gerry or went outside to help her father in the mill or forest. She enjoyed doing what they called, "men's work.” And she was disappointed when her father refused to teach her how to use a chain saw.
   Sharon had often tried to gain her father's approval. His behaviors made it look like Vivian was the only daughter he loved. Sharon wanted him to love her too. But her father, Clifton, felt threatened by Sharon’s wisdom and insightfulness. This was also the part of his wife, which he seemed to admire and hate at the same time. He was jealous of both of them, although he'd probably never admit it. He developed a habit of putting down Sharon's wisdom and then repeating it to other people as if it were his own, as he had done to Yolande. 
    Sharon was the one he neglected most. When she started finding her voice, she once asked him, "Dad, why do you usually say 'yes' to the other kids and always say 'no' to me when I ask for something?" And his response was, "Because you accept it." This didn't make things any better. Sharon still felt his lack of love for her.

     Because her father couldn't deal with his own feelings he often projected them onto others in sly ways that manipulated them into feeling jealous/hurt or angry. Through the fights he'd instigate, he often strived to make Yolande look like "the bad guy" in the eyes of their children, which deprived their children of the trust they needed to have in their own mother. Sharon's Mother was slowly crushed by her husbands behaviors. His drive to be constantly trying to make her feel hurt/jealous hurt her deeply. It destroyed their marriage. Sadly, she did not see his manipulations and had blamed and hated herself for her own reactions to his behaviors on top of feeling deeply hurt and betrayed by him. This lead her into a state of giving up on her own life.
   As Yolande became more ill, Sharon fell into the roll of the family caretaker. Evelyn was away in college. Vivian was married and soon to give birth to a set of twins. Gerry seemed to remain in his own separate world. And her two younger brothers had found their escape in drugs and alcohol. Sharon was all that was left. And her compassionate ways filled the caretaker role well. It was still easy for her to feel for others, especially when they were in need. She always wanted to fill the void of people's need for care. It was almost as if, in doing so, she filled some of her own unfilled needs.

By Sharon Rose Poet

This pillow I hold 
Is like a book I can read.
The seams, torn apart,
Were caused by abuse.
And it's matted in the middle
Because of too much use.
The stains on both sides,
I know that, through the years,
Were caused by the dampness
That came from Mother's tears.

 During her mother's 9 month stay in the Mary Hitchcock Hospital, Sharon visited her as often as she could and wrote this poem about her mother,

Tearful Love
By Sharon Rose Poet

When I say I love you
Sad eyes fill with tears.
 I know you think back to
My foolish childhood years.
I sit here next to your hospital bed
Not believing a word
Of what the doctors said.
They say that you will die
But I can not believe
I love you much too much
For you to ever leave.
Your years have been
Too few to now end.
Your not just my Mother,
You're a very special friend.
Yet, we can't say I love you
Without a rolling tear
And I cant say good-bye
Without a trembling fear.

   This poem was Sharon's fantasy of a closer relationship with her mother. The truth here is that they never said, “I love you” and never talked about her mother’s illness.
    Sharon's father had told Sharon and her siblings that they were to pretend they didn't know their mother was dieing - he told them to not ever talk to her about it. This hurt all of them more than can be explained. It left a pain filled distance between Sharon and her mother - an emptiness, which Sharon often wished had been filled with the love and support her mother needed. This tore at her heart. She clearly remembered the day her mother’s body died. It was a memory, which had been sewn with deep shades of guilt for her own behaviors and sorrow for how alone and uncared for her mother felt.

   After a nine month battle with Leukemia, all medical treatments had been stopped, and her mother wanted to spend her last days with her family of origin in Canada. Sharon was driving her there from the hospital in Hanover New Hampshire. On the day of their departure Gerry tucked his head into the back seat of the car, looked at his mother with tears welling up in his eyes, and asked, "Are you coming home for Christmas?" This gripped Yolande's heart. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she looked back at her sons while Sharon slowly drove out of the parking lot.
    After a couple weeks in Canada, her mother decided to go home for Christmas. Sharon drove her back and helped her make pies for the holiday. Yolande teased Sharon about how her pie crust was going to be more fluffy then Sharon’s. And Sharon teased back, "No. No. No. Mine are going to be better than yours, Mom." They both laughed.
   But shortly after this playful exchange her mother suddenly said that she wanted to return to the hospital. "Why?" Sharon couldn't hide her disappointment. And her mother yelled, "Sharon, just call the hospital and tell them I'm coming back." As Sharon fumbled with the phone, too upset to even see straight, her mother angrily grabbed it from her hands yelling, "Can't you do anything right? I'll do it myself!" Sharon rushed out of the room and ran outside to get her father. She felt hurt and confused. She didn't understand why her mother was suddenly angry and leaving. And she argued with her father when he asked her to go with him to take her back to the hospital. She didn't want her to go back. She didn’t want to go with them. She felt hurt by the way her mother had just yelled at her. "Someone else can go this time," Sharon had coldly said. But she ended up going anyway.
   When she walked into her mother’s room after the nurses had transferred her to the bed, Sharon felt as if a knife had been driven into her, when her mother snidely snapped out, "WHAT are YOU still doing her?" Sharon silently walked out of the room with a well of pain gathering in her chest. She left the hospital without saying good-bye to her mother - without saying what her heart had longed to say - without hugging her and telling her how much she loved her. . .and without knowing that this was the last time she'd see her mother alive.  (Only God knows what sort of manipulation instigated Yolande's anger at Sharon.)
    Sharon's mother died around 7pm that evening, at the young age of 44, alone, in an empty hospital room. . .on Christmas eve.
   Sharon blamed herself, because of the pain she'd caused her mother when she hit her and when she'd foolishly tried to kill herself.
   When Sharon lost her mother, she also lost the only family member who was capable of understanding her "eccentricity" - the dreams she had about the future and the energies she sometimes saw when she was feeling peaceful.
   At 18 years old Sharon didn't understand most of what her mother had gone through. And she felt abandoned by her. Sharon had prayed and prayed and prayed over and over again for God to heal her mother. And when her prayer was not answered, she felt betrayed by God, until she realized how selfish this was - until she realized that God needed to answer her mother's wishes above her own. Her mother wanted to go home. She couldn't tolerate the pain of the bad choices she had made in this lifetime.
    Sharon still felt her Mother's pain as much as she felt her own. It filled her heart with guilt and grief.  The closed casket wake and closed hearted Christmas, which surrounded her mothers death was nearly too much for Sharon to bear.
   Each time she tried to talk about the sadness she felt over losing her mother, her father would coldly accuse her of not facing it and not putting it behind her quickly enough. But the truth was that Sharon is the only family member who WAS facing it. She wrote this poem in the Christmas card she sent to her family for the following Christmas.

This Year
By Sharon Rose Poet

Let’s send a prayer this Christmas day
For the one we love, who’s passed...away.
Let's not pretend that nothing's wrong.
Let's bring her back where she belongs.
Let's let it out! Let's shed a tear.
Let's bring memories of Mom
Into Christmas, this year.

    But nobody understood her need to grieve and talk about her mother. They thought Sharon was just being her usual "over sensitive" self. They didn't know how unhealed they were. They didn't know that embracing their own sadness would help them heal from it. Sharon was undergoing a healthy grieving process and they were the ones who were not facing it or healing from it. But, once again, they convinced Sharon that she was the one who had something wrong with her.

      In the year following her mother’s death Sharon slid into the numb state she remained in until 1986. For nine years she merely existed - numbly passing through the motions of taking care of her family and doing what other people thought she was supposed to do with her life. For nine years her heart was severely blocked by the guilt of the pain she had caused her mother and the remainder of her grief over losing her, on top of the mountains of suppressed pain she'd stuffed into her childhood.

By Sharon Rose Poet

I'd wished for happiness
But it's vision slipped away.
Perhaps it never came.
I just wished it for a day.
I think now it is best
That the past be put to rest.
But I must learn how to forget.

By Sharon Rose Poet

When tears run dry,
Emptiness awaits those
Who can no longer cry.

   Within those nine years she married Barry - a man who had worked for, and was similar to, her father. She did what she could to be there for her family members. She planning each of their birthday parties, although none of them had ever given her a birthday party…etc. Within her family of origin, she remained the scapegoat as well as the caretaker - always giving too much and receiving too little. But this is what she was accustomed to.
   When Sharon’s father first met Pauline, Sharon’s older brother and sisters were against the union. Vivian and Evelyn were doing a lot of griping about it and Sharon had told them to "leave him alone" - that it was "his choice" and that "he had a right to a bit of happiness after what he'd been through..." But, as usual, it all got twisted around and, somehow, her father and Pauline ended up thinking that Sharon was the one who was against their relationship.
   Sharon felt hurt by this, especially since he didn't believe her when she said she had no problem with it at all. She'd never told him that the others had. She covered for them while taking the blame - not wanting to make waves, as she'd done on countless other occasions throughout her past. And this didn’t help any of them.
   Pauline married her father and joined forces with Evelyn and Vivian in their jealousy of Sharon. . .making Sharon even more of a "Cinderella."

- Chapter 3 -

    On June 9th, 1980 - Sharon's wedding day, Rhonda, her closest friend at the time, expressed that she thought Sharon was making a mistake. Sharon thought about it and said, "If it doesn't work out I'll just divorce him. Everyone is already waiting at the church." But Rhonda had been right. Sharon and Barry were not meant to be together. Her marriage to him was a mistake she'd grow to deeply regret.
   In marrying Barry, Sharon cast aside her childhood dreams of singing the songs she wrote, and of leading a more spiritual lifestyle, of traveling the world and helping to bring more Love/kindness into the heart of humanity. She'd forgotten what she was born to do. Her heart was broken, literally. She had become one of the billions of sheep humanity has bred into numbly following the rest of the flock.

    Sharon and Barry remained together for nearly 14 years and brought two innocent children into a loveless marriage, which steadily deteriorated. She hadn't taken time to find and re-claim herself before leaping into marriage and bringing children into the world, and it would have been best if she had. But the birth of her first child brought a spray of happy tears, which broke the lock on her heart's door. She found deep joy in watching both of her children grow.

Children & Fairies
By Sharon Rose Poet

Icicles dangle from limbs of trees
While snow flakes float in the breeze
Children giggle with rosy cheek.
From behind a snowman they peek.
Their laughter, such a heart warming sound,
Echoes from snow covered ground.
Beneath the glimmering light of a star
Fairies gather in treetops afar
Wondering what the noises are.
When they see what makes the sound
They roll laughing upon the ground.
I've never seen such a beautiful sight
As children and fairies giggling at night.

 Although, at this point, Sharon had forgotten the most painful parts of her childhood, she knew she'd never been taught how to be a healthy parent. So she surrounded herself with books on child raising and strived to do the best she could. But there was only so much she could do in the numbed state she was in. Her relationship with her husband and the ways other family members treated her children had as much of an impact on her children as the things she did or didn't do.
    Her marriage contained no passion, no real love. . .no happiness. She and Barry never openly fought in front of their children. (Sharon made sure of that.) But they never demonstrated a healthy, loving relationship either.
   Sharon kept her focus on raising the children, baking breads, sewing, painting ceramics, gardening, housekeeping and even doing a bit of remodeling work in the home they purchased. She also worked outside of the home as a CNA, a Realtor, and taught Sunday school craft classes at the small community church she took her children to.
    Sharon made friends easily and had quickly befriended some of her new neighbors. She loved children and often had a house full of her daughter's friends when she wasn't piling them into her car to go to ball games.
   One time Sharon was running late to a game and had driven up next to the ball field with almost half the home team hanging out of her car windows, loudly singing, "Lets go out to the ball game. . ." That was Sharon. The kids loved her as much as she loved them.
   But Barry's resentment of Sharon's friendships and talents grew with each passing year. His control issues, and the sly ways he'd hurt her and manipulate her friendships as well as her relationships with her own children, cut deep wounds into Sharon's heart, although she didn't see what he was doing, at the time. She often felt hurt and confused as to why her children suddenly stopped hugging her and why her neighbors suddenly stopped associating with her...etc.
   Most of the ceramics Sharon painted ended up being "accidentally" broken by Barry. And he often took credit for other things she did, like the lily ponds she'd built into her gardens, and the old mahogany table and piano she'd skillfully refinished after many laborious days of removing layer upon layer of old paint.
   She knew his taking credit for the things she'd do was due to his own insecurities, and had tried to make up for what his childhood had done to his self esteem, but she had become his target. She felt deeply hurt by the way he'd often put her down to make himself feel better than her, and by the ways he'd often try to degrade her in front of people or pretend to be more loving than he really was toward her.
   She was hurt by the ways he refused be there for her when she needed him most. She was hurt by the ways he'd drill her - asking the same questions over and over and over again until she was exhausted and running out of ways to explain things to him. She was deeply hurt by the way he'd often say degrading things and then try to convince her that he had not said what he really did say.  And she was hurt by the ways he'd control their home, and squashed her need to bring music into it, by keeping a TV blaring, literally, almost every minute he was there. . .insisting on there being no noise, no music, no singing, no piano practicing...etc.
    Barry had become so hooked on using the TV to prevent Sharon from freely living in her own home that Sharon couldn't even shut it off after he'd completely fallen to sleep in his recliner, without him suddenly waking and insisting that it be turned back on. He'd only turn the TV off after Sharon had gone to bed and when he was ready to move from the recliner to the bed.
   She'd tried to talk to him about it - tried to explain her needs - tried to move the TV to a room that didn't control the living room, dining room and Kitchen, which were all open to each other. But he refused to listen or care about her needs. Most of the time, Sharon and her children had to use their bedrooms if they wanted to do anything other than watching the TV, when he was home.
   Needless to say, physical intimacy was a rarity. When they did have sex it was a quick use of her body, in order to relieve his. There was nothing in it for her. She yearned for mutual love making. But it was his way or no way. . .and most often no way.
   In the last couple years of their marriage, she often fell asleep hugging the edge if the mattress so he wouldn't get angry with her for touching him when she rolled down into the dip his weight made in their bed. No cuddling up to him at night was allowed. He’d get upset if she even touched him, especially after she had expressed her needs for more intimacy between them.
   There was actually no real love on any level of their relationship. He'd just occasionally use her and then cast her aside. After about ten years of this she hit a point where she couldn't stand sleeping in the same bed with him. But after she reached a point where she didn't even want to be close to him anymore, he suddenly began obsessing about being closer to her. But it was too late. When he started getting forceful Sharon put an immediate end to it and had even called the police. She'd tolerated being rudely used for over ten years. But she couldn't tolerate being forcefully used. This is where she drew the line. She just wanted to get out of the relationship.

  Were there any good times between them? Yes. Of course there were. However, they were too shallow and too few to make up for the emptiness and tough times. And this book is about facing the tough times.
   When Barry hurt her and refused to talk about or look at his own controlling and hurtful behaviors; when he resorted to projecting them onto her and tried to make her look like "the bad guy" even in the eyes of her own children…etc., she'd sometimes jump in her car to take a long drive. On a few occasions, she drove from Concord, New Hampshire all the way up to the Canadian Border and back on route 89. In her car she fumed and sometimes even yelled out loud, in order to release her frustration, on her own, so that her children wouldn't have to go through the horrible fights she’d experienced with her own parents.
   For years she let herself be treated horribly by him. For years, she tip-toed around Barry and his TV, and struggled to find ways to do what she needed to do without his help and with him working against her needs being filled. She often felt glad to leave when she took the kids out to Girl Scout meetings, ball games and other school events, which Barry only attended when Sharon pushed him to do so for his children. Eventually she stopped begging him to go just so she could have the time without him. 
    Sharon went too far in the opposite direction from her own parents. A bit of arguing is sometimes the best way to get problems resolved, as long as it doesn't hurt anyone. Sharon tried so hard to be the perfect parent that her efforts sometimes made her parenting too imperfect. And she didn’t realize how much her own empty, loveless relationship had affected her children.
   Barry and Sharon's relationship was not good for their children. Sharon had needed to find the lost parts of her own heart, reclaim her own power, and be who she was, BEFORE bringing her children into the world. And Barry had at least as much growing up to do. Neither of them were healthy enough to do a good parenting job.
   Their eldest daughter fell into Barry's shoes and mimicked his behaviors in a subconscious effort to be like him and make him love her more. And their youngest daughter fell into Sharon’s habit of tolerating, and letting herself be hurt by, various types of abuse, while pretending everything was fine. 
   Sharon handled her marriage in the same way she’d eventually learned to handle her past. She ignored most of the hurtful stuff - pretending it didn't really happen. She suppressed her pain and let it accumulate. And she didn’t start realizing how much of her childhood she'd suppressed into the silent corners of her broken heart until after 1986.

 The memory of a horrid war, I had come, in time, to store
Deep and lost within myself - a forgotten book upon a shelf
A page within a chapter - blank, a ship, believed to have been
Sank, that circled on the open sea. . .waiting to return to me.

   She had injured her spine while lifting a patient at a nursing home and underwent an emergency surgery in 1985. But her back was still not right. She was often in excruciating levels of pain. In December 1986 she prepared for the second surgery.
   One of the biggest issues Sharon had with her husband was in the way he'd refuse to help her when she obviously needed or had asked for his help. This time was no exception. Most of the time she'd just not ask and learn how to do things for herself. But in the days prior to this second surgery, Sharon was literally crawling on her hands and knees up and down the basement stairs, dragging laundry baskets, as she prepared to bring her daughters to a sitters home for the duration of her hospital stay. There had been some nerve damage in her lower spine. When she tried to go down stairs her legs would sometimes collapse under her weight, although she only weighed about 120 pounds at this point. And when she tried to walk up the stairs it often created unbearable pain. Crawling hurt too, especially while lugging a basket of clothes, but it hurt less and was safer than the alternatives.
   There was a lot to be done as she prepared to go into the hospital. She'd asked Barry for help - had even begged him to help her for just an hour or two. But he refused with a snide, "Why don't you ask the neighbors or your friends?" But she didn’t want to ask them because she felt ashamed of the ways he’d refuse to help her and she didn’t want them to know he was treating her so cruelly.
   During one of her crawls up the basement stairs she was suddenly hit with such excruciating pain that she couldn't move. She sat there and cried and prayed until the pain subsided enough to shift her position. As she struggled to navigate the stairs one more time after this, she vowed to divorce Barry as soon as she got better. This was the last straw for her.
    During her week long stay in the hospital Barry refused to bring her children to see her. He visited her once with his mother, Barbara. They walked into Sharon's hospital room, quickly said "hello" to Sharon and then sat at the opposite end of the room talking to each other and trying to decide which restaurant they were going to go to until they left about fifteen minutes later.
    The only contact Sharon’s family made with her, during this week long stay in the Hospital, was in one brief phone call from Evelyn, who called to let Sharon know that her father had gone to visit relatives in Pennsylvania, even though he knew she was in the hospital. "That should let you know how much he cares about you," Evelyn had coldly said before hanging up.
   Although Sharon had heard many statements like this, through over twenty painful years of Evelyn’s drive against her, this time it really hit home, because Sharon knew it was true and her heart was feeling a bit raw since the surgery. This triggered a flood of tears that lasted more than two days. The hospital staff didn't know what was "wrong”  and Sharon couldn't explain it to them. She was confused by the way she was suddenly feeling things more deeply than she had before the surgery. This was no ordinary surgery for Sharon. It had been a life altering experience.

   Sharon came back to life
within a few moments of "death"
during this surgery on her spine.

   She woke from it with the memory of visiting her true Home and reluctantly returning to her body, in order to complete her life's work. She wrote in her journal. . .
"There was so much Love there that it can't be described. It returned me to an endless aching for what does not exist in the world around me. But it also left me with the comfort of knowing that something wonderful waits for me - that the Loving Home, I have deeply missed, truly DOES exist and that I will return to it when the time is right."

   After this 'near death' experience Sharon began feeling things more deeply. She felt more sadness, more pain, more love, more joy, more fear, more peace. . .more alive. It brought her back to a place of feeling and seeing the depths of herself and others in ways that she'd not experienced since she was a young child. She deeply struggled with these renewed levels of awareness.

This Path
By Sharon Rose Poet

This path, I must have chosen
In some far point in time,
Is the loneliest of roads,
The steepest, hardest climb.
I stumble, as I follow
The Light in that bright Star.
My lonely heart yearns
For Love's arms around me
For that other place in time.
But I am here to serve.
God whispers in my ear
And I humbly send messages
Humans don't seem to hear.
I long to be 'normal' -
To be just one of them,
But know I never will
No, never, never again.
Perhaps I'll walk alone
Until my work is done,
'TiI return Home
And God and I are one.

    Returning to her empty marriage, left her with deep feelings of sadness. This "near death" experienced opened parts of her heart, which had been closed for too long. Feeling the kind of Love that existed in her real Home made the lack of Love in herself, and in the world around her, painfully obvious. This "life altering experience" was as difficult as it was enlightening.
   Before the enlightenment part began Sharon was cast into a process of reclaiming parts of her forgotten childhood - into a process of embracing the innocent child she'd suppressed into the deepest depths of her heart.

Child I Used to Be
By Sharon Rose Poet

On a lonely summer day I sat at the forest's edge
Feeling the impact of life's hard lessons,
When she came to me, a mere child of three,
In soiled, worn-out clothes and hair of honey gold.
I stared at her in wonder - taking in all I could see,
Realizing that she was. . .the child I used to be.
I thought my eyes deceived until she began to speak -
Glaring through big brown eyes, as tears ran down her cheek,
"You spend your life searching but don't remember and see,
That I have been here waiting for you to return to me.
You ran away and forgot the great plans we had for you -
The joyful games we'd play and magical things we'd do."
She sat on the ground rubbing her cold, bare feet
Crying, "You didn't take me with you
To the people we were to meet!
You forgot the castles we were to build in the sand,
And not once did you try to hold my little hand!"
She bowed her head, declaring with a sigh,
"And worst of all, you forgot how to laugh and cry!"
My heart filled with sadness. I knew she was right.
I’d left her to grope alone on a cold and dreary night.
In over twenty years did not return or ever even try
To find the child I cast away. . .for the pain I hid inside.
I reached for her shaking hand and asked if she'd forgive,
While making a sincere promise that together we would live.
She climbed into my lap, where we held each other and cried
Until joy was what was left of the pain we felt inside.

As Sharon struggled to embrace the sadness, which flowed through her childhood memories, she often wrote out what she was feeling. Sometimes she'd suddenly burst into tears, not even knowing exactly why she was crying. She often deeply sobbed and sometimes screamed into pillows when her husband and children were not home.
    She'd begun thinking she had a problem until the day when she turned on the TV, hoping to be distracted from the grief she felt.  The TV had been on channel 2 for the childrens shows, but now happened to be broadcasting the, "Home Coming," series by John Bradshaw. Sharon's eyes became glued to the TV. What she was going through was being described and even encouraged on this show. The theme song, "Remember the Child Will Remember. . ." leapt from the speakers into the deepest corners of Sharon's heart, cutting loose countless forgotten tears and fears of her parents brutal fights with each other. Oh how she knew what it was like to feel what this song described - to "wish she had no ears. . ." through the raging fights her parents often had at night. She watched the show through a few days, with tears steadily streaming down her cheeks. She couldn't have pulled herself away from it even if she'd wanted to.
   To this day, her oldest daughter dislikes John Bradshaw because she thought he was the one who made her mother cry. Sharon's grief ran so deep and had gushed out so uncontrollably, that she couldn't hide it from anyone. Sharon was returning to the Home in her own heart. She was healing. This was a good thing that her daughters just couldn't understand at the time.
   She talked to Barry about her childhood and the grief that was coming up, but he took a stand of driving against her family - grabbing the opportunity to feel better than her and them, which didn't help her situation at all. In fact, it made it worst. . .far worse.
   When Sharon began to face some of the most painful parts of her forgotten childhood she also turned to her father and Vivian for validation and support. At first Vivian tried to turn it all into a game and tried to be the authority over Sharon's healing process, even though she couldn't even begin to understand any of it. Vivian even aimed to prove that something was "wrong" with Sharon, bringing her to a counselor who foolishly listened to and sided with her.
   Sharon didn't know that her father had been feeling threatened by her quest to heal her childhood and that he had been manipulating Vivian's drive against her healing process, out of his desire to not have the past remembered. Sharon's healing process was shining a light toward things he didn't want to have remembered or known, and he had responded by trying to convince her siblings that she was "mentally ill, just like her mother was," -  that she was just "making things up" and that "nothing good ever came from looking at the past."
    Luckily Sharon sensed how wrong it all was. She'd already been through enough to know that remembering and grieving the painful parts of her past was a good and healing thing to let happen. So she went, on her own, to another counselor, who was wise enough to encourage her to stick with the grieving process and to stay away from Vivian until she was past it.
   Because Sharon didn't know the stand her father was taking behind her back, she called him for help when she realized that she'd been sexually abused. She didn't know who had done this to her. She couldn't remember who it was no matter how hard she tried. And she'd hoped that her father might be able to help her remember. But this just about threw him over the edge of a raging cliff.
    Because her father was so accustomed to playing mind games with people, and because he'd believed Vivian when she'd project her own cruel behaviors onto Sharon, he thought this was what Sharon was doing to him. He thought she already remembered the family's darkest secrets and was just tormenting him. But she wasn't. She really didn't know anything about what he was trying to keep hidden. And she really needed her families help through this process of reclaiming her inner child. But, needless to say, she never got it.
    Although a part of her wanted to remember who had hurt her, most of her didn't want to, which is why the memory remained blank. It was going to take over a decade for this part of her puzzle to click into place. And this is as it needed to be, because she already had more than enough to deal with.
    Things were getting extremely difficult within her family of origin, especially with Vivian's growing obsession with Sharon and her healing process as well as her growing jealousy of the neighbors and friends Sharon spent a lot of time with.
   Sharon decided to take some time from her whole family, with the exception of her father, niece and nephew. . .still not realizing her father's part in the drive against her. She'd extended this separation to most of the family so that Vivian wouldn't feel too hurt, although the separation was solely to get time away from Vivian. This was a mistake on Sharon's part, because it offered Vivian no opportunity to look at her own behaviors.
    Sharon had left her door open to Vivian's children, because they were close to her and her own children and she didn't want any of the children to be hurt or effected by issues that were between the adults. Sharon felt deep sadness for her niece and nephew when Vivian angrily slammed that door shut and dragged them into a viscous drive against Sharon's need for time to herself.
    It all turned into a painfully confusing family feud at a time when Sharon had almost desperately needed the opposite, which  forced her into a complete separation from her whole family of origin for the sake of her own sanity and that of her children.

    Since her mother's death, Sharon had become the family caretaker. She's the one who held the family together and mediated the arguments...etc. She'd become the mother. And her need for time away from them severely disrupted the family dynamics.
   They didn't want her to take time and they didn't want her to look at or heal her past. They wanted to shove her into their box, silence her, and keep her there for them. They didn't understand or consider Sharon's needs. Most of them were too narcissistic to even care about Sharon’s needs or her right to have any. And none of them realized that her father's fear of the past being looked at was instigating most of the issues around Sharon's healing process.  It all became a jumbled mess that Sharon got blamed for.

    In the very beginning of the separation, Sharon had asked Vivian and her father to come to her house for a talk. Sharon tried to explain that she just needed a few months to herself. And she tried to address Vivian's behaviors, but they united against her - trying to convince her that there was something wrong with her for wanting to face the past.
   Sharon got upset and started rambling, as she sometimes did, without realizing that what came out of her mouth was a repeat of the conversation, which Vivian and her father had before coming to her house. She ended it by telling them how hurt she felt about what they had said behind her back. And as soon as it was all out of her mouth, she stopped and thought to herself, "WHAT on EARTH am I saying? Have I really lost my mind?!!!" Sharon hadn't realized what she'd done, until they reacted.
    Vivian ran out of the house, crying. The color completely drained from her father's face as he leapt off Sharon's couch. Before storming out the door, he looked at her with disgust and seethed, "You are just like your mother! She always knew things she wasn't supposed to know also!" 
   And that was the end of Sharon's efforts to make her separation from the family a peaceful one. It couldn't be done. Everything just kept snowballing into giant landslides. It was all too dysfunctional to be the way she wanted and needed it to be. There were too many manipulations going on behind the scenes. And Sharon couldn't handle anymore difficulties on top of what she was already facing within herself....which was why she needed time from them in the first place. She was forced to close the door completely. But having to do this hurt her deeply. It added to her pain almost unbearably She loved them, no matter how they treated her. But she knew she had to finish healing her own heart. And she couldn't do it with them fighting against her.

Turn Away and Cry
By Sharon Rose Poet

In this place where
Depression takes hold,
Tears are suppressed
And hearts grow cold.
I must pull myself away.
I must fold from their games.
I must leave or surely die.
I must turn away and cry.

   Unfortunately it took a couple years before Sharon had a clear span of peace from her vengeful family members. Vivian and her father played their rolls well. They had Mike thinking it was his fault, and Evelyn thinking it was her fault, and Gerry thinking that Sharon had just carelessly turned her back on him, and Kevin was the only one who seemed to keep a level head, because he felt sorry for Sharon as he believed what her father said about her being "mentally ill."
     Sharon desperately needed time away from their turmoil. But they made countless prank calls, which even extended into trying to turn Sharon's husband and children against her. Her youngest daughter became scared of Sharon leaving the house without her, because Vivian or Evelyn had called and told her that they were going to come get her when Sharon was gone. And the gory list goes on.
    So the pain continued. And it hurt Sharon's children more than it hurt Sharon, although it took her many years to recover from this. Their behaviors mimicked some of the most painful parts of her childhood. They triggered many layers of deep sadness. It cut into the pain of getting the opposite of what she needed from the people she loved and needed love from.
   Sharon had deeply needed the support and validation form her family as she faced her pain filled childhood. Not receiving it raised even more of the pain she'd left in her childhood. And getting the opposite cut new scars into her heart.

Always Love You
by Sharon Rose Poet

I'll always love you
Although I left you.
This will never change.
I needed to find my Self
And had to do it alone.
It hurt more than words could say
But it was time for me to leave home.
Please understand why
I had to let go
Make room to grow
I had to let go and cry.
But I'll always love you
Although I left you
This will never change.
You may stay angry with me
But I hope one day you'll see,
That in everyone's life
A voice will call
To lead them away from home,
And listen or not
The best friend we've got
Is the one we will find
When alone.

Sharon faced layer upon layer of pain. She cried and cried and cried until her eyes swelled and her chest ached. And she often wrote until her hand cramped around her pen. Sometimes she felt angry/hurt that members of her family of origin behaved so cruelly and couldn't be there for her in any of the ways she'd needed them to be, both in her childhood and in the present situation.

Adult Children
By Sharon Rose Poet

I see a group called family
Tangled up in thorns
Beneath a willow tree,
Where respect and trust
Were not earned
And emotions
Travel in disguise.
Pride is lying
Over shame
And hurt has
Become blame.
Love is covered with anger.
Anger disguises fear,
And hatred covers sadness
To hide every tear.
For tears can not be shed
And pain mustn't show
Within this thorny bed.
If one breaks through,
Daring to be seen,
It's viewed as insane,
Corrupted and un-clean.

    As she faced her pain head on, sometimes she regressed into the wounded, little child she used to be. She cried for the times when she yearned for love that was not there. She cried for the times when she laid in bed trembling with fear, when no comfort came. She cried for the times when she got yelled at for crying or for being afraid of the dark. She cried for the times when she longed to be held but wasn't, and for the countless times when she wasn't believed as she told the truth. She cried for the times when she was told she was ugly, stupid, oversensitive or mental. She cried for her countless bruises, black eyes and bloody noses resulting from other people's jealousy or rage. Her pain ran incredibly deep. She often felt as lost, as unloved, as scared and as alone as she had when she was a child. Her tears heavily flowed into her poems. . .

While I Cry
By Sharon Rose Poet

I need you to care - to stop and lend a hand.
I need you to comfort me and try to understand.
As I sit in this corner with tears flooding my face.
I need you to care enough to enter my lonely space.
I need you to reach for me without asking why.
I need you to carefully just hold me while I cry.

Mommy and Daddy
By Sharon Rose Poet

Mommy, why so angry?
Mommy, why so sad?
Is it because I am
A child who is bad?
Mommy, please don't hit me.
Mommy, please don't cry.
I'll be here to love you.
My love will never die.
Daddy, I'm not stupid.
I'm just a little kid,
Who needs
You both to love me,
And wishes that you did.
Daddy, I'm not "insane."
I cry because of pain.
I'm not "over emotional."
I'm grieving YOUR shame.
Daddy, I don't “imagine
Everything” I feel.
This pain inside of me
Is devastatingly real.
Daddy, why abandon me
Whenever I'm in need?
Daddy, why do you leave me
Sitting here to bleed?

Daddy I forget
By Sharon Rose Poet

Daddy I remember. Daddy I forget.
Daddy I'm not through being angry with you yet.
Daddy I remember praying for your life
As you stood at gun point before your raging wife.
Daddy I remember. I couldn't shed a tear.
I stood completely paralyzed with hopelessness and fear.
Daddy I remember you crashing to the floor,
Then with blood streaked face storming out the door.
Daddy I remember meeting you in the shed
With a bowl of water and cloth to clean your head.
Daddy I remember crying late at night,
Praying you'd both survive another raging fight.
Daddy I remember holding my pillow in bed
Trying to stop your screaming by covering up my head.
But Daddy, I forget the warmth in those nights,
And your hugs and love are gone from my sight.
Daddy did you love me? Did you wipe away my tears?
Did you hold me close when my heart was filled with fear?
Daddy did you love me? Daddy did you care?
Daddy were you ever - Ever really there?
Please help me to remember. I haven't felt it yet.
I haven't felt your love 'cause, Daddy. . .I forget.

Sometimes Sharon felt exhausted by the emotions which rose to shake her world. And sometimes she charged into the process of healing with a strong determination to get all the way through it, instead of keeping any of it suppressed.

Let Me
By Sharon Rose Poet

Come on, come on, lets have it. Blast me with some more.
I haven't felt too much! It's only my body on the floor.
Why stop now? I am ready. Why not completely do me in?
Show me the truth and pain until I'm crying again.
Let me feel it all right now. I'm tired of this slow game.
Let me feel all the hurt, beyond my fear and shame.
Let me face the darkest parts - the ones I don't want to see.
Let me see the ugly stuff I've held inside of me.
Let me cry! Let me scream! Let me feel.
Help me release it, so I can finally heal.

   During a time when she was struggling through several devastating losses on top of facing her childhood stuff, she entered into the deepest emotional release she'd  experienced, up to this point. But, although this was one of her most painful experiences, it also led her into an incredibly comforting spiritual experience.
    She curled her body up on a floor on her third day of almost constant crying. Her stomach convulsed and her voice hoarsely moaned in pain. She tried to stop the steady flood of tears! But she couldn't, no matter how hard she tried! She'd gone beyond the point of return. Her eyes were almost too swollen to see out of. Her chest and stomach ached. She'd not been able to eat for days. And this scared her, because she'd gone deeper into her pain than ever before. 
     She prayed for help. She begged The Higher Powers to stop the pain, to help her pull herself out of it. She felt as if she’d fallen over the edge of a cliff into an endless abyss. She feared that she was not going to make it out of the well she’d leapt into.
   But, right at the point, when she knew she couldn't take anymore, she felt a presence embracing her. She writes in her journal, "I felt as if I were being cradled in the arms of Love itself."
     This feeling was so powerful and so comforting that her tears of sadness became tears of gratitude - gratitude that she was not as alone as she'd thought...that there truly WAS someone holding her, someone who cared enough to be here for her. She'd needed to know this. She'd needed to know this more than words can imagine.
    With Love surrounding her, she was able to release even more of her pain. She continued to cry until her body lay sleeping in the arms of Love. When she woke, she wrote the following song about the messages she’d received through this experience.

Message from an Angel
By Sharon Rose Poet

I am the sadness seizing your Heart
That will, in time, with healing, depart.
I am the tear caressing your cheek.
I am your strength. I am not weak.

I am the pressure in your chest-
Learning to fly.... Leaving the nest.
I am the memory of years gone by
I am the breath that leaves with a sigh.

I am the child within your being.
I am all knowing. I am all seeing.
I am the voice echoing in your head.
You have not lost me. I am not dead.

I am the Joy. You must believe!
I am the Love you need receive.
I will not leave you. . .will not say bye.
I've come to hold you while you cry.

As Sharon cried and healed she began wondering how many people reach this point where they need to look at and grieve the unhealed parts of their past.  She wondered how many of them are crushed through being convinced that they are just ill or insane for facing and healing painful childhood memories. She could feel, in her heart, that there were many. . .too many. And she knew she had to share her experiences with the rest of humanity.

Perhaps I can use the past as a tool
To battle these parts of life that are cruel.

   Sharon has struggled, since early childhood, with self doubt. Even after being validated over and over again by the countless 'self help' books and her counselor's advice, she still sometimes thought about what her father and Vivian were saying. . .letting doubt creep into her mind. During one of those occasions, her mother came to her in a dream and said, "I died, because of what HE did to me...," while standing in the house of a family that was well known for sexual abuse. Sharon's mother was reaching out to her and trying to stop her from letting her father destroy her trust in her own memories and perceptions - her trust in her own sanity.
   Sharon didn't understand the symbology of this dream. She wasn't ready to fully face her father's behaviors. But, at this point, she started facing more of the issues she had with her mother. Sometimes she felt angry with her mother and sometimes her heart ached for her mother. Sadness often wrapped itself around the void of love that existed for her mother in her final hours on Earth. But she had a powerful spiritual experience which healed all this. This is what she wrote about it.
  Around the time when my mother’s body died, my 18 years with her felt far too unloving. I deeply missed what we never had. I missed her Love. I missed it when she was here and I missed it even more after she’d gone. It’s not that she didn’t love me. She did show me her love when she wasn’t angrily reacting to, or running from, the harmful relationship she had with my father. But I felt abandoned more than loved. I’d felt like my mother and I were supposed to do things in this lifetime, which we never had the chance to do. It often seemed like there was something extremely important that she’d forgotten and left without finishing. And I felt cheated and abandoned by her.
    My mother was the only member of my family who had insights or dreams about the future, in the same way that I do. She was the only one who understood me without being jealous, resentful, degrading or judgmental of my poetry and my depths. I think we could have done a lot to help each other and the rest of humanity if she’d not given up on her own life and died of cancer when she was only forty four years old.
    And, on the flip side of this, I felt deep levels of guilt for not being very loving toward her while she was here. For many years it had bothered me that she’d gone Home without my ever having verbally expressed my Love for her. Just the fact that I did not ever actually say the words, “I love you, Mom”, left me with an aching emptiness inside my Heart. But I later learned that the death of a human body is not the end of a person’s life and certainly not the end of a Soul’s ability to grow and Love.
   When I was in my late twenties, I started meditating and learning how to vision quest, Native American style. I found that visions came very easy to me. They brought me to a new level of awareness, to a world that exists beyond this physical world. In this other world, I frequented a huge castle of Light, which sat on the clouds and reached far up into the Heavens. Within this castle were many Angels who worked at sending beams of white Light down to the Earth, in an effort to help heal the world. (These Angels looked like glowing figures of White Light.)
   During one of my visits, as I stood watching, one of them came to stand directly in front of me, handed me a large glowing gem, and asked me to place it in my Heart. As I did this, a wonderfully warm feeling slowly spread through my whole body. It felt like my Heart had blossomed. And when I looked up to thank the being who’d handed it to me, I was shocked to see my mother standing there.
   Tears quickly streamed down my cheeks as my legs went weak. “I LOVE you,” she whispered, as she pulled me into her arms. And between my deep sobs I said, “I love you too.” And I cried in her arms until I woke from the vision.
    As I opened my eyes my tears were still steadily falling. This experience was so incredibly real. Deep in my Heart I KNOW and FEEL that I Truly met my mother; that her Soul is one of the Angel Light Workers; that I really heard her say, “I LOVE YOU” for the first time in this lifetime; that I really finally told her that I love her too; and that I felt her Love blossoming into my Heart and Soul. There is nothing anyone can possibly say to convince me otherwise. This WAS real. It was as real as this print on this page.
    Through this experience, I resolved the past issues I’d had with my mother. It’s felt as if, in those few minutes of fully opening my Heart to the depths of her Love and deeply crying out my sadness, I’d received what had been lacking throughout my 18 years with her. I no longer yearn for her to be here for me, because I know she is. I find deep levels of comfort in knowing that my mother’s Love is just a wish away,  and that. . . it’s never too late to say, I love you.

Still Here
by Sharon Rose Poet

Sitting up sometimes, late at night
Many thoughts run through my mind
Of a mother - gone from sight,
Of a Heart so hard, yet kind.
But I can’t say, I don’t see her.
When I sleep she’s in my dreams.
“Hello little Bum,” she whispers.
Oh, how real...so real it seems.
I see her when I see a rose
Or a willow tree.
And sometimes,
She talks to me.
When I listen quietly,
Her voice, I can hear.
And when I think of her,
I feel her. . .oh so near.
I see her when I sleep
And feel her when I weep.
We can’t be torn apart.
She lives for all eternity,
With the Love inside my Heart.
She’ll never leave...No Never.
My mother’s Love will bloom forever.

   As Sharon healed from her pain filled childhood she grew less tolerant of Barry's behaviors. She tried over and over again to talk to him about the ways he was treating her, but he'd just swing around and pointing fingers at her instead of looking at his own behaviors. When he couldn't find anything wrong with her behaviors, he'd make things up. This left no chance for resolution. This couldn’t continue. Too much damage had already been done. He'd already stomped on her for too long. And she'd waited too long before speaking up about it. She'd hit a point where she didn't want to try either. It was over. She wanted out. It was time for her to undo one of the biggest mistakes of her life.
    But as she tried to figure out how to leave Barry with as little hurt to him and their children as possible, they received the news that Charlie, Barry's father, had just been diagnosed with cancer. Tumors were growing throughout his body and there was not much hope for a cure. Sharon couldn't leave Barry while his father was dyeing. So she put it off and shifted her focus onto helping Charlie.
    When Charlie reached a point where he had difficulty walking and was sitting alone in his chair almost all day, Sharon often went to sit with him.
   He taught her how to play cribbage, and she got so good at it that he brought her to a friend of his - a "master cribbage player" who had won many tournaments. It blew their minds when she beat him at his own game. Charlie accused her of cheating. But the grin he tried to hide let her know he was just joking around.  He was proud of her. But she knew her win was just "beginners luck".
   Sharon learned how to do Reiki and started doing healing treatments on Charlie. During one of the treatments she felt some of the pain he held in his heart. She was kneeling next to his reclined chair with her hands on his chest, and he was laying back with his eyes closed, when silent tears began running down her cheeks and she softly said to him, "Charlie, this cancer stuff must be really hard for you to be going through. Have you let yourself cry out some of the pain you feel?" He lifted his hand up onto his chest, placing it on top of Sharon's hands and softly said, "Love, I haven’t cried since I was a little boy. Its too late to start now." But tears had begun welling up in his eyes as he said it. Sharon hugged him and said, "Maybe you'd feel better if you did."
    Charlie and Sharon developed a close relationship during his resignation to cancer. He called her "Love" and she loved being there for him. Caretaking was what Sharon was best at, in those days. She couldn't stand seeing people suffer and she did everything she could to help him.
   Charlie was so taken by Sharon's depth of compassion that he bragged about her to his wife and Barry. Before long they became extremely jealous of Sharon. This even reached a point where Barry told Sharon that his mother didn’t want her visiting Charlie anymore.  Sharon felt like she had to obey Barbara's request, since it was her house. But she felt deeply hurt by it. And she couldn’t stand leaving Charlie to just sit there by himself all day.
    It nearly broke her heart the day Charlie called her and said, "Hi, Love. How come you don't come see me anymore?" her heart ached for him. She wanted to be there for him. But she foolishly let other people's jealousy prevent her from doing what both she and Charlie needed. She couldn't tell Charlie that his own wife and son didn't want her to visit him. She didn’t want to ad to his pain. So she told him it was because she was starting a Day Care business. She was glad he didn't see the tears she shed as she lied to him.
    The day soon came when Charlie slipped into a coma and was rushed to the hospital. Sharon was the last one to get to his room that evening. When she walked in, Barbara, Barry and a few other family members were standing at the foot of his bed talking to each other. Sharon rushed past them and picked up Charlie's hand. "Hi, Love," he weakly said as he opened his eyes and smiled at her. These were Charlie's last words.
   About a week later, Charlie was still hanging on to his life. His body had deteriorated horribly. His mouth was full of dried sores and a large tumor rose from the side of his face. It was extremely difficult to watch his struggle to hold onto life in a body that had deteriorated  beyond the point of return.
   Sharon woke one morning knowing that he was going to die on that day. She could feel it in her heart. Barry headed for the hospital and Sharon headed for York Beach, Maine. (She sometimes went to Nubble Light when she was feeling upset, because part of her mother's remains had been dumped in the ocean there.) But when she was almost there she suddenly turned the car around, raced to the hospital, ran up to Charlie’s room and asked if she could have some time alone with him. Barry and Kurt walked out into the hallway and Sharon rushed to Charlie's side. She picked up and held his cold hand.  "Charlie I hope you can hear me." She took a few deep breaths to summon up the courage to say what she needed to say. "I'm so sorry that I abandoned you when you needed me." Tears ran down her cheeks as she rested her forehead on his shoulder. "I know how much it hurts to be left alone when your sick and needing some one there for you." She began sobbing. "I let other people's jealousy stop me from visiting you. I know this hurt you. And I'm so sorry." 
   After she'd finished with her apology she wiped the tears from her cheeks and looked up to see a single tear rolling down Charlie's cheek. He had heard her.
   "Charlie," she continued after a couple minutes, "Its OK to let go now. You are going to a wonderful place. I died for a few minutes in 1986 and went to a place that has a lot more Love than this life does. The place you will go to is filled with the kind of Love you need. There are people there who will help you. Its Ok to let go, Charlie. Its time for you to go Home."
   She stood up, squeezed his hand and said, one last time, before turning and walking out of the room, "I'm sorry I wasn't there for you, Charlie. I hope you can forgive me." Sharon joined Barry and Kurt in the hallway.
   A few minutes later, a nurse entered Charlie's room and came out into the hall to say, "He has passed on." Sharon felt relieved for him as well as a bit envious of his getting to return Home.
   Sharon being the last one he'd talked to and the last person he was with before his body died, didn't go over well with Barry and his family. Barry told Sharon that his mother only wanted her sons at Charlie’s funeral. . .and that none of the other wives were going either. They barred her from his funeral.  Sharon felt deeply hurt by their behaviors, when she found out that the other wives HAD gone. But she had already said her good-byes to Charlie and that's what mattered most to her.

For Charlie
By Sharon Rose Poet

I don't believe we need to
Bow before God in fear.
I believe that we should
Stand in awe
Before His Love,
While knowing that
We are not below
And He is not above -
Knowing that
God stands
With us,
Always guiding,
Always holding our hand
And always bringing Home
Those who have suffered
For long enough.

Sharon still wanted to divorce Barry, but she had to wait a while longer since he'd just lost his father. So she shifted her focus back onto her own inner growth.
    She continued doing Yoga and attended all sort of spiritual growth workshops and explored various religions. She joined a support group and started two of her own. She took off with her Reiki practice. . .finding that the healing arts came natural to her.

   Fellow Reiki practitioners gathered at Sharon's home to do exchanges once a month. During one of these exchanges someone called to announce that she was bringing a friend who was having a severe asthma problem and was about to be brought to the hospital.
   When they arrived, several of the Reiki practitioners gathered around this woman who lay on Sharon's massage table fighting for each breath. Sharon had her hands crossed on the center of her chest and was heavily focusing on channeling white Light into her body, when her own breath suddenly caught and she couldn't breath. Luckily two experienced energy workers saw what had happened and rushed to Sharon after she pulled away and headed out of the room. They helped her release it.
   The asthmatic woman sat up and said, "Someone put their hands on my chest and it was suddenly gone! I'm fine now." Sharon had pulled the illness out of the woman. But this shocked Sharon more than anyone else. She hadn't tried to do what she did. It just naturally happened and had scared Sharon so much that she didn't do as much Rieki after this. The truth is that she was born a healer. She didn't need to be using Rieki to help people heal. It came natural to her. It was part of her soul.
   Sharon was gifted in the areas of spiritual healing, visioning and insightfulness. But she has deeply struggled with the process of honoring these gifts in a world that often denounces them. Many have been jealous of her abilities. And those who do not understand these levels of spirituality sometimes let their own ignorance judge and label her unfairly.

   When she tried the Native American style of vision questing she found that this also came natural to her. In her first vision she went to a large field, surrounded by white birch trees, and sat at the forests edge where a large grizzly bear walked over to her, licked her on the cheek and laid down next to her, resting its head on her legs. In this vision she befriended the spirit of “Griz”, who helped her on many levels of her life. Griz empowered her and comforted her and was there for her when she needed him.
   Around this time she began having dreams of some other lifetime when she was a Native American medicine woman, and was sometimes given the names of herbs she could use to heal herself and others. Her connection to wild animals continued to deepen. And she began meditating with the drum she'd made for herself.

Sound Of The Drum
by Sharon Rose Poet

As the sound of the drum reaches my heart,
From this physical plain I depart,
Saying a peaceful needed farewell
To my mind's creations, my mind's hell.
I soar into feelings unknown,
Then beyond… to a place I call Home.
Home is where Angels sing with delight.
There is no dark, only healing Light.
Home is where Love dissipates fear,
Where spirit hugs embrace every tear.
Home is overflowing with care.
And the sound of the drum
Takes me there.

   There was a time when she'd had a difficult experience with a friend and had gone into the woods near her home to cry it out. After crying for a few hours she walked out onto her lawn, laid her exhausted body down on the grass, closed her eyes and prayed for help. After a short while she heard birds singing around her. When she opened her eyes she saw a huge flock of birds - birds of all kinds and sizes, gathering on the lawn and in the trees around her. She felt their Love so deeply that tears of gratitude spilled from her heart.
   She couldn't believe this wasn't a vision until, her friend Jen, stopped by the next morning. As they sat on her porch drinking tea, Jen burst out with, "What the f____ is with the birds?" Sharon excitedly replied, "You see them too!?" Jen shook her head in disbelief, not understanding, but enjoyed watching the birds and knowing that there was something special about them. At this point there were far less birds than what had come the day before, but still much more than the norm.
   The more Sharon focused on personal and spiritual growth the more spiritual experiences she started having.

by Sharon Rose Poet

For the past year and more
I've been lost in the rain
Groping to find
My soul once again.

But now I can feel
Spirit moving me
Opening my heart
Helping me see.

I see rainbows of pink
Shimmering around the trees
And gatherings of Love
When I'm on my knees.

I see Angels, with Love,
Healing the earth
And light flooding in
Inducing my birth.

I surrender to Love
And all it has in store
For nothing here on earth
Could ever give me more.


    A couple years after she and Barry divorced, she went on her first trip to the Southwestern deserts with a woman whom she had rented a room to, in her house. As they prepared to leave another friend of Sharon’s, Mary Jane, had warned her to not walk without protection and to not go to certain areas…etc. But Sharon left feeling determined to follow her own heart.

Beauty in Nothing
By Sharon Rose Poet

As I threw my backpack into my trunk,
You told me to be very careful,
To stay off dirt roads on my trip,
Walk with a stick for protection,
And not take the roads,
That lead to "nothing."
I heard you dear friend.
But I followed my heart instead.
I turned left toward "nothing"
And found beauty in everything!
I walked without protection
And found trust.
I slept without fear
And found peace.
I embraced the cold
And found warmth.
I touched the cactuses
And found softness.
I embraced the dark
And found God.
I am very thankful
For having the courage
To follow my own heart,
It brought me to the places
Where I found beauty
And Love in "nothing".

    Because Sharon often doubted the spiritual experiences she’d had in her childhood, as well as through this time, she decided to start interviewing psychics. She went to over a dozen of them and asked each one the same questions. She found out that, although some were fake, most of them were real. She sometimes returned to the ones who had been genuine and accurate, receiving the validation she needed for many of her experiences. One of them told her she was a psychic herself, but Sharon denied this. She strongly felt that she could not use her “gifts” for anything but healing.

Road to God
by Sharon Rose Poet

It matters not
Which road
We choose,
In order to
Reach God.
May we unite,
Not only in
Our destination,
But also in our
Acceptance of
The unique paths
Some of us choose
To get there.

   A woman she'd gone to see in Salem, NH, had been extremely accurate about details she couldn’t have known anything about. She zoomed in on Sharon’s childhood, shook her head and said, “I gotta tell you. . .I keep trying to dig up dirt on you, but all I see is Love. The core of you is Love and you have an extremely deep universal connection. Its like you were born into your family to teach them Love and they completely rejected it and try to tear you down.” Sharon’s tears heavily flowed into her knowing that this was true. Sharon had loved them no matter what they did to her and they hated her for it. Now it was time for Sharon to love herself enough to not let them hurt her anymore. She’d done the right thing when she’d closed the door when she did.  It saved what was left of her.

   As Sharon explored other spiritual practices she retained the Christian part of herself. Sharon had felt a deep connection to Jesus in her childhood, which began returning as she focused on healing her heart. There were even times when she felt like she knew things about Jesus, which had never been written about - memories that were born into her soul. When she thought of Jesus it often pulled at her heart. She felt a connection to Him that went beyond the norm.
   She never understood why people say that, "Jesus died FOR our sins." In her heart she felt that Jesus died BECAUSE of our sins - that his death was unjust and cruel and unfair. . .that we should be sorry instead of glad for His crucifixion. . .that the cross symbolizes cruelty. . .and that the Love Jesus came to teach seems to have not reached the heart of humanity. What happened to Jesus seems to touch a scar that extends past the deepest depths of her heart and into some hidden part of her soul's past.
   During one of her meditations, she found herself in a vision where she stood on top of a large mountain range with a wise old man who had long white hair. He pointed to a mirror in the stones and asked her to look into it. When she looked into it she saw a beastish animal who’s body was covered with light brown hair. The wise old man said, "That is what you see yourself as. You must come to see who you truly are. Look again." And when she turned back toward the mirror she saw Jesus looking back at her.
   On many occasions, she'd had visions of flying up to the top of the clouds and meeting an incredibly Loving man who had no face and was dressed in a white robe and had long light brown hair. Each time she asked him who he was, he'd say. I am You."
   She'd made a joke of it, telling people that she had a spiritual guide who’s name was, You. But in the depths of her heart she knew this man represented an aspect of herself, which she was not ready to acknowledge as herself. His Love was pure and deep and holly and she didn't see that in herself. She thought she had too many flaws to be so Loving. His face was blurred out when she looked at him, because His face was her own.
   The interesting thing about Sharon’s spiritual search was that every path she took lead her back to the basic process of embracing her heart - of embracing her feelings. The more she released the suppressed sadness, which blocked her heart, the more spiritual experiences she naturally had.

Pull in my Power
by Sharon Rose Poet

I pull in my power
By making room for Love.
I pull in my power
By facing every fear
Letting out the anger
And shedding every tear.
I pull in my power
By expressing what I feel,
Standing tall and strong.
I won't bow and kneel.
I pull in my power
By letting in the Love
Streaming from the Heavens
Great healing from above.
I pull in my power
By making room for Love.

   As Sharon dove deeply into the practice of yoga she learned, through her own experiences, that the Heart chakra, which is at the center of our body, is the most important part to heal, since its what brings all the other chakras into balance. And the list of her spiritual realizations goes on. . .

   As Sharon dove into the depths of Personal/spiritual growth Barry grew more and more jealous of her and tried harder and harder to undermine and degrade the things she did. He blatantly put down Reiki and the healing work she was doing. One day she'd had enough of it and set out to prove it to him.
  Barry and his mother were skilled at dowsing for water. People connected to the UNH had even hired them to find locations for wells. Just by holding a stick in their hands  and focusing on water, they could find it and even determine its depth. Sharon couldn't understand how he could do this and NOT believe in energy work. So, she got him to agree to dowse while focusing in white Light. They went into a large room in their house and Sharon marked on a piece of paper the spots where she was going to imagine beams of Light coming down into the room. Then, without Barry seeing it, she folded it up and put it in his pocket. As he walked around the room with his dowsing rod - focusing on beams of Light instead of water, his rod shot down into every spot Sharon focused on. And out of her anger at him for all the put downs, she played with it a bit further. When he got to the last spot she suddenly cut off the beam then replaced it, then cut it off again and replaced it again. . . And Barry's dowsing rod flew up and down uncontrollably. This scared Barry.
   He began seeing Sharon as some sort of saint or witch. He seemed to fluctuate between the two. But he knew she had a power, which he couldn't fully understand - a power he wanted. He became extremely jealous of her, and felt so inferior that he strived even harder to put her down and be like her.
    He stopped watching TV, which drove him too crazy to live with. He started pretending he'd read the books Sharon had read and had done the personal growth work she had done. With her friends, he pretended that he was the one who was spiritually focused. He took on Vivian’s role on top of her father's and this was extremely hard on Sharon.  She began pulling away from her own spiritual practices. She hated herself for using Light to prove a point to Barry, because, in her heart she knew it was wrong - that this sort of power was supposed to be used only for healing, and that he had not been ready to even know about it.
   Shortly after this Sharon decided that she'd waited long enough and finally told Barry she wanted a divorce. He got so upset that he literally lost control and went a bit crazy. . .running outside and yelling and then throwing himself at her feet - slamming her against a wall, wrapped his arms around her legs, completely pinning her down while he begged her not to leave him. Sharon got so scared she called the police as soon as she was able to pull away from him. Because he admitted to slamming her into a wall…, the police officer hauled him off and he ended up going to stay at his mother's house, after Sharon refused to press charges.
   Noticing that divorce seemed too hard for him to handle, Sharon decided to just make it a separation to see if perhaps something could be repaired between them. But his inability to let her have the time she needed to think things through, without his interfering and bothering her about it, kept her in a place of wanting a divorce.
   When he started seeing another woman, (actually an 18 year old girl, Kristen) and charged through Sharons need for space with an ultimatum - either to get back together right away or to divorce right away. . .Sharon said, "Divorce."
   When the divorce finally took place she felt relieved. She wrote in her journal, “Its far easier to be alone by myself than it was to be so alone with him.” But Barry continued degrading her and preventing her needs from being met, from afar.
   At one point he had put her down by telling her how much better sex was with Kristen than it was with her. Due to this and her other experiences with him, a part of her really thought she was too unattractive and too undesirable to be loved by a man. But she dove into the process of healing her feelings of inadequacy through doing two nude self portraits and through later having a couple flings with other men.

Finding my Friend
By Sharon Rose Poet

A long time ago I lost a dear friend
But I promised myself I'd find her again.
For, nothing on earth could ever replace
The Love I remember on my friends face.

In the East I climbed to the tallest peak
Over every mountain I did seek.
In the South I waded through jungles of green
Got lost in the thicket, forever, it seemed.

In the West I rode facing much pain
Groping to find my dear friend again.
In the North I laid over frozen streams
Waiting for an answer to come in my dreams.

On the Earth I sat in the warm sunshine
Praying for a vision of this friend of mine.
To the Skies I gazed with eyes open wide
Looking for the place where she might hide.

Then, one day, I stepped up the smallest hill
Where, inside my doorstep, I sat very still.
I opened my heart and began to see
The Love I had searched for, inside of me.

   Sharon was doing a lot of inner work, but her world continued crumbling around her as other people believed the things Barry sometimes said against her. She didn’t understand why she'd been losing her friends until over a decade later - as she experienced one of her daughters mimicking his behaviors. Sharon knew it wasn't like her - that she had somehow taken on some of Barry's issues and behaviors at the time of the divorce. She tried talking to her daughter about how she was just acting like her father and not being herself, but it was taken as the insult it seemed like. Sharon didn't know how to handle this situation. So she hoped that, in time it would heal itself, because she had larger challenges closing in on her, which the pain in her heart wrote into a journal. . .

By Sharon Rose Poet

    My heart deeply cries for the pain I’d experienced when my New Hampshire government barged into my life, and literally threatened me into silence as they took my home, my business, my income, my future. . .while exercising their “Rights of Eminent Domain” with shocking levels of carelessness. In this statement, I am fighting for our freedom.

   In 1994 I lived the average middle class life style. But I was struggling to make ends meet while supporting my two daughters, primarily on my own. Our home was a nice peaceful river-front property on the corner of Staniels Road and route 106, in Loudon, NH, where I ran my own day-care center and rented out part of my home to the “Concord area Spiritual Growth Network”. Because I was barely making ends meet, I’d decided to sell the commercial corner of my land, pay off one of my mortgages, and turn the rest of my home/property into a small, self-supporting retreat center. If this were to fail, I actually had two people who had wanted to purchase my home and let my daughters and I continue living in part of it. I didn’t want to sell, so I clung to my plan of selling just a small part of the land, so that I could keep the rest. This was a good, solid plan. But, while I was making these plans for my children and I, the New Hampshire Department of Transportation, Bureau of Right of Way” (the NH DOT) was making other plans for MY home and MY future, without my knowing about it. 
   In June of 1994, After getting the DOT’s announcement of their final “106 expansion plans”, I went to the Loudon, NH meeting, where their maps were publicly displayed. A mixture of shock and grief gripped me as I found the diagram of my property, and noticed a road going diagonally through it, in a way that would prevent ALL of my plans and destroy the peacefulness of my property. I remember a state official, Mark Richardson, rushing over to me, as if he’d been waiting for me to arrive. He kept trying to assure me that everything would be OK if I just “apply for a complete acquisition” instead of having my property divided in a way that would destroy it. But I did not feel assured by his suggestions. This was when my world started caving in, even though the worst was yet to come.
   Due to my financial struggles, and the fact that their plans were preventing me from moving forward with any of my plans, some tried to make it out to be a blessing that the state was moving in to take my home. I even tried to believe it my self. But it wasn’t.  There was absolutely no blessing in any part of it. This was not good for me or my children. I probably could have recovered from it, if the DOT had treated me fairly. But, unfortunately, this is not what happened. The ways they treated me were so horribly wrong that it left me in a state of devastation.
   In the beginning, when I trusted them, I followed their advise, as they railroaded me into applying for a “complete, immediate, hardship acquisition”. This was incredibly difficult for me. I didn’t want to lose my home! I didn’t want my children to lose their home! I didn’t want any of this! I just wanted them to go away and leave us alone. But they said I had no choice. They refused to alter their plans. And then they said that they had to take my whole property, instead of just part if it, because of my request for an “early acquisition”!
   Unfortunately, I was in a position where I needed them to either completely leave my property alone and put their road in a place where it would not have ill effects on anyone, (which could have easily been done!) or purchase it right away so that I wouldn’t continue being stuck in a place where I could not do anything with my own property. I felt trapped! I WAS trapped! But they left me hanging, not telling me when they were going to take my property. They seemed to have no consideration for what their plans were doing to my children and I. They just left me hanging with my hands tied, until I called a Union Leader reporter, hoping that some exposure would help them treat me more fairly. But I hadn’t known that the reporter had talked to the DOT officials just before coming to my house. So, I had believed Wayne Husband when he called me, just minutes before the reporter pulled into my driveway, to announce that they finally “would be following through with an immediate acquisition,” on a nearby date, and that everything would be OK for my children and I. I felt relieved that SOMETHING was finally happening, after being left hanging with no answers for too long, even though I still didn’t want them to take my home. So, I tried to look at the bright side. And it’s this bright side that answered the reporters questions, without realizing that I was being deliberately deceived by my own government, and possibly even by the reporter who had told me that “no one wanted any waves, due to the elections, during this time”. And the way he asked questions and wrote his article made it all look like I was happy and the DOT was doing me a favor.
   The worst part of this is that I had trusted them enough to pass their information on to the parents who brought their children to my Day Care Center. These parents quickly found other Day Cares. And as the closing date approached, I found out that the state of NH was never really planning to follow through with the purchase of my home, at that time.
   I can’t even begin to explain how I felt when I realized that they had lied to me so that I would change the story, I’d tell the reporter, into one that made them look like they were helping me, instead of exposing the Truth. I think that, on that day of realizing this, a part of me completely shut down. I didn’t want to believe that my own government was doing this to us, but they were. And I didn’t know how to deal with it. I couldn’t deal with it. There was nothing I could do! I was trapped - completely trapped! I had no rights and no way out. They had so many “Rights” that there was none left over for me! I couldn't even find a lawyer who was willing to go up against the government.
  Their lie, to cover for themselves, had left me without my primary income. And their plans for my property had left me without my own property to fall back on, with any sort of partial sale or altered use...etc. I had two young children to feed and two mortgages to pay!!! I had even lost my rental income and a part time job with the “Spiritual Growth Network” in the very beginning of their intrusions. And they did not ever offer me any sort of compensation for any of these losses. In fact, they headed in the opposite direction!!!
   I thought a different reporter may be able to help my situation. But as I aimed to call a “Concord Monitor” reporter, a DOT official called me and bragged about being “close friends with the president, of Concord Savings Bank (the bank that held my mortgages). He told me that he was meeting the president of my bank for dinner, and that he’d see what he could do to get him to help me out....but that if I talked to another reporter, he would see to it that I would completely lose my home in a foreclosure and never get any money for it at all.  Even though I never did follow through with talking to the Concord Monitor Reporter, I found his threat to be a cruel Truth. I had already set up an appointment, for the next day, with the vice president of that bank. And after I talked to him about my fear of not being able to make my upcoming payments, and asked if I could make partial payments until the DOT closed on my property, he refused to work with me, in any way. He had a rude man call and threaten that, ‘If I were ever be late on any payment, they would start immediate foreclosure proceedings...” This came at a time when I had not been late for even one payment in over a decade - when I’d only expressed my fear of not being able to make future payments! I had perfect credit and they had no legitimate reason to be treating me this way. And as if the threats were not enough, they RAISED my mortgage payments to about $200 dollars per month more than what they had been!!!
    Concord Savings Bank and the NH DOT had united against me!!!!!!! And I can’t even begin to tell you how scared, how desperate, I had felt. I had no choice but to do what they said or completely lose our home. This was when I lost my freedom. This was when something inside of me broke. From this point on, I numbly obeyed what they dictated out of a deep fear for the welfare of my children and I. They demonstrated such heartlessness that I still feel scared of them! They literally beat me into a corner - into silence, with a cruel abuse of the power they had over me. This all felt too horribly wrong!
    (Even though my children did not know the details of  what was happening, they knew that their mother was falling, financially and emotionally, at a critical point in their childhood. This hurt them immeasurably!)
   Over a year later,  the DOT followed through with what they wanted to do and suddenly gave me only three months to search for another house, find it, close on it, clean it, completely move into it, and thoroughly clean the home I was leaving, even though MY existing home was going to remain vacant. This was not nearly enough time for a good choice to be made! It was impossible to put my heart into finding another home when I had absolutely no way of knowing if they would even really follow through with the closing this time. I was in shock and under an immense amount of pressure. All of this was more traumatic than any words can even begin to express! They said that I could rent an apartment if I wanted more time. But I couldn’t rent a place, because they had taken my primary incomes. I could not use any of the equity I had in my property, because they said that they could not pay me for my home until I was already actually purchasing and closing on another one, even if I’d moved out of the existing one. And I could not purchase a house that was even close to being comparable to the one they were taking from me, because they had taken my business - my primary incomes, which prevented me from getting a mortgage with another bank!!!!! They had slammed me right up against a wall! I had to do what they dictated and pretend it was all OK so that they wouldn’t continue making things even worse for me.
   Even during this process of finding another house, I had no real choices - not even in where we had to move to, because I was forced to just quickly buy the first thing I could afford, which was in my daughter’s school district, with what would be left of the equity in my home. At that time there were only two houses fitting this criteria. We picked the best of the two. But my daughters and I hated the place we moved to. It was a severe downgrade from what we were used to, and too far away from their friends...etc. We lost so much that it can’t even come close to being fully  described. We completely lost every level of our lives, as we had lived them, and we were never able to regain any of it. NOTHING, absolutely NOTHING, in this whole deal had even a hint of consideration for the welfare of my daughters and I. I went through the final stages of it in such a deep state of shock and grief that I am, only now, over a decade later, finally beginning to face the depths of my pain, due to this horrible situation.                                    
   I had designed and built beautiful gardens and lily ponds around my Staniels road home, and the state refused to allow me to take any of my plants with me, as they took my home in October 1995. They said that I had no rights to any parts of my property because I’d applied for an “immediate, hardship acquisition”, but they hadn't told me any of this BEFORE they told me to apply for it.
   After I moved out, someone had gone in and stolen my rose bushes...etc., and the state officials thought it was me who took them, but it really wasn’t. With what they put me through, I didn’t have the time or energy to even think about going back to save my gardens from them, no matter how much they meant to me. And I actually regret this. I wish I HAD been the one who’d taken my plants. I probably would have if it hadn’t felt too painful to go back and re-visit the beautiful home I’d lost. I never transplanted or re-planted any of my gardens. Someone else ended up with them. But I should have been allowed to take some of them with me as they took my home. I would have had that right/option in a sale to anyone else!!! As I stated earlier, the DOT had so many “rights” that there were none left over for me.
   I feel that the DOT had no right to accuse me of stealing my plants when they are the ones who did all the stealing. They stole my incomes, my home, my beautiful gardens and lily ponds, my business, my future dreams, my freedom, my sense of security - my LIFE, as I’d lived it!!!! And it’s been a steady down hill slide since then. I never really had a chance to recover. I was literally too crushed, not only monetarily, but also emotionally. I felt broken and I didn’t have the resources to pull things back together, under the jobless circumstances they left me with. Even after it was all over, I still feared that they would do something to make me lose my next home if I said anything.
   The ways they treated me, the loss of my jobs, their threats - their uniting with my bank to scare me into not talking to reporters, their not following through with closing dates and never even offering to compensate me for my business and other losses of income, due to their careless tactics. . .was all too horribly wrong!
   The way I was forced, by my own government, to live in fear of completely losing my home, in constant fear of what would happen to my children and I...and in the humiliating levels of poverty, which they cast us into. . .as I was even forced to apply for food stamps and beg friends for money to cover the income that the NH DOT had taken from me, until they decided to follow through with their acquisition of my property, was all too horribly wrong to remain hidden. Their taking of my trust in the world I live in, on top of everything else they took from me, left me with a gaping wound  that still bleeds. This hurt me more than words could ever begin to say.  
    I know that I can’t blame the NH DOT for all the things that have happened in my life since they did this to me. But the absolute Truth is that they destroyed my life when they took away my sources of income and left me destitute before and shoving my children and I down a road that we would NEVER have chosen on our own. This had severely ill effects on all three of our lives. 
    The NH DOT didn’t just rudely rip our home away. They didn’t just take away my incomes without ever doing anything to compensate me. They took my trust in the government I live under. They deprived my children and I of our need to feel safe in what is claimed to be a “free” state/country. They told lies to cover their own hurtful behaviors from the press, instead of altering those behaviors!!! They threatened me with the complete loss of my home, if I didn’t keep my mouth shut and just do what they told me to!!! The worst part of the damage was done to my heart - to the place where I had NEEDED to retain a sense of safety and security in MY home, in my community, in my government. A part of me STILL wants to scream,

But it did.

     All of what they did to my children and I was so horribly wrong that most of this will probably still be denied by those who did it. It was so inhumane that many people will probably not even believe that what I say here is True. But  because it IS REALLY True, because I need to heal from it, and because I hate to think of this happening to anyone else, I must finally break the silence around it. It’s not OK for our government to treat people this way, no matter how much its denied. It’s just not OK.
    Through this whole situation, it seemed like the DOT people were looking down on me BECAUSE I was in a struggling financially. To them, this seemed to make me less of a person than those who have more money! There was something horribly wrong with this, especially since my struggles, from the start, had been due to the fact that THEY were preventing me from doing what I NEEDED to be doing with MY own property - with my own life.
    The DOT was careful not to put in writing, any of the harm they did to me. But it shows in some of the letters I wrote them. It shows in a letter I wrote with the gut wrenching pain, I felt, as my world crumbled under their hands. I remember that, after I’d mailed it, I felt guilty and ashamed to have let myself be reduced to the point of writing “F____ YOU” in large letters, across the last page. But now, after all these years, it stands as proof of what they were doing. Anyone who knows my calm, patient, spiritual nature can see, in this letter, the desperate levels of emotional pain they shoved me into before I sank into the silence of my broken heart. I apologized to them for reacting to what they were doing to me. But not one of them EVER showed any sort of sorrow or remorse for what they were doing to my children and I.
    The primary NH DOT officials, who took my home and business, were, Mark Richardson, Richard Flynn, Wayne Husband, Charles O’Leary Jr. and Robert Greer. Other involved people were Robert Hayes, Robert Barry, Jeff Brilliant, Charles Schmidt as well as the officials in the Loudon Planning Board, who had pushed behind the scenes from the start. 
 The five bedroom home they took from Sharon was a beautiful river front property with 600 feet of commercial frontage on route 106, and about 600 feet of frontage on the Soucook River. They never paid her for the Day Care business she had on the property or for the other income losses they caused. And rumor has it that her home was purchased from the government by a relative of one of the government officials who took part in taking it from her. What's wrong with this picture?
   Bitterness started creeping into Sharon during this experience. She was being cut to the core by forces that had complete control over her. And they beat her into the ground, literally.

Too Much
By Sharon Rose Poet

God, this endurance test
Is so hard to bear.
Too many things for which I care,
Stripped away, no longer there.
Too much pain I feel inside.
Too many tears I can not hide.
Too many people reaching in need.
Too much advice I too must heed.
Too much love, unfelt, unseen.
To many hearts, dark and un-cleaned.
Too many walls around my soul.
Too many memories I can't let go.
Do I have the strength to pull through?
Do I have enough faith in You?
Will you hold me as I reach out?
Will you embrace my mournful shout?
After you've taken all that I own
Will you be here to guide me Home?
When will it end and be complete?
I need a paid-in-full receipt.

Just before she moved she decided to change her name to Namatari so that she could stand with her writings and be free from the harassment of her family of origin.

- Chapter 4 -

   As Sharon moved into her next home she felt broken. Out of this broken place came a need to have someone there for her...someone to hold her and help her feel less alone and more loved. She dated Pete, a childhood friend, for a short while. But he reminded her so much of Barry and her family of origin that she pulled away from him, although she'd had deep feelings for him when she was around 17 years old.
   She shifted her focus onto remodeling the broken home she was forced to buy. She tore old smelly carpeting off the living room floor and installed wide pine boards. . .drilling and pegging each screw hole as she wedged them together by hand. It was a good tight job, even though it was the first floor she'd done my herself. Carpentry came natural to her. It was almost as if her love of making things out of wood had been born into her soul. But plumbing and electrical was another story. She had to hire someone to replace her bathtub before she began tiling around it. So she hired Myrl for the job.
   Sharon had wanted an old claw foot bath tub instead of another one of the modern square thingy’s. But she let Myrl convince her that they were too expensive to install. And she deeply regretted this after she'd found out that they were actually less expensive than the one he'd installed, and that he had pushed her not to get claw foot tub, just because he didn't want to help carry it up the stairs. This was the foundation her relationship with Myrl grew from.
    When she met Myrl the part of her that was starving for affection enjoyed his flirtatious charm. She'd never felt so desired by a man. She'd never felt so cared for and appreciated by a man. Barry had felt threatened by her natural talent for mudding sheetrock, painting and carpentry. Myrl admired it and even gave her a few jobs, which brought in some of the income she needed. Myrl was the most passionate man she'd ever met. He had a gentle, loving side, which Sharon quickly fell in love with. ("fell" being the key word here.) He made her feel desirable and attractive. . .all the things her husband never did for her. Myrl filled the starving void Barry had created.
   When Myrl and Sharon made love it sent them soaring to heights she didn't know could exist. They loved pleasing each other. Sharon had never been with a man who didn't just quickly use her body to please himself - she'd never been with a man who actually enjoyed pleasing her. Myrl fulfilled a desire that had been building inside of her through her whole marriage. . .a desire to be desired - to be loved.
   In her heart she loved Myrl more deeply than she'd loved before - sometimes with such depth that it brought both of them to tears.  His love for her seemed as genuine. The beginning of this relationship was so passionate and exciting that she found it intoxicating. She lost herself in it, literally. And she learnt a lot about making love.

Sex vs. Love
By Sharon Rose Poet
Sex is nothing but a performance born of learned technique.
But love, making love is the uniting of bodies, with heart,
In an exploration of the soul, with feeling that extends
Beyond eternity. . .

   But it didn't take long for this "honey moon" phase of the relationship to wear off, and for Myrl to begin showing his other side. His shadow side was larger and darker than anything she'd experienced before. He was a true "Jeckle and Hide" type of personality - half of him was as deeply wonderful as the other half was hurtful. And the well of pain Sharon had stored through her experiences with her family, Barry and the DOT came roaring out each time Myrl did something to hurt her. His careless behaviors cut so deep into her wounds that she sometimes reacted with an anger that left her feeling ashamed of herself.
   In the beginning of the relationship, as Sharon tried to help Myrl heal the parts of his past that seemed to have him enslaved, she lead him into counseling and brought him to a good astrologer who told him that, "the woman of his dreams was coming into his life. . ." After receiving this information Myrl excitedly leapt for almost every woman he was attracted to, (which didn't leave many out) hoping she'd be the one.  This literally broke Sharon's heart. She had given him her all and he was casting her aside to look for someone else.

By Sharon Rose Poet

I remember that day
Your fortune was read,
hen you were told that,
"The woman of your dreams,
Who had more love
Than you'd ever known,
Was coming into your life."
I watched you search for her
Everywhere you went,
As you carelessly pushed me aside.
My pain ran so incredibly deep,
Words couldn't begin to express…
Watching your search broke my heart,
And stole our deepest happiness,
Because you failed to care enough to see,
That the woman he spoke of……was me.

   By the time he realized his mistake it had cut a bit too deeply into both of their hearts. This catapulted into other problems, which kept piling on top of each other. But Sharon did everything she could to try to work things out. She tried over and over again to talk to him. Sometimes he listened with a gentle heart and sometimes he coldly ignored her, because she "talked too much".

Lady Bug
By Sharon Rose Poet

I sit at the edge of my bed, trying to talk to you
While you ignore me. My lonely eyes watch you
Roam around the room. . .rescuing little ladybugs.
Carefully, you pick them up with love and consideration,
Cradling them gently in the palm of your hands,
As you deliver them to a safe place.
On the outside, I am stuck in my anger and
Needing to be heard. But deep down inside of me
There's a wounded little voice that is silently crying,
"I wish I were a ladybug!"

    Myrl had a difficult time with how intuitive Sharon was. She'd often pick up on things he didn't want her to know. She didn't try to pry into his closets. Things would just pop into her mind and slip out of her mouth, which surprised both of them. She often had dreams, which revealed his betrayals. She was too insightful to be in a relationship with a man who had so much to hide - a man who loved cheating and drugs and married women and teen age girls...etc.
   Sharon and Myrl stood at opposite ends of the relationship ring. It cut deep into her heart when she realized that pleasing women was his favorite pass time and that she wasn't the only one he excitedly turned on. It was all about sex and games with him. And she needed the opposite. She needed it to be about love. When she realized it wasn't she felt deeply hurt and betrayed.

By Sharon Rose Poet

I'm sorry! I can't give you what you want and look for.
Darling, I truly wanted to give you so much more.
You want betrayals. I need promises to keep.
You prefer lost and shallow. I need safe and deep.
You yearn for false and fake. I need genuine and real.
You like smiling and numb. I need us to feel.
You want sexual risks. . .where a price can be paid.
I need faithful and private. . .where Love can be made.

   Myrl's shadow side actually wanted to hurt Sharon, to bring her down, to control her, to make her feel inadequate and insecure. At one point he'd even dumped her into the rapids of a waterfall while they were rafting. She nearly drowned, and he refused to help her as she surfaced choking for air with lungs filled with water. Although there is a long list of incidents, this was the worst one. This was when she finished losing trust in him. And their relationship went down hill from there.

By Sharon Rose Poet

You've consumed my life. I've consumed yours,
Now mother freedom is knocking at the door.
But neither one of us really wants to let go.
Neither one of us really wants to be alone.
So both of us, with hope, keep holding on.
Never really together - never really gone.
But you can't talk about it! Talking is much too hard.
Yet, we can't live without talk. It's tearing us apart!
I miss you when I'm with you. I miss you when you're gone.
I miss you when we lay in bed together….all alone.
Feelings that I had, once tender and strong,
Now sit in sadness. . .dragging me along.
Every angry action has built a giant wall.
I tried to climb over it. But it's too strong and tall!
Lately when I'm with you I hold back a tear.
I try not to talk and you try not to hear.
Words that are unspoken create a giant space,
Where the past sits so heavily - the past we can't erase.
I miss the way you loved me though now seems un-real.
Perhaps it was all just something my heart wanted to feel.
I sit here in silence, watching us drift apart,
As the deepest sadness engulfs my heart. And still. . .
I miss you when I'm with you. I miss you when you're gone.
I miss you when we lay in bed together. . .all alone.

   He had warned her, in the beginning of their relationship. His heart had opened up and had directly said to her, "I am capable of really hurting someone." But she didn't take it seriously. She brushed it off with a casual, "We all have that capability." She hadn't known that he was struggling to keep under control the part of himself that actually really wanted to do harm.
   As time went on and his shadow side began surfacing more and more often, she began to realize that he had a problem, and that she was becoming his target, although the pain behind his hurtful behaviors came from his childhood and previous relationships. It seemed like he didn't really want to hurt her, but there was a damaged part of him that he couldn't control. His behaviors were an exaggerated version of all that she'd experienced with her sisters and Barry and her father all put together. It became what some would call brutal.

By Sharon Rose Poet

I feel so angry I just want to blame you!
Feel so hurt I just want to cry!
Won't you stop, stop what you're doing!
You're making a big mistake!
Please stop, stop what you're doing!
My heart's beginning to break.
I'm not the one who hurt you!
I didn't cause your pain!
Won't you stop, stop what you're doing,
Don't you hear me crying again?
I'm the one who loves you.
You're making a big mistake!
I'm the one who could help you.
But my heart's beginning to break!
Won't you stop, stop what you're saying,
I take every word to heart.
Please stop, stop what your saying,
Cause it's tearing me apart!
I feel so angry I just want to blame you!
Feel so hurt I just want to cry.

   Myrl usually struck when she least expected - when she was most vulnerable. His behaviors were such a complete contradiction to the love he seemed to feel for her that it baffled her. She didn't understand. Self doubt often gripped her. She didn't want to face how cruel his behaviors were, at first. It hurt too much to realize that the man she loved was actually, intentionally trying to hurt her. When she did face it she let her love for him try to help heal him. But each time they started to rise above it with a focus on healing he'd sabotage it by dealing another blow. Her quest to heal him was eventually replaced with a need to save herself.

By Sharon Rose Poet

It is here that I stand on the great pinnacle of death.
As each sword reaches my soul I cringe with pain,
Finding no strength to withstand. I weaken in fear.
Unworthy of protection. Unworthy of love.
But, surely, if I search hard enough,
If I look deep enough, if I cry hard enough,
I may again find that place, deep within my heart,
Where there is strength, where there is courage,
Where there is peace - where there is Love.

 But each time she tried taking time to take care of herself he'd interfere. Because she'd enjoyed intimacy with him he began using sex as a tool to hurt her - often bringing her to place of deeply wanting him and then either rudely abandon her or suddenly inflict physical pain. He also began mimicking the behaviors she'd been hurt by in her relationship with Barry. Everything she shared with him was used against her. He killed her favorite cat and seemed to be responsible for her dogs sudden death. He aimed to hurt her on every possible level. And her pain cut as deep as her love for him.
   Their three year relationship was filled with fights and separations. She often took him back when he cried and said he had a problem and wanted to heal it.
   At one point he betrayed her with two of her best friends. Ouch! This deeply hurt Sharon because she had trusted her friends and had literally given Myrl her all. . .on EVERY level.   
    She'd longed for him to love her as deeply she loved him - with a love that was complete enough to make monogamy easy - with a love that could not intend to betray or harm. But only the smaller half of Myrl felt this way about her.

By Sharon Rose Poet

I long for you to love me with body, heart and soul,
With a love everlasting - that in dark, will glow.
I long for you to touch me with your tender hand -
With the kindness of heart and the depth of soul.
I long for you to love me as deeply as I love you,
With a love that's not a word, but a feeling forever true.

    The jealousy and anger Sharon felt in the last year of this relationship brought her to a place of realizing how much hurt it took to build jealousy. Like her father had done to her mother, Myrl would actively try to make her think he was interested in other women - try to make her feel hurt/jealous. Then when she did feel it, he'd put her down for it. There were some horribly damaging cycles of abuse in this relationship.
    There was no chance for Sharon to feel secure in a relationship that offered no  security for her. She wrote her pain into many songs like this one. . .

Enough for You
 by Sharon Rose Poet

My heart melted when I first looked into your eyes!
What I saw deep inside was something I'd dreamed of.
But I wish I'd been the only one you looked at this way.
Wish I'd been the only girl you wanted to play.
Wish I'd been enough for you - the only one you need.
Look down deep inside of me. Do you see how much I bleed?
My love for you gripped my soul and tore my world apart!
My love for you extends way far - way far beyond the heart.
I tore my skin and broke my legs on every wall we climbed,
But always I would ask again, "can we make it….this time?"
But never did we reach the top to graze the other side.
Never did our Love prevail with hearts wide open wide.
I wish I'd been enough for you - the only one you need.
Look down deep inside of me. Do you see how much I bleed?
The hardest thing I've ever done is turn and walk away,
But my heart is so wounded, it just can't go on this way.
I wish I'd been strong enough to not let your pain control,
Or let it reach the very depths of my heart and my soul.
I wish I'd been enough for you - the only one you need.
Look down deep inside of me. Do you see how much I bleed?

She had a hard time letting go of Myrl, because she felt like she had failed him.  She felt responsible for the way he seemed to remain completely stuck in his shadow side, by the end of their relationship. She felt that if she had loved him more and reacted less, it would have been better for him. She felt like she had failed to help him heal, which she'd wanted to do more than anything. But the truth was that, although in her own woundedness, she did react and lash back several times, Myrl had failed himself. Over and over again he chose to not listen to his own heart. They could have made it, had he chosen to let her love help him heal, instead of sabotaging it and aiming to destroy her.

By Sharon Rose Poet

"I'm not ready to look at myself" was the excuse for abuse you gave,
And I could not help you see how your shadow had you enslaved.
Being "ready" does not mean seeing it all without fear.
"Ready" is when we do it anyway, to preserve what we hold dear.
"Ready" is when we make a choice to be really want to heal.
"Ready" is when we find the heart to care how others feel.

In the middle of the relationship, Sharon had a spiritual experience. She'd woken one morning with God's voice speaking to her. He/She said, "You will now experience all that you judge." She didn't realize what it meant right away. But the jist of it was that, prior to this relationship with Myrl, she had judged other people for remaining stuck in abusive relationships. And she did literally go through this period of time experiencing what it was like to be caught up in the painful cycles of a horribly abusive relationship.
   Sharon had also had a dream of a little girl, dressed in a pale blue coat, who's face was distorted in anguish. When Sharon went to hug her, the girl started rising up into the air, pulling Sharon with her. Sharon tried letting go but she couldn't. She was being carried away by this wounded child.
   This dream was about Sharon's wounded inner child - the one who had been deeply hurt in her grade school years - shortly after her fifth grade teacher had given her a light blue coat. In this relationship with Myrl, the deepest wounds in Sharon's inner child were surfacing. She felt wounded, hurt and angry. She was angry enough to not let herself be hurt anymore. On those times when Sharon's anger slid into a rage, which struck back at Myrl, it was this wounded child rising to fight for her life with a determination to not be hurt anymore. Although this mortified Sharon, it also saved her. And it helped her realize that Myrl's shadow side was just a wounded little boy who had sabotaged their relationship out of fear of being hurt. If they had BOTH just loved each other they could have healed.

Some Other Day
By Sharon Rose Poet

Some other day you came to me before I chose to leave,
To caress my broken heart as I sat alone to grieve.
Some other day you cradled me gently in your arms
And kept me safe from all the things that harm.
Some other day you talked to me with love upon your lips
And cared to kiss my cheek when tears began to drip.
Some other day you looked at me with adoration in your eye,
For the soul who knows to love - is to laugh and cry.
Some other day you came to me to receive my embrace,
And let me kiss the tears I painted upon your face.

After they finally split up Myrl went to Australia for several months. When he returned and tried to convince Sharon that he had healed enough to not try to hurt her anymore, Sharon slipped into denial, one last time, and wrote these lyrics after spending a night with him.

Just for Tonight
By Sharon Rose Poet

My heart has been broken for so very long.
Tonight can we pretend that nothing ever went wrong?
Pretend I'm all you need - the only one you'll see.
Show me that you love me and I'll not have to leave.
Just for tonight.
No one ever cheated.  No one ever lied.
No one ever hurt no one. And no one ever cried.
No one ever ran away. No angry words were said.
Only Love was in our past. It was deep enough to last.
Just for tonight.
Can we let go? Can we take a break?
Can we love away all our past mistakes -
Make tonight forever. . .all night long -
Pretend we live inside An old love song?
Just for tonight.

   But the night ended and reality set in. It was over. And they both knew it. Too much damage had been done. Although Sharon still loved him, she'd completely lost trust in him. Myrl had not honestly even begun to heal. And the passion they had both thrived on was completely gone.
   As she processed her experiences with Myrl she began realizing how harmful her relationship with Barry had also been to her. Myrl's behaviors were blatantly cruel, and Barry's were slyly cruel. Both had inflicted deep levels of pain. And both had offered her a chance to grow to the point of realizing that she did not deserve to be hurt and mistreated - that she needed something very different from what she'd had with them and in her family of origin.
   As she tried to recover she took a trip to Peru with a guide who was the friend of a friend. Her experiences there could write a whole book on its own. But I'll say that she deeply connected to the spirit of the Puma and the Inca ruins, which seemed to have risen out of another past life. And her insightfulness noticed a darkness connected to some of the shamanic practices, which the group she traveled with engaged in and seemed oblivious to, as they leapt into meditations and “initiations” that sometimes opened them up to extremely negative energies.
   Sharon watched a woman leap into a shamanic initiation with an ego that thirsted for the power of being labeled a "shaman". . .a woman who ended up taking in a darkness that overcame her. Even in her own dreams, this woman was being invaded by two dark beings. Sharon tried to warn her and help her, but she didn't want help - she foolishly just wanted to be a "shaman", although a true "Shaman" is a true healer, which is the opposite of what she became.

by Sharon Rose Poet

I followed Spirit's voices. which lead me from the crowd
While some little beings protested very loud.
Escorted by the butterflies who lead me down a path
Free from all the noise of humans jealous wrath
I found the arms of Angels who sang in the mist
Embraced my weary body and blessed me with a kiss
Deep in these tall mountains in a place called Peru
The Puma showed the valley where lies the ancient truth
The coral snake gave warning upon my hasty return
That there were angry beings who did not want to learn
Soon the time came. I met them and their angry fisted hands
Which blamed and pointed fingers refusing to understand
This was a bleak ending to a magical story to tell
But no ears have fully heard it and how, in the end, I fell
My story is not one that anyone could believe
So, angrily, I stood alone until I retreated to grieve
Then the voice whispered ever so gently in my ear
"You must forgive their blindness and the fact that they can't hear."
 And so, I rose again to greet the Gods, this time, by myself
Their wisdom keeps on coming when I leave the humans on their shelf.

   Sharon walked away from this Peru experience feeling glad to have had the Wisdom to not participate in the rituals that didn't feel right to her. Being labeled a "shaman" didn't matter to her. Through this experience she realizing how important it is for us to not let our egos leap into situations like this, to be very careful not to let anything but pure white Light into our spirit bodies. . .and to realize that darkness offers power, but Light offers Love, and Love is far more rewarding.
   After this trip to Peru Sharon headed into a three day fast. But three days turned into six as she entered into some deep healing work.

This Time
By Sharon Rose Poet

I'm going to feel you,
Dive into your depths,
Taste the core of you,
This time.
I won't suppress you.
I'll breath in your scent,
Bathe in your essence,
This time.
I'll hold you close,
Wrap you around me,
Like a warm winter shawl,
This time.
I'll dance in your aura,
Float on your waves,
Ride your currents,
This time.
I won't neglect you.
I promise to love you,
My dearest sadness,
This time.

   By the end of it she felt like she was walking on air, literally. She'd even had to look down at her feet to see if they were touching the ground, on several occasions.
   She decided to do a sweat lodge before ending the fast. On her way to the lodge, which was about 15 miles from her home, she stopped in a store to pick up a jug of water. As she stood in line a boy, who was about 6 years old, stared up at her and asked in slow amazement, "Who are you?" Sharon smiled down at him and told him her name, which was "Namatari" at the time. He continued to stare as if there were something magnificent about her. "Mom! Look," he called out as he tried to get his mother to look at her. Sharon smiled at him as his mother apologetically glanced at her while she pulled him out the door. "Bye," he called out as the door shut between them. Sharon wondered if he was seeing her energy field. He was. The boy had seen the bright Light that surrounded her.
   When she got to the sweat lodge she was glad there were only a couple other people attending, because in the middle of it her chest started vibrating with energy. It was all she could do to not moan out loud as she continued feeling a strong orgasmic feeling in her chest - her heart chakra. The deeper she breathed the more intense it got. And she breathed into it for as long as she could, but then stopped it because it started scaring her and she knew the other people would not have understood the spiritual opening that was happening in her heart.
   On her way back from the lodge, she had a small vision, which showed her need to completely surrender to a deeper healing. This brought up a fear she didn't fully understand. And before she realized what she was doing, tears raced down her cheeks and she screamed, "NO, GOD!" She slammed on the brakes and shoved the car into park. "Look what they did to me last time," she cried. As she held her hands up she felt severe pains shooting through her wrists. She deeply sobbed and begged God to not let it happen again.
   She felt confused as she finished driving home. It seemed way to outrageous to think she was Jesus reincarnated. "What is happening to me" she wondered. She spoke to a friend who suggested she rent a movie called "Stigmata". As she watched it she felt the pain in her own body - the pain of Jesus being crucified. There were no open sores but she felt it as if it had happened to her, as if this movie were bringing back even more of the memory. But it got too intense for her. She brushed it off as an illusion she was having due to the fast, and picked up a pack of cigarettes to close herself down again.

   When she met Jim Baker she felt deep stirrings in her heart. When he hugged her she felt a warm, safe feeling, which she’d never felt with anyone else. With Jim she was heading into a love that could be lasting and real. He lived in Nova Scotia. So, Sharon put her house on the market and made plans to purchase part of his land and build a small cabin next to his home. Her children were grown and she was looking forward to building a friendship/relationship with Jim and starting the music projects they’d talked about.
    After what she'd been through with Barry and Myrl she was taking this one very slow. But it felt good and right. Jim touched the deeper part of her heart - the part that wasn't in need of anything - the part that just wanted to love.
   In the spring of 2001 Sharon got the phone call from Tom, Jim's friend. Jim had suddenly died of a heart attack. The funeral had already taken place. And she wasn't given the chance to say good-bye. Shock settled in so deeply that she completely wiped it out of her mind. She couldn't handle this loss at this time. Jim was a big part of her dream for the new beginning she deeply needed in her life. Actually he was the core of it. In one short, careless phone call, another dream had suddenly crashed.
   When the realtor found a buyer for her home she numbly passed through the motions, not knowing where she was going to go or what she was going to do after the closing. Because of this she set the possession of the property to take place two weeks after the closing, so she'd have more time to figure it out and bring a healthy closure to her time there.
   The closing took place and she rushed to move most of her belongings so she could have her final week to do a fast and figure out where she was going to go and what she was going to do. She felt exhausted and confused. The pain of losing Jim and the property she was going to buy from him was buried deep inside her heart. She almost desperately needed that final week in the peace of her home, in order to heal and let go of this part of her life.
   She had considered cancelling the closing and remaining there. But she didn't feel safe there anymore, because someone had been entering her home in the night and slamming the entrance door...etc. Someone had been trying to scare her and it was working.
   Just before the closing she had a dream of a dark man who was standing next to a charred building saying, "You will never get rid of me." But she didn't understand what it meant.
   As she headed into her final day of putting all the things she didn't need into a storage bin, Myrl called. And she got off the phone from him by saying, "I have to go to Wal-Mart to get more boxes." She jumped in her car and headed for the Wal-mart in Concord.
   On her way back she suddenly started smelling smoke. It seemed like her car was filling with smoke. She quickly pulled over, jumped out and looked it over. There was no smoke to be seen. Yet, she could smell it and she had even started choking and having a hard time breathing. Since her car seemed fine, she climbed in and started driving until it happened again. Still, her car seemed fine and she was getting confused. "WHY on earth am I choking on smoke that is not here!!!???" she asked herself out loud. She decided to ignore it and quickly finished driving home. By the time she pulled into her driveway the smoke seemed be gone.
   She walked into her kitchen and smelled it again. . .smoke. She went to the living room and opened the basement door and there was a thin layer of smoke in the air. Sharon rushed to call the fire department thinking there may be some sort of electrical fire smoldering in a wall or something. After hanging up the phone she suddenly thought, "Oh my God! What if this ends up being a serious fire. I'd better go up and get my writings." She ran through the living room and headed up the stairs, but hit a wall of smoke and heat. She started choking as she ran up into it. As if something or someone had shoved her back down, she went tumbling down the stairs. Terrified now, she ran outside and looked at the second floor windows. Fire wildly flared behind her bedroom window. She frantically made another 911 call to let them know it was already a raging fire.
   When a police officer got there she was frantically trying to throw boxes of photographs out the doors from the first floor. The officer bared her from the house - refusing to let her go back in. He distracted her by helping her pick up the photographs she'd thrown into her yard so the fire trucks wouldn't destroy them.
   When the fire department got there, she begged them to move quickly, because her whole life's work and thousands of dollars from the closing of her home was in the room next to the one that was on fire.
   And then she waited, helplessly. Minutes seemed to turn into hours and hours into days. . .and she raked her brain trying to remember whether or not she'd left candles burning. "I might have left a candle going," she cried to Myrl, who had come to sit with her. But the fire had not started due to her leaving a candle going.

   The fire took an unusually long time to put out. When it was investigated, the fire marshal suspected something wrong, but couldn't find anything. At one point he'd told Sharon that a police officer had said that the fire was out when he'd gotten there and the back room, where her money and writings were, had not been touched by it. . .and he couldn't figure out how that room had burned AFTER the initial fire had been extinguished.
   The thought had crossed Sharon's mind that the fire department may have stolen her money and set the other room on fire to make it look like it had all been destroyed. But she couldn't believe a person could do such a thing at a time like that. However, this appears to be exactly what had happened, because she had foolishly told them about the money she had tucked in her bureau.
   One of the fire fighters had actually climbed up to the balcony outside her office on the opposite end of the building and had retrieved a briefcase, which contained some of her childhood writings. When he brought it to her it was still too hot to touch and was filled with smoke, but was all in tact. She was thankful for that.
   This fire happened around May 7th 2001. In the next few days, as she roamed through the ashes of what was left of her belongings she remained in a deep state of shock. The final manuscript to her book and all her notebooks with her life’s writings were gone. It felt like a her soul had been torn from her. She wanted to scream, but she couldn't. She wanted to cry, but her tears had frozen into a solid block of pain. Numbness engulfed her. What would she do? Where would she go? She didn't know. She had needed her last week there to figure it all out, and now that was gone too. And she wasn't in a place where she could make good decisions.
   Her children were grown up and didn’t need her anymore. One of her daughters wanted to live with her boyfriend and the other one was in college and had moved to her grandmothers, in order to get away from Myrl. She had nothing left but herself.  And she felt more lost than lost can imagine.
    After trying to turn to a couple friends, who could not even begin to be there for her on the levels she'd needed, she let Myrl go with her to Arizona, where she wanted to do a spiritual retreat in the desert. But the trip ended up being for him as he greedily grabbed the time she had needed and did his own retreat using her as his coach. No one was there for her. And a part of her was dieing inside. She couldn't trust Myrl enough to open up and grieve in his presence. But she didn't want to stop him from doing some of the healing work he needed also. And she felt too lost and weak to fight him and tell him to go away. So, she put her own needs aside.
   After returning to New Hampshire she suggested that they both take time to themselves and do some soul searching. Then she took off to Hawaii. She stayed for a few days with old friends before renting her own room. At one point she went out to the state park near the active lava flow on Mona Loa. As she planned a hike out to the flow she asked rangers about the distance...etc. They had warned her that it was "a difficult hike over the toughest terrain in the world."
   She wanted to check it out so she walked in a short ways, but found herself so drawn to the lava flow location that she didn't stop until she got there. During the hike she'd run into a parched man and his two sons and had given them more than half of her water, which left her in short supply for the return trip. They tried to convince her to return with them, but she insisted on continuing on by herself.
   As she roamed around she became fascinated with the formations of the hardened lava. The colors were often like rainbows set into shiny black rocks, which were sometimes surrounded by what looked like bright gold strands of hair. "Pele's hair" is what the local people called it.
    When she reached the active lava flow she walked over it. She sat on it and laid on it and dared it to swallow her. But it didn't. She didn't really want to die. But she didn't care if she did either. She knew that God wasn't going to take her until it was the right time. He/She had already spit her back at least once.
   She could relate to the myth surrounding Pele. A part of her felt angry with Barry and Myrl and the fire and the people who never told her Jim had died before his funeral, and the fact that her children didn't need her anymore, and the loss of the writings, poems and songs she'd written since she was a child. Beneath her anger was a well of pain that felt too deep to enter.
   When she found a comfortable spot to sit, one that wasn't too hot, she took a few deep breaths and tried to find a place of peace within herself.  She couldn't find peace in the depths she'd known before. But she had a vision of herself crawling on the mountain side with lava flowing like blood from her body. This is what she felt like. . .like she was bleeding. But she couldn't feel the pain. She couldn't dislodge it from the block it had frozen into her heart. She couldn't release it. She was still in a deep state of shock. She wanted to cry it out, but she couldn't.
   She suddenly got up and threw her backpack onto her shoulders, knowing it was going to be a rough trek back with her feet already aching. She didn't really care, until the pain in her toes became almost unbearable. "Boy! They were right," she said out loud, "about this being rough terrain." Because she had not originally planned to do the full hike on that day, she'd not worn her hiking boots, and her sneakers didn't offer much protection as she climbed up and down countless numbers of small, rough hills. Each time she stepped down her toes jammed into the front of her sneakers. At one point she took her shoes off and tried to walk stalking footed, but the hardened lava was too rough. She put them back on and winced with every foot step. Part of her almost felt relieved to be feeling some sort of pain, although walking was becoming difficult. She grit her teeth and pushed on.
   After a couple hours, her foot steps became slower and smaller. The last time she checked her feet they were bleeding through her socks. She'd run out of water and was getting extremely thirsty and tired. She didn't know if she was going to make it back before night fall.
   As darkness began teasing the daylight she wondered how close she was to the place where she'd parked her rental car. Distance was difficult to determine. The flow seemed to stretch over the horizon in front of her. She held her direction through periodically checking to make sure the ocean was to her left, but she wasn't sure how far from the ocean she needed to stay. She became concerned that she may have passed the road by remaining too close to the ocean.
   About a half hour later, after climbing a large clump of lava, she saw a small section of pavement between the lava - a sign that she was getting close to civilization. Then, there is was - a string of cars and a group of rangers preparing for a hike. Those last few yards were the most painful steps of all.
    The guys she'd given her water to had alerted the rangers about her being out there by herself and they were about to head in to find her when she finally came stumbling out. 
   Someone offered her water. But beyond that they hadn't helped her. They were angry that she'd been so "irresponsible," and had wasted their time. She hobbled over to her car and sat on the hood to remove her shoes and socks. Her toes were such a bloody mess that she'd have to soak them in water before seeing the damage.
   She had a hard time staying awake through her drive back to her room. The long winding road seemed to go on forever. And the pain in her feet was creeping up her legs as she drove barefooted. There was no getting her shoes back on after she'd taken them off.
   Through the next several days she could hardly walk. She'd lost a few of her toe nails and her feet were bruised and swollen. But this was nothing compared to the pain that was locked inside her heart.
   She spent the rest of her time in Hawaii carelessly sight seeing and acting like the floozy she really wasn't. And then she let Myrl's tears drag her back to New Hampshire. This was a big mistake. It would have been far better for her to remain there and start that new beginning she'd needed before Jim died and the fire tore away her life's work and most of the other things that were most important to her.
     After returning to New England her father offered her a room for two days. And then she pitched a tent on a wooded part of his land for a couple weeks before accepting the offer from an acquaintance, Bruce, who needed a condo painted in Nashua, because she could stay there and try to pull together what was left of her writings in between painting. She let Myrl go to the condo with her, because he had begged her to let him help her resurrect some of her writings.
   Bruce got a hell of a good deal. While she slept in the paint fumes, he deducted $800 rent out of what he paid for painting and a few other jobs Myrl did for him. But Sharon was so used to being treated unfairly that she didn't think much of it.
   During the day she patched walls and painted and in the evenings she struggled to resurrect the final manuscript to a book, which had been lost in the fire. But the floppy discs she was using kept malfunctioning and she had to keep doing it over and over and over again. After a couple weeks of this, Myrl walked into the room she'd set up her computer in, picked up one of the disks, laughed and said, "I found out that if you puncture this little spot on the disc, it won't work right."

- Chapter 5 -

   As soon as the painting was done Sharon took another trip to Peru, more to get away from Myrl than anything else.
   Why was she still with Myrl? Well, when a person has been through one devastating loss after another and is in shock they sometimes accept the shoulder of the only person who is there for them. Myrl was the only person who was even trying to be there for her. She felt so devastated that his presence felt better than the emptiness of the shock she remained in.
   Another book could be written about her experiences in this second trip to Peru. But the core of it was that she'd lived, for a month, in the Andy's with the Kechua people. She wanted to stay there, but felt too mentally exhausted to go through the red tape this would entail with the government. She left hoping to return, someday.
   After returning to Nashua she picked up her belongings, left Myrl and headed for the southwest. But she felt so tired that she stopped in Pennsylvania and sat in a diner with a cup of tea.
   As she thumbed through the local paper an ad for a small hunters cabin jumped out at her. "That’s it" she thought, "I need a home of my own. And this is all I can afford." When she pulled back onto Interstate 81 she headed North instead of South - toward the Adirondack cabin.
    The cabin ended up being a dilapidated shack that was more than two miles from the nearest public road and electrical pole. There was no water or electrical power. The wood stove was as run down as the building. And it was all filthy. But it came with ten acres, which abutted a state forest that covered thousands of acres. This place was peaceful.
   She sat in the snow gazing at it. "Perfect," she said out loud, "I'll take it!" She walked the two miles back out to the road and called the owners. "I'll give you $20,000," she told them. And they accepted. This was too much. But she didn't care. She just needed a place to call home. She was tired of roaming around not knowing what to do or where to go. Now she knew.
    In her first week there she heaved everything out of the shack and started a bonfire with it. Then she quickly rolled the fiberboard walls and floor with yellow paint just to cover the dirt and bring a little light into the place. She set up a small bed in one corner and hauled in what was left of her belongings. In the week after she settled in she found out what winter was like in the Adirondacks. 
   Temperatures suddenly plummeted to about 30 below zero and she struggled to keep warm. The wood stove wasn't air tight and needed to be loaded a couple times during the night. The shack didn't hold heat very well, due to the cracks between some of walls and ceilings which were open to the outdoors. She covered them with duct tape, until she could do more.
   It became almost as cold outside as it was inside her heart. But, in the middle of the coldest night, it became too cold sleep, even after pulling her bed to within three feet of the wood stove. So she huddled next to the stove with her guitar and finally cut loose a few tears as she strummed out this song. . .

So Far Gone
By Sharon Rose Poet

Somewhere up the road, I took a wrong turn.
Trying to look back at lessons I need learn.
But I don't know how to turn my life around,
How to put my feet back on solid ground.
Courage somehow left - flew to who knows where.
So very empty, this void in my soul.
My tears begin to flow. Does anyone know?
Never felt so afraid. Never felt so alone.
Never been so far gone - so far away from Home.
Praying for the strength to make it through the night.
Pray someone will hear and send me some Light.
So much pain inside the depths of my heart.
Don't know where it ends. Don't know where it starts.
I need my faith returned - Need to trust again.
I need the warm comfort of my Spirit friends.
Is anyone there? Does anyone care?

   This was the beginning of her heart's slow thaw. Her strength began returning as she fought to survive the wilderness she’d thrust herself into.
   When she ordered a couple face cords of fire wood, it was wet, frozen and too big to fit into the stove. She hadn't used a splitting maul before, but it was time to learn. She set up the largest block of wood on a flat part of the yard and placed another piece on top of it. Lifting the maul high into the air, she brought it down as hard as she could. But it merely bounced off the top of the wood. "Oh. Your going to be stubborn," She said to the wood as she re-positioned the maul. Again, it bounced off the top. "Damn! How am I going to keep warm if you won't break?" She turned the block of wood and this time, when she brought the maul down, she put her whole body into it and let out a loud, "HOOAAAHH," as she slammed it all the way through the wood. "YES!" She cried out as she excitedly picked up the next piece. . .and the next. . .and the next. . .and before long she was really putting her anger into it and had tears streaming down her cheeks. "OK. Who's next? Barry, this one is your behaviors." WHACK! "Myrl, this ones for your betrayals." WHACK! "These two are for the fire." WHACK! WHACK! "This one is for the people who didn't tell me Jim had died before the funeral had already taken place." WHACK! Before long she had a good weeks supply of wood split into usable chunks. She set some of them up on end, next to the wood stove so they could dry. She found that it burned fairly well if she kept rotating the wood this way. Each time a few pieces went into the stove a few others were stood up next to it.

Let Go
By Sharon Rose Poet

At some point life deals us
All a loosing hand.
Sometimes we get lost
And don't understand.
We don't let the feelings
We hold inside us show.
Doors often close.
Sometimes we don't know
How to let go.
Sometimes the future
Simply can't be shown
And we face our fears
Of a big unknown.
Sometimes we need faith
To bring us back Home.
Home to the place
Deep inside our hearts
Where we let go.
It's time to turn away
From the old,
Frayed and worn.
Time to give the new
A chance to be born.
Life may seem empty
For a little time,
But new doors will open.
New stars will shine
If we let go
And let our tears flow.

   She began going out for long walks in the snow, either using her snowshoes or cross country skis. At one point she noticed that a small coyote had been following her. As she doubled back she saw its footprints over hers. She smiled, "A buddy!”
   She was surprised by how many birds remained in the Adirondack forest in the winter. During one of her walks she suddenly encountered a large buck. Both she and the deer stopped and stood perfectly still, while staring at each other. Wind blew snow from the trees, blocking their view of each other. Sharon thought he'd be gone when the snow cleared, but he remained there for several more minutes before slowly walking into a ravine. This touched her heart. She felt like she was surrounded by the kinds of friends that knew how to trust and love and be there for each other. She looked forward to spring and hoped to see a bear or two.

Rhododendrons Grow
By Sharon Rose Poet

I planted them there, beneath my broken chair
In the late days of fall, as the hawk made his call.
Their home has been changed - the Earth rearranged.
They need time to heal - another year to feel,
For the roots to find their way - a safe place to stay,
Beneath the rain and sun. Then it will be done.
Rhododendrons grow underneath the snow,
In the warm days of spring, I'll check them once again.
If I melt away the snow and let the blossoms grow,
Next year there'll be more - a pathway to my door.
But now they just need time for limbs to grow and climb.
Rhododendrons grow underneath the snow.
But nobody knows. It scantly shows.

   Spring came and bear tracks were everywhere. The first time she heard the hoot of a bear she opened a window and mimicked the sound. It drew closer. "Whoo, whoo, whoo," she called back and it called back to her. She loved the bears. She was a bit scared to venture too far into the woods in the early spring, when they had their cubs, but she worked at moving past her fear.
   There were many partially dead trees around her cabin. So she decided it was time to learn how to use a chain saw. She bought a mid sized Husquarvarna and renamed it, "Herquavarna."
   After she cut down her first tree she wrote this song. . .

Girls Can Too
By Sharon Rose Poet

When I was a little girl,
Daddy would teach the boys
How to use his toys,
And I was "JUST a girl"
In a mans busy world,
But deep inside I knew…
Girls can too.

If Daddy could see me now,
He may be wearing a frown
"Put that dam thing down!"
He may not understand
This chain saw in my hand,
As I set out to prove
That deep inside I knew…
Girls can too.

If Daddy could see me now
He may not understand…
This Motorcycle, Truck
Or hammer in my hand,
As I set out to prove
That deep inside I knew…
Girls can too.

Ya. Girls can too,
Just like you, Daddy.
Just Like you.

   She felt excited as new poems and songs started forming a little pile on her table. She looked at them one morning and consoled herself by saying, "Before long I'll have enough new ones to replace the burnt ones." She was writing the life back into her heart, literally.
   She grew to love her little shack. She moved the position of the door and put in a bunch of new windows. She split one of the bedrooms into an entrance and a bathroom where she could put the commode, which she used on the nights that felt too cold and dark to use the out house.  She built a large wood box into the entrance way and covered the walls with pine boards and trimmed the new used windows she’d gotten. It looked like a little palace by the time she was finished. She hauled water in from a gas station in Booneville, NY once every two weeks and set up a camp shower over an old claw foot tub. She often cooked over the wood stove and sipped herbal teas with her simple meals, which were most often rice and salmon. She loved the simplicity of it. This was her sacred space.
     But her joy in the peaceful cabin ended when she foolishly let Myrl come for a visit after he’d convinced her that he had changed again. He helped her put siding on it, build a new outhouse and move the chimney..., but the rest of his stay was not helpful or healthy for her. He imposed on her until she insisted that he leave. Then he rented place about 20 miles from where she was.

   It was August 2002 when she received a message left on her cell phone by Vivian, which said that her youngest brother, Kevin had just been killed in an accident.
   He was only 38 years old. Something deep inside of her froze back up. Shock tightened its hold as she packed her mini van for the trip to New Hampshire for the funeral.
   As she drove, like a mantra she kept repeating over and over again. . ."God help me! Give me the strength to get through this. God help me! Give me the strength to get through this. God please help me. . ."
   She didn't think she could handle anymore. She bought a pack of cigarettes and arrived at her family's home town in a bundle of jumbled nerves. Gathering with the family she'd been completely separate from, through most of her adult life, had her more uptight than the funeral did. A huge part of her longed to run in the other direction or slide into oblivion and pretend this was not happening. But she couldn't. She had to deal with it.
   It was almost as bad as she'd expected it would be. The conflicts between family members made being around them more difficult than dealing with her little brother's death. But she muddled through it. She struggled to stand strong and be there for others, at the expense of herself, which was an old family roll she fell back into through this time. Tears occasionally flowed, but she couldn't fully let go. She didn't feel safe around her family.
   As if this were not enough, shortly after her brothers death, her cousin suddenly died of a heart attack. After she attended her brother's funeral, sent a sympathy card to her cousin, drove for 15 hours to get her daughter back to collage, in Michigan, then drove, 15 more hours, back to her cabin, she was an absolute wreck. Her hands trembled as she made a cup of herbal tea. She desperately needed someone to be there for her. But there was no available person who could comfort her on the levels she needed. And Myrl's presence in the area left her feeling even more uneasy rather than comforted.
   Sometimes she sat alone, like a trembling stone, begging for The Higher Powers to help her release her pain. Sometimes she curled up in her bed and cried like a baby for hours at a time. Sometimes she drove to Casper's Diner and bought a cigarette or two from the waitress.
   In the weeks following her brother's and cousin's sudden deaths, she remained weakened and numb with shock. But she found strength through her faith, and her knowing that there was a higher purpose to all that was happening to her.

   Prior to Kevin's death Sharon had a dream of a boy who was stuck between the physical world and the spiritual world. In this dream it was shown that she could help him through giving him information he needed to have, in order to navigate the spirit world. This dream had been about her little brother. She had been able to connect with his spirit a few times, shortly after his body's death. But she was so closed up, due to her discomfort with the family dynamics and her own grief that she wasn't able to be there for him on the levels he'd needed.
   Sharon can not function well in chaotic environments. She needs peace and harmony in order to be at her best with her spiritual gifts. She understands this, but she still felt horrible about not being able to help her little brother, which added to her grief.
   She wrote the following song shortly after her brother's passing on. But it was not just about her brother. His death began dislodging the sadness of losing Jim - of losing a dream, a home, a future, a friend - a love that never had a chance to finish blossoming. This song was really for Jim.

On His Way
by Sharon Rose Poet

You've gone back Home and left me here alone
With an emptiness inside and tears I try to hide.
When I stopped to think of you and all that we didn't do
You came to embrace the tears on my face.
And I heard your spirit say in a gentle loving way,
You said, "It's ok Kid. Remember what we did."
But I didn't want you to go beyond this earth we know
Though I still feel you near, I wish you were here.
I'll need time to heal the sadness I feel.
But I will clear the way to hear the words you say.
When I see the northern lights glowing in the sky
I'll stop and think of you, so you can watch them too.
And when I wonder where you are, I'll look up to the stars
Just to know that your ok - an angel on his way.
But I'll be missing you. I'll be missing you.

After Kevin's funeral she crawled through several long weeks, with her mind and heart flipping from one loss to another with her pain often rolling down her cheeks. Her whole world had been turned upside down in the months surrounding the fire in her Andover home.
    She missed her daughters. Their absence left a huge gap in her life. She missed her dog - the one that died in the year before the fire. She missed her home - her old bed, her clothes, her cat, the chapel she'd built next to a waterfall. She felt sad that her little brother had died and that she had never really gotten to know him very well. And the fire taking over thirty five years of her writings almost felt like the burning of her soul. Her pain ran almost as deep as deep can run.

   In October of 2002 Sharon's family gathered again for the placing of a stone on Kevin's grave. Sharon rented an apartment in a nearby town...deciding to remain in New Hampshire until after Christmas with the hope of continuing to regain the family she was born into. Some of them had grown since she'd last seen them. She hoped for new beginnings, especially since Gerry had said, “We lost Kevin, but have gotten Sharon back.” This had deeply touched her heart. She wanted her big brother back.

Light a Candle
By Sharon Rose Poet

Light a candle for my brother who died one summer day
Light a candle for my mother who guides and lights his way.
Light a candle for my sisters, my brothers and my dad
Light a candle for the memories that make us all so sad.
Lets let it out, lets shed a tear, lets bring Love into Christmas this year.

   She spent some time with her sisters, hoping things could be different. For a short while, it looked like they could be. Sharon made the mistake of sharing some of her spiritual experiences with them. She’d even told Vivian about her fear of being seen as “insane” as she opened up to deeper and deeper levels of spirituality. 
    She actually had a few good times with her sisters before they launched into a frenzy of trying to be as "spiritual" as Sharon was. They started a meditation class with a woman in Boston, who was also just TRYING to be spiritual, instead of healing her own hearts and letting growing into it naturally, as Sharon had done.
   After Vivian and Evelyn had gone to a physic, to ask questions about, and try to dig up dirt on, Sharon, the chances for them to all get along ran quickly down the drain. The psychic told Sharon’s sisters that it was true that Sharon had been sexually abused as a child - that she had NOT been making it up...etc. She had also foolishly told Vivian that Sharon was "more spiritually advanced.” 
   Their jealousy soared into hatred - into the old familiar place it had gone many times throughout the past. Sharon became their target again. They even began using the meditation techniques, they were learning, in efforts to harm Sharon, through directing negative energy at her. Sharon had a dream forewarning of this and had asked them to not do any sort of energy work on her without permission. She also explained to them that white Light is the only energy that is healing for her. She tried to help them not get lost in the darkness of their new spiritual practices, but they hated Sharon’s wisdom. They wanted to be the ones to have it. Sharon tried showering them with as much love as she could, hoping it would swing things in a better direction. But the more kind and loving Sharon was, the more they hated her for being that way. It was hopeless.

   As her sister's continued stewing, Sharon attended a workshop at a Kripalu Yoga Center, which was designed to help people find their singing voice. At this point she needed a little pampering and a distraction from her family. But the class wasn't quite what she'd expected.
   The instructor was pretty hard on Sharon. But through his toughness he helped bring to the surface, a layer of pain, which had been lodged in the closets of her heart since early childhood.
   He put her on stage in front of the audience and told her to sing. When she started to sing he snapped out, “NO! I said SING!” When she tried harder he stopped her again and again and again. "SING!" he yelled, "SING!". . .until she stood, silent on the stage, feeling humiliated, frustrated and angry with him for doing this to her.
   He climbed up onto the stage, stood in front of her and barked out, “WHAT HAPPENED?” “What d-d-do you m-m-ean?” Sharon stuttered. He continued, “WHAT HAPPENED? WHY ARE YOU AFRAID TO USE YOUR VOICE?” Sharon fell silent. “You have a voice,” he said more gently, “but something happened to make you afraid of using it. What horrible thing would happen if you sang beautifully?”
   The realization came bubbling up with a sudden flood of tears. “My sisters will hate me,” Sharon spat out as tears ran down her cheeks and her legs went weak. The instructor jumped off the stage and started playing the piano as he yelled up to her, “SING!” All her feelings of humiliation, pain and anger flowed into her song. “LOUDER” he called as he left the piano and ran to the opposite end of the auditorium, pulling a hanky out of his pocket and holding it up in the air yelling, “I WANT YOU TO MOVE THIS HANKY FROM THERE! 1-2-3-SING. 1-2-3-SING! Louder! LOUDER! Again! 1-2-3-SING! 1-2-3. . ." And Sharon’s voice rang out almost as strong and clear as a seasoned opera singer. This was a huge breakthrough for her.
   After she returned to the apartment she'd rented, and sensed more trouble brewing in her sisters, she finally began facing more of the pain their jealousy and hatred had cut into her heart.

By Sharon Rose Poet

Tides relentlessly push on.
Wonder if I'll ever reach Home.
I swim with strength
Then stop to tread,
Fighting off sharks
That haven't been feed.
My strokes weaken
To slower than slow,
But on I must,
I must go.

   Since she'd reconnected with her family she began seeing the family dynamics more clearly. She began noticing how her father actively worked at manipulating his wife and children into being jealous of each other and she saw no way of mending the situation. She’d needed her family to be a source of support. But it looked like this was not going to happen. Sharon faced some deep old pains as she began pulling away from them again. Her new dream of having sisters, who could just love her enough to not let jealousy turn to hatred, was dieing one final time and this was hard for her to accept. But she had to accept it and move on, because she was in too much of a vulnerable place, to deal with more than what she already had to deal with inside herself.

   She returned to her cabin and found that Myrl had taken it over - had even hung his own pictures on her walls and had used up most of the seasoned fire wood she'd stored for the winter. She kicked him out and refused to continue even trying to be "friends" with him. She'd had enough. This was the cutting point for her. She needed him completely OUT of her life. . .finally.

I needed freedom from future pain,
And longed to return to who I am.
But a wall blocked my path,
The wall of hope to heal your wrath.
In suit of armor, I swung fast and strong,
And watched it crumble to the ground.
Now with hope out of my way,
Good-bye is all I've left to say.

   She thoroughly cleaned her cabin - trying to wash Myrl out of it, and sat down with her dream journals with the hope of sorting out a few things that had disturbed her about her brother's death. Prior to his death she'd had dreams about a family member dieing. At first she'd thought it was going to be her father. So she had reconnected with him in 2oo1. But it turned out the death was Kevin's and more recent dreams seemed to be pointing out a cover up around it.
    This along with several other things made it look like his wife, Jia, had drugged Kevin with some sort of drug that had put him to sleep, in order to prevent him from going out with his friends, and that he had quickly left before the drug took effect. . .causing him to fall asleep on his four wheeler as he entered the river he drowned in.
   According to Sharon's dreams, aside from her cousin's death there was going to be one more. . .and it was going to be her nephew, Joshua. . .unless she stopped it. At this time Sharon’s youngest daughter had also had a dream forewarning of Joshua’s death.
    Kevin’s wife was so terrified of being home alone that, even before Kevin's wake and funeral, she was trying to find another man to be with, and had set her sights on Joshua. (It appeared to be this fear of hers that went to extremes to keep Kevin home.) Joshua seemed to be falling head first and Sharon fought to get him away from her, without actually spelling out the fact that she would accidentally kill him the same way she had with Kevin. But Joshua wouldn't listen to her, not even after he had his own dream about being with his Uncle Kevin and building something together.
   So, Sharon put herself way out on a limb to report this to the police. She foolishly also sent them a list of the dreams she'd had, thinking that the police department would have someone who understood dream symbology. But they didn't seem to. They definitely thought she was a bit whacked. It appeared that they questioned the rest of the family about Sharon’s mental health, instead of investigating Kevin’s death. Well. You can imagine what a field day Vivian and Evelyn had with this. It gave them fuel for their renewed drive against her and their father leapt into it as well.
   Gerry had also sensed that there was something wrong about Kevin’s death, but because no one could come up with physical evidence, he cast it aside. Sharon's father refused to have Kevin's body dug up and tested for drugs. Nothing was done about it. But Sharon had accomplished her aim - her speaking out had saved Joshua’s life, and this was worth all the “crazy” fingers being pointed at her.
   Through the funeral Sharon had begun to rekindle a relationship with her father. But he, again, used her to try to make Evelyn and Vivian feel jealous/hurt, and this did a good job at fueling what they were already brewing on their own. They fell into such a ditch with it that Vivian started acting like Sharon and set out to destroy her father's new connection with Sharon, through fabricating emails...etc., and the usual family chaos exploded into a hell that Sharon couldn't remain subjected to.
     For the first time Sharon began to face how cuttingly devious and manipulative Vivian's behaviors could be. She felt deep concern over the ways Vivian seemed to be becoming obsessed with being like her - how Vivian actually seemed to have convinced herself that she was Sharon and that Sharon was the one who is like her.
   As the pieces to a few past puzzles began clicking into place, Sharon deeply grieved.
   Facing the ways Vivian actually WANTED to hurt her and had aimed to destroy her relationships with her oldest sister, with her father, with her brothers, and even with her own husband and children cut so deep it can't be described. It was hard for Sharon to face the depths of this, because it wove into many of the most difficult times in her childhood as well.

By Sharon Rose Poet

She planned and schemed
And labored for years.
Now her job is done.
I must tearfully close the door,
Admitting the dark has won.
But I see another dawn,
As I turn the other way.
Love and Peace remain,
Where God Lights the day.
I have a clean conscience
And Truth here by my side.
While she remains with the burden
Of knowing that she lied.
I feel sorry for her
And for the way I was so blind.
It was painful for me to face
How my sister can be so unkind.

   The darkness that came out in Vivian's behaviors went so far beyond what Sharon could understand that, shock mingled with her tears. To say that Sharon felt hurt and betrayed is putting it too mildly. This hit her so hard it was like a locomotive flying head first into an ocean of forgotten tears. Vivian’s behaviors were no different than they had been through her whole past, but this was the first time Sharon had fully faced them.
   To kick it all of the charts, her father sided with Vivian and hid the emails Vivian had convinced him were from Sharon. As they united to manipulate the rest of the family again, Sharon deeply grieved for all of them. She felt for her father because what Vivian had written had obviously deeply hurt him at a time when he'd already been deeply hurt by his youngest son's sudden death. She even grieved for Vivian. But most of her grief oozed from the wounds they cut into her heart.

Just Another Cinderella
by Sharon Rose Poet

I was just a Cinderella. Nothing new to say
But I burn down that bridge as I walk away

Oh God please help innocent eyes to see,
Cause I'm still dodging stones that they cast at me.

Sometimes I feel lonely. Sometimes I feel sad.
I miss the life I lead - the one I never had.

When love has been betrayed there aint no turning back.
The river runs dry. The train leaves its track.

Oh God please help me - help my heart to heal
Give me a new life - something pure and real

I'm just striving to be me and to know that I'm alright.
These tears I now cry are going to dry tonight.

Just another Cinderella. Nothing new to say
Except the part about the prince who died yesterday.

Sometimes I feel lonely. Sometimes I feel sad.
I miss what might have been - what we never had.

Ya. I was just another Cinderella. Nothing new to say,
Except the part about the prince. He died yesterday.

    After breaking all communication with her sisters, she put her focus on re-writing her book, "Embracing Feelings". As she wrote, her tears melted more of the iceberg in her heart.
   After she finished her book she decided to share it with her brother's and father. . .hoping it would help a healing process along. But it had the opposite effect, because her father had a negative reaction to it and began the usual manipulating. He kept declaring, "NOTHING good ever came of looking at the past!" Sharon didn't realize that some of her poems suggested things that she'd not yet remembered - things her father did not want exposed.  She was unaware of his renewed drive to manipulate her away from the family.

By Sharon Rose Poet

Misunderstood is my middle name
I played, but lost, your game.
Now what am I supposed to do?
I'm tired of defending myself to you.
I wish you'd just open your eyes and see -
Let your heart understand me.

   With the book as complete as it could be at this time Sharon decided to sell her cabin, because she felt uncomfortable with Myrl remaining nearby and was running out of money. This is another mistake she would grow to deeply regret.
   After it sold she planned to go to Arizona and do a retreat in the desert. But shortly before the closing her younger daughter decided to leave a relationship, which had not been good for her, and wanted to move to California.
   So in May of 2003 Sharon closed on the cabin and took her daughter with her. . .with the plan of getting her settled into a place to live and a job before doing the desert retreat she needed. But unfortunately, as they made their way across the country Julia had secretly changed her mind and decided to return to her boyfriend and switched her aim to helping her mother settle in somewhere before heading back to him. They didn't communicate enough to know each others plans and it all got botched up - each of them waiting for the other to find a place to settle. When this didn't happen frustrations rose. As a result, this trip didn’t end up very good for either of them.
   After a couple weeks in the Moro Bay area Sharon returned to the East coast with Julia, because she didn't feel comfortable with her driving back by herself. With this done, Sharon felt too exhausted to head back to the desert to do her retreat. So she listened to an acquaintance, who said, “Go stay with my Uncle Tom in Nova Scotia for a while. He’d love to see you again.” Tom had been a close friend of Jim’s. Sharon decided to go.
   In Bangor, Maine, the transmission on her van blew and Sharon ended up stranded without a vehicle. So she put her belongings in storage and took the Cat to Yarmouth where Tom picked her up and immediately began pushing for a relationship with her.
   Sharon felt too exhausted and too emotional to fight him off. Although she partially accepted the comfort, which Tom’s arms seemed to be offering, each time she drove by Jim’s house it pulled at her heart in ways that were nearly unbearable. She’d longed to go into the house, just to feel close to Jim one last time, but she'd not wanted to bother the couple who had taken his home. She still didn’t know that Jim had left her his home and that his will had been kept from her.
     Because Tom had been Jim’s friend, being close to him made her feel a little bit closer to Jim. But she also felt confused about being held by Tom while she yearned to be in Jim’s arms. After about a month she quickly left and rented a U- Haul truck to return to upstate New York where she'd stored her car.  She decided to get some sort of rental and rest for a while before aiming for her desert retreat.
   In August of 2003 she went to Nashville to explore the music business while re-collecting herself. She went to several songwriter circles and actually found the courage to climb on stage and share some of her songs. Her first time on stage was without accompaniment and her nerves jittering all over the place. The owner of the place sought her out, after she was through singing, and said to her, "You have what it takes. Your a hell of a songwriter. You just need to gain some confidence with your singing." This was the sort of encouragement she needed. But her talent for writing songs was also recognized by the wanna-be songwriters who were only in it for the money and they swarmed around her like vultures.
   One of them, Carolyn, had rented a room next to Sharon's in Lyric Springs. Apparently her uncle had been a well known song writer and she wanted to follow in his footsteps, although her talents lay elsewhere. She'd asked Sharon to share her songs with her. And when Sharon pulled out her guitar and started singing them, Caroline pulled out a notebook and started taking notes. Sharon stopped and asked, "What are you doing?" Caroline calmly declared, "I'm writing down ideas and some of your phrases for my own songs. You have some good ones..." Sharon packed up her guitar and told her that she should pull her own ideas out of her own experiences instead of trying to copy other people's.
   But Caroline wasn't the only vulture that was swarming her. She was just the only obvious one. Sharon was a bit too naive and trusting. . .and still in too much of a state of shock to be doing a good job at listening to her own intuition.
    When she met Joe Cook, the lead singer for the “Cordless” bluegrass band, she thought she had found a surrogate father - a friend. But when he invited her to his home in Fairview Tennessee, offering to install a music program into her computer, he also secretly installed a file or something, which enabled him to access her computer from afar.
   Sharon kept getting burnt by her need to have someone there for her. She knew she needed to go do a retreat and dive into some deep healing work. But, more than that she wanted support from her fellow human beings.
   She remained at Lyric Springs for about 3 months. Then, as she headed for the Southwestern deserts, sleeping in her car along the way, it just happened to be during a cold spell.  She kept heading further and further south - chasing the warm all the way into southern California and still couldn't catch it. Everyone around her was saying, "Its NEVER been this cold here!" Tough luck.
   Sharon decided to buy an RV so she could keep herself warmer and safer. She found one that needed a lot of work. She called it the "Resurrecting Phoenix," because it was a Toyota Phoenix and its shabby condition reminded her of herself.

The Resurrecting Phoenix
By Sharon Rose Poet

She was there when I found her
At the back of the dump
Just rusting away
Like an old rotten stump.
But when I embraced her
And turned her old key,
She pulled herself up
To talk to me.
So, I did some repairs,
Fed her some gas
And gave her self esteem
A swift kick in the ass.
Now she bounces back and forth
Up and down these roads
Even though she’s carrying
A mighty heavy load.
She crawls up the hills
And then flies back down.
She cries when she’s sad
But never keeps the frown.
She steams through
The poor lands,
Where I let her engine cool,
And races past the mansions
Cause she ain't no fool.
If you are lucky enough
To turn her key
She’ll purr like a kitten
And yearn to be set free.
She’s a little rusty
And she’s falling apart.
But she’s the only one
Who loves me when I fart.
Ya. She’s the
Resurrecting phoenix
And that’s what she’ll always be
She’s the Resurrecting phoenix
And she’s just like me.

   As she went through the process of making it road worthy, which is another story on its own, she stopped into a small meditation center. While she was there she was approached by a man as she stood at the information desk. He seemed interested in her. They talked about songwriting for a while. But Sharon wasn’t ready to think of a relationship. She collected her RV and headed for the Arizona desert.
    She'd only been in the desert's solitude for few days when he called her and asked if she'd meet him in Sky Valley, California to meet his friend, JP - the "movie producer" who may be able to help her get her songs out. Sharon decided her retreat could wait a bit longer, if there could be a chance for these contacts to help open doorways for her work. She couldn't remember the name of this guy, but he was thin and had medium length blondish hair and had a bit of a Keith Urban type of look.
   She met with him and JP and had a few good talks. It turned out that they belonged to some sort of spiritual group, which had unusual ideas about "mind vs. Heart." They seemed to think we should never listen to our hearts. But Sharon is a heart person and she stood strong in the sharing of her own wisdom on this subject.
   She decided to take JP up on his offer to park her RV on his land for a while. The man with no name headed for Hawaii and Sharon and JP fumbled with the prospect of singing together, although each time they tried he sent his voice booming over hers - drowning her out. It was a power struggle from the start - one that posed dangers that Sharon had not been aware of, although she'd had a dream, which forewarned her before she'd gone there.
   During her time there two Jehovah’s witnesses stopped to talk to her. (She still used the name, Namatari, at this time) And Sharon didn’t realize it, but those Jehovah’s witnesses seeing her there had saved her from a far worse experience. It appears that JP had to let her go since they were witnesses to her being at his house, although he had already drugged her once and had even started installing some sort chip into her body - a chip which he would have tried to use, in order to have some sort of control over her. Sounds crazy Ha? Well, I think most of us would be surprised by how much darkness remains completely hidden in our troubled world. This really happened.
   Sharon began sensing something off, especially after he'd shown her the hidden rooms he had in two of his houses, which had no windows and only beds in them. She quickly left JP's, drove into the desert and started an 11 day fast on February 8th, 2004.

   She hadn't planned on fasting this long. It just happened. In the first few days she did some crying - releasing of her pain. In the middle of her fast she did a lot of hiking through the canyons. In her last few days she spread her wings and sang with the birds - literally. She wrote a few new songs while singing them directly into the music program, which Joe Cook had installed on her laptop. One of them went like this. . .

I - 2- 3. . .like a bird I sing
Because you've given me
The most beautiful set of wings.
I'm so glad I'm here to day
'cause tomorrow I might
Have to fly away.
I'm down to my last dollar.
I've walked right through my shoes -
Just a small reminder
Of the hell I've been through.
But if I aint got nothing.
I've got nothing to lose.

No. Kenny Alphin is NOT the writer of this song. Sharon is. He added a couple lines to it. But the parts that are written here and the melody he used are what Sharon had sung into her laptop at this time. Anyone who says they heard this song before that is lying for Kenny and the money its bringing them. (Could Kenny really be Joe Cook or his son?)
   In this time Sharon had a dream about someone taking her work from her laptop. She'd even called Joe Cook and told him about it. His response was a cold, "well you can't blame anyone for taking what you don't lock away." But she didn't understand how it could even actually happen, since her computer had not been connected to the internet except for short periods of time through her own cell phone. Sharon is a bit illiterate when it comes to technology. She hadn't realized that Joe Cook had already invaded her computer and that JP had also.

 She also wrote this poem during this desert retreat. . .

By Sharon Rose Poet

There's joy in fasting….and quite a high
My wings sometimes spread beyond the sky
But is there reward, one that will stay,
Through tomorrow and all future days?

Oh yes! In my dreams. That's where it is.
Where all of my life, is only His.
Where my heart surrenders with elation,
And I become….. God's dedication.

There'll be no sacrifice for this. I'm sure.
It merely requires the opening of a door
And oh…. what will come! What will be
Only my Heart's imagination can see.

   Shortly after this fast she decided to write a bi-monthly publication about embracing feelings - a publication called "The Personal Journal", which could help her finish healing the pains she carried in her heart and also help other people do the same.
   When she did her 11 day fast she stopped her addiction to nicotine. It all felt great when she was alone in the desert alone. But being out around people made her uneasy and she started replacing her nicotine addiction with over eating.
   When she ran into two kind couples who were touring the country, she accepted their invitation to join them for a week or so. Sharon was never a drinker, but she started drinking with them and had fun riding their four wheelers over desert dunes and had even thought about joining them on a little jaunt to Mexico.
   They laughed when Sharon wanted to take her junky little RV. Theirs were like large busses - worth around $200,000 each. But she didn't care. Whether people did or didn't have money, and what their vehicles looked like, didn't matter to her. Its what was in their hearts that mattered. And she thought most people felt the same way.
   She never went to Mexico with them, because one of their wives started getting jealous of her. This was for the best, because her time with them was an unhealthy distraction from what she needed to do.
   She still held a lot of pain in her heart - still had a lot of healing work to do, and she was acting carelessly out of this wounded place. Part of her wanted to be more ‘normal’ - more like other people, so that she could be more loved and understood. But that kind of "normal" was not in the cards for her. She was being called by the Highest Powers, to be who she was. God had whispered in her ear, during this last fast, “It is time for you to take your place in the world.” And she was trying to do this through her plan to write The Personal Journal, but she was also fighting against it. She continued drinking. . .not much, but just enough to hold back the spiritual opening she was on the verge of - just enough to make her feel a bit numb. And she's so sensitive to alcohol that it didn't take much to do this - about one beer a day.

Substance induced happiness
Is merely a false imitation of the rest.

   In the spring of 2004 she headed to Michigan for her oldest daughter's graduation. (She was still having about one or two beers per day through this time.)
    She stopped in New Mexico to fix her truck, which had been overheating. While waiting for it, she met a homeless boy, whom she ended up spending a couple days with. She listened to his heart wrenching stories of how he ended up on the streets. Her experiences in those few days could write another whole book. But this poem sums it up.

By Sharon Rose Poet

My heart sinks at the memory
Of people rudely passing by,
On the streets where we talked
And humbly laughed and cried.

Through history the rich have stolen
From the struggling hands of the poor
Yet dare degrade the plea for help
from those who now have more.

Its a crazy backwards world
We strive to grow and live in
Where the coldest, heartless thieves
Are the ones who proudly win.

I look deep into our souls
And see that the wisest ones of all,
Are the ones who's humbled hearts
Find the courage to stand up tall.

Sharon was uptight about the Graduation, because she didn't know if members of her family of origin would be there and because Barry was sure to be there. She kept blocking her feelings with drinking and over eating. This is part of the song she wrote for her daughter's graduation.

For Dado
By Sharon Rose Poet

I'm picking up speed in highway 28
I need to hurry - can't be late.
Today is the day she graduates -
And I'm so proud of her
And oh how I love her
That funny little girl
With hair frizzed in curls,
Sometimes known as Dado...etc.

   She'd originally planned to visit her father after the graduation, until she had a dream, which showed ‘three large, dark snakes waiting for her in his yard.’ So she veered off and headed for Cape Cod, where she waited for an acquaintance David Z., who had invited her to Nantucket. But he did his usual 'no show' and she was left sitting in a campground. So she used the time to continue preparing The Personal Journal.
     While she was there she had a final conversation with her father. He still refused to believe her when she tried, again, to explain that the email or letter her sisters had shown him had NOT been written by her - that they were just trying to come between them. Her father launched into such a strong attack against her that she made a stand strong against him for the first time in her life. She'd already tried every kind of functional way to reach him. So she resorted to angrily saying, "YOUR A BLIND FOOL, DAD" before shutting off her phone.
   But, again, self doubt filled her mind. She asked herself out loud, "Am I really crazy? Am I just insane? If I'm not, WHY is my father doing this to me?" She fell asleep crying, that night, and praying for God to show her the Truth. She'd decided that if God showed her that she was insane and needed help she'd drive straight to a hospital and get it over with.
    She woke the next morning with the answer in her dreams. Shock gripped her as she wrote it into her journal.  This was during the time of the Michael Jackson trial. And Sharon's dream showed her father “living in Michael Jackson's house. . .and Sharon, as c child, trying to pull away from him. . .”

By Sharon Rose Poet

Do my scars dare
Reveal their depths to me
And let forbidden sorrow
Drip into the Sea?

    After she'd written down her dream, it hit her. "OH - MY - GOD!" She cried out loud as a flood of tears broke free. Dozens of puzzle pieces clicked into place as clarity seeped in to melt away her self doubt. She was not crazy. Her father wanted everyone to think she was, so they wouldn't believe her if she remembered and said anything about his own inappropriate sexual behaviors. The childhood experience, of him making her rub him when she was toddler, bothered her far less than the realization of her father trying to crush/destroy her, mentally, in order to cover his own foolish mistakes. His lack of care for her wellbeing cut deep into her heart. Oh how she cried. Her tears flowed for days, literally.

Oh Daddy
By Sharon Rose Poet

Why’d you do it and how can you
Tell those lies about me, just to cover your abuse?
Did I ever matter to you? Did you ever really care?
The way you blame me is horribly unfair!
Does my pain reach you? Do you ever stop to See?
Do you feel guilt or remorse for what you do to me?
Oh, Daddy, I wish I could just wash it all away -
But now I know why you say I’m “insane.”
It’s so they won’t believe me - to hide your shame.
Oh, Daddy, I wish I could, for a while, pretend
That you care for me - so you can be my friend.
I need a Dad to hold me, and to help me through.
I need a Dad to love me, as I face what you do!
I’m sorry, Daddy. I didn’t want to See.
But I had to save and heal what was left of me.
In the final judgment they’ll know, anyway.
God will not listen to the lies you say.
I’m sorry, Daddy. I’m sorry.

   As she stepped back and tried to put herself in his shoes, she realized that her own poetry had contained all sorts of hints about his behaviors and that he'd thought she had already remembered and had been intentionally tormenting him with it. A small part of her felt for him. But she had lost all respect and trust in him. She knew he had created his own misery through trying to hide his mistakes instead of facing them and taking steps to try to make things better. He had blown it by preventing his children from facing and healing their past and by trying to crush the one who needed to persist with her own healing process. Had he not taken this route, Sharon would have probably never remembered or said anything about it. But the years of mental abuse and other manipulations, which also hurt Sharon's children and siblings, made it all too horribly wrong to sweep it under the rug. This is the kind of stuff that destroys lives and drives healthy people insane. Its just too wrong.
   But Sharon didn't expose it or confront him with it. She felt scared of what her family might do to her. She didn't know if they could actually have her put in an institution or not. Truth is that Sharon HAD started to become a bit paranoid, because Vivian had been calling and leaving messages, in a sick sort of high pitched voice. "We just love you, and want to get you the help you need," she’d coon, trying to sound loving and caring, in case Sharon had anyone else listen to the message.
   The underlying intent in her sisters was to tear her down so they could feed their jealous hate and feel better than her. And her father's motives were to silence her or make it so that no one else believed her, in case she ever said anything about his past behaviors. The three of them - Vivian, Evelyn and her father formed a dark force that aimed to completely crush Sharon, mentally. And they had been gathering, through this time - aiming to finish their job when Sharon returned. They were the "three dark snakes" Sharon was warned of in her dream.

Silence Hurts
By Sharon Rose Poet

If saying what happened to me
Is doing something wrong to them
How can our wounded world
Ever heal again?

Silence hurts.

  Between Vivian's phone calls and her father trying to convince her she was cruel and insane, on top of realizing the truths behind her father's behaviors. . .Sharon was left feeling deeply shaken. She knew they would literally drive her to insanity if she let it continue. She changed her phone number and completely closed the door to all of them, one final time. And she started working at convincing herself that she was OK, although she felt tainted and ashamed and too deeply hurt to describe.

By Sharon Rose Poet

Though my past fell behind grace,
I dare my tears to feel and erase,
Then put a smile back on my face.


When this layer of tears subsided she was actually able to enjoy a bit of time by the sea, and she wrote this song for a steel drum teacher/player,

Dancing the Sand
By Sharon Rose Poet for Erik

Just a dancing the sand
On the Cape today
Letting the Sunshine
Chase the dark away

The road has been rough.
But there's a better day
It's time for me
To Jam, Dance and Play.

Got the wind in my hair
And the surf at my feet
Love in my heart. Oh ya.
I can feel the beat

Hear the sound of the wings
Of my feathered friends
Feel their Love in the songs
They joyfully send.

When I listen real close
The moan of the whale
Reaches my heart
As it lifts it's tail

My soul is a swaying
To a steel drum beat
With the sound of the surf
It's moving my feet

Just a dancing the sand
On the Cape today
Letting the sunshine
Chase the clouds away.

- Chapter 6 -

   Because she didn't feel safe being in the same corner of the country, her family lived in, she headed back down to the Nashville area to work on her publication, and accepted the invitation to rent a cabin from Treva and Henry - the parents of the secretary who had worked at Lyric Springs. 
   Treva and Henry were kind and supportive of Sharon's writing project. But they didn't think much of her having an occasional beer. They didn't know that this was out of character for Sharon. And they didn't know that the sage Sharon had burned in their cabin was NOT marijuana, although it smelt like it. They misjudged her. But most people would have thought the same things they did, if they didn't know Sharon.
   Prior to these few months of drinking, Sharon had judged people who drank. And through her experience with drinking she was gaining an understanding of how easy it was to numb the pain with alcohol when it felt like too much to handle. She was experiencing what she had previously judged.
   She completed a rough draft of the first issue of The Personal Journal while living in Treva and Henry's cabin. She got a charge out of the river she had to drive through, in order to get there. She felt proud of the way her little Resurrecting Phoenix made it through if she gunned it just before hitting the water - careful to not be going too fast while gaining enough speed to get through. There was an art to crossing the river onto "Green Acres", which Henry had taught to her.
   On the porch of this cabin sat a manikin, they'd named Douglas, who was involved in many comical stories, which Sharon loved listening to. Sharon teased them, saying she was going to steal Douglas so he could ride ‘shot gun’ in The Resurrecting Phoenix. Sharon wrote the following poem after Henry took the top half of Douglas up to his house for repairs.

Green Acres
By Sharon Rose Poet

Here at Green Acres, on top of the hill,
I soak in the peace…..and get my fill.
Talking to Douglas, who's only half there,
Waiting for answers, to see if he cares.

But Henry took away the half that talked
And I ended up with the part that walks.
I miss the rest of him. It doesn't seem fair.
But Henry needs time to do his repairs.

In case you've not guessed, Douglas isn't real
He's the manikin….. that I'm gonna steal.
He'll ride 'shot gun,' as I drive down the street,
And be quite content, in my passenger seat.

Soon I am sure, when the rest of him returns
There's something Treva and Henry will learn.
This mischievous side, that I hide from them all
Is plotting to steal their Douglas…..the doll.

   Treva and Henry were similar to the couple on the TV show, "Green Acres." They had even really named their little farm, "Green Acres". Sharon deeply enjoyed her time there.
   It was difficult for Sharon to embrace her writings, because, when she was on Cape Cod she realized that Joe Cook had gained access to her computer. After she saved a document, asking him to respect her privacy, he deleted all her files. Though she had back ups of it, and had most of it copyrighted, she became concerned that the thief may try to claim her writings and convince people that she'd not really written them. At this point she blamed only Joe Cook, because she hadn't known that JP had also done the same thing. But she bit their bullets and aimed to share her writings anyway. 
   Sharon stopped drinking as she wrote, and she often blamed her grief on the fire, because she was still unable to fully face the depths of the other losses, which surrounded it - the ones, which cut too deeply into her heart. . .the ones which involved Jim and her lost writings and her crushed dreams. Deep down inside she still felt lost and didn't know where to go.
Sharon moved from this cabin to New Hampshire, in order to get a place with her youngest daughter, who had finally decided to completely leave her relationship. After a bit of roaming they settled in Troy, New Hampshire. Her daughter went to work at a Keene bank and Sharon began her mission/business, although she felt uneasy about it, knowing that her sisters and father and the ones who had stolen her writings would surely be against the success of her work. But her uneasiness also came from other lifetimes.

By Sharon Rose Poet

Deep inside my heart I ask
Do I dare again succeed
In a world that tore me down
To feed a jealous greed?

The answer slowly rises
Like a tide within the Sea.
Yes, I will. I truly must
To save what's left of me.

I'll make a solid stand
With Love here by my side.
Let their jealous swards
Swing strong, far and wide.
Their greed can't penetrate
The power of The Light.

Then if it's not too late
I'll find courage in my heart
To take that final step,
And turn to send my Love
For those I'd rather forget.

By Sharon Rose Poet

Within the depths
Of my cave
I sang with Spirit,
For the winged ones
And the four legged.
I sang for the moon,
The sun,
The stars and
The Earth beings.
But the humans,
Ah, the humans,
These are the ones
Who silenced my voice
And broke my heart.
These are the ones
Who do not see.
These are the ones,
Who do not know Love.
And I became one of them,
One of the silent songs,
One of the strangled voices.
So, it is for them
I shall now sing.
That I
Not judge those
Who judged me.

The first brochure advertising The Personal Journal went out in November 2004. The response was so little that it scared Sharon. And an acquaintance, Margaret, had viciously lashed out against it with a jealousy that was akin to that of her sisters. It hit Sharon pretty hard, since she'd not expected this from Margaret Broughton. Through Margaret’s claws she lost something. But she squared her shoulders and pushed on - determined to give her all to this publication for at least one year.

Final Friend
By Sharon Rose Poet

One last betrayal from one last friend
One last farewell and this is the end.
A whole new book. A whole new life
It's time for me to end this strife.
It is happening, though a bit late,
Today is the day I graduate.
In leaving those who can not care,
I walk away from what's not there,
To turn and reach the new heights,
Through the dark - into the Light.
Where I will serve until the end,
And let God be my final friend.

   Sharon had never been so deeply in her heart with her writing as she was as she finished the first issue of The Personal Journal. Her sights were on the heart of humanity and her heart was in a quest to bring more Love into our world. With the profits she wanted to help prevent others from suffering in the ways she has - she wanted to create a safe place where people could go to heal their broken hearts.

   The Personal Journal was about embracing feelings of sadness. Though it started out with primarily her own writings, she'd hoped it would soon fill up with other people's stories and poems. She'd planned to use the profits from her work, in order to build at least one "Recovery Center/Healing Center", which would offer support and help to those of us who have suffered deep losses and needed a peaceful place and time to heal from them.  
    Everything she had deeply deeded and never had, she wanted to provide for others. Many thought it was a scam, because so many things like this are. But Sharon's mission was honest and real and straight from the depths of her heart.
   When she lost Jim and her house burned down, she wondered how many others go threw things like this and need a safe, supportive place to go to and time to regain their balance and figure out what to do next. When she sat in the desert crying and feeling too alone with her grief, she wondered how many other people suffered like this with no comforting family to turn to. When she realized what her father had been doing to her, in order to hide his own foolish mistakes, she wondered how many other people had been convinced that they are crazy in situations like this - how many minds/lives had been destroyed by such cruelty. As she was hit with one loss after another and had no one to turn to, she wondered how many other people were in need of someone who cares about how they feel.
   From the bottom of her heart she had wanted to help prevent needless suffering through helping other people who were in situations like hers. She wanted to offer others what she had deeply needed and never had for herself.
   She put more than everything she had left into her mission - running up nearly $30,000 on her credit cards and using up the rest of her savings. . .KNOWING that if she failed it would put her under. She gave it her all. She really did. Sharon took this leap of faith, in order to help bring more love and comfort into a world that desperately needs it. Sometimes it even seemed like a universal Light/Love was working through her to touch the heart of humanity. And anyone who had assumed or thought differently needs more of the Heart she was trying to bring out in us.

To live again
By Sharon Rose Poet

I let it all go
My everything
Just to heal…
To live again.
I open my heart
To the Light
For deliverance
From the night.
I do it for you
And for me,
So that our future
Can be.
Here I am
On bended knees
Holding out my hand,
If you please?
What your heart
Gives, through me,
Can help all of humanity.

   Sharon had felt so sure that, because she had such genuinely good intentions, she would succeed. She was filled with confidence and excitement as she began this publication, even though, from the start, there were people fighting against her. Her family didn't know about it. She was using her pen name. But it seemed like shadows were coming out of the rest of the world to take their place. She could feel their negativity even when it wasn't blatantly obvious. Sometimes Sharon is almost too kinesthetic - too sensitive to the thoughts and feelings in others. But she struggled to not let them bring her down too far. She often focused on protection through visualizing herself being surrounded by pure white Light.
   Sharon continuously offered a place for people to release/share their sadness in The Personal Journal. But not many dared send in their own writings. The few who did were the brave souls Sharon deeply appreciated.
   By the time she'd put out the third issue she was being bombarded by people's resentments and jealousies. Some sort of occult was forming against her work. And some of the members were connected to the local media.
   Cami Jack, had delayed and postponed a press release for The Personal Journals, which she had written in a way that did it absolutely no justice and had even implied that her work was selfish. Jeanne Sable, an acquaintance of Cami's, had tried to rope her into a group she belonged to. Both Cami and Jeanne had pretended to want to help edit The Personal Journals so they could find out what Sharon was going to print in upcoming issues. It is possible that they were invading her home and new computer when they lured her out to meet them as they proof read a couple issues of The Personal Journal. (Jeanne was also a friend of, Donna - the chief editor of the Keene Sentinel.)
   The Keene Sentinel had refused to run the story about Sharon’s work, which Peter Cleary- a young writer, had tried to pick up on. Problems had even started popping up in the Troy post office Sharon used. A dark conspiracy was forming against her. But Sharon didn't realize it, at this point.

   Overall, the publication was off to a good steady start, although it was a bit slow due to a lack of marketing funds. Sharon was handling every aspect of it on her own. And it was too much for her. She had hoped that some of her associations would join her efforts. Unfortunately they were the ones who seemed to let resentment build instead of support. But new subscriptions were filtering in. And there were other people who appreciated what Sharon was doing. Her publication was beginning to take off.
   In the first couple weeks of June Vivian slandered Sharon by telling the public she was "evil" and insane on a news blog site called, parmedia.com, under an article Sharon had written about a flood forewarning, which was based on prophetic dreams she'd had. The site manager removed Vivian’s statement because it was such an obvious slander, but it had already been there for about two weeks before Sharon had noticed it and made the request for it to be removed.
    Sharon's work was unusual enough to raise questions in people's minds, on its own. So, a declaration of insanity and of her being "evil", from her own family of origin, to people who did not know Sharon or the hateful jealousy Vivian often dug into her with, steered it into a hopeless situation.
    As new subscriptions stopped coming in, her hope for success dimmed and Sharon started faltering within herself. Her defenses went up. And her ego began kicked into it a bit too much. It was basically over. But Sharon refused to give up. She continued with her credit cards and hoped for a miracle that never came.
    As she continued to have dreams about a severe flood disaster, which was to hit New Hampshire, she began making posters, which forewarned of this. She hung them in and around Keene, NH, and had contacted the local news papers and police department. She knew they all thought she was crazy. But she did it anyway, because she knew she’d not be able to live with herself if she said nothing about it. Her ego had come into this, at times. But, most of the time, she was coming from a place of deep concern for the people who lived in harm’s way.
   However, the more she forewarned of floods, the more people drove against her. They tore down her posters and even began removing her advertisements for The Personal Journal. After a couple months of this, she completely stopped the forewarnings. People obviously did not want to be forewarned and she decided to respect their wishes. But she felt like she had to do something about the floods. So, in august 2005, she began training with the Red Cross and became a member of the local “Disaster Action Team.”
   Sharon grew more and more uncomfortable living in Troy, NH. She started planning a move to a place where she hoped to be less harassed and more welcomed. Though she often hiked Gap Mountain, she also yearned to move to more of a country setting.

Gap Mountain
by Sharon Rose Poet

I aimed straight and strong to reach the top
Where sweet berries grew their crop
And a strong bolder facing East
Bore my weight as I savored the feast.

My eyes searched for a friendly bear.
But none could be found up there.
The only beings who invaded the space
Were us remnants of the human race.

I reached into the core of the Gap
To taste our cold and bitter sap
And dared release a primitive cry
To send a prayer into the sky.

Free I was and free I’ll be,
No matter what they think of me.
But before I set my mind to go,
I’ll pack away what they don’t know.

I tried. . .failed. . .and stood alone.
I couldn’t make this place my Home.
But someone, in a future year,
May pause to feel my lonely tear

Or care to hear this reluctant sigh
I drop as I walk Gap Mountain by.

   As she considered Alstead as a place to move to, she began having more intense dreams of flooding. But she’d assumed they were just part of the first ones she’d had. She went against her instincts and made the move anyway, primarily because her landlord said she'd already rented the apartment she was preparing to leave.
  She felt uncomfortable in the Alstead house where she and her daughter shared the second floor. She began to wonder if the flood dream she’d had about a road becoming a river was about this road she had moved next to, because she had another similar dream right after moving in. When she told the landlord about her concerns, he brushed it off and even tried to convince her that such forewarnings couldn’t really happen in dreams. She foolishly let self doubt in, even though she knew he was wrong. She still sensed danger there. But she projected it onto her discomfort with her landlord who lived on the first floor and shared the same bathroom and kitchen.
    She and her daughter soon looked at another rental in East Alstead. Sharon wanted to rent it, even though they couldn’t afford it. Sharon tried convincing her daughter to make the move, because she felt that it could work out if they rented the extra rooms to people who needed an inexpensive place to live. Sharon had a dream/vision of this happening - of people coming to use the extra rooms in this big house on the hill.
   But before the final decision was made, Katrina had hit New Orleans, Rita was on her way and Sharon was called into active duty with the Red Cross. She had mixed feelings about leaving her daughter in Alstead. But she decided to go when her daughter said she wanted to move to her father’s home. Since she felt uncomfortable with her landlord and the possibility of flooding she decided to just move her belongings into a storage bin, while she was working in the shelters in the South. She figured that, if no flood happened while she was gone, she could either move back in or rent the East Alstead house. But she still thought she was crazy to be concerned about the flooding in Alstead. Even her daughter had gotten angry with her for just mentioning the possibility of it. Walls were set up all around her forewarnings.
   Sharon flew to Texas with the Red Cross and worked in a couple different shelters. She loved helping these people, especially the elderly, the children and their pets. In the first shelter, just outside of Austin, TX, she launched into an animal rescue mission as she soothed the tears of people who were becoming worried about the pets they'd left behind without enough food and water, due to not being allowed to return home as quickly as had been expected. Sharon/Namatari ran up an unbelievably high phone bill, because the Red Cross would not allow her to use their phones to call the local Animal Rescue Leagues to help the flood victims who were left helpless.
   Sharon was appalled with the ways the core of the Red Cross - the ones who ran it, seemed to look down upon and had openly degraded poor people. Their control tactics and disregard for the victims real needs left Sharon actually feeling ashamed of being part of such an organization. Sharon fought hard to get people the help they needed, often spending her own money to do so. She spoke out about the ways people were being treated - trying to help local Red Cross managers realize that the people in the shelters were human beings not the enemy soldiers or worthless animals they were often treated like.
   Though there were many wonderful volunteers who were in their hearts, there were too many who were in it to control others. The management often instilled fear of the poor into the volunteers they trained. The result was too much chaos and heartlessness to be very comforting or healing for those who were in need of the kind of help that only respect, kindness and compassion could deliver.
   Sharon put some of the flood victims in touch with a local Quaker church that cared to help fill their actual needs. And she wrote an article about her Red Cross experience, which was printed in a news paper near the Texas, Louisiana border, in the town of the last shelter she worked in.
   At the end of three, nearly sleepless weeks of working for the Red Cross Sharon was beyond exhaustion. She was in deep need of rest when she was hit with the news of a severe flash flood crashing through the Alstead neighborhood she had just moved to. She rushed back to NH, but found the motels filled. Her own Red Cross chapter refused to help her with a place to stay. They didn't even return her calls to inquire about where a local shelter was located.

This is the story she wrote about her experiences around the Alstead flood.

The Loon
By Sharon Rose Poet

As winter invades this freezing shore,
It’s surface challenges the warmth in my core.
But I can still hear it, through the frosty mist,
Calling for me to release my pain.
So subtle, so soft, yet insistent and clear -
The loon. . .crying. . .in the rain.

 When I heard about the Alstead flood wiping out the neighborhood I'd lived in, I rushed back to NH, after nearly three exhausting weeks of volunteer work for the Katrina and Rita victims. But I had no place to live, when I got back. And in my exhaustion I numbly followed when Jeanne Sable, pushed for me to bring my water-logged RV to her home, in Fitzwilliam, NH. Though I’d only met this woman a couple times, I had no reason to distrust her or her husband, Charlie and I was too exhausted to even think straight, anyway. I parked my truck in their yard, where they boxed it in with their cars, covered it with a tarp and ran an extension cord from their house for my heater.
   Although Jeanne's obsessive focus on me, did seem a bit strange, even for a journalist, I didn’t suspect a thing, as she grew agitated by my insistence on continuing to sleep in my camper instead of on their couch. I didn’t suspect a thing when she got agitated with me for not going along with her as she pushed for me to pretend to be a client for her friend to have a photographed “yoga therapy” session, although I did find it odd that she'd even suggest such a thing at a time like that. I didn’t suspect a thing as she never followed through on writing a supportive story for the Keene Sentinel, as she kept saying she was doing. I didn’t suspect a thing when she and her husband constantly pressured me, planned out my days and prevented me from returning to Alstead or going anywhere without them. I didn’t suspect a thing, when I felt numb and began losing track of time and days. (I’d thought it was just the state of shock I was in) And I didn’t suspect a thing when Jeanne and Charlie made my tea, on one of my final evenings there, even though they hadn’t done this on previous evenings.
   But I KNEW that SOMETHING horrible had happened to me when I woke the next morning and felt so much pain in my body that I could not fully sit down for a few hours. . .and could not remember walking from their house to my RV in the previous night. . .and noticed that the chain on my door was left unlocked, even though I’d ALWAYS kept it locked.  "NO!" I said to myself, "THIS DID NOT HAPPEN! I CAN'T HANDLE MORE!" And I wiped it out of my mind. I'd already felt completely overwhelmed, before this. I felt like I was about to completely crumble. Their distractions to keep me from going to a hospital worked, because, at this point, I was pretty close to dead. But I was alive enough to pull away from them.
   I found my way back to Alstead, feeling like I’d been shattered into a hundred pieces. I went to Timmy and Sally’s memorial service directly after my first drive through what was left of the neighborhood I’d lived in. The town looked like it had been literally blown up! It was like driving through a war zone! It looked the way I felt - all torn up and turned inside out. And I completely fell apart at the memorial service, because I foolishly blamed myself.
   Though I hate public speaking, I actually stood up before a large crowd of people and the channel nine TV cameras, and apologized for not sharing my flood forewarning directly with more of them...etc. For weeks, I stumbled in circles, in shocked confusion. . .trying to start a support group and donating hundreds of booklets - struggling to do what I could to help Alstead get back up on it’s feet while I desperately needed someone to help me get back up onto mine. I wasn’t successful at doing anything to help people during these weeks after the floods. As I continued to crumble on the inside. I kept shoving the rape and my own pain aside, but it was still there. . .tearing away at me.
Shortly after this my truck broke down and I had to fly to California and pick up my car. Since I had no home, I lived for the rest of the winter in my car.
Nearly a year later, I began to face it. I finally went to press charges and spoke to Chief Bruce Newton, at the Fitzwilliam Police Department, on January 28 2007. (I’d previously spoken to an Officer named Sean in the fall of 2006)
I’m not sure what was going on with the chief, as he repeatedly expressed sorrow for Charlie Sable, due to his recently being diagnosed with cancer. And he seemed to think that a rape, which was done while a person was drugged, should not have had much of an effect. He said things like, “This is very common. It happens to a lot of people.” and “But you didn’t physically feel or directly experience any of it while it was happening?”, as if I shouldn’t have an issue with it - as if it were all ok since they drugged me before raping me! I walked away thinking that he either did not believe me or that he condoned, and perhaps even takes part in, such behavior.  Ironically, a front tire on my car suddenly went completely flat while it sat in the police station parking lot! And in the weeks following my statement, the Fitzwilliam police department did not return my phone calls. A month or two later, I sent letters to the Sables as well as the police department. . .confronting them about their behaviors. They never responded.
   I could easily let this go and remained completely silent, as most people do in situations like this, but I still feel like I have to do something because it was shown to me, in the answer to a prayer, that. . .”Jeanne Sable has drugged and raped many people; that BOTH she and her husband had even drugged and raped her own son; that they may be part of a larger group/occult that does this sort of thing on a regular basis; that Jeannie was also trying to get perverted pictures of me...so that she could slander me if I were to ever succeed with my writing. It appears that, since Jeanne's attempts to get me to voluntarily pose with her friend the “yoga therapist” had failed, she resorted to knocking me out in order to get the types of pictures she wanted...!!!!”
It was the pushy writer and the clown, living with snakes,
Who vacuum up the evidence of their secret rapes.
|They serve poison at their pretentious table
Behind secret shades of the darkest Sable.

STILL...just the thought of them undressing me or touching me in any way, literally makes me feel sick to my stomach!!! I feel like they’d stolen a part of me. . .a part that I needed back!
   To say that I feel violated puts it far too mildly. Chief Newton was very wrong to insinuate that being drugged makes it OK. In some ways this makes it feel worse to me. I DIDN’T EVEN HAVE A CHANCE TO DEFEND MYSELF OR FIGHT THEM OFF!!! This was just way TOO horribly wrong!!!  Sexuality was sacred to me! I didn't want to be having sex with anyone, and certainly never against my will!!! I feel hurt and violated beyond words!
   Even though this is incredibly difficult to share, I feel that I must write about it. I pray that my experiences help others to be more careful as natural disasters continue to happen more frequently. Though there are many genuinely kind people who want to help others during times of crisis, unfortunately there are also some horrifically wounded people who do not have good intentions. Please beware.

   It is more than likely that Jeanne had been drugging Sharon throughout most of her stay there and that her husband ended up using the opportunity to rape her, anally. It appears that Jeanne had also invaded her truck and laptops as well as her phone, and had erased some of Sharon's phone messages through that time and in the following months.
    If there had been any support for Sharon, she didn't get it. None of the news paper articles, which were written about her were accurate or supportive of her work or her experience with the floods. (And there is a good chance that these people had also changed parts of the Personal Journals, which were printed since the summer of 2005 when Jeanne Sable and Cami Jack lured her out to meetings where they pretended to be just wanting to help edit her work and especially after they completely invaded her life in October 2005.)
   The group that targeted Sharon formed a formidable force. She was being almost steadily attacked on spiritual levels as well as being physically stalked, and her strength was running out. Her experience at the Sable's, on top of her grief for the deaths of her neighbors and the failure of her mission/business. . .not to mention being left homeless at a time when she had already been in a deep state of exhaustion, had been too much for her to handle on her own. She nearly completely crumbled in the following year.

   The Personal Journal had reached out, from the depths of Sharon’s heart, to touch the heart of humanity, and had failed to be continued, due to a lack of support and interest in humanity. This broke Sharon's heart more than any other loss or pain she’d had to endure through this time.

By Sharon Rose Poet

As Monadnock peaks through a shifting mist
I wonder how long I can survive all this.

The waking in the middle of long cold nights
To start my car and bring in the Light.

The disappointed reaching for an old friend
Who’s weary Heart has no hand to lend.

The not knowing where to go
Through days that move too fast or slow.

The hardships of my homeless plight
And torments of this ‘gift’ of sight.

The tear filled hours of begging God
To help me navigate this road I’m on. . .

I turn my eyes back to the peak
Now hiding from these tears I speak.

But Love whispers like a hesitant kiss,
As it reaches through the mist.

   After escaping the Sable’s Sharon went to a cabin in East Alstead, which was being offered to flood victims. But the owners judged and misunderstood her after reading the article the Keene Sentinel printed about her.  She couldn't return to the neighborhood, which had been destroyed and she didn't have the money to follow through on the rental of the other house, on her own.  So, she used her credit card to rent a motel room in Vermont and ended up remodeling one of the motel rooms in exchange for more time there. But then her truck broke down and she had to fly to California and get her car. This was in January 2006. She stayed in the Arizona desert and lived in her car for the rest of that winter.

   As Sharon drove back to New Hampshire she had a dream, which showed her that she needed to go see her Aunt Francis before she passed on. But she was scared of running out of her credit card money before setting herself up with something to live in. By this time she was using advances from her credit card in order to pay her credit card payments. And this couldn’t continue for long. So she returned to New Hampshire to fix her truck.
   She had it towed to an Alstead garage, which had set up a temporary shop after being completely wiped out by the flood, because she wanted to give the flood victims her business, rather than anyone else.
   This garage had been just a couple blocks from where she'd lived. Chris, a mechanic at the garage, said her truck needed another engine and it would cost $1,600 to replace it with one from his friend's truck. This was using up the rest of what she had on her credit card, but her truck was all she had left to live in until she was able to pull her life back together. Although it had no stove, frig or running water, leaked like crazy and was moldy, it was all she had left.

The Resurrecting Phoenix
By Sharon Rose Poet

The resurrecting Phoenix
Keeps rolling down the road
Even though it's carrying
A mighty heavy load.
It bares my tears,
My prayers and fears. . .

   When Chris charged her card, he took part of the $1600 through the garage and the rest of it through his friend at another business in town. Sharon didn't think much of it, because he'd said it was because they were not fully set up for credit cards due to the floods. But it appears that the engine was never replaced and had just been mickied to run a little longer and it looked like Chris was trying to hide the amount he charged her from the garage owner. It is possible that Chris had not realized that Sharon had also been a flood victim, (in her own unique way), because her truck still had Arizona plates on it. (I don't list the name of the garage, because the owner of it is a good, honest man.)
   Sharon drove away with almost no money left and a truck that was sure to destruct soon. But she didn't know it, although it still wasn't running right. She drove away glad to have something more than her car to sleep in. But she didn't know where to go or what to do next. She'd put out the last issue of The Personal Journal - had completed the full year she'd committed to. . .and felt lost without being able to continue it and having no place to live.  
   Shortly after this she found out that her Aunt Francis had died. This Aunt was her only family member who had found the courage to speak out against the family’s abuses. And Sharon deeply regretted not going to see her. They could have validated each other in ways that would have been good for both of them.

Aunt Francis
By Sharon Rose Poet

I’d longed
To talk to you
And share stories
Of what we’d been through -
To take that step
We hadn’t dared to yet.
Tears flood my eyes
As she says
You have died.
But perhaps
In time,
Our conversation
Can still be mine.

     Sharon suddenly started having dreams about going to "New York" and about David Garlock - a man who had posed as a yoga therapist in the Concord New Hampshire Yoga Center she'd attended in the early 1990s. She wasn't sure why she was being lead to his home town, Alexandria Bay, New York. She hoped it would be a place to go for help. But this was not the case.
   It turns out that David Garlock had been one of the people who drove against her, on spiritual levels and she was being lead there to be shown this. The area he lived in contained the center for some sort of dark, satanic occult. David had lured her there and then closed doors on her - leaving her stranded and homeless in an area where she was heavily stalked and even nearly killed on one occasion.
   Sharon had literally spent her last few dollars going to Alexandria, Bay New York. She was stranded there, and surrounded by members of a dark, satanic occult. She wondered if David was the leader of it.

Margaret Street
by Sharon Rose Poet

Here I am
In the middle of a city
Livin in something
That sure ain't pretty.
A tarp on the roof
And flowers on the hood-
No, it isn’t very much
But I did the best I could.
Oh, how they gossip -
Assuming what they don’t know!
And I just keep on looking
For Heart that doesn’t show.
Many turn up a nose.
Some just sneer on by.
And I keep squaring my shoulders.
But, when they laugh, I cry.

   Sharon went to a campground and found some work through the owner, who eventually offered her a small part time job in exchange for a place to live in an old vacant house he was fixing up in Clayton, New York. She worked and lived there through most of the 2006/2007 winter.
   While she was there she deeply struggled on every level. It turns out that this man was also associated with David Garlock. While she was there, they invaded her computer, through his internet connection, and appear to be the ones who took over her email address for The Personal Journal, which was "thepersonaljournal@hotmail.com". And they hit her hard with large doses of negative energy. She had a hard time holding up against it on top of all else she had to deal with.

   At one point she was in the kitchen of this Clayton house when the words, "Turn the radio on” kept echoing in her head. She started singing the words. And then she suddenly stopped and asked herself out loud, "Why am I singing this?" In slow, confused motion she walked into the living room and turned the radio on. A song rose through the speakers that deeply touched her heart and literally brought her to her knees. It went like this,

"I'm down to my last dollar. I've walked right through my shoes.
Just a small reminder of the hell I've gone through.
But look at me still smiling, 'cause I'm wondering what I'll do.
If I aint got nothing I've got nothing left to lose. . .
1-2-3 like a bird I sing, 'cause You've given me the most beautiful wings.
I'm so glad I'm here today, 'cause tomorrow I might have to go and fly away."

   Not only had she needed to receive this message at this time, but there was also something else about the song, which haunted her. After she found out who sang it and got the CD from her daughter, she listened to it more closely and it came to her, the memory of singing those words in the desert during her retreat in February 2004. Her song had been stolen and was now making millions of dollars for the thieves. After the shock of it settled in, a part of her felt glad it was out there, but she also felt sad and angry that it was earning money for people who did not deserve it, while she was there suffering and deeply needing help. This felt as horribly wrong as it was/is.
   Sharon was being hit from all directions. She was under an enormously strong spiritual attack, possibly from more than one group of people, IF David’s group was not connected to the one in the Keene area.
   As she sat in that flea ridden Clayton house she began dieing, on every level. She forgot to continue her spiritual practice of praying and surrounding herself with white Light. She got almost no exercise and was eating all sorts of junk foods, which was not like her at all. Her body was covered with flea bites, even though she had treated the house more than twice. At one point she had suddenly gotten two open sores on her body - one on her upper arm and one in the middle of her back, and had no idea how they had happened.
   When she started having severe head aches, slurred speech and was losing her depth perception, she drove herself to a hospital. The doctor in this hospital was more open minded and helpful than any she'd known. She helped Sharon even though she didn't have medical insurance. She kept an open mind when Sharon explained her symptoms, and told her that she'd had a dream about Lupus. Sharon had no idea what Lupus was. But she trusted her dream. The doctor gave her the benefit of her doubt and ordered a few tests, which confirmed the advanced stages of an autoimmune disorder. She referred Sharon to another doctor who ran a bunch of tests. Through the process of elimination, the conclusion became, Lupus.
   They referred Sharon to a specialist in Syracuse, NY, but she refused further medical treatment. She knew what she was up against, and that it extended beyond this physical level. She decided that God would either help heal her or take her Home, and either way was Ok with her, at this point.

By Sharon Rose Poet

Chemo? No!
Steroids? No!
The only help I need
Is for those who harm
To let Love plant it’s seed.

She held out until Christmas, so she could see her daughters who were spending their first Christmas day with her since the early 1990's. It took about all she had in her to act like she was OK, while her daughter's were visiting. She felt bad that she couldn't buy them much for gifts. So she wrote this poem for them.

Poor Christmas
By Sharon Rose Poet

I hope this lack of gifts under my poor tree
Doesn’t make you feel less loved by me.

Where money has failed to do its part
The gap is filled with my Heart.

Please remember what we’ve heard before,
Because it can be true that, “less is more”.

In the following months, Sharon almost finished giving up on her own life. She got so caught up in the misery of her losses and present situation that it opened doors for the darkness to close in on her. She was fading fast.

Too Tired
By Sharon Rose Poet

Too tired to try - alone. Too tired to cry - alone
Too tired to feel - alone. Too tired to heal - alone
Too tired to See - alone. Too tired to be - alone
Too tired. Just. . .too tired. Oh dear God,
Where are you? Are you tired too?

   She began to come back to life when her oldest daughter called, crying and explaining that her grandfather - (Sharon's father) had just called her and tried to convince her that Sharon was insane. her daughter had stood up against him and he had gotten angry and hung up on her. 
   Sharon consoled her daughter as anger brewed from deep inside her. She had no idea what had triggered this round of abuse from her family of origin, because she’d had no contact with them. And she didn't care to try to figure it out this time. She just knew it had to stop.
   After she got off the phone with her daughter, she called her father and screamed like she'd never screamed before. If he'd been in front of her she'd have probably struck him. She was so fed up with his abusive behaviors, which even lashed out to hurt her daughter's, that she just couldn't take anymore. She started out with, "April just called me. She's crying," and then she cut lose like she'd never cut lose before, "AND I'M CALLING TO TELL YOU TO LEAVE MY DAUGHTERS ALONE! YOU HAVE ALREADY HURT US ENOUGH! AND YOU ARE A FOOL IF THINK YOU CAN CONVINCE THEM THAT I AM INSANE JUST TO COVER YOUR OWN SEXUAL ABUSE..." And that did it. She had not ever mentioned the sexual abuse to him before this - she had not confronted him until now. She hadn't mentioned it to anyone. This was it. It was finally out. And her father flew into a rage that began calling her obscene names as she hung up on him. Sharon was shaken to the core by the intensity of her own anger and the part of his back lash, which said, "why you filthy _____, _____, bitch...etc." She'd never heard her father talk that way. And she'd never been talked to that way.
   Her hands shook and her knees went so week she had to sit down. But then she stewed for hours about how much more she wanted to say to her father. She even tried calling him again, but she couldn't get a word in past his yelling. The truth was out. And it was a good thing she was a few hundred miles from him, for both their sakes. Sharon hadn't heard from him since the spring of 2004. By this time she had even shoved aside Vivian's slander. This attack seemed to come out of nowhere. And it struck hard, on top of everything else she had to deal with.
   Sharon thought about it and decided that her father would probably only stop once the truth was fully out - and his worse fears had come to life. So, she openly exposing the whole situation and asked people to help pray for the abuse to stop, on her web site, which was www.namatari.com at that time. 

   Sharon reached for rays of hope as she began to make a stand against the injustices, which had been hitting her so hard that she’d actually started losing her will to live in this world. In her quest to heal she was shown forces, which were draining energy from her body. . .and the pieces to a shocking puzzle began clicking together. .

Point of Entry
by Sharon Rose Poet

At this point of entry,
Where darkened waves grow,
The Light shines strong
For a safe way to go.

  Sharon began realizing why Lupus started out being most common in women and in the Native American culture. Though this may sound a bit difficult to swallow, please keep an open mind for the sake of those whom it can help.
   A Navaho man had once shared with Sharon that some of the men in his culture use dark spiritual practices, in efforts to control and manipulate their women. This, coupled with her dreams and several experiences and insights, left Sharon with the wisdom of knowing that these types of intrusive spiritual practices were actually making people physically ill and sometimes even killing them - that these types of intrusive spiritual practices are the root cause of certain types of physical illnesses like Lupus and Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. . .and are now weaving their way into the rest of our world through 'spiritual' men’s groups, which is why Lupus is beginning to appear in increasing numbers of white women and even in a few men.
  Sharon realized that the darkness or demonic intrusions, which are sometimes sensed or seen by Systemic Lupus patients is actually really happening to them when they are under a heavy spiritual attack. . .and that if they were being taught how to protect themselves they could actually heal from it. Humanity's spiritual ignorance is NOT helping this situation!
   Sharon had several dreams which showed her that David Garlock was sending demonic creatures to attack her on spiritual levels. These were not just dreams or fears. Sharon was being shown what was happening to her and other people who are being targeted by men like David who were in these sorts of dark occults.
   Hard to swallow isn't it? I know it is. It was for Sharon too. BUT, if we don't swallow it and start doing something to protect ourselves from it, it will continue to harm more and more people.

   In order to protect and heal ourselves, from these sorts of spiritual attacks, we need to consistently imagine/visualize our bodies being surrounded by and filled with pure white Light and pray for protection from the Highest Powers. The more we practice this, and the more focus we put into it, the better we get at it. This may not work immediately. But if we stick with it its sure to help, if not completely cure the problem.

    Sharon had first started becoming ill after reconnecting with David Garlock in 2002. Her illness worsened in summer of 2005, after she'd started The Personal Journal. David was on the mailing list for her publications and this let him know where she was, which would have enabled him to strengthen his attacks on all levels.
    When Sharon called David's old partner, Mary - Sharon's previous yoga teacher, her findings were deeply validated. But Mary had grown so scared of David that she begged Sharon to not mention her to him and then to not ever let people know this sort of darkness was connected with the Concord Yoga Center. Mary had been tormented by the same symptoms as Sharon. . .the basic symptoms of Chronic Fatigue Syndrome and Lupus. . .but with sudden weight gain rather than weight loss. My guess is that most of the women who had been connected with David in the 1990s have similar symptoms.
    David Garlock had also been heavily involved in the "Sterling Men's Group" and seems to have connections in the US government - even with a previous president of United States.

By Sharon Rose Poet

I hadn’t known it was you
Who tore my world in two.

You stab my dreams and let them bleed!
You try to drown my grandest seed!

You send your dark into my night!
And I must bring it to the Light.

Oh listen here to this song.
You’ve been a warlock for too long.

I begged you - begged you, please!
Stop tearing me. . .down on my knees.

But did you listen? oh, oh, oh, no.
And now it’s time for all to know.

   This is horribly dangerous stuff, which is not being prevented, because of our lack of awareness and our disbelief in the fact that there Truly are forces beyond our physical world, which can seriously effect us on physical levels. . .and that they can be either helpful or harmful. We can actually be physically  harmed  by the a heavy focus on us by  people who have ill intentions.  Please help spread the word about this, even if you don’t completely believe it. It could save people’s lives. And remember that,

Just because YOU don’t see it, doesn’t mean its not there!

 It looks like Sharon has had a few different groups targeting her, as well as several individuals who may be a part of these groups, if they are not all just one large occult, which has various chapters in different parts of the country. It’s a miracle that she has been able to survive these attacks on her own. She has a lot of spiritual protection. Her sharing this information may deliver worse to her door. But the Truth needs to be told, for all our sakes.

   While Sharon was in Clayton, she met with John Slade a man who had been focused on her since "Embracing Feelings" was publicly shared in Woodgate, New York. He had asked her to meet him in Turin to see the Wind Turbines he was writing a book about. They met and walked through a field of turbines. While John's disgust over her weight gain grew, her sights were on the sky and the speck of blue she saw peeking through the dark clouds. She took a picture of this section of sky and made note of the words that came to her as she gazed at it,

By Sharon Rose Poet

They shine though dark clouds
In clear tones of blue -
These glowing rays of hope
That strive to help me through.

She'd hoped John could help her, but this was not going to happen. She even found herself wondering if he was also connected to the occult. After her walk with John Sharon began working harder at pulling in the Light and was slowly coming back to life.

Wind Turbines
by Sharon Rose Poet

They paint a mysterious song,
Each feather reaching for the wind.
So secure, so safe, so strong,
Like all I yearn to be
Inside this lonely speck
I dare to see as, Me.
Perhaps the day shall come,
When time and Earth are one,
I'll spread my tattered wings
Into the rising sun
And let my feathers spin
Around what's not begun;
Like these turbines they set free
To help our dyeing world
Heal and grow and See.

    As Sharon struggled to protect herself from the spiritual forces that targeted her she also faced deeper levels of other things that had broken her heart.
   She felt like a failure as a parent, due to bringing her children into a loveless marriage and not protecting them from her sisters, her father and Myrl...etc. She felt terrible about not being there for them, in the ways they needed her, through the past few years of her own struggles.
    The failure of The Personal Journal had cut deep gashes into her faith, not to mention the painful events that circled its ending. There were times when an angry bitterness crept into her. She had put her all into helping others and there was still noone who cared to help her.
   It was difficult for her to be struggling so much while the thieves of her songs were living on easy street.
   The present situation with her father also cut deeply into her, because no matter what he had done in her youth, and no matter what he had been doing to crush her in his efforts to keep it hidden, she still loved him and had hoped for a reconcilable ending. But this was looking impossible, at this point. She was facing the fact that she would never have her family back. A door was closing.
  Though she remained in a state of despair there were times when she let herself cry out some of her pain. On one of those mornings, after crying herself to sleep, she woke with a dream of Jim climbing into bed with her, pulling her into his arms and saying, "Everything will be Ok." This felt real to her. Actually, it was real. Jim's spirit had come to comfort her, and the tears that poured from her, as he held her, were filled with love for him. This was exactly what she'd needed. "Thank you, Jim," she whispered through her tears.

By Sharon Rose Poet

I longed to build a home
In the grove of birch trees
Where the ferns grew wild
On the land you showed me.

My heart secretly longed
For you…..there by the Sea,
When I lingered on the shore
Of the mystical Bay of Fundy

Deep inside I feel certain
That we'd met before we met
That our souls had been entwined
Though our bodies hadn't yet.

It seems strange to miss you so -
To miss what might have been
And cry for lost good-byes
My sweet Berwick man.

Sharon decided that she couldn't finish healing, while remaining so close to and surrounded by the A Bay occult. So she borrowed money from Bob - an elderly man she'd known for a few years. Although she didn't feel very close to him, she let him loan her $5,000, because she had no one else to turn to. Then she packed up and headed for the coast of Southern Maine, near Nubble Light, where she rented a cabin in York Beach. But she wrote this song before leaving New York,

By Sharon Rose Poet

I’ve been sitting here too long...just a dragging my feet
And it’s time for me to move on, ‘cause I’m feeling the beat.
I’d yearned to climb that stage and rock the radio.
But I’m still hiding - too scared to own my show.
And it’s time for me to stand up - turn my self back on.
Time for me to step out and sing my saddest songs.
There’s a welcoming road, to places I wanna go
There are people who’ll be kind to me. That’s where I need to be.
No. I don’t know how to do this. I have no money or jewels.
But I have my Heart - and that’s all I need for fuel.
It’s time for me to let my Soul sing out my songs
Time for me to stand up. Been sitting here too long.
And I’d better stop and write this one down
'Cause it’s gonna be a big hit when I take it into town.
Finally getting into my life - seeing what I need to see
Finally getting into my Heart - being all I can be
Gonna set my Soul free. Finally getting into me.

   During her six weeks on the Atlantic coast, she deepened her spiritual practice of protecting herself with Light. She walked at least a mile every day, which was a lot, since her joints hurt so much it was difficult to even walk up stairs. She drank lots of water and ate healthier food. Before long the Lupus started disappearing and she started feeling better. She noticed a notable improvement on the days when she did a lot of Rieki on herself.  The Light helped to chase away the darkness that was being directed at her.
   Sharon changed her name from Namatari back to her birth name, “Sharon” as she set out to continue her writing. She did this, in order to have some free time from the people who stalked her. . .and because, after finding out how powerful David Garlock was with intrusive spiritual practices, she had wondered if the name, "Namatari" had been connected to his spiritual manipulations in the early 1990s. She couldn’t go back to her family of origin’s last name, due to a promise she’d made to not use her father's sir name. So she chose “Poet” for her last name, because her mother had called her the “little Poet” when she was a child. And she chose the middle name, “Rose” due to a poem her mother had written for her, which was entitled, “Rose for Sharon”. She was taking back her name as she re-claimed her life.

Taking 'em Back
by Sharon Rose Poet

Remembering to live.
Remembering to give.
That's the best I can do
With all I've been through.
I had lost it all in one hard fall.
But now I'm taking it back.
The life they broke.
The songs I wrote.
I'm takin em back.
The love mother gave me.
The will I need to save me.
I'm takin em back
The sound of my name -
the identity I need re-gain.
I'm takin em back.
The tears I suppressed.
My old purple dress.
I'm takin em back.
My dreams of yesterday
And hope for today.
I'm takin em back.
Its time to get on track.
I'm takin em back.

   Sharon decided that, because she was being targeted, a publication that required subscriptions and advertising was not such a good idea. So she decided to start a small news paper type of publication called, “Sharon's Bud”, and put only her own writings in it. She finished designing it before her time ran out in the York Beach cabin and took up an old acquaintance, David Z., on his invite to use one of his vacant apartments in Henniker for a couple weeks. While she was there she had her little news paper printed and continued aiming to heal, while hoping she and her friend, David Z., could be a source of support for each other. But this seemed to have gone down the tubes when Sharon told him about her illness. He launched deeper into alcohol and drugs. She kept trying to pull him out of it, but couldn't reach him. So she focused on her writings.
   The first issue of Sharon’s Bud rolled off the press in May 2007.  "What a brilliant idea," John Slade had exclaimed when he heard about it. The idea was as unique as Sharon's ideas often were, because they came from her heart rather than from other people. John seemed to envy this a bit too much. He'd even tried to stop Sharon from doing it and appeared to be stealing the idea, instead of supporting her. She'd confided in him because she had thought he was a friend.

   As Sharon passed out copies of Sharon’s Bud, a Henniker, New Hampshire woman read it and said to her, “You say things that the rest of us want to say, but don’t dare to. . .” But, Sharon had also lived most of her life not daring to expose, or hold responsible, the people who hurt her most. She still struggles with this issue, although she is now making up for it in her writings.

    Sharon filed for bankruptcy in the spring of 2007, because she knew she’d not be able to catch up on the debt she’d gone into with The Personal Journal and her attempted recovery from the Alstead flood. This took a pretty big chunk of the money she'd borrowed. But, as she searched through her storage bin, she found a small amount of money she'd stashed and forgotten about. So, she decided it would be best spent fixing her leaky, moldy camper. But first, there was something else she had to do.

   She drove to Nova Scotia and went to the places Jim had taken her during her first visit there. Oh how her heart ached for the dream she’d lost there. She even found the courage to go visit his house. The first thing she noticed was that the old claw foot bath tub, Jim had loved so much, had been replaced with an ugly square modern thingy. And the woman who had taken the house was sweeping up another light bulb, which had just suddenly burst, as Sharon knocked on the door.
   As Sharon sat and talked with this woman pieces of a puzzle began clicking together. It appears that this woman and her husband had acquired Jim's house through going against his will, which had named Sharon as the person who was to end up with it. Unbelievable? Yup. Sure is. And the people who remain in Jim Baker’s home  knew of Sharon’s struggles after the fire in her New Hampshire home. Jim's spirit had been so angry with them that he was literally haunting them and bursting light bulbs...etc. I'd hate to have their karma.
   Sharon went to Nova Scotia to bring some sort of closure to this part of her life and found the pain of another loss. Her struggle became harder with the knowledge of Jim's home being taken by people who didn't even seem to appreciate it or him. Sharon would have been so happy and content to live there, that it was excruciatingly difficult to not be allowed to have what was left for her, when she desperately needed it. But there was nothing she could do about what they did, especially with no money to hire a lawyer and no will to prove anything with. They held all the cards.
     Sharon returned to New Hampshire and wrote a letter to Jim's "friends" - literally begging them to listen to their hearts and respect Jim's wishes. But nothing came from it, aside from a message from one of Jim’s friends, which validated what had happened but offered no remedy.
   Sharon brought her truck to a campground, where Jolly, the owner, was kind enough to let her live there for the remainder of the summer and work on it.
   This was a cathartically healing summer for Sharon. She literally cut apart the back of her truck with a saws-all and built a whole new body out of the scrap pieces of lumber Jolly had hanging around. Sometimes it was difficult to find the energy to work on it, but she pushed hard and accomplished 99% of it completely by herself.
   During some of the rainy days, when she couldn't work on her truck, Sharon joined Jolly in the recreation hall and took part in the 'Sewing-Bees' she held there. Sharon made her first Schlep bag under Jolly’s supervision.

by Sharon Rose Poet

I work until I’m through-
Needle weaving thread-
Mending the broken life
My deepest wounds have lead;

Dropping secret tears
Into crooked seams
Until the path is clear
And all the pain is cleaned.

In the end I’ll place
A pocket here and there
Where I can safely carry
A Heart that cries to care.

  Sharon left as soon as she was finished, due to the negative energy she sensed there. But she had deeply appreciated the physical help Jolly had initially offered.
    After rebuilding the back of her truck Sharon drove it for about 50 miles before something went wrong with the charging system.
 The next year was a constant struggle to find work and a place to live. And she kept running into people who were like her sisters - people who became jealous of her after reading the paper she wrote. Jolly had even seemed to become one of these people.
   Sharon struggled to continue following her heart into her writings with even her own children getting angry with her for not “getting a REAL job with medical insurance...etc". Sharon had actually tried to get jobs before a after this time period...but each time she set aside her writings, in order to earn some money, it had ill consequences that were worse for her than what she was going through with her writings. Her stalkers were doing all they could to prevent her from succeeding at anything. Each time she tried to settle into a job strange things started happening around her. They were able to manipulate people, on spiritual levels, in ways that would be hard for most people to believe or understand. There have been many times when Sharon has turned to people for help or work or support and found them listening to the darker side of their nature rather than their hearts. Consequently, they often found the rug pulled out from under their own lives. They sometimes blamed Sharon, but She had nothing to do with it. Sharon was working in God's Light and those who did not help her fell victim to their own darkness - the darkness they fed when they refused to listen to their hearts. (This is written about in the bible - those who do not help God's helpers are not blessed and their own darkness has ill effects on their own lives. This is nooes fault but their own.) Sharon really is one of God's helpers - one of the ones is working in the Light for the good of all.

   In the summer of 2008 Sharon had her truck fixed and drove it to Portsmouth, NH, which she'd hoped would become the home town for her work. Another whole book could be written on her experiences here. But the jist of it was that she went there with only about twenty dollars in her pocket and started selling advertising for her next paper. But she made the mistake of advertising this on her website and her stalkers closed in on her on every level. They even seemed to have ties in the Portsmouth media.
    Shire Haberman, at the Seacoast Media Group, delayed the printing of her Press Release and then refused to print the part where Sharon stated that she plans to "use the profits from her publication, in order to get back onto her feet and then build a Recovery Center for others. . .". After she reluctantly removed this phrase, he altered what was left of her press release, and the public never knew what her work was really about. Through this time she had visions of vultures swarming her. And they did swarm her from within the small business networking group she had joined as well as the news papers. . .etc. But its possible these people were still all part of the same spiritual group who had been targeting her from the start of her quest to publicly share her writings.
    As the deadline neared, her truck was broken into, someone was wiping her new publication off her computer and she was being almost constantly stalked. Its a miracle she was able to get a rough version of this second issue of "Sharon's Bud" printed on September 11, 2008.
    As she finished distributing it she took a three day job at a hardware store, so she could earn enough money to pay her phone bill. "The job from hell," she called it. But her bill got paid.
   Then she sold her car and used the money to drive her truck to Arizona, in order to escape the stalkers. Unbelievable as it sounds. . .she ran right into a life threatening situation with a gunman in the desert, just south of Sedona. Whether or not this man had been hired by the group who targets her remains to be proven. But this is what it looks like. She escaped due to a dream, which forewarned her of his intent, before he knocked on her door pretending to have lost his dogs in the desert.
   After a couple scary days, she headed north and applied for a job at the Central Refrigerated truck driving company. She’d wanted to get her CDL license several years before this. And a driving job is the only thing she could think of doing that she’d enjoy and be able to still do her writing while earning the money she needed and get away from her stalkers at the same time.
   Central Refrigerated brought her into their training program in Utah, where she did extremely well in the training process, although she struggled with the harsh and unfair ways they treated their trainees. She worried about the way they intentionally deprived the trainees of sleep and then had them quickly sign a bunch of papers, just before going for final exams at the DOT office - leaving no time to even glance at what they were signing. And she felt sad for the people, particularly the foreigners and women, who were intentionally sabotaged so that they were not able to get their licenses, but would still owe nearly $4,000 to Central Refrigerated, although she was one of them. This along with several other unethical things lead her to losing respect and trust in this company. But she fought for justice and hung in there with the hope of putting in her year and then transferring to a company that had more integrity and honesty. She passed all the tests and had earned her license. And the next step was to get in four weeks of OTR with another driver.
   The first driver was picked out and controlled by the manager, Kurt Win, who thought Sharon was too smart to be controlled and too pretty to not be a liability to their company, while driving a truck by herself. So, I’ll give you one guess how that went. Sharon jumped out of the truck and called the police at a truck stop in Nebraska, and had to take a bus back to the Resurrecting Phoenix.
   She spent Christmas in the desert, before going out with another driver/trainer, and had parked her The Resurrecting Phoenix behind a few other RVs near Lake Havasu City, Arizona on the day before this Christmas of 2008. After telling her daughter, on the phone, that she didn’t like spending Christmas alone in the desert, she got a call from the gunman who had approached her in Sedona. He said, "Hello, Sharon," as if they knew each other. Then he said, "I just thought I'd call to let you know that you are not spending Christmas alone in the desert." Obviously, he'd heard her conversation either through her phone or a bug in her truck. And this is when she stopped feeling safe in her own vehicle. She kept herself safe through remaining close to crowds of people and returning to Central Refrigerated.
   Actually, the only reason Sharon is still alive is because these people want her death to look like an accident, so that there will be no publicity to help her writings become more publicly known.

   Sharon's truck driving career started in November 2008 and ended in February 2009. Her second OTR trainer did just as good of a job at sabotaging her career as the first one had. Both were controlled by Kurt Win. By the time it was through, Sharon was exhausted and jobless and had nearly four thousand dollars added to her new batch of debt.
   She climbed off the last Central Refrigerated truck and back into the Resurrecting Phoenix in Southern California, so she went to visit Mary, an acquaintance, in Thousand Oaks, for about a week before heading to Arizona to replace her temporary drivers license, which was about to expire.
    Mary was passing out a book entitled, “The Shack”, which is written by someone who appears to have used some of the writings in Sharon’s “Personal Journals” in order to great her/his own book - someone connected to Mary!
    On her way back to Kingman Arizona the brakes on her truck suddenly failed and left her stranded on a hill with blocks of wood preventing it from rolling into a deep ravine off the side of Interstate 40. Luckily she’d been quick to secure her truck and had AAA Plus. She was towed to Bullhead City.
   The first mechanic who worked on the Resurrecting Phoenix said that the BOTH of the rear brakes had been over-adjusted  until they literally fell to pieces. As she dealt with this something suddenly went wrong with the electrical system. But she had to get her license before it expired so she drove without breaks and limped her truck into the Kingman, AZ licensing office as the engine finished blowing. "Unbelievable!" she cried, as a man who had been following her zoomed in to "help". Luckily a security officer happened by and Sharon rushed over to him and called AAA again. Bryan lived within the 150 miles she could be towed to. And he reluctantly agreed for her to be towed there.
    Sharon put the rest of her money into the pockets of Bryan's friend, Mike, who finished destroying the engine in her truck instead of fixing it as he'd claimed to be doing. This left her so stranded that she couldn't even buy food or get a bus ticket or plain fare out of there. She wondered if Bryan was also part of the group who targeted her. (He did happen to show up in the area where she had done her fast after leaving JP Leubson's in 2004.)
   She was completely stranded in Mohave Valley, Arizona - an area she did not feel comfortable in. She began giving up. She even started smoking again, although she hadn't smoked for five years.
   She spent her 50th birthday angrily drinking the alcohol Bryan pushed on her and hating every minute of it. She wanted to leave. But she felt so scared and trapped that she was falling into a state of shock again. 
   She finally gave in to a fling with Bryan, which temporarily gave her a little bit of the comfort she was deeply needing. But this wasn't the kind of relationship she needed, especially since his roommate, Steve, was constantly putting her down and trying to be a 'Peeping Tom'. It appeared that all the people around there were heavily into alcohol and drugs and porn... They tried to hide some of it from her, but she sensed it and it showed in their mental confusion and perverted attitudes. This was not a healthy place for her, on any level.
   She had deeply cared for Bryan. She had wanted to help him heal, because a motorcycle accident had landed him in a wheel chair, but he was not ready for healing. Sharon deeply needed someone to hold her and assure her that everything would be ok. But Bryan was not healthy enough to give her the assurance and support she needed during such a time. There were times when he seemed to try. But he was far too disconnected from his heart to help her in the ways she desperately needed, at this point.

For Bryan
by Sharon Rose Poet

Well, Good morning Starlight
Well, good morning friend
Lets bring the sunshine
Into our world again.

But please don’t forget
To hear what I See
Find a little patience
To talk a while with me.

    These guys had a lot to learn about listening to their hearts and respecting women.  She felt uncomfortable there and she felt scared of the people who continued to stalk her - too scared to even go out for the long desert walks she loved. She had no other place or person she could to turn to. She felt like a caged animal.
   She had called an old NH acquaintance, Bruce, and had literally begged him for help. But, although he easily could have helped her, through loaning her the money to fix her truck and get her out of there, he refused to. . .justifying his actions with a misguided spiritual view, which stated, “I can’t interfere with the hardship you are supposed to be experiencing.” Only God knows what kind of darkness helped him believe such a ridiculous thing and what kind of karma he has called upon himself.
   In Sharon's dreams, her time with Bryan had been shown as her being "in quarantine until the Lights were switched back on". In April 2009, the lights really did suddenly flip on and she knew she could no longer tolerate remaining there. She put out a few more calls for help and stormed out of there, literally. A kind woman at "United Way" picked her up and helped her return to NH on a bus.
    In New Hampshire she slept in her daughter's room until she recovered from a month long illness, which had started hitting her during her stay at Bryan's, and then worked at a garage, cleaning and driving cars, in Milford, New Hampshire, while Jeanne Sable’s group swarmed her. One of them, who said her name was Donna Dill, fooled her into sharing her social security number, names of children and past employment places...etc., through pretending to want to hire her for a carpentry/painting job. Sharon had not realized that Donna was one of them until it was too late. The way Sharon let her guards down each time she fell into denial of the dangerous situation she was in, was having ill effects.
   They continued to stalk her at the garage - often pretending to be interested in buying vehicles that were for sale there. But she held onto the job as long as she could - actually until her boss suddenly let her go, without notice, due to "lack of income."

- Chapter 7 -

    By this time Sharon had found out who her friends were, and that she didn't really have any True friends. They'd all been there for her when she owned a nice big house. But as she stumbled, and especially after she became homeless, most of them seemed to be looking down upon her for her financial struggles, rather than helping her. Sharon has been shocked by how people, in general, tend to look down on those who are not financially stable, no matter what has brought them down. It actually hurt her to see how heartless and greedy our world can be - how often people fall into judging those who have become poor instead of helping them. She's seen more heart in the poor than in any other part of society.  At least two of her past "friends" have even openly told her to call them when things get better or "if she makes it". She knows many who would rush in to be her friend if she has money and a large home again, but none who care to be there for her now.
The Waif
By Sharon Rose Poet

I am "nothing but a worthless waif"
Who dares to pause in judgments way.
But the Angels from beyond the sky.
Reach down to hold me as I cry.
THEY know.

In the summer of 2009, she was able to buy an old beat up Oldsmobile, which she has lived in, between visits to her daughter's room. Near the end of the summer she spent a few weeks in Wells Maine, where she walked with the ocean and found some levels of peace. There appeared to be no one stalking her there. And peace began settling in as she wrote this poem.
Sea Peepers
by Sharon Rose Poet

Here we park
All lined up in a row
Gazing through a fence
Come sun, rain or snow -
A gathering of peace seekers
Mesmerized by each wave -
Just silent little sea peepers
In this time we save.

    In the fall of 2009 she was able to find a couple temporary jobs on the seacoast, which gave her enough to pay for her food, gas and phone. But she was being steadily stalked again. They seemed to know every place she went.
   In the fall of 2009 Sharon avoided the "stab in the stomach", which a dream had forewarned her of, by quickly leaving a job  directly after one of her stalkers had also gained employment there. There's no doubt that they would have made it look like a kitchen accident.
    A man named Barry Cooley had zoomed in on her and offered her an apartment to stay in, which was laced with all sorts of hidden manipulations and suggestive flirtations. . .so she left - preferring to be homeless above compromising herself again. She is unsure if he was part of the group, although he seemed to be connected to a couple who were. And the list goes on. . .
    In November 2009, Sharon answered a Craig's List ad, even though her intuition was telling her that the people who were targeting her were trying to lure her into jobs, RV's and cheap rentals through Craig's List. She was getting too tired of it all. It was getting too cold to continue living in her car, which she'd been doing, for about three straight months, at this point. She didn't want to inconvenience her daughter who had been expressing that she needed her space to herself. . .and she'd begun feeling a deep need to write out her life story before she finished crashing. At this point, she wanted to believe that the people who were targeting her were all just in her head/imagination, like other people kept insinuating. It was a lot easier for her to deal with if it was all just in her head. If they weren't really there they couldn't really do anything else to her. Being "just paranoid", like a Milford police officer had assumed, was easier than what was really happening.
   So she let self doubt and denial take a firm hold of her again. And the people who targeted her knew it. They'd swarm her and then backed off until she started relaxing before swarming her again. It was like a sick, catty game. Each time they backed off she began convincing herself that other people were right - that maybe it was all just in her head. But, unfortunately, most of it wasn't. Very little of it was her fears, which sometimes flared BECAUSE of what they HAD been doing to her.

    When she bit on this ridiculously cheep rental in York Beach Maine, she had sensed that there was something off about it. But she was sooooo desperately needing a break from it all that she didn't want to believe it. A couple who called themselves, Tetjien and Ryan, were renting out individual rooms in a house they rented. Sharon rented one and felt uncomfortable from the start. Tetjien was obviously into something that had absolutely nothing to do with heart/Light. And Ryan was unusually distant, although both of them pretended to be really nice and helpful. And there was definitely something suspicious about the two young men, who dressed in military cloths and moved into two other rooms right after Sharon had gone there. She's not sure if they were even really military. But they were the ones who carried out the order to kill her with some sort of bacteria, which was either put in her shoes, on her bedding, through the air duct to her room, in her car, or all of the above.
   Her lungs were severely affected the first time they hit her. But due to her strength and the Light she prayed in to help her, she survived it and continued to doubt its reality. "This is way too outrageous!" she let doubt say to herself, until she had the dream, which showed 'someone ordering these military guys to "Shoot her here," as a finger pointed at her chest.'
    The next night, on Christmas eve, as the second blast was in process, (this one definitely coming in through the air ducts in her room, if not the water, and also in her car) She packed as fast as she could and rushed to the Portsmouth Hospital Emergency room, with her throat and lungs burning and her whole upper body spasming in pain. But the nurse and doctor refused to believe her and assumed it was just an asthma attack or bronchitis. It seemed that they refused to run any tests on what she had inhaled, because she had no insurance, no money and no proof of such a thing happening.
   The York Beach Police Department took the same sort of stand. She was still on her own with this. She had no help and no validation of what HAD really happened. But she is lucky to be alive. Actually, if it were not for a bit of divine intervention she wouldn't be alive right now.

   It appears that another member of the group who targets her - a man who had first approached her at the garage she'd worked at in the summer of 2009, hired her in January 2010 to do some finish carpentry and painting in his Peterborough home. He played a lot of head games with her during the week she worked there. Sharon unknowingly avoided another dose of the bacteria he tried to hit her with in this house and the job gave her enough money to rent a cheep motel room for a month or two.
   She desperately needed some time to regain her balance, heal and write her book. But as she aimed to use her hard earned money to do this Bryan suddenly told her she had to move the Resurrecting Phoenix off his property in Arizona "within the next few months". So she had only two choices. She could use the money to go Arizona, hire a large tow truck and move her truck into a storage yard, or she could have her own room to live in for a month or two. She could only afford to do one of these things.
    Around this time she'd bought a phone from Wal-Mart, and had gone into a gas station to use a pay phone to activate it. But within an hour they were calling her on it and laughing! The only way they could know the phone number was if they had her car bugged or were able to hear her through her other phone. Around this time she had also gone to the Portsmouth Library to do some work on her website, and someone had accessed her computer, while she was using it there, and had unlocked her domain, Poeticpublications.com, while she was in her hosting account. Luckily she caught it and re-locked it. But she was feeling extremely frustrated.
    She was beginning to feel like she couldn't even breath without someone intrusively listening or waiting for a way to harass her. She was at her wits end. She got so angry about this and Bryan's pressure to move her truck - his not caring if she could afford to move it or not. . .that she drove all the way to Arizona and had it towed off his property. . .steaming the whole way. It took her ten days to drive out there and move it and then drive back with a car that needed a new water pump and was leaking huge amounts of antifreeze. It didn't look like she was going to make it. But she held onto her faith because she kept having visions of Angels holding her car in a net of white Light for her.

   As soon as she returned to New Hampshire she rushed to her Portsmouth Post Office box, hoping to find her income tax check. As she got out of her car and headed into the Post Office, a huge flock of birds suddenly flew into a tree next to her. . .all of them loudly squawking in an unusual way. She went inside to find no mail in her box, even though she had not checked it in weeks. As she walked outside, the silence was suddenly broken with the same birds loudly calling as if they were panicking. She could feel that something was wrong. But she didn't know what.
  Her income tax check will not be enough for her to pay her immediate bills or even begin to deliver her to the safety and peace she desperately needs. But it was something to look forward to at this point and it will help on some levels. She needs help. She needs protection from the stalkers. She needs a SAFE place to live and a safe place to work. She needs a miracle.

    Since the fall of 2005, the group who targets her had formed severe spiritual attacks on her each time a large storm was coming in. Sharon would sense the danger - often assuming it meant one of the floods was about to happen and sometimes even put out public forewarnings. After a few times of sharing these misperceptions with local law enforcement officials, they stopped believing her. Now. . .the more she goes to them for help, the more crazy they seem to think she is. But BEFORE this they had still not helped her because they said she'd have to prove the stalkings and tampering with her vehicles...etc., - that her stalkers would have to be caught before they could do anything to catch them...etc. In other words, 'if they don't succeed at killing her and are caught in the process of trying to kill her, by those who are not even watching, then they may be able to start helping her.' This is our judicial system for people who have no money or societal influence!
    Sharon is really being stalked by people who have even tried to kill her and there is no one who will listen to her or help her!  She has given up on the police helping her and has not even tried to report recent incidents. There appears to be no legal help for her.
   Sharon's children do not understand what is happening. Denial has had a firm grip on them. I think its just too much for them to want to deal with.  And it seems that they are both being advised on how to handle the situation by people who do not believe or understand what's really happening. But, Sharon can't blame her daughters, because she understands that what she's going through is too much for most people to handle. Even Sharon keeps kicking into denial. Sometimes its too much for her to fully face also. Its like something out of a scary movie - like something no one should ever have to really go through.
    There seems to be no way out unless a miracle happens. . .which suddenly dumps a lot of money into her lap, enough to hire a private detective,k have all her belongings scanned for tracking and listening devices and go to a place where she can feel safe and have time to heal while she climbs back onto her feet and figures out what to do next.
   The only light that shines into the end of this tunnel is in her faith. So she rushes to finish her story about these events before something else happens. And this brings us to the point where this book started. Since then. . .

February 11, 2010: Sharon sent a letter, in desperation, to a couple old friends - people who could be intuitive enough to know/believe her situation. But she feels unsure if she can trust them, since one of them had been jealous of her and the other one had dabbled in the darker side of spiritual stuff. But she knew they had the means to help her if they were in a place of being able to listen to their hearts. She hoped for a positive reply.

February 18, 2010: Sharon picks up a pack of cigarettes, even though she has not smoked in a couple months and can't really afford to be spending money on them. She is extremely stressed. A part of her wants to freely cry it out, but she now feels too unsafe to let her heart open up too much. She starts writing down plate numbers on the cars that seem to be following her. She makes this obvious to them with the hope that they will give up and leave her alone. Some of the plate numbers she writes are not theirs. Sometimes its hard for her to tell which ones are the stalkers and which ones just happen to be innocently going to the same place. Its all getting too confusing.

February 19th 2010:  Sharon is feeling more desperate since yesterday morning. Lights go out in the street lamps around her. She senses something about to happen and her fear builds.
   She sits in a McDonald's parking lot, in Seabrook, New Hampshire, after her morning bathroom run. She evaluates her situation. She's running out of money. Her car is not running well. She keeps checking her mail box for her income tax check. But her mail box remains completely empty. She doesn't know if they have access to it or not. She is starting to feel like she is really going to start going crazy. As she remembers Vivian's phone messages, she returns to the fear that her own family may have her institutionalized. But a part of her thinks that this may be the way out, because it would keep her safer and warmer than she now is. She's not feeling well physically - her lungs need warmth and sunshine. Her body needs exercise and regular showers. As her mind fights to find a way out of its anguish she angrily writes,

"I can't do a three minute run to the bathroom without wondering if my car was tampered with while I was gone!!! I can't go anywhere without my new computer so it won't be stolen or tampered with! I can't have privacy in my own car, because they seem have it bugged!!! I don't have the money for a new car!!! I can't go anywhere without them knowing about it!!! They seem to have a tracking device on my car and I can't afford to hire people to find and remove it!!! I can't go for a walk without wondering if I'll get shot or if my car will still be in tact when I return!!! I can't feel fully safe even if I escape without my vehicle, because they may have put some sort of chip in my body, during one of the times when they drugged me!!! I can't place ads anywhere with my phone number, without them zooming in and pretending to be a customer! I can't get a job without them harassing me there! I can't trust anyone anymore, because I don't even know who the stalkers are!!! I can't even trust that I am even getting all my mail! The police won't help me, because I can't prove to them that any of this really happening!!! GOD, I feel angry! I feel too horribly trapped! I feel like they have me gagged and tied. I feel scared. God please help someone to help me. PLEASE!"

    The saddest part is that ALL of her concerns are valid - none of them are "just in her head." She's in a desperate situation, which seems to have no way out and no help in sight. She continues writing, as she sits in the McDonalds parking lot, for the sake of her own sanity, more than anything else, at this point.
     She lets herself be distracted as she watches huge airy snow flakes float around her car. She notices the sun glowing through them, until dark clouds block it from sight. She stares, waiting for its return. A truck pulls in next to her - blocking her view. She moves her car and continues staring at the spot where the sun had been. But dark clouds continue rolling into the spot. She imagines a huge sheet of white Light wiping them away, and continues to stare. Hints of it begin to show but fade again. She turns back to her writing, and soon feels the warmth of the sun as it suddenly bursts through the clouds. She gazes into it as tears fill her eyes. "Thank you," she whispers. She wishes this would happen on a much larger scale, and then prays it will, as she rolls down her window and lets the warmth touch her face.

    A small dark blue car follows her to the library. She moves to the Shaws parking lot, and pulls out her lap top. A pale, faded blue van quickly drives by - pulling in toward her while blaring its horn . . .too obvious to have not been one of them. (She'd had a dream forewarning about a group of people shoving her into a faded blue van) She remains in her car and in public as much as possible. They are trying to shake her - trying to make her finish cracking, since they can't get a hold of her physical.
    Its late afternoon and she keeps writing - taking advantage of what's left of the suns light, until she senses someone focused on her. She looks up to see an old man hovering near the Shaws entrance. He's intensely staring at her and keeps staring even after she notices him. After a few minutes he walks down the side of the building, constantly looking back at her, before disappearing behind parked vehicles. A few minutes later, he slowly drives by in a red jeep-type vehicle. She writes down the last four digits of his plate number.
    About a half hour later he returns, wearing a different coat, walks over the snow bank next to her car, and begins moving in behind her car after pretending to head in the opposite direction. She leaps into the drivers seat and drives away, while being followed by a car with two laughing girls in it. They rush away from her as she suddenly cuts into a turn around and comes up behind them. She writes down their plate number before turning into the police department parking lot with the hope that they will go away if they think she's going to the police. They do.
    Today they had gathered to swarm around her in full force. Laughing at her and following her and blaring horns when she ignores them. They find her no matter where she goes. But today was the first time she had an old man creeping up to her car and it left her a bit rattled. Pressure built in her chest. She'd begun feeling more scared than frustrated. Perhaps the man was not connected to them and was just a troubled soul who happened to notice Sharon sitting in her car - appearing homeless, and saw her as an easy target. Perhaps he's someone they paid to hover around her, just to scare her. But either way, he did not have good intentions.

by Sharon Rose Poet

Sometimes I feel like
If I were the only human left
In earth's vast, depleted nest,
I would not mourn the loss.
Alone is something I'd feel less,
After drowning in the depths
Of humanity's crowded emptiness.

    The only thing that keeps her going is her vision of Angels holding her car in a net of Light and the consoling dreams she's had about this time period. But she's becoming too scared to leave her car unattended. And this is all getting more and more difficult for her to bear.
She remembers the dream she had, which showed "everything around her going hay-wire, because she was about to come into her power." But she also remembers the dream about being "shot in the stomach". And she doesn't know if one of them is about to happen. She rushes to finish writing her story, in case she dies soon.
    She knows she can't completely run from them without the money she does not have. But she decides to leave the immediate area and make it more difficult for them. "Wells," keeps echoing in her head. So she drives to Wells, Maine.

February 20, 2010 Sharon wakes at about 3 am, too cold to go back to sleep. After a quick jaunt to the Irving station she pulls into the familiar Well's Beach parking lot, and listens to the sounds of the waves until an orange sunrise spreads through the crease where ocean greets sky. The presence of the seagulls comforts her as she wonders if she'll survive all this.

February 22 into March 2010: More toxins are either emitted into her car or are on the shoes she'd just removed from her storage bin. Her lungs suddenly start aching again. She goes to an emergency room, in Concord, NH, and asks if they could test for a possible small dose of something like anthrax. But they laugh at her and she can't convince them to run any tests. They seem to think she's just crazy. And she feels like she's going to REALLY go crazy if this continues for much longer. She's reaching a point where she couldn't handle anymore.
   She goes to her daughters room for a few days. . .hoping they will leave her alone where there could be witnesses. They do. But she doesn't like imposing on her daughter and possibly even endangering her. After a few days she leaves and sleeps in her car in a Wal-Mart parking lot, which has cameras monitoring it.
    Every now and then she purchases a lottery ticket and prays for a miracle to lift her from her plight. She's never prayed for money in the past. Money has never mattered much to her. But lately, she prays for it with all her heart, because it seems to be the only thing that will deliver her to safety - the only thing, in this foolish monetary world, that will enable her to have the protection and home she desperately needs, in order to recover from this situation she’s been enduring for far too long now.

April 2010: Sharon hops into her car, with only about two hundred dollars in her pocket and heads south. She ends up getting some temporary work on an island in North Carolina. And she was even lucky enough to run into some kind people who helped her out with a camper to stay in for a few weeks. It had no hot water for showers, but she deeply appreciated it, because it was far better than her car.
    During her stay there she worked in a restaurant, where she tolerated severe levels of chaos and dysfunction. On her days off she cleaned cottages for a real estate company, which treated her well. But working 7 days a week was almost more than she could handle, especially with the stress the restaurant job hit her with.
   She’d hoped to remain on the island and keep her house cleaning job, but her time at the camper was running out and her only other options were to live with a man who offered his couch, which she felt uncomfortable doing, or to leave and rent a room in Maryland from a woman who, understandably, didn't want to follow through on her offer if there was a chance that Sharon was still being stalked. Returning to living in her car was nearly impossible to do, without be detected, in such a small community. So she resigned from her cleaning job with a couple tears running down her cheeks as she climbed into her car and headed for the mountains in Virginia.

June 2010: On Sharon’s second day in the Shanandoah National park she threw a back pack on her back and hit the trails. . .following a deep yearning to be out in nature. When she came out and found a familiar item left for her, it appeared that she’d been followed to the mountains. (Her stalkers now seem to be leaving items on her car to let her know that they knew where she is.) She’d not thought much of it happening on the island, because she figured it was just kids playing near her car while she was at work or at the trailer park. But when she found another one of the same things left for her, in the mountains it seemed too obviously not a coincidence, especially since it was followed by a speeding car blaring its horn at her when there was nothing and no one else in the vicinity.
   Determined to remain there and hike her way into figuring out what to do and where to go next, she risked talking to a ranger about her dilemma, hoping the park rangers would just keep an extra eye on her as she camped in their campground for two weeks. But as the ranger on duty arrogantly tried to convince her that no stalking could have happened in THEIR park, Sharon realized they'd be looking down on her and trying to hide what was happening instead of helping her. She felt so angry and frustrated that tears streamed down her cheeks as she drove away and screamed into the silence of her car.
    This also finished closing the door to the Maryland rental, since Sharon had promised the owner that she'd only go there if she was not being stalked anymore.
   This sort of thing had happened several times in the past few years. There were a couple people who wanted to offer Sharon a room in their home and time to climb back onto her feet, but they became too uncomfortable with being subjected to the stalkers and Sharon didn’t want them effected by them either. There had also been a kind hearted woman, in New Boston, NH who had offered for her to stay in her her home. But Sharon felt uncomfortable subjecting her to the stalkers, especially since she was so close to her family of origin. Staying at someone else’s home has felt to risky for all concerned.

    Sharon desperately needs the freedom her stalkers rob her of – the freedom to get a job - to do her work or a get place to live...etc., without being followed or feeling scared of them finding her.

   As Sharon drove down from the mountains and into the Shanandoah Valley she thought of renting a room for a month, which could be a safer way to take a bit of time to figure out what to do. She barely had enough money for this. So she decided to return to NH, in order to take care of some of her belongings and have her car fixed before striking out again.
   As she drove through the night with a red truck following her, an unusual calmness came over her. In her mind she’d convinced herself that it was OK if she didn’t make it – Ok if she died on the highway or after she got there – OK to return to God’s Love/Light. She actually wasn’t afraid of “death”, because she knew it wasn’t going to be the end. But she wanted it to be on God's time and not due to these people who follow the dark.
   Sharon deeply prayed as she drove up highway 84 through Connecticut, “God, if its time for me to go Home with You then I’m Ok with that. If You want them to end my life now, so be it. Take me Home. But if its not PLEASE give me the money I need to provide myself with protection and peace here. PLEASE, God! Please. I can’t take anymore”

Dear God
By Sharon Rose Poet

Yes, I hear the dreams you speak.
But I need more help. I'm still weak.
I’d gladly leapt to learn and See -
Relieved to know you're here for me.
But let me rest a while please,
Inside the love You have for me.
Let me gain the strength I need
To patch these holes where I still bleed.

   She’s tired. Actually, she feels almost completely exhausted on every level. A Part of her wishes they’d just kill her and get it over with, if that is God's wish. She doesn’t know how much longer she can hold up. She’s reaching the end of her rope. But she’s doing the best she can to set aside her fears and put her life in God’s hands. “Thy will be done,” she quietly says as she calms her fears and hopes for God’s will to either take her Home or deliver the financial miracle she deeply needs for protection and a safe home and time to heal her own heart and the peace to complete her work.

   Even if Sharon’s miracle doesn't happen, she will be left with the satisfaction of knowing that she did her best, against unbelievable odds. She stood alone, against herds of darkness, without completely crumbling, thus far. She followed her dream and did the best she could to make a stand against the injustices that surrounded her. She held onto her faith that there was a higher purpose to all that she was going through, even though she couldn't completely understand it. And she leaves this story/statement for those of us who can grow from it or be validated by it.

By Sharon Rose Poet

"The more I look
I see
That none of this
Is really about me.
I am merely
A small sample
Humanity can use
As a big example."

- Afterward -

Conclusion on Sharon's family: If you know who Sharon's family is, please respect their right to not be judged or intruded upon in any way. "Let he/she who is without sin cast the first stone," or something like that. You know what I mean. Please do not judge them or look down upon them for what is shared in this book. "Judge not lest ye be judged." Ya. I made this one up. ;-) But please respect it anyway.
    Sharon's family is similar to every other family who does not talk about or deal with their deeper feelings and problems. Some are worse and some are better. All have healing to do. And if you think yours is an exception, you are in denial.
   Sharon feels that sharing the experiences she had with family members is not a breech of their right to privacy, because she is not sharing personal information about their private lives. What they did to Sharon was not private, because Sharon was involved. And she has a right to openly share the experiences she had with them. This sort of thing is done on the news every day. People's wrong doings are reported. And this is what helps prevent more people from acting out. . .because they don't want the shame of exposure. Perhaps we need more healthy shame/exposure in our families, because we tend to hide the abuses without realizing how much it enables them. Perhaps we would all work harder at not taking our own pain out on family members if we knew it were OK for them to talk about it. When we become ashamed of our behaviors, we change our behaviors - when we stop hiding it we start healing it.

Silence hurts

    Sharon's family had reasons, (NOT excuses) for the ways they behaved. Her parents probably had childhoods, which were even worse than what they delivered to their children. And each of Sharon's siblings were sweet innocent, children, who were also struggling to grow up in a painful situation, and were finding ways to release their pain, in a family/society that didn't support the embracing of feelings or the process of talking and crying it out. Each of them found something or someone to hit. Evelyn hit people and other things, Vivian hit people's minds and hearts, Gerry hit cars, Sharon hit paper and herself, Mike hit other things, And Kevin kept trying to get hit.

Evelyn, Vivian, Dad. . .I love you. I really do. I always have and always will. I just couldn't let myself be hurt by your behaviors anymore. I wish you'd stop projecting your pain onto me, because I've already had enough of my own to deal with. And I hope you use this book as a tool for growth - not to copy me, and not to judge me or each other. . .but to face the parts of yourselves that need to heal into the depths of your own hearts. I dedicate the following poem to all the members of my family of origin.

My Love For You
By Sharon Rose Poet

It is here, in my pain,
Felt over and over again.
My love for you.
It is here, in every tear,
Beyond blankets of fear.
My love for you.
It is here, in each word I write,
It shone through the darkest night.
My love for you.
It will leave me - never.
It's in my heart - forever.
My love for you.

Conclusion on Sharon's Relationship with her sisters: Vivian and Evelyn may seem like villains in this book. And I'm sorry if it comes across this way. I tried to write this with as much consideration for them as possible. But I also had to tell it the way it really was. Please remember that this book is about Sharon's difficult experiences with them and not about them. Evelyn and Vivian have their own experiences - their own hurts, which lead to the ways they behaved. The core Truth about them is that, no matter how they treated Sharon, they ARE wonderful people who probably felt as hurt and unloved as Sharon did, in their own childhoods. They just dealt with their pain in ways that were different from the way Sharon dealt with hers.
    Evelyn's ways of dealing with her pain were more open and direct. . .like her mother's. Vivian's ways of dealing with her pain were sly, hidden manipulations. . .like her father's. Sharon's ways of dealing with her pain were to either take it out on herself or cry it into her writings.
    Sharon's greatest mistake with her sisters was in not directly confronting them, about the ways they were treating her, far more and far sooner than she had. As a child this was difficult for her to do, but she had many chances, in her adult life, to address this directly WITH them, and had failed to completely do so, which helped it to get too far out of control.
Can Sharon forgive her sisters? Yes, from a safe distance, until/unless they heal their own hearts enough to genuinely care about her and not continue projecting their own behaviors and pain onto her.

I don't know if I will ever be able to extinguish my wish for a healthy relationship with my sisters, although I have completely lost trust in them. I have yearned for this all my life. I love them.

Conclusion on Sharon's relationship with her father: Her father's  past inappropriate sexual behavior was so minor that she would have probably never remembered it or felt hurt by it if he hadn’t followed it up with behaviors that threatened her sanity and also hurt her children and destroyed her relationships with the rest of her own family through most of her adult life. Had he not driven her the point of deeply praying to be shown why he treated her the way he did, it probably would have never been remembered or come out into the open.  But his behaviors around his past mistakes have inflicted so much pain and are so horribly wrong that they can not be left untold, as are too many similar situations in our troubled world.
   Sharon's greatest mistake with her father was in not directly confronting him, in May of 2004, when she first realized his motives. Had she done this, it may have saved her own daughter from his continued harassment and mental abuse.  The last time he called Sharon’s oldest daughter, to try to convince her that her mother was “crazy”, Sharon’s daughter stood up for her mother and then called the police for protection from further harassment. This finally brought an end to this part of it.
   Sharon wishes that her father could have just admitted his mistakes and felt remorse and tried to make things better instead of taking the route of crushing her, in order to cover his own mistakes. Words can't begin to describe the pain that cut into the depths of Sharon's heart as she faced what her father had been doing to her since his original mistake. She had loved and respected him. She had even admired him. This demonstration of his complete lack of love for her cut painfully deep. But she has been recovering.
   There are times when Sharon feels sorry for her father - for the void of love in his heart - for the woundedness he fights to cover instead of healing - for the pain his manipulations also cause her siblings and others. To her, he is not a real father - but a deeply wounded child who never healed into his heart enough to be healthy for his own children. She still loves him and even feels for him, but her respect for him and her trust in him have been completely shattered. Can Sharon forgive him? Yes. . .from a safe distance and with a prayer for him to heal.

Conclusion on Sharon's relationship with her brothers: Sharon doesn't mention her brothers much, because they didn't have much of a negative impact on her life and these writings were mostly about facing the tough times. Gerry's gruffness never had ill intentions. And Sharon never knew Mike and Kevin very well. She's felt deeply hurt by the ways they have let their father manipulate them against her, but she understands how easy it is for this to happen in a family that is not allowed to talk about the past or face problems openly and honestly. They are easy to forgive. 

Conclusion on Sharon's relationship with her mother:  Sharon's mother was a fiery Taurus who was caught up in an extremely abusive relationship, which had literally crushed her. Although her behaviors were sometimes hurtful, she had the heart to look at her own behaviors and feel genuine remorse. Her core intentions were never bad. And Sharon knows that intentions are what matters most, regardless of what behaviors were/are demonstrated. Sharon still feels the Love her mother sent from the spirit world. She has already forgiven her mother.

Conclusion on Sharon's daughters: Those who target Sharon have deeply hurt her daughters also, because children are effected by every pain their mother experiences. And those who've tried to convince Sharon's daughters that their mother is "insane" or is doing wrong with her writings, have deprived them of a level of trust in their own mother that they NEEDED to have - a level of trust Sharon deserved. Sharon's children do not understand what Sharon has been going through, but they have cared enough to try, although they have had no support from other family members in this process. This means a lot. Sharon wishes she had been able to be there for them, more than she has been, as she faced her own difficulties.

I love you both from the depths of my heart. I'm sorry to have brought you into such an unloving family and that I made so many unhealthy choices in my personal life, which effected yours. I feel that I failed to be a good parent and I hope you will forgive me.

I'm sorry to have brought you into such a troubled world,
But I'm so glad you are here. I love you.

Conclusion on Sharon's self reflections:  Is Sharon "insane"? Not any more "insane" than anyone else who follows their heart away from the flock. . .and tried to soar into their own uniqueness; not any more so than anyone else who has the wisdom to know that there is more to life than what can be seen with the physical eye or understood with intellect alone. Although there have been times when she’s questioned her own sanity due to the ignorance, cruelty or hatred that has tried to crush her, she really is ok the way she is. And she's not felt any more "paranoid" than most people would feel if they were being stalked and had the same experiences Sharon has faced, alone, since the year 2005. In fact, she's held up better than most people would under such conditions. Sharon has a lot of inner strength.

    A wise old woman/astrologer once told Sharon that she came into this lifetime with SEVERAL lifetimes worth of work to do. And this is true. There is even far more to Sharon's story than what's mentioned in this book. This was a rushed, rough version of what she has been up against. More may be added before its final publication, along with deeper conclusions, if the chance for this arises.

     Sharon has had to pass through obstacle course after obstacle course with only her own intuition as her guide. Sometimes she danced past the road blocks like a comical female version of Forest Gump. Sometimes she has crawled over them with blood dripping from the wounds they cut into her. And sometimes she fell into the trenches of despair, which line each side of the road. Sometimes she flew and sometimes she got lost. But she's always aimed to climb back up onto the path she was meant to be on.

     Many people have put Sharon down for going through periods of facing the "bad stuff". But she knows that they just don't understand the deeper aspects of healing - that they don't realize how it takes many good experiences to wipe out the memory of just one bad one. . .and that the only way to heal the "bad stuff" is to fully face it and feel it. Although there was some "good stuff" in her life, there has been far more difficulties. The "good stuff" is what helped her survive the rest of it. And the "bad stuff" is what has needed focus, attention. . .healing. Sharon has needed to continue healing from past experiences and learning from her own mistakes.

    Through most of Sharon's life she silently endured, privately cried and quietly walked away from people who were treating her badly, without fully standing up to them or confronting them about their behaviors. And perhaps this is partly why she's been forced to deal with opportunity after opportunity to stand up against bully-type personalities. She has needed to pull in her power and start standing up for herself on grander levels than ever before. And this is what she is doing with her writings since the fall of 2005. She has needed to find the strength to stop giving up and stop letting them crush her, even if it costs her her life.

    There is a part of Sharon that has beeen afraid to succeed with her songs and writings, because each time she's stood up and followed her heart, she's been hit hard or knocked down by painful levels of hateful jealousy in people whom she loves and needs support and love from, not to mention the threats from those who appose her work. She needs the support of healthier people as she continues with her writings and songs. She needs to start making better choices in her friendships and aquaintences.

    Over and over again Sharon has let her own self doubt trust people who did not deserve her trust. . .just as she did through her childhood. Her intuition and instincts are strong and surprisingly accurate. She just needs to trust them more.

   Over and over again she has leapt into the woods where the 'big bad wolves' prowl, (even when her dreams forewarned her of danger), thinking she could help heal them. But over an over again she got bit. Her biggest problem has been in the crippling levels of self doubt she had let grow every time someone put her down, wrongly labeled her or unfairly disbelieved her. Her biggest challenge has been to trust her own perceptions, even when no one else sees what she sees or knows what she knows.

    The negative attitude she occasionally kicks into when she aims to prove people right after they say things about her, which are not true, has had many ill effects on her life. She'd started this habit in her teen years, after too many years of getting blamed for things she didn't do. The negative part of her sometimes angrily went ahead and did what she'd been blamed for or accused of - making them right. And this has been self defeating. She needs to finish letting go of this childish habit.

    There are occasions when she has exaggerated things, in order to get people to listen to or believe her. And this has also worked against her.

    Since the spring of 2006, as her concerns of severe flooding kicked in with each approaching storm, she was also being blasted with dark, negative energy by individuals and groups of people who were trying to manipulate her into a place of fear. And she hadn't done a very good job with protecting herself from them. Consequently, as she reacted in fear, and continued to put out false forewarnings, the officials she'd try to forewarn stopped believing her. The dark had won, at this point, because she'd not done enough to protect herself from them.

    Part of Sharon has wanted to just live a "normal" life, so that people will leave her alone. But the wisest parts of her can't let go of her writings. She wouldn't be able to be the kind of "normal" that this shallow world wants, no matter how hard she tried. She see's too much to pretend to be oblivious to it.
   Since real "normal" only exists in those who are fully being who they are, she will become more "normal" as she honors deeper levels of her own uniqueness. She needs to do this on even grander scales than she already has. Actually, as she does this batch of writing, she knows that honoring her need to write and share her story may finish costing her her life. . .but she has chosen to stand up against the injustices instead of remaining silent. I'm proud of her for this. Its far better to die while standing up for truth and justice than to die in a silence that would enable the hurtful behaviors in those who already drive against her and aim to harm her, anyway. She doesn't have much left to lose, at this point. Her stand with, "Into the Light, is what is healthiest for ALL who are involved, whether they realize it yet or not.

    Sharon's habit of looking for Love in people who do not know love has burnt her over and over again - her love starved inner child got caught up in a needy cycle of looking for love in men who were too deeply wounded to be capable of anything but aiming to tear her down and steal her power. . .men like her father. And she has done the same thing with female friends who become too jealous to be loyal, kind and supportive. . .like her sisters.

    Through most of her life, Sharon has excitedly shared her creations with people who are not secure enough to appreciate her creativity and inner "gifts" - people who fill with jealousy instead of appreciation.  She needs to surround herself with more people like herself - people who have enough confidence in their own creativity to be supportive of hers.
    Sharon sometimes blames herself for other people's jealous hatred. . .feeling that if she could be more Loving and less outwardly confident. . .it would help.

To Be Loved
By Sharon Rose Poet

Funny how I yearn
My whole life through,
Above all else,
To be Loved.
Not just cared for,
But TRULY Loved.
Yet, had I the heart
To Love,
I'd yearn no more.

   More love in her own heart would help some situations. But she needs to accept that some people go so far into the darkness of jealousy that they even hate her for the Love she offers them, as had her sisters. And its not healthy for her to subject herself to people who have chosen such a destructive path.
    Sometimes Sharon sees so deeply into the depths of situations and people, that she fails to notice the obvious stuff that sits right on the surface - the dangerous stuff. Prior to her recent years of being forced to face the darkness that exists in humanity, she had often looked right past it and saw only the good in people's hearts, which left her too vulnerable to the attacks she never saw coming. She still struggles with this. She needs to go ahead and keep noticing that there is good in everyone, WHILE recognizing and protecting herself from the rest.

On the Spiritual side: Is Sharon "the ainti-Christ", as a Troy, NH minister had foolishly assumed and publicly broadcasted to Sharon's email list of contacts? Of course not. That's ridiculous! Does Sharon think she is "Jesus reincarnated"? If you asked her this question she'd probably laugh and say something like, "If I am I have failed miserably." She has asked herself the same question and honestly does not know whether or not this could even be possible. Her visions are probably just encouraging her to honor the higher aspect of herself - the heart of her Self - the part that strives to be as Loving as Jesus. . .the part we all have. But she knows that her spiritual experiences are very real and that there is more to them than even she is aware of, at this point. There are times when she has wondered if she was one of the many followers of Jesus who were also crucified for supporting Him, in a past life. And she has wondered if she was Mary M. The whore who was in love with Jesus. But she does not waste much time on these wonderings. She knows that, someday, it will all be clear. . .when it is meant to.

    Due to Sharon's deep spiritual connection she's been faced with unusual amounts of darkness being directed at her by those who want the spiritual gifts/power she was born with. And she needs to practice deeper levels of spiritual protection.

    Some would say that the higher purpose for Sharon's difficult experiences has been to push her closer to God. And it is true that this has been an outcome of her spiritual loneliness and her need for deeper levels of love in this world. She can understand that perspective. But in the depths of her heart she also knows that she would have deepened her spiritual connection to God/Jesus much faster, with kindness, compassion, consideration and understanding, from her fellow human beings, had that been available to her. Its sad that these healthier forms of healing are diminishing as people make choices to avoid their hearts and become too wounded to be there for each other on levels that are needed most in humanity.
    Some of Sharon's painful experiences were to gain the wisdom she needed, in order to expose some of Humanity's hidden darkness. Some of them were the result of avoiding a complete healing of her own heart. Some of her hardship was due to those who chose to turn their backs on her when they were meant to help her - to join and support her mission to help heal the heart of humanity.
   But some of Sharon's difficulties also arose to help her stop being judgmental of other people's behaviors. She's had a right to have strong feelings about the behaviors in others, which have directly hurt her. But she has no right to judge behaviors that do not effect her. She has been given may opportunities to experience what she had unfairly judged in others.


 Who torched Sharon's home in Andover, NH? Was it Myrl? Was it David Garlock or a member of the occult that targets her? Was it a member of her own family of origin? Was it the man who was purchasing it? Was it someone else whom she was not aware of? Was it David Zurmalin - a man whom she had rejected as a lover, but tried to embrace as a friend? Sharon doesn't know for sure. But the fire was surely set by someone who had ill intentions.

Who has tried to kill Sharon? Was it the people who stole her writings or the man who is making millions of dollars off her song?  Was it the dark occult that fights against her aim to bring more Heart into the world? Was it some sort of men's group that engages in intrusive spiritual practices and felt threatened by her knowledge and wisdom? Was it part of her own government? Was it her Troy, NH neighbor, Dave Madden, who had an unusual focus and awareness of a local satanic occult. Was it all of  the above - members of a large dark occult, which has groups around the USA and members in influential places? Was is a few different people or groups who were acting seperately? Was the taking of her Loudon home a first large step in an occult’s effort to crush her? 
   Its hard to believe that so much can happen and not be connected on some level. Perhaps she has been up against something far larger than she’s been aware of. . .and for longer than she’s been aware of. But perhaps she's just had an unusual amount of different people targeting her.

The biggest question is, WHY?  What makes Sharon a threat to an occult that she’d not even been aware of until long after they started targeting her? Why are they targeting her? Had her past writings exposed things that even she is not aware of? Is there someone who feels threatened by her prophetic dreams? Is it all due to hateful jealousy and/or greedy quests to steal power? Your guess is as good as mine, at this point. We will probably never know the full truths. . .in this lifetime.

Who wrote this book? The author of this book is Sharon Rose Poet. As she began diving into the depths of self reflection she stepped back from her life to write it  into a more objective perspective. But, this book was also written by Hope for deeper levels of healing in the heart of humanity. . .for all of us - for Sharon's protection as well as that of those who have or may experience similar things.

Note from Sharon: I've not finished writing or processing my life's most difficult experiences. This book is merely a rough beginning, because it is being written under extreme duress. I've not figured it all out yet. But I'm working on it.
   I’ve felt scared to publicly share this. But since people are already stalking me, and have even tried to kill me, I may as well completely expose it before its too late. I would feel like a failure if I died without sharing my story. And a part of me feels like sharing this could save my life. I pray for justice and peace.
   Writing this book about myself, from a distant perspective, is helping me gain more clarity and understanding of my own mistakes as well as other people's. If you have been through an unusual level of difficulties I hope you do something like this too - I hope you lift your heart into the depths of self reflection and pour your painful experiences out onto paper, canvas, audios. . .whatever comes natural to you. Don't do it to copy me or to judge or blame others. Do it to gain a better understanding of your own issues and to help heal your own heart and bring more Love into our troubled world.

Face it. Write it. Say it. Paint it. Draw it. Dance it. Sing it. . .Heal it!

Healing the world begins and finishes
With the healing of our own individual hearts

If you can afford to send a few dollars for the opportunity to read this book it will be deeply appreciated. If not, please feel free to read it anyway and just help spread the word. Thank you.

Sharon Rose Poet
PO Box 383
Mont Vernon, NH 03057

This book has been copyrighted with all rights reserved.

The End

New “Into the Light” Book Address
Original “Into the Light” Book Address
 "Into the Light" Page on Poetic Publications
Please also read my “Targeted in America” and “Ramblings of a Targeted
Individual – the Introduction” books for more information on the targeting.

My primary websites:

 Notes written in 2016
These notes are a bit jumbled and were for the 2016 posting of only the first chapter, because they were written under extreme distress. Please read with your heart and excuse my mistakes.

This book was a creative way for me to try to figure out who was targeting me before I knew much about the targeting. I had actually not initially intended to publicly share it before editing it. But I did out of fear for my life as targeting vamped up on me. In its raw form it may have been offensive to various people. Among the controversial things were; details on events in my family, which now help me to realize more of the mind control patterns and how some of them have been being used to help target me; details on how I wrote the country music song (now called "Last Dollar") which was stolen and made into a hit; My stating that the writers of "The Shack" had taken ideas from my 2005 "Personal Journal" publications; An extremely emotional and blaming statement on the New Hampshire Department of Transportation taking of my first home (I feel bad that this also went into a booklet); Creative ramblings that shared my wondering about what has appeared to be a possible connection to Jesus. (Please read the notes below.) I had also shared names of childhood friends...etc., and this now concerns me. Have they been targeted? Original copies can still be made available to honest, compassionate officials who have good intentions, if that need should arise.
    If you already read the whole book, please read the notes below. And please do not look for fault in me or other heavily targeted individuals. We are already hurting indescribably. Our suffering hits holocaustal levels. We are in desperate need of compassionate understanding from our fellow human beings.
    The rest of this book will hopefully soon be re-published in the new "Covert Puzzle" book. In it I will remove the names and do my best to make it so that it will not be offensive to good decent people. In the "Covert Puzzle" book I will aim to pull more of the puzzle pieces together and reveal things like the global holocaust and its covert harassment and remote technological and pharmceutical (microwave) targeting of individuals, families, organizations, countries... and the ways that the targeting pits people against each other - tearing families apart...etc. Please read the website below or buy my "Technological Holocaust" or "Targeted in America" books on amazon in order to get more information on this.

Read more about Targeted Individuals
Important Notes (2016)

     I have not been able to re-read most of the 2010 edition of "Into the Light," because I am being too heavily targeted. And since I removed the 2012 re-posting of it from the web there is a danger of it being altered by those who target me and infiltrate my computers. This has already happened once - about half of it hacked out. I have repeatedly tried to reevaluate it and can not accomplish much while being targeted and those who target me having an obvious issue with it, especially since the end of March 2016, which partly why it came down from the web. So, these rushed notes and new introductions are the best I can do right now.

* My writings have sometimes been altered, (paragraphs swapped around, words changed or parts erased...etc.) in order to confuse my readers and hide the targeting or make me look crazy. Until the targeting has stopped, and I am able to gain some level of security in my computers...etc., I can not promise that they will remain as I wrote them. Please listen to your Heart above all else. If you look with your Heart you will know. Please help stop the targeting www.targetedinamerica.com

* In 2010, a raw form of "Into the Light" had been shared on the web, in a desperate effort to expose the targeting before I knew much about it. At that time I was literally fearing for my life and probably should not have shared it publicly. Though it is a good example of what a Targeted Individual goes through before becoming aware of most of the targeting. . .it is so controversial that many seemed to have issues with it remaining on the web, including those who target me. It contained real names and some of the most in depth targeting events performed by many people including members of my family of origin and the NH DOT. I hope that my removing most of this book does not enable those who target me to succeed with anything else. They wanted it removed as well. I hope that enough decent people have original copies of it. Original copies can also still be made available to honest, compassionate officials who have good intentions, if that need should arise.
    I can understand some of the issues that some people have had with this book, especially since it contained real names. I had not originally planned to share it before doing serious edits to it. It had originally been just a creative way for me try to figure things out. Now, there are many parts of it, which need editing, erasing or further explaining, in order for readers to fully understand. . .and I am still being too heavily targeted to do it justice and be sure of it remaining the way I wrote it.

* I am deeply sorry if this book offends anyone. When I first wrote it I had not planned on sharing it without editing it. Then the targeting vamped up and I threw it on the web in 2010. It stayed there, in its original form until June of 2016. This book was more unusual than my other writings, because I wrote it in a creative "fiction" format in order to distance myself from my emotions and try to figure out who was targeting me. It got a bit creative with assumptions, but all the events I shared in it were true. Like I said, I had not planned on sharing it in this form. But I did, and I am truly sorry if this has offended good people. If ever I am actually able to freely turn this book into the Covert Puzzle book I will make sure that it is edited and explained with my heart. . .and with great efforts to not offend good decent people. . .hopefully not offend anyone.

* On the Issue with my family of origin; A couple years after writing "Into the Light" I began to realize that I am a Targeted Individual, that my whole family was targeted and that many things were not exactly as they seemed in 2010. Many manipulations were set up by those who target me, as well as my family, in order to tear us apart, use some of them to help target me and isolate me from the ones who would have been here for me. These manipulations included technological mind control on my whole family. It succeeded because none of us were aware of being targeted. I have been separated from my family of origin through most of my adult life, although I was originally in the family caregiver roll. In this book I freely shared issues with famikly members as I tried to figure out the targeting. I had not originally planned on sharing it without editing it. Please do not judge any of us based on anything I wrote. We ALL need your compassion and understanding.
    The situation with my family has been extremely painful for me. I have often been torn by the love I feel for them and confusion and pain around the ways that some of them have treated me. I have not had the chance to fully process all that has happened. But I now believe that my whole family has been victimized by remote technological experimentation since at least the mid 1970s.
    I also now believe that the 2004 dream, which I had about my father sexually abusing me as a child, was a technologically projected dream and was part of the targeting process to tear us apart...etc. It hurt indescribably for me to think that. It deeply hurt both of us. The targeting is as dark and cruel as hell. . .literally. Those who target us have even tried to frame me as a pedophile and I think that the stuff about my father may have been to set things up to make it look like I could have acted out what happened to me. But I don't think it ever did really happen to me. I just trusted my dreams because, at that time, I had no knowledge of being surveilled and targeted and that psychotronic weapons could project false dreams into my brain.
    Though I can now understand that my family members are also victims of the covert and technological targeting. . .the fact remains that they have been used against me by those who target me and are not safe for me to be with unless all the targeting were to stop on all of us. My heart aches for all of us more than words can even begin to express. Family was extremely important to me. My fight to expose and stop the targeting has largely been for them, my children and other loved ones. . .as well as the rest of humanity. We have all been hurt indescribably. And we all need our freedom back so that we can Love each other instead of being used to hurt each other.

* Do I think I was Jesus? I honestly don't know if I was. I have questioned it, due to some of my experiences and the fact that I seem to being targeted by a satanic occult. But, now that I am more aware of the technological parts of the targeting of my brain, I can not be sure of the authenticity of what was in many of my own dreams or visions...etc. Words can not describe how horrible this feels. It feels like my life has been flipped upside down and torn to shreds and sometimes do not know what pieces of the torn scraps are genuinely mine or had been projected into my brain. And I am being too heavily targeted to figure it all out. I am trapped in a chotic prison where covert harassement, technological invasions into my body and brain, and constant surveillance are often more than I can handle. As Long as I am in this situation there is no chance for the kind of peacefull soul searching that I need and has been being sabotaged throughout my past as well.
    This book had shared a few visions I had and my childhood nightmare, which was like being nailed to a cross. Had those who target us advanced into dream projection in the 1960s? I don't know. And I regret sharing any of this publicly, because even if I was Jesus in a pst life, I obviously am not now and it would be best to keep it private. . .although, if the dark ones know and hold me in prison, my survival may depend on good people knowing. . .but how can they know if I don't? And I honestly do not know for sure. I have always felt a painful tug at my heart when I see Jesus on a cross. . .like something is horribly wrong. But maybe I was one of Jesus's friends in a past life. Maybe I was crucified for following him...etc. There are a lot of possible explanations for my "Jesus" related experiences, which have been few and far between. But, like I said, I have not had the time and freedom to figure it all out. I honestly don't know. But irregardless of who I may or may not have been, I want to be authentically who I was born to be in this lifetime.
    Right now I am just a woman who is fighting for the freedom to be who I am, no matter who that is or was. With my writings I have been fighting to save our lives and the Heart of humanity from a Technological Holocaust, because the mind control and pharmaceutical parts of it are harming humanity psychologically and spiritually. Its destroying the Heart of humanity and needs to be stopped ASAP.
    I am one of many technological holocaust victims. If I am ever able to regain my Freedom, I will have to start a process of finding myself all over again. . . and do another deep recovery/healing process. I hope this will happen for me. I deeply need it to. I think that most of humanity needs this at this point, but the targeting needs to be stopped first. Please help expose and stop it.

    As for "being Jesus"; I feel that the past should not be re-created and that there have been dark setups for false expectations around the return of Jesus. I don't want to be "Jesus." I just want to be me - who I was born to be in this lifetime.
     I'd like to urge everyone to NOT sit around waiting for that one savior for the world, because He/She is only a messenger for God. . .the same kind of messenger that YOU can be if you open your Heart enough to let that Love/Light work through you. Please let your Heart stand up for humanity. I feel that there are many people who will help save humanity from the technological and pharmaceutical holocaust...etc.
I strongly feel that God works through many Hearts. Jesus was not the only one. Perhaps the REAL return of "Jesus" is just about God working through many different Hearts to help save humanity. I believe this to be true. We ALL desperately need more Hearts that are open enough to let the highest Love/Light work through them. You could be one of those Hearts. God's Hands Work Through our Hearts. We Must Do Our Parts. Please stand up and help save humanity.
* On the Issue with my experience with the New Hampshire DOT taking of my Loudon, NH home; The statement on this, in the book was extremely emotional, because I was in the process of more fully facing my feelings about it, during another stressful time. It was more of a venting and could be put in a much more functional way. But the things they did to me were true. I actually wrote it around the end of 2005, as an exercise in using writing to release suppressed pain for a "Victims of the Storms" booklet. In it I freely cried and wrote and vented out the pain associated with them setting a closing date, which caused me to close my business and lose my income, then their not following through on that closing and my mortgage being raised. . .intentionally shoving me toward losing my home...etc. This was all as difficult and painful as it sounds. I was recently divorced and had two children who depended on me. But in my 2005 venting I did too much dysfuntional blaming. At that time this helped me release pent up emotions. I am not even sure if I had originally written it this way, because it goes against the way I tend to perceive things and I have had problems with my computers being infiltrtated. Either way, I am sorry that it was published this way. (I am going to change it when I put this book into its more appropriate "Covert Puzzle" book.) Until then, please do not let this influence you against "the government." They are being targeted too.
    I am sorry for how dysfunctional this statement was. I am sorry that I blamed "the government" for what just a few DOT officials, and my bank did to me. I feel bad about doing that, especially now that I realize how our world is at war and this is a more sensitive subject than ever before. But I can not appologize for what they did to me or my writing about it or for my feelings. It hurt. It hurt a lot. This was a major event that yanked the rug out from under my feet. But I'd like to assure government officials that I have absolutely no intention of starting a lawsuit against the government due to my experiences with the DOT. I just want the targetings to be realized, acknowledged and stopped so that we can all regain our freedom. . .you too.
     I now feel that people inside the government, as well as outside the government, were targeted around this situation, especially the family that helped me through it. Its sad for all of us. God help us all and God, help America.

* Now that I erased the 2012 web posting of this "Into the Light" book it is in danger of being altered by those who target me and infiltrate my computer. They had actually wanted me to erase it and appeared to have been threatening me into it. I realized that, in recent years, I had held it there due to their wanting it down and had even forgotten much of what I'd written in it. Since I finally looked at it, in March of 2016, I felt concerned about some of its contents being exposed, but felt unsure of what to do since it already had been publicly shared for six years, which means that those who target us already had the information in it. After I erased it, they kept sending a covert message that said, "This is the end of the innocence". . . as if it being erased makes me guilty of something. I am not sure what this means. I guess time will tell. I have copies of this book dated in both 2010 and 2012, but I guess that may not do me much good if my belongings and I end up in the hands of those who are targeting me. . .and this possibility is dangerously close.

* My writings have sometimes been altered, (paragraphs swapped around, words changed or parts erased...etc.) in order to confuse my readers, hide the targeting or make me look crazy. Until the targeting has stopped, and I am able to gain some level of security in my computers...etc., I can not promise that they will remain as I wrote them. Please listen to your Heart above all else. If you look with your Heart you will know. Please help stop the targeting.

* Please do not look for fault in me or other heavily targeted individuals. We are already hurting indescribably. Our suffering hits holocaustal levels. We are in desperate need of compassionate understanding from our fellow human beings.

* Humanity is experiencing a Technological Holocaust. Its real. Its hurting an uncountable number of people. Its terrifying. Too few people know about it. Many families are being hurt by it. And many heavily targeted victims suffer, alone and scared. . .our lives being slowly and cruelly destroyed. Please care to see and help stop all sorts of technological targeting and covert harassment.

* If ever I am actually able to freely turn this book into the Covert Puzzle book I will make sure that it is edited, explained with my heart. . .and with great efforts to not offend good decent people. . .hopefully not offend anyone.

* Read more about the targeting in my "Technological Holocaust," "Targeted in America" and "Ramblings of a Targeted Individual" books. Many new realizations are not in these books, because, shortly after I started attempting to re-read this "Into the Light" book, and started realizing more of the targeting, I was blocked from my writing computer and my ability to do updates on these books.

Read more about Targeted Individuals
New Introductions to Into the Light
New Introduction #2
    This book is an example of the excruciating pain and confusion that a victim of covert targeting can go through before understanding the cruel inflictions of psychological harassment, intentional deprivation of needs, and technological torture and mind control on me as well as my loved ones.
    While I wrote this book I was scared, living in a car and being heavily targeted. Consequently, it ended up being a rushed and chaotic mixture of fiction and a report of the targeting in a process of my trying to figure out who was targeting me. It is an unusual factual book that is written in fiction format. I am Sharon - the primary character. Writing this, as if I were on the outside looking in, helped me to distance myself from my situation as I aimed to figure out why, and by whom, I was being targeted. (I didn’t start really figuring it out until about a year later.) I had known, since around the end of 2005, that I was being targeted by what seemed to be some sort of occult or group that involved many different people. But I was not yet aware of the technological mind control part or how they had used my own family members against me. . .victimizing them as well.
    This book was basically just a creative way for me to try to figure out the targeting and do a little venting as I processed some of my feelings. Please be sure to read the notes in the end of this book, which explain many important things. More personal reports of the targeting can be found in my “Targeted in America” book.

    I have left this book basically the same as it was when I wrote it, except for removing the names, fixing a few mistakes or alterations by those who target me, and plugging in a few explanations around the softening of emotional outbursts in order to eliminate misunderstanding or offense.
    I have gone back and forth about whether or not I should remove the names. Since people, whom I have been associate with now appear to have been being targeted, I am now deeply concerned about people whom I’ve mentioned in this book, because the original book, with the names in tact, had already been shared on the web from around February of 2010 to May of 2016 - those who target me already had the information years before I realized that this could be happening. I had not originally planned on sharing this book publicly, but vamped up targeting scared me and pushed me into throwing it onto the web and rushing to an island off the coast of North Carolina in a failed attempt to escape it. Because it was shared on the web, with the names in it, I feel unsure of what to do, but have decided to remove the names and add in explanations. The original book can be made available to honest officials, who have good intentions, if the need should ever arise.
    I am deeply sorry if my including names in my writings caused hardship for anyone. This is a horrible situation and I’m having a hard time knowing how to handle it. I am deeply sorry if my being so open was the wrong thing to do under these circumstances. At the time, I actually thought that it was the best thing to do, but it turns out that exposing too much may have also enabled the covering of evidence and targeting of witnesses. God help us all.
    I can not really hide my family members and no longer want to for their sakes as well as mine. If I could turn back the hands of time, and know what I do now, I’d not have shared as much of the personal family stuff in this way. I had originally shared my most feeling based writings under a pen name, in order to protect them. Some of it came from a booklet, which I wrote under extreme distress in the aftermath of a flood that wiped out my Alstead New Hampshire neighborhood. My book “Embracing Sadness” says it all in a much more functional way.
    But what’s done is done and I hope that my experiences, and my sharing them, will be used as a tool for growth, not only by my family, but also for other targeted families.
    I hope that everyone who reads this book will treat my family, myself and everyone else I mention, with levels of objective respect that can help and comfort us instead of adding more discomfort to an already extremely difficult and painful situation.
    Though some of my family members have been used against me they are victims also. Due to the targeting I have lived separate from my family of origin through most of my adult life, but my heart has always missed them and yearned for more loving relationships with all of them.

    Some parts of this book were pulled from older writings in my rush to expose the targeting. Some of them are more like personal venting then what should be publicly shared in a book. I hope that those who had read the unexplained first edition will try to understand the rounds of literal terror that heavily targeted individuals are put through. I have gone through an uncountable number of rounds of targeting, which has dropped me to my knees and left me not knowing if I would live to see the next day. Under these sorts of conditions there is no time for consideration of legal ramifications or being “politically correct”, because it is a frantic fight for life, not only my life, but also that of others who were being targeted as well. Sadly some of those lives have been lost, many through being enslaved and used by the program that targets us all.

Introduction #3
    This book is an example of the excruciating pain and confusion that a victim of covert targeting can go through before understanding the cruel inflictions of psychological harassment, intentional deprivation of needs, and technological torture and mind control on me as well as my loved ones.
    While I wrote this book I was scared, living in a car and being heavily targeted. Consequently, it ended up being a rushed and chaotic mixture of fiction and a report of the targeting in a process of my trying to figure out who was targeting me. It is an unusual factual book that is written in fiction format. I am Sharon - the primary character. Writing this, as if I were on the outside looking in, helped me to distance myself from my situation as I aimed to figure out why, and by whom, I was being targeted. (I didn’t start really figuring it out until about a year later.) I had known, since around the end of 2005, that I was being targeted by what seemed to be some sort of occult or group that involved many different people. But I was not yet aware of the technoloigical mind control part or how they had used my own family members against me. . .victimizing them as well.
    This book was basically just a creative way for me to try to figure out the targeting and do a little venting as I processed some of my feelings. Please be sure to read the notes in the end of this book, which explain many important things. More personal reports of the targeting can be found in my “Targeted in America” book.

    I have left this book basically the same as it was when I wrote it, except for removing the names, fixing a few mistakes or alterations by those who target me, and plugging in a few explanations around the softening of emotional outbursts in order to eliminate misunderstanding or offense.

    I have gone back and forth about whether or not I should remove the names. Since people, whom I have been associate with now appear to have been being targeted, I am now deeply concerned about people whom I’ve mentioned in this book, because the original book, with the names in tact, had already been shared on the web from around February of 2010 to May of 2016 - those who target me already had the information years before I realized that this could be happening. I had not originally planned on sharing this book publicly, but vamped up targeting scared me and pushed me into throwing it onto the web and rushing to an island off the coast of North Carolina in a failed attempt to escape it. Because it was shared on the web, with the names in it, I feel unsure of what to do, but have decided to remove the names and add in explanations. The original book can be made available to honest officials, who have good intentions, if the need should ever arise.
    I am deeply sorry if my including names in my writings caused hardship for anyone. This is a horrible situation and I’m having a hard time knowing how to handle it. I am deeply sorry if my being so open was the wrong thing to do under these circumstances. At the time, I actually thought that it was the best thing to do, but it turns out that exposing too much may have also enabled the covering of evidence and targeting of witnesses. God help us all.

    I can not really hide my family members and no longer want to for their sakes as well as mine. If I could turn back the hands of time, and know what I do now, I’d not have shared as much of the personal family stuff in this way. I had originally shared my most feeling based writings under a pen name, in order to protect them. Some of it came from a booklet, which I wrote under extreme distress in the aftermath of a flood that wiped out my Alstead New Hampshire neighborhood. My book “Embracing Sadness” says it all in a much more functional way.
    But what’s done is done and I hope that my experiences, and my sharing them, will be used as a tool for growth, not only by my family, but also for other targeted families.
    I hope that everyone who reads this book will treat my family, myself and everyone else I mention, with levels of objective respect that can help and comfort us instead of adding more discomfort to an already extremely difficult and painful situation.
    Though some of my family members have been used against me they are victims also. Due to the targeting I have lived separate from my family of origin through most of my adult life, but my heart has always missed them and yearned for more loving relationships with all of them.

    Some parts of this book were pulled from older writings in my rush to expose the targeting. Some of them are more like personal venting then what should be publicly shared in a book. I hope that those who had read the unexplained first edition will try to understand the rounds of literal terror that heavily targeted individuals are put through. I have gone through an uncountable number of rounds of targeting, which has dropped me to my knees and left me not knowing if I would live to see the next day. Under these sorts of conditions there is no time for consideration of legal ramifications or being “politically correct”, because it is a frantic fight for life, not only my life, but also that of others who were being targeted as well. Sadly some of those lives have been lost, many through being enslaved and used by the program that targets us all.
~ ~ ~

    Humanity is experiencing a Technological Holocaust. Its real. Its hurting an uncountable number of people. Its terrifying. Too few people know about it. Many families are being hurt by it. And many heavily targeted victims suffer, alone and scared. . .our lives being slowly and cruelly destroyed. Please care to see and help stop all sorts of technological targeting and covert harassment.

* Please do not look for fault in me or other heavily targeted individuals. We are already hurting indescribably. Our suffering hits holocaustal levels. We are in desperate need of compassionate understanding from our fellow human beings. If ever I am actually able to freely turn this book into the Covert Puzzle book I will make sure that it is edited and explained with my heart. . .and with great efforts to not offend good decent people. . .hopefully not offend anyone.

    Read more about the targeting in my "Technological Holcaust," "Targeted in America" and "Ramblings of a Targeted Individual" books. Many new realizations are not in these books, because, shortly after I started attempting to re-read this "Into the Light" book, and started realizing more of the targeting, I was blocked from my writing computer and my ability to do updates on these books.

Read more about the targeting; www.targetedinamerica.com

New “Into the Light” Book Address
Original “Into the Light” Book Address
 "Into the Light" Page on Poetic Publications
Please also read my “Targeted in America” and “Ramblings of a Targeted
Individual – the Introduction” books for more information on the targeting.

My primary websites:

Give us STRENGTH, God...to find our way
through bullets hidden in microwaves,
and COURAGE, God...to make a STAND
 that saves our lives and FREEs our land.

God help us all to regain our freedom and have have a chance to recover