Sign up for the Dr. Phil Newsletter
Twitter Facebook YouTube


The guests on the show, "Shocking Mom Revelations," came clean with their own private battles behind closed doors. Is there something that you're struggling with as a mother? You're not alone. Share your story and find support here.
Replied By: growth60 on Mar 23, 2015, 7:14AM - In reply to shallannarenee
My Dad left me in my crib when I was little to cry it out and i became silent in school , but a rageholic at home. I didn't know I had an illness until I was 36 and when I tried to be nice, was hit by my husband and my Dad yelled at me for wanting to be a Mom. I felt my sweet inner child at the same time, but wad finally left with my rage and no way to support myself. Don't give up on her. Show her how to bond with her baby when you can read compassionate child rearing. Protect the child, but praise your Daughter when she does good. God can heal, but it is not easy. I will be thinking of you.

Replied By: growth60 on Mar 23, 2015, 7:05AM
I lost my children to mental illness 20 years ago, just when I was figuring it out. I had a nervous breakdown with 3 mortgages and back taxes and a loss of inheritance.My true brain was coming alive and other people liked me, but not my family. I was left as a toddler who couldn't do anything and my inner anxious child. I should have been hospitilized ,but wasn't and was abused and neglected as a Woman. I am finally in my own place that is safe, but have no relationships with my kids. I am a binge eater, have OCD, Add , independent personality, fatherless duaghter syndrome, PTSD, severe depression, but survived. I am a Montessori type teacher who wanted to raise my children to reach their own potential with structure and guiding love, but was poor and couldn't do it. My rich sisters left me homeless for 20 years while I did other people's laundry for a place to live and took care of the elderly and was a Nanny. I was the scapegoat of a family that had no Mom or Dad connection and 6 teenage pregnancies from College Educated Parents who couldn't afford us. My sisters lached on to the educational system, but I did not. I could never concentrate to do so. One sister told my Dad the trouble she was having and got all the attention while I was not DAddy's little girl and he didn't steer me away from bad men, he just loved his job. I was very sick and the better I get, the more I realized I was duped and lied to and the family secret. God is trying to heal me,but I have alot of resentment and nothing to do as I don't have a family to run. My fourth daughter now has no desire to be a Mom with a toddler and one on the way, but will become a workaholic too. I have a 20 year headache over this and am always hungry and eating. One can't take care of their family in the middle of a panic attack, yet was expected to figure out how to save my home in the middle of it. I was left in my crib to cry it out when I was a toddler and curled up in a ball and my Dad always bragged , i would have strong lungs and I did as a rageaholic. Then one day I wanted to be nice and my husband hit me for being nice and my Dad yelled at me for wanting to be a MOM and everyone told me love was unrealistic. I am hoping for God to give me back double for my trouble and out of this psychosis I have been in since the first grade.
Replied By: nicolaraejames on Mar 22, 2015, 2:02PM
"It wasn’t just losing you that HURT the most,

                        it was not getting the CHANCE to know you"


              The week before I had been crying and arguing over and over again with my boyfriend about keeping him (the baby).  He finally just left.  He was abusive so I was kind of glad he left because that meant I didn’t have to hear him drill it anymore in my head how I need to abort this baby and that I’m going to get fat and huge and no one else will ever want me and blah blah.  Though, in my fantasy world, were together still and he is so happy and excited to have a baby boy together.  He can’t wait to see him and hold him and be a family.  He won’t hit me anymore, he won’t pull me by my hair anymore, he will treat me better, he wants to feel the baby I lay there and look around my dark quiet apartment.  I still hold the smallest amount of hope that he will come walking through that door and say all those nice things to me...but he never does.  Each hour that goes by, it makes me cry more and more. He really just left me here like this.

October 28th. 2010

                        18 days he was gone.  18 days he left me alone, didn’t even come to check on me or call at least or text! The night before I had some spotting of blood and started getting cramps.  Doctor said it was normal even though I was in my second trimester but to call if it got worse.  Part of me wanted to believe that but deep down, I knew this just wasn’t right but I forced myself to believe id be fine. 

                               I woke up a few times during the night with painful cramps and woke up that morning with blood.  I still kept telling myself its fine.  Who do you know comes to take me to work that morning?  My baby’s daddy.  Thank God because it hurt to walk since I started getting tougher cramps and I really didn’t want to walk to work.  Of course he assumed id gotten an abortion since he was gone for so long. So he argued more (I didn’t have any strength to fight). I tuned him out and started thinking about what I was going to do. I figured I’d just go to work (since it was only a 4 hour day) and go to the doctors when I was done.  After 7 1/2 hours of intense, extreme, painful contractions, I felt the urge to go to the bathroom.  As I was sitting in the bathroom I started feeling myself’s really hard to explain this part.  I get flashbacks still when I explain it.    I pulled this tiny little body out.  There he was...I never knew a human could be so small.  He had ears and eyes. a nose and a mouth.  He was a bit bigger than the palm of my hand.   The pain from everything vanished.  I just sat there on the floor with him.  Damon Ray James is what I named him.  He had all ten fingers and toes.  Even though he wasn’t alive, I talked to him.  Told him I was sorry.  If it wasn’t for me sobbing over this ******* he’d probably still be here.  I just wanted to put him in my pocket and carry him everywhere with me.  He changed my life so much, yet destroyed it at the same time I changed after that and not in a good way.  I lost myself.  I later went to the hospital and they confirmed my miscarriage. I was so crushed.  It wasn’t just losing him that hurt the most, it was not getting the chance to know him.  I felt like I didn’t have good reasons to mourn a baby I didn’t even get to have.  I felt like my deep sorrow just wasn’t valid.  I felt like calling myself a mom, calling my son, my son wasn’t valid because he never lived.  So I bottled it all up.  I didn’t tell anyone about him.  I didn’t tell anyone I had a miscarriage. Keeping it all in and not getting help until later is what lead to my most depressing time in my life.

    **WARNING** (This may sound crazy to some but postpartum depression is REAL. I got help and am much better now 4 yrs later, just so everyone knows before they read this. IF YOU ARE CURRENTLY DEPRESSED AND ARE HAVING THESE SAME FEELINGS GET HELP NOW!

   I started developing a split personality, a form of PPD. With my one personality, I managed to force myself to forget the image and got myself to believe that I was still pregnant and that it was just a blood clot that looked like a baby.  This helped me cope with the loss instead of just dealing with it.  I would hold my stomach all the time and tell him "I know your still in there, you gave your mama a scare there".  Then the other half of my personality came out.  That part of me was fully aware I was no longer pregnant and very angry and wanted to desperately get pregnant again.  It was such a constant battle within myself.  I didn’t even know this could happen.  I was so depressed.  I had outbursts and mood swings.  I would be fine and the next I would have a flashback and freak out.  I hated seeing pregnant woman.  I was so jealous, "how come I miscarried.  They didn’t miscarry, what did I do wrong to deserve this?"  I didn’t believe I needed help I just assumed this was a normal way of "coping" and since I wasn’t having suicidal thoughts or thinking of hurting anyone I thought I was fine.  Again, I was very lost.  I have never in my life experienced depression or anything. My ex wanted to come back and I let him because I was depressed and alone and so not in the right mind state.    My ex thought I was still pregnant (he didn’t believe me that I miscarried, he thought I just made it up to get attention) and he assumed still that I would "take care" of it.  He liked it though because that meant he could "finish" inside me after sex.  I had no choice when it came to sex.  It was either do it or be forced to.  Luckily, personality #2 came out during those times and I didn’t put up a fight because I wanted another baby. 

After a month and a half of trying for another baby, yet still telling myself I was pregnant. I decided to start talking to a friend  because I just wanted to talk about it finally but to someone who didn’t know me that well.  It took a while but I slowly started getting back to myself.  I was ok that I wasn’t pregnant.  I felt like having a miscarriage was a good thing. Having a baby with this loser was a horrible idea.  I started living a normal life again and started a new job as a dental assistant.  The boyfriend was treating me nice (because I didn’t do anything to make him mad that’s why) and he told me he loved me. I thought, wow maybe he is changing. I thought I was starting to be a normal person again but I had no idea I was still vulnerable to this man.   A few weeks later I started getting sick.  Really sick.  I was glued to my couch and my toilet.  Nonstop puking day and night for 4 months (found out much later on in my pregnancy I had severe dehydration due to hyperemesis).  I wasn’t gaining much weight from not eating.  I was extremely pale and you could tell I wasn’t healthy. I thought I had the stomach virus for a week.  He was nice until we found out I was pregnant...again!  I couldn’t believe it.  I didn’t want to do this again, I was over it.  I was ok with not being pregnant, I was happy again and normal. I got birth control!  Well he turned completely crazy again only it was worse this time.  He wouldn’t take me to see a doctor, though before he knew I was pregnant he told me he’d take me to the hospital, now it’s a different story.  He pretty much wouldn’t let me anywhere.  I was living in New York at the time, my family was in PA.  I had no one.  He held it over my head that he was paying the bills since I ended up losing both of my jobs due to my hyperemesis.  He told me I would have gotten fired anyway because no one wants a pregnant woman to work because there useless.  I believed it.  I was 21 and stupid   I slumped back into a depression.  I was terrified of him.  He was hoping I would miscarry again.  He of course got back to making me have sex again, every day.  I developed a UTI, which he wouldn’t take me to the doctors for.  Over weeks, my infection got worse,   I started getting high fevers, shakes and cold sweats. I was tumbled over in so much pain in my back and my side.  He didn’t care. He thought again I was lying and that I was cheating on him with someone else and that’s why I didn’t want to have sex.  Not because I was in so much pain and that sex made it even more painful and uncomfortable.  I always held my legs so close together because I couldn’t take it and he would get mad and freak out.  A few weeks after that he just left me and never came back.  No food, no water, no money, no cable.  I had to start walking a few miles to food pantries. I had only tuna fish sandwiches, an egg for breakfast and some tea for when I had a sugar craving (but very grateful for it!).  After one of my walks back home from the food bank, I knew carrying two very heavy bags of food probably wasn’t the best idea. I began to start getting very dizzy and lightheaded bad. One of which I lost balance. I was getting really scared.  Along with the high fevers, shakes and everything else, I knew that I needed to get to a hospital. Eventually, I finally convinced him to take me to the E.R by saying “I couldn’t get an abortion by sitting here all day.”  He was dumb enough to believe me thank god.

June 28th, 2011

                 I saw my daughter for the first time on a 3d ultrasound.  I was 29 weeks along.  I couldn’t believe it.  She was beautiful.  Not to mention I had no idea about 3d ultrasounds so it was cool to see her that way for the first time and I heard her heartbeat for the first time.  I never got to hear Damon’s since they couldn’t find it at 12 weeks (they said that was normal).  I almost forgot reality for a minute.  The doctor told me she might have fluid in her heart and also that we were lucky to be alive.  My U.T.I traveled to my bladder, then into my kidneys then started traveling through my blood stream I believe (Don’t remember the medical term for that).  The Dr, looked at me like she wanted to slap me for waiting so long. Had I waited another day, I could have lost my baby and my life since my organs would eventually shut down and the infection would attack her. I get chills when I say that last part.  The Dr. knew there wasn’t something right with me because the look on my face when I saw my daughter for the first time didn’t match up to a careless mom.  She already knew and practically got the story out of me.  She explained to me I needed to tell my family, get some insurance pronto and move back home away from this guy. 

               After all of this, I called my ex, told him that it was too late for an abortion.  No surprise, he freaked. Threatened everything on me. He told me he would be there in15 minutes to pick me up... and he never came.   Waiting there for 3 hours watching all these pregnant couples come in and out stabbed my heart like a knife.  "Why couldn’t I have someone normal?"  I lucked out by finding 2 dollars in change and got myself an ice cream.  All those lovely fantasy’s I had…. Shattered.  like a mirror.  I finally realized that wasn’t ever going to happen.  I was going to be a single mother and if I didn’t want to lose this child too, I need to (wo)man up. While on my hour walk home, I kept looking at the ultrasound photos, so cool! I had an epiphany (think I spelled that wrong).  I was done with the abuse.  I was happy and he wasn’t going to take this baby from me.  Even though he wanted to. He did text me the next day when I brought up the whole going to Court thing.  He told me to sleep with one eye open and that he still has a key to the apartment still.  I told my family what was going on finally and unlike what he brainwashed me to think (they’d disown me and never talk to me), they did the opposite.  My family came to my rescue.   I went through extreme counseling once I came home to help deal with this (the right way lol). 

August 28th, 2011 -Liv Mackenzie was born (during hurricane Irene, that’s a whole other crazy story!!)

Now 4 ½ yrs. and another son (Jonah-Ray James, who will be 2 soon) later,  I am very happy and I’m glad I left when I did.  I have learned that I didn’t love myself enough to know that I deserved better.  My daughter deserved better.  We deserved to be happy and to live the way we wanted to. My first son, Damon Ray James will always be remembered.  I often always wonder what he would look like now and how he’d be starting kindergarten next year.  I never had an estimated due date. It was just the middle of April and I think it’s crazy how everything happened on the 28th.   My living son was born on April 30th but we went into labor on the 28th! 

Moral of the story-whether you are pregnant and in an abusive relationship or just in one, get out!  You are worth more and you CAN get better.  I always thought I wouldn’t be good enough for anyone else or I couldn’t find anyone else who would love me but I did find someone….myself.  I learned that when you know who you truly are, when you’re comfortable with who you are and own it, you’re less likely to be vulnerable to those negative people in the world.  This is the body im going to be in, who im going to be and what im going to look like until the day I die.  Do I really want to represent myself as a sad and weak individual who will let a disgusting excuse of a man treat me like I’m nothing?   No!  I don’t want to be just a victim anymore,  I want to be the victim that picked her ass up and rose above it all and I have.  I didn’t have family in New York but I still seeked guidance in someone. There ARE options.  There are ways to leave an abusive relationship but it starts with loving yourself first and knowing you deserve to be free from the abuse. 


Replied By: flojel on Mar 11, 2015, 11:20AM
My son passed March 26,2014.  The worst day of life. It was the last thing when the police arrived at
our door at 12:10am we expected to here your son Kenny has passed.
We were so shocked and crying that we didn't even know what to do.
We got ahold of our daughter after a number of phone calls to get her over to our house.
Ithan closed my best friend from church at 12:25am. When Debbie answered the phone I told
what happened.
Debbie and her husband Jodie were with Ken and I for the next 3 days.
I have a wreck this month for on the 26th of March Kenny will be gone 1 yr.
I am so sick that I can hardly keep food  down. This month is a so stressful. 
I miss Kenny so much. I miss the times that when I was sick with a cold he was my nurse.
He would me soup,coke, cracker or whatever he decided to bring me.  He even gave a bell if
needed something I could ring it and he would be there.  Do I miss that.
I do go to a grief group but somethimes I can't even talk about Kenny.  I just cry.  But here a number of people there that do the same thing.
Kenny I love you and miss.
Replied By: blessed1989 on Feb 19, 2015, 12:21PM
Sometimes watching the show it leaves me bewildered.  I am an at home mom that had to give up a career to stay home and take care of our 21 year old son who has some form of lukadystophy that has never been diagnose, he is failing.  We lost a baby to SIDS in 1991, my husband works 40 hours a week and does side jobs to just keep our heads above water.  When we got married we already had 2 children so we never had a honeymoon, we have went thru a child that was out of control, almost divorced and went thru marriage counseling.  We have been married for 25 years.  Today we are so thankful and feel completely blessed.  

Watching the show I shake my head wondering why people can't pull themselves up by their bootstraps put on you big girl/boy pants and figure out their lives.  Dr Phil puts all this money into sending people to the best places to get better, man take advantag, I would give anything to have my son diagnosed!!!  
Replied By: lleroux2 on May 17, 2014, 1:57PM
I do suffer from mom struggles everyday since i am at home with my children 24 hours a day 7 days a week.  I do not have a nanny or babysitter because we cannot affordI do not get a date night at all.  By the time bed time comes I am crashing becuase I am so busy all day long.  I am a full time psychology student working on my Bachelor degree and I also home school my children full time then I have cleaning and cooking also to do.  I have no time for myself.
Replied By: shallannarenee on Dec 16, 2013, 10:12AM
She has been sheltered- that is my fault...but she's tough. The problem is she is about to marry and I have seen her rage her whole life...children will come soon after. What if she hurts them- she is capable. She has, in the past tried to hurt her siblings in major ways- she has had to be evaluted, put on probation, watched constantly--now she's a legal adult. Is the world safe from her? What if now that I cannot control or keep children safe in her presence that she could hurt my grandchildren...I cannot believe I am saying this feels so odd. What do I do now that I she is free to do as she pleases...with anyone...
Replied By: leannfayesmith on Oct 16, 2013, 7:43AM

This is my most recent attempt at finding help. The following is a complaint to the Department of Justice, Civil Rights Division, Educational Section, in which I included 125 pages of my original notes over a five years period I secretly took. My contact information is listed at the end of the letter.

The United States

Department of Justice

Civil Rights Division

 Complaint Regarding: Manson Elementary School

I have a formal complaint regarding the violation of my son’s civil and constitutional rights while he was attending Manson Elementary School in Washington State.  I will outline my complaint in this statement and I have copied all of my notes reflective of a five year time period in which this took place, onto a computer disk which is enclosed.

I volunteered at Manson Elementary school from 2001 until 2006 as a parent, teacher’s aid, and ultimately an advocate for the children there.   A new English-Spanish ‘Dual Language Program’ was implemented in 2001. The program was created by Dr. Gomez, Superintendent of Public Instruction and Director of Bilingual Education for the State of Washington.  The program required the teacher’s not to speak one word of English during the Spanish class times and or days.  During these times, if my son needed to speak English to the teacher, he was removed from the classroom and into the hallway to speak English to the teacher.  I was present in class and witnessed and documented it. I have detailed documentation of segregation of white and Hispanic children.  I have detailed documentation of classroom lessons when teachers refused to speak one word of English. I documented the next five years including meetings with administration, staff and the superintendent. I have enclosed a list of local, state and federal agencies I have talked with to try and get help in this matter.   I have contacted The White House, the Governor for Washington State, The Capitol Building in Olympia, Washington, U.S. Department of Education Office for Civil Rights, Washington State Board of Education, Seattle Human Rights Commission for help. I have researched  segregation, Manson elementary school’s refusal to give instruction in the English language, Dual-Language Education Act, Washington State’s Legislature-Revised Code of Washington,  Washington State School Directors’ Association,  The Bilingual Education Act, Brown vs.The Board of Education, Elementary and Secondary Education Act of 1965, No Child Shall Be Left Behind Act of 2001, Washington Basic Education Act,  EPAA Spanish Language Editorial Board, Migrant & Bilingual Education,  Academic Achievement and Accountability Commission, Basic Education Act,  Constitutional Rights, Equal Educational Opportunities Act of 1974,Plessy vs. Ferguson, Office of the Education Ombudsman, Civil Rights, The Fourteenth Amendment and now The United States Department of Justice-Civil Rights Division and they all state the following:





During my five years of volunteer work, the children’s civil rights and constitutional rights were violated.  No agency or one human being has ever helped me. There has been admissions of guilt to me throughout my five years at Manson Elementary school, but not one human being who had the knowledge, authority and power to stop the abuse did so. They all were corrupt, manipulative and made any false promise to get rid of me. Nobody has ever been accountable for illegal and unconstitutional acts committed on my son and myself.  It destroyed my son and myself ultimately.  It taught my son and prejudice, humiliation, descrimination and shame.  My son blames the Hispanic race for destroying his education, but in reality it was his white teachers, staff, superintendent.  My son was prevented from learning while he was in classes taught only in Spanish. He could not learn without hearing English spoken in the class. When my son was nine years old I volunteered at his school one day,  I walked in to find my son and all of the white children at a round table segregated in the back corner.  I walked over to the table and saw that the children were using crayons to color pictures.  I looked at my son, trying to pretend it was normal as to get his initial reaction.  I asked my son what he was doing and my son replied ‘coloring’.   I remember trying to close my mouth which was open due to shock from the situation I had walked in on.   My son responded and reacted as if this were normalcy to him.  I then looked at all the white children at the table and observed them.  It was all too normal for them too.  I then looked back and all the Hispanic children were facing the chalk boards while the teacher was giving them instruction in Spanish for their class. I knew then that this had been going on for quite some time.  My son then told me about ‘the buddy system’ and how it hurt him.  He told me that he had to go to his Spanish speaking buddy for instructions on what to do for the class assignment.  He told me that the Spanish buddy would not give him instructions and that the buddy would taunt and tease him.  My son told me how this hurt him.  This caused humiliation, embarrassment and shame to my son and he ultimately could not learn.  I came to my son’s classroom and watched and listened when his Spanish buddy had to give him instruction in Spanish on what the assignment was for class.  I saw my son becoming more broken and frustrated trying desperately to learn what to do for the assignment while his Spanish buddy refused to tell him.  During a game called around the world, my son would put his head on his desk out of grave frustration because he never knew the answer to the Spanish questions therefore never winning the game.  As I took notes in his class the teacher’s aid would have a unpleasant grimace on her face as she would stand over me and try to read my notes.  I would then cover my notes up as she stood over me, waiting for her to pass by.  A child that I give extra help to that had behavior problems improved. The principal told me that she quit wetting the bed after I had spent extra time with her.  This child’s mother then obtained a restraining  order.  I was accused of trying to abduct her from school and I could not return to Manson elementary school.  The principal did call me and tell me that they checked the school’s security cameras that day and it showed me putting the child on her school bus to go home from school.  The order was lifted and I returned to school.  This was one of many retaliatory incidents I encountered while volunteering at Manson elementary school.   

Racial segregation in class created lifelong prejudice, emotional problems, and learning barriers in all facets of my son’s life.  After five years, he could not say anything in Spanish.  His educational damage is progressing with him through high school now, as he had to take beginning Spanish again.  Manson elementary school’s internet article states they will be fluent in speaking, reading and writing Spanish. My son could not speak, read nor write after five years in this program.  The internet article states that this is an alternative class and parents have a choice whether or not they attend the dual language program.  I have enclosed notes from the Superintendent stating this is a mandatory class with no alternative class offered.  It states that the children will become bilingual in art, reading and math.  My son could never learn nor speak Spanish. He did achieve excellent or above average in every subject but Spanish classes.  It states a teacher’s frustrations were lack of training in how to run a dual language program.  It has a quote from the superintendent, Steve McKenna, stating that the kids are proud of the fact that they’re learning something their parents don’t know. In the five years I volunteered in the classroom, I never once saw Steve McKenna.  It states that the U.S Department of Education gave Manson Elementary school a grant for the dual language program.  This information is attached as ‘exhibit 1’.

I have attached numerous newspaper articles promoting Manson Elementary Schools dual language program.  Bragging on their program, the substantial lifelong benefits, the benefits it will have in high school and throughout my son’s life.  The newspaper articles I’ve attached contradict the claims they make from one newspaper to the next.  They change the name of the program along with the ethnicity of the children from newspaper to newspaper.  I believe to qualify themselves to receive grant monies.

During 2004 I received a call from the Civil Rights Commission in Seattle.  The attorney for them asked me if I wanted to sue on behalf of my son and myself.  He told me that every time my son was removed from class to speak English to the teacher, it violated his civil rights.  I’ve attached my documentation of this. I received phone calls at night at home from the superintendent and the teacher.  They promised to make all of the changes I demanded, I believe in lieu of me not filing a complaint and lawsuit. The promises were never kept.  I have attached my demands for change at that time.

The dual language had no class criteria, it was not a graded subject on the report cards, the homework was not in English, the parents were not aware that all of this was going on due to this and the prior corruption mentioned.     My son along with all but two of the white children in the school district were removed by their parents and put in another school district.  My son has used public transportation to go to Chelan school district. He’s traveled many miles to and from school for years now. 

I have enclosed my original notes for every year with a cover sheet explaining them. Also a timeline for the abuse, violations and ultimately prejudice and racism Manson Elementary school taught and instilled in my son.  All but two white children were removed by their parents and placed in another school district.  They have had to use public transportation to go to school in Chelan School District. 

My son is still suffering grave damaged that was caused by Manson Elementary School and so am I. After five years of Spanish-English Dual Language, he told me recently he could speak 3-4 words at 17 years old.  He told me his school in another school district ‘is better because there are more white kids there’.  My son stated ‘ the dual language program didn’t work  due to many more mexicans’.  I knew then that he believes Hispanics are the reason all of the problems he had at Manson elementary school.


Replied By: serbov on May 31, 2013, 5:16AM
My mother, my mother ... Poor as he could endure. I live in Romania during the communist period ,my mother graduated in agricultural engineer, is moved 800 miles from their hometown company to increase production in a factory, over there fell in love with a Lipoven (a minority Russia) against familier  . made three beautiful, healthy children, but the problems just begun, relatives of the husband began to beat her, to rape her, so threatened by death etc ... After 4 years  started to drink, then came the depression, and we were sent to the orphanage since then I have never seen my mother as two times, becoming worse show. I love her no matter what decision he took in life, if you hate me and I abandoned her desire, I abort and not let me enjoy the beauty world. Love your family as "blood than water!"
Replied By: dynisecoogler1 on May 30, 2013, 7:39AM
I was living in Pittsburgh, Pa when I took a known drug dealer to justice. She got a few years in jail but vowed to get revenge on me when she got out. She did just that! She kidnapped my oldest son  and had him doing burglaries. I found out later that she told him that she would kill me if he didn't do as she said. To make matters worse I found out from community neighbors that people had seen her henchman shooting him up with drugs andforcing him to take pills. I went to the police. They told me he had to come to the statlion to press charges agailnst her himself. I told them the stsory again and asked how to get him away from her clutches. The police were no help. Especially because one main police station in Pittsburgh was full of her people that worked with her sellling the drugs. I was at my wits end until a man named Bruce Foster came to my rescue.He made several attempts to get my son away from the drugdealer and was in a number of fights. That has been several years ago. My life is chanaging for the better. I live in Washington, DC and I write( having been published three times) sing as The AmazingGrace :giving concerts of Negro Spirituals to people everywhere. Life now is good and I learned to heal from Dr. Phil.
Showing 1-10 of total 17 Comments