Monday, June 3, 2013

Things You Should Do While Naked

Did the title catch your attention?

Great. A little shock on a Monday morning is good for a person.

In my Sweet & Sassy Divas and Dudes group on Facebook - join us, join us...
Anyway, a member of the group posted a picture with the question: What Should You Not Do While Naked? Well, the hilarious answers and discussion that ensued, prompted me to write a post about things you should do while naked. Of course, some might be obvious but here are my top 5 things you should do while naked...

1. Sex
Obvious, I know. While I'm not opposed to wearing lingerie, garters, costumes, handcuffs, doing it in a public place unexpectedly having to hike up your skirt, I think every once in a while, you should get naked have some sweaty, hot sex. You know, skin on skin, rolling around the bed, floor, what have you, good old fashioned kind of fun.

Oh and that wasn't really a commentary on my sex life - I simply said I wasn't opposed to it.

2. Skinny dipping.
Obvious again, especially since the entire point of skinny dipping is to be naked while swimming. While I haven't done it in years, I'm going on vacation this summer. Mayhap there will be an opportunity to skinny dip. Although, the last time I believe I wasn't alone, but there's always a first time for everything.

3. Running through the rain.
In the summer, my kids and I run through the warm summer rains on occasion, soaking our clothes right to the skin. It feels great. NOW let's be clear here - I don't actually want to run naked with them in the rain. Lord knows, we're all at an age where it's inappropriate for us to all be seen naked together, unless I suppose we were living on a nudist colony or something, and really I just got the youngest to stay clothed for long periods of time, so this isn't something I'd do as a family. I'm just saying it would be interesting to do. ALONE. Or with a significant other. Your choice.

4. Rolling in the mud.
When I was a kid, my parents would joke that I could play in a mud puddle and come out clean. I HATED getting dirty. As I got older, I realized that getting dirty comes with its own satisfaction, and cleaning up afterward is satisfying too. *eye roll* Oh please I'm talking about gardening. Get your mind out of the gutter.

Anyway, I think rolling in the mud would be cool. It feels neat to squish it through through your fingers and toes, right? And people mud wrestle. Hmm...if you get it in your hair that's difficult to wash out...perhaps I have to rethink my logic on this one... :P

5. Reading a book. Why? I don't know. I had to think of at least five because five is just a good number. Maybe you want to read my erotic poetry book Secrets and Desires of the Heart while naked with your significant other? *cough, shameless plug*

I mean, little children are always trying to shed their clothes. They feel free when they're naked! Maybe it's time we all free ourselves... Although, let's not get arrested, or caught by the neighbours, or anything. Unless you're into that kind of thing.

DISCLAIMER: Author is not responsible for the actions of others who read this post.

Monday, May 27, 2013

My Story - Sweet Hell on Fire


I was a bad mother,
a bad daughter,
a bad wife, a bad friend.
Boozed out and tired,
with no dreams
and no future.

But I was a good officer.

Sara Lunsford helped cage the worst of the worst, from serial killers to sex criminals. At the end of every day, when she walked out the prison gate, she had to try to shed the horrors she witnessed. But the darkness invaded every part of her life, no matter how much she tried to immerse herself in a liquor bottle. She couldn't hide from the things that hurt her, the things that made her bleed, the things that still rise up in the dark and choke her.
With a magnetic, raw voice that you won't soon forget, Sweet Hell on Fire grabs you by the throat and doesn't let go. It's a hardscrabble climb from rock bottom to the new ground of a woman who understands the meaning of sacrifice, the joy of redemption, and the quiet haven to be found in hope.

 Buy Links:




Dear Friends,

The above quote is the jacket copy from my memoir Sweet Hell on Fire. It released in November and it’s surreal to look at it and think that’s me. When contemplating what to say for this post, I went back and read parts of it again. What happened didn’t change, but I did. The person who all of this happened to was one incarnation, the person who wrote about it was another, and yet here now, is still another. In most of my posts, I talk about redemption because if ever anyone was in need of it, it was me. Or the dichotomy of having been a corrections officer and now writing romance full time.

But I think I want to talk about hope. Through a good portion of the book, there isn’t much. I made a mess of my life and even after I decided to get it all together, I still had a lot of things to overcome. It gets darker before it gets better.

Before it gets better. See, it did get better.

It does get better.

When I was a teenager and first started writing everything was always so intense, so dark and so angsty. One of my favorite things to say was that hope was the worst thing you could feel because it made you want, made you yearn, made you desperate for things that were out of your reach. That’s pretty overwrought and patently untrue. We need hope as much as we need breath.

Hope is why I wrote the book. It’s not that I thought my life was big. Or what happened to me was all that unique. Frankly, I’m a statistic. A sad, horrible, awful statistic, but a statistic none the less. In 2010, the CDC reported estimates that one in every five women has been raped and in most cases, it was by someone the victim knew. I was working at the prison when I was assaulted, but it wasn’t by an inmate. It wasn’t a stranger. It was someone who was supposed to be my friend. Someone who once told me they’d hang the moon and stars just for me to smile.

Where is the hope in that? Right here. Me. Writing this blog post. After everything, after being treated like I was too broken to be worth anything to anyone, the trauma, the stitches, the blood, the “misfiled” paperwork, the judgment, losing my job, PTSD, the shame…  God, the shame.

“Did you ever talk about sex with him?”
“Are you sure it was rape and not buyer’s remorse?”
“You don’t act like you were raped.”

Or even the questions I got when I held a Reddit chat to promote my book. One Reddit user asked me if I was violated anally and if I liked it. But that hasn’t stopped me. I’ve had brains sprayed across me that used to be in a person. I’ve had conversations about the weather with a man who kept his dead wife in his trunk and ate bits and pieces of her. Some troll on the ‘net isn’t going to get the better of me. Neither is someone who took one moment out of my life. One moment among millions. That moment doesn’t define me. I define me.

I’m a writer. I know the power of words. Which is why I’m using mine, all of them, to speak. To stand. To let everyone look at me and know what happened. Because it doesn’t just happen to me. It happens to sisters, mothers, friends, and lovers. It happens to brothers, fathers, and sons. It can happen to anyone.

And not just rape—violence, darkness, and that feeling that you are so utterly and completely alone and adrift.

You’re not. No matter what circumstances you find yourself in, you’re not alone. Even if you don’t see anyone else, you can look at this and see me.

There is good life after pain, after suffering. After loss. You do live again. You dream again.

That’s why I had to tell my story and that’s what I want people to take away from my book. Not just the horrors behind the walls, not the monsters that lurk inside us, but the hope.

Hopefully yours,

Sara

Monday, May 20, 2013

MY Story - Did You Hear Me Crying?


Writing my book was one of the hardest things I have done, but it was also a very healing exercise for me.
I have suffered 45 year of sexual, physical and emotional abuse at the hands of the closest men in my life. I was repeatedly raped by my stepfather from the age of four year old until I was sixteen, I lost my virginity at the age of eight and at the age of fourteen I had a miscarriage.

My mother knew about the abuse but did nothing, she also was very abusive toward me. When I got to sixteen, both my mother and stepfather sold me for marriage to a man twelve years older than me, I was a very lonely sad, frightened child and teenager I felt so isolated, my ability to mix with people was very difficult because I was so crippled with fear and unhappiness. Although I smiled all the time it was a pure mask to hide my pain. I found it so hard to let anyone close to me.

I always felt totally inadequate and unworthy of good friendships. I had one daughter in that first marriage she now is twenty seven years old, but our relationship is so damaged. When I got to twenty one, I decided to run away from my husband, I wanted to take my daughter with me but my husband wouldn't let me, (I was going to London from Ireland) he said if I got somewhere to live and a job he would let my daughter come to me in London, but that never happened. Before I left for London he took me to a lawyers office to sign a paper to say I would not take any of his land or money (he was a wealthy farmer) I didn't want any of his money or land so I willing signed the paper, what I didn't know was I signed away my daughter.

I met and fell in love with a man eighteen years my senior. He was a very sexy rock star type looking man who swept me totally off my feet, I was in total awe of him. We moved to London and within a short time he became very controlling and physically abusive toward me. I became quit terrified of him and his control, within a very short time I was completely dependent on him. I had four children in this marriage, two of whom were born with special needs, my second son has aspergers syndrome, and my youngest daughter was born with mild right hemiplegia. The violence and control continued for twenty five years before I plucked up the courage to leave the abuse behind. Before I left I was a quivering wreck, I was staying in bed to keep out of my husbands way, I become all most totally reclusive, eaten up by a dark deep depression of fear and despair.

I heard an add on the local radio for domestic violence the slogan was "don't suffer in silence". I finally picked up the phone and made a call It was the best call I have ever made. I started to have counselling sessions at the unit and discovered for the first time in my life that none of the abuse I was suffering was my fault as I had believed for all my life. I slowly, slowly started to come to realise so much about my self and my life. I decided to leave my abusive husband behind and get out of the house for my own safety, I begged my children to come, but my children wanted to stay in the family home, my husband and told them many untruths about me to keep them in the house and turn them against me. This was a just a very traumatic time, I thought I would die of a broken heart.

When I left the family home I was followed and intimidated by my husband he was still terrifying me. My children by this time had also become quite abusive toward me under the direction of their father. I got an offer to go to a beautiful log cabin just outside London for 6 months which I felt was something I needed to do. I tearfully left Ireland and went to London, I thought I was going out of my mind the pain of not having my children was almost more than I could bare. I have lost my home that I had worked so hard for and my business that I had built up for 25 years, all I had were 7 small boxes of personal belongings. I many times thought of ending my life, unable to deal with this terrible pain of the realization of all the abuse I had suffered and of all I had lost all I had worked for for so many years.

I decided I would write, I would write for all I was worth, I sat at my computer and wrote my life story, I wrote it from my heart and with honesty and openness, writing my book bought back very painful memories but it was something I knew I had to do. By chance I got introduced to a publisher who after reading a few pages of my book said she wanted to publish me. I had no idea of anything like this when I started writing - all I knew was I wanted to get my story down, to get published was just a dream come true. Then after writing my book, I came back to Ireland. It has been difficult to get myself established again but I am getting there. I have sold over 10,000 copies of my book in the first three months since its release. I now have a great relationship with my children and I work very hard on building on this.


I tour Ireland and I talk about my life experiences. As painful and as traumatic a s my life has been, I now live abuse free, I am a free as a bird, and nothing in this world can compare to this feeling, I want to share my story of love hope and survival, in a bid to help as many men, women and children as I can in the world to realise that no matter how long you have been abused, no matter how bad it was you can rebuild your life, you can find the power within to break free from pain. if you hold onto the pain you allow your abuser to still have power over you. I now teach people how to move from pain to power.

DID YOU HEAR ME CRYING

Cassie Moore’sstory is a powerful,true tale ofsurvivalthrough 45 years of Sexual, Physical and
Emotional Abuse.
Hers is a book that should never have needed to be written, let alone experienced. 

Published worldwide on 25 November, the International Day for the Elimination o f
Violence Against Women, by Live It Publishing.

The World Health Organisation estimates that up to 40 million children are abused
every year. Millions of these children will go through life without help. Many will
continue to be abused throughout their lifetimes. Some will commitsuicide and some
will, in turn, become abusers themselves.

According to Women’s Aid, at least 1 in 3 women (i.e. up to one billion women) has
been beaten, coerced into sex, or otherwise abused in her lifetime. A staggering 40‐
70% of women murdered worldwide are killed by their current or former boyfriend or
husband. “Abuse is classless.” It affects every sector of society.

In her memoir, Did You Hear Me Crying, Cassie Moore gives a very open and honest
description of how she suffered and survived a lifetime of abuse. She describes:

 The sexual, physical and emotional abuse she suffered at the hands of her Stepfather and Mother, who
then sold her for marriage at the age of 16 to a wealthy farmer
 The heartbreak she suffered when she naively left her 22 month old baby girl behind when she fled to
London with the man she fell in love with, only to be abused by him for a further 23 years
 The selfloathing, depression and despair she felt before she took the brave steps to walk away
 The heartache of losing her 4 other children, her home and her business when she made the break and
left the abuse behind
 How she is picking up the pieces of herlife and looking to the future

“Cassie Moore’s book is a very powerful and moving story. The abuse she was subjected to is so stark and
horrible, but her strength shines through, the book tellsso much about abuse and how difficult it isto leave, but
it also has such a powerful message.”—Women’s Aid Ireland

Cassie Moore live sin Ireland and is available for interviews and signings in Ireland and the UK. For more information please contact the Live It Publishing PR Team at info@liveitpublishing.com.
Proceeds from Did You Hear Me Crying benefit Women's Aid Ireland, Barnardos Ireland and CARI Ireland.