Dirt Naps in the Desert

“Dirt Naps in the Desert” is a work in progress, as I am writing the actual events leading up to the moment “The Ripper” cut my throat in our front yard fifteen years ago – with an audience of law enforcement, emergency response teams, neighbors watching in disbelief. The actual triggering event that eventually had the Police called out to our home in the early morning hours had been something that I blocked completely out of my head somehow until I began writing again about it here and had a conversation with someone who was there when it all went down (Jackson: the EMT who actually rode in the ambulance with me that day – who literally breathed his own life into me to keep me alive when I stopped breathing for myself, and who has become closer than I believe my Father and I could’ve ever been – due to our strange way of initially becoming somewhat “intimately” with each other).

The pain from this re-recollection was immense and caused me to stop the written account of that completely because I was just as appalled all over again by this memory of the thing that set me into an outdoor display psychotic rage: screaming and crying and breaking everything I saw and yelling at the top of my lungs that my husband was “a MURDERER!!!”

I was not giving a fuck during this vague time in my memory, I was in despair and I was shocked beyond description and heartbroken and full of self hatred and guilt and regrets…

I was screaming “I’m sorry!!!” and throwing dirt into the air – it was 5:00am and freezing cold outside, I’ve been told – – – but I never noticed either element at the time. I will keep writing…it’s just really really hard to think on for too long at a time, I guess…not healthy…

Anyway, this is my ongoing attempt at sharing the madness that was my life…and almost my death also.

The ACTUAL Crime Scene

The ACTUAL Crime Scene

Click the Crime Scene Photo to Read About My Experiences With Domestic Captivity, a Psychopathic and Cruelly Terroristic Ex-Husband (who’s dead now) That Tried To End My Life, and the Gradual Process of My First Ever Written Account of The Days Leading Up To The Birth Of a “Cut-Throat Survivor“.


One thought on “Dirt Naps in the Desert

  1. Rise above says:

    And then, it made sense