What is a Christmas gift to you? From my Christmas in Poetry Land Collection, here is… A Christmas Gift
A Christmas gift for me If I had to choose My own created family I hope I never lose.
I don’t want a necklace Or things made of gold Items will never replace Gifts you can not hold.
Don’t wrap me a present No gifts in a bag or box I don’t need the air pleasant By mood soothing rocks.
Once were the days, in stories often told Of gift giving ways, in a world gone old. Give me a visit, show me some love The holiday isn’t, a sale priced glove. Cost no money, just a big heart No traffic, no lines, no shopping cart.
A Christmas gift for me Is all laughter and smiles They come absolutely free Memories made in piles.
It’s not sold in stores No accompanying shelves Giving loud morning snores For the overworked elves.
If I have to choose I hope you catch my drift A family I’ll never lose Is the best Christmas Gift.
Written by Catherine Mellen ♡
Also please remember Toys 4 Tots, Salvation Army, the homeless, the elderly and our Veterans this and every holiday season… 🎄Peace and blessings to you and yours 🎄
For our loved ones above, because even on Christmas Day…
I Talk To Angels
If I had a wish, one that would come true I’d wish for one more Christmas, just to be with you.
I’d tell you all about the times, I was left alone & cried Close my eyes, I talk to you, until my tears are dried. I’d tell you how I miss the way, your quirky little smile Close my eyes, I talk to you, I know its been awhile.
If I had a wish, one that I want the most Maybe a Christmas photo, for a social media post.
I’d tell you how it feels, to miss you to the core Close my eyes, I talk to you, if only for once more. I’d tell you of days ago and of Christmas past Close my eyes, I talk to you, hoping it will last.
If I had one wish, one that is on my mind I’d make my wish for you, a Christmas miracle kind.
I’d tell you how I dream, of days when you were here Close my eyes, I talk to you, please don’t disappear. I’d tell you how I begged, days I wished you stayed Close my eyes, I talk to you, everyday I prayed.
If I had a wish, with just one destination I’d wish for one more Christmas with your visitation.
I’d tell you I’m glad you’re here, please don’t go away Close my eyes, I talk to you, even on Christmas Day.
Written by Catherine Mellen
Wishing everyone a joyous holiday week ahead. Peace and Blessings to you all ♡
This poem is from my Christmas in Poetry Land Book:
From my Christmas in Poetry Land Book, here is Do You Santa?
Dear Santa
If I behave and rules I abide On Christmas Eve, can I go for a ride?
It’s been my dream, since I was a kid But climbing the roof I always slid. I saw you one time, under the tree Afraid I ran, so you didn’t notice me. I don’t want a doll made for a girl I want to ride your sleigh all over the world. I don’t want a game made for a boy A ride on Christmas Eve, is what I’d enjoy. I’d take a ride, over all of my gifts I want to be in it, when Santa’s sleigh lifts. Up off the roofs, to the home next door Riding Santa’s sleigh, so much to explore. I can be a helper, reindeer I can guide If only I could get a Christmas Eve ride. I wrote you this letter and made it a poem Sent it with love to your North Pole home. When it arrives, please respond fast A Christmas Eve ride, finally at last.
Do you give rides Santa, on Christmas Eve? Cause if you do, I’m all ready to leave.
Tis the weekend to decorate for Christmas, just make sure you plug in them lights or at least learn from Jack 🧑🎄 From my 2023 release of Christmas (Stories) in Poetry Land…
🎄Jack’s Display🎄
Old man Jack had a knack For displaying Christmas lights Evey year, he would cheer “Time to hang the holiday brights.”
He was excited, a bit delighted To decorate the front yard Up a tree, around the chimney For Jack, it wasn’t that hard.
Lined in rows, wrapped in bows And some were hung on a hook Sounds of awe, at what they saw When neighbors stopped to look.
He made an Elf sitting on a shelf And Santa flying in a sleigh There was a star, a rusty car And some reindeers eating hay.
Shapes and sizes, a few surprises Jack couldn’t wait to flip the switch There was no spark, it remained dark A bulb must be causing the glitch.
One by one, until he was done Jack check which light was out He was sure, he checked them before But the darkness made him have doubt.
Caused by a bug or maybe the plug Jack’s patience was wearing thin He realized after, with much laughter The lights were never plugged in.
Now so bright, he lights the night In celebration of Christmas day A spectacular view, for me and you From the lights in Jack’s display .
Book Link From Amazon: This delightful collection of poems makes a perfect companion for the holiday season. The magic of Christmas comes to life and welcomes the reader into the North Pole, Bethlehem and Santa’s village. Including a mixture of the Mistletoe curse, lazy elves, anti-bullying Rudolph, an ugly sweater party, a Santa sleigh ride […]
A home that lacked love I had nowhere to turn That suddenly changed With your cause of concern.
You did not scare me Your approach was kind A child afraid to go home Didn’t sit well in your mind.
That call you made Caused them both to fear Of what did I say And what did you hear?
During the summer When I wasn’t around You continued to ask To them, you were a hound.
You are my savior For all that you did You saved a child From the acts they hid.
So much abuse I once had to cope Your act of kindness Gave me reason to hope.
Dedicated to Honoria: Thank You for saving me ♡
This poem is from my Survivor’s Mind: When Childhood Trauma and Poetry Collide book. A brief history of this poem is that it is dedicated to Honoria, the woman whose home I ran to that Saturday morning back in 1981. I was eleven years old and more scared than a camper in a Friday the 13th movie. A few months later, she knew by calling the police that I would be returned to my birth mother’s home and gave me the choice of living with them and being a kid. Not knowing the horrifying torture I suffered through, but also knowing something was not right, she allowed me to stay in her home. Her kindness that summer, is what molded me into the person I am today. Forty-one years ago today, I was a sad, damaged and confused kid living with another family and I have been forever thankful ever since.
Never forget the things that made you feel.
Wishing you and yours a wonderful Thanksgiving holiday.
Your friend and host Catherine Mellen aka Irishgirl692
Struggling to make ends meet Happens on every street Barely enough to get by Unpaid bills and funds run dry.
American Dream, where did it go? Was it a lie, for the world to know? Stress piles high, demand is too much The American Dream, I just can’t touch.
Rent is due, kids need clothes Shopping for bargains is how it goes American Dream, is what I was told But rarely do I see it actually unfold.
Homeless and Mental Health Security from the Commonwealth Jobless rate and disability A loss beyond our ability.
I look out the window of the American Dream Thinking it was a lie or so it does seem American Dream, where are you now? Were you a lie we all believed in some how?
I’ll close my eyes and dream of my home An American myth, I ponder alone.
Written by Catherine Mellen aka Irishgirl692
Wishing everyone a fabulous Friday and a wonderful Labor Day weekend ahead.
I was not my abusers first victim, nor was I his last, but I may very well be the only surviving one.
What is buried inside the cellar wall of my childhood home? Who is the monstrous predator my birth mother harbored? How cruel can one family be? Child rape, torture, cruelty and a lifetime trail of unsolved murders…
Going to the police: A ton of strength. Telling my story: A lot of courage. Being the voice an abused child needs: Priceless 🖤
Inspiration comes in so many forms; how lucky you are when you find them all ♡
Thank You Jesus
Help me Jesus, I’m writing a song A music sheet, where words belong.
There is no rush, take your time Making our words into a rhyme. Beautiful sounds for all to hear Echoing in halls far and near.
Help me Jesus, it needs to be heard Give ‘peace a chance’ into a word.
A rhythm, a sound, a single prayer Serenity in words for all to hear. A hand, support, a strangers smile Contagious with kindness in a single file.
Help me Jesus, the world seems so cold So many promises are yet to be told.
Clean up the streets, rid the world of hate For the children of tomorrow, it’s not too late. Give ‘peace a chance’ and keep it going Kindness and smiles will continue flowing
Thank You Jesus, I know you can hear Together we made, this song a prayer.
A graphic in-depth detail of the horrifying reality, I live everyday.
We are not a statistics, we are a survivors. Child rape, torture, family secrets, unsolved murders, strength, courage and one woman’s determination to be heard… My forty-four year journey from victim, to statistic, to survivor:
What did detectives find in the cellar of my childhood home? When will all things buried, finally come out?
Every family has secrets, but what happens when you are the secret? What is buried in the cellar wall of my childhood home? Who is the monstrous predator my birth mother harbored? How long can family secrets stay buried?
I am not proud this is my story and shame on those who made it my story, but I am proud I survived. The horrifying truth behind child rape, torture and one girl’s forty-four year journey from victim, to statistic, to survivor.
No parents, no siblings, no home… What happened to the twelve-year-old girl left standing on a sidewalk? What did detectives find in the cellar of her childhood home? How long can family secrets stay buried? Who is the monstrous predator her birth mother harbored?
Repressed memories, a trail of unsolved murders and one girl’s desperation to be heard…
Book Link TRIGGER WARNINGS! Do not read this post if you trigger. From Amazon: Catherine was twelve years old standing on a sidewalk with a duffle bag of clothes as she looked at the home behind her. Its front door closed as the family behind it continued to lived their lives. A family she was […]
Below is the introduction to the first page of my handwritten journal…. A journal I started as a young twenty-year-old who had just reconnected with the three siblings & birth mother, I tried so hard to belong too. Society had a motto about family back then…. ‘Forgive, Forget, Respect and You Only Get One.’ But that it not true, some things are unforgivable, we don’t forget, respect is earned not expected and as for family, I’ve been taken in by so many, my family tree is a damn forest ❤ I am still in awe, that I did it, but I did, I f*cking did it…. My two-part memoir is now an open book for the world to read.
I’m about to fill these pages, with words of A Life Given To Me From start to finish, if time will let it be. Some things I’ll write, will be hard to understand Like how I lived through it, without the help of a mother’s hand. It’ll be about the monster, who left me with scars beyond my control. It’ll be about the guy who showed me love, and why I’ll never let him go. It’ll be about days, some, I did get to choose, It’ll be about the family, I hope I never lose. It’ll be about how people, take life for granted day by day Without ever a regret, on what it is, they should really say. I’ll only write, what I saw through my own eyes Not one word I write, will be filled with lies. I’m only writing this, so the people I love, will see Why you should take every day of life, seriously. Cause sometimes, you say things that make a heart ache Forever those words stay in a heart that breaks. So, as you read these words of A Life Given To Me, Don’t think I dwell on my past. It’s just that people seem to always take life for granted, Memories, good or bad, no matter what, they always last.
Thank you for reading me. Stay safe, stand up, speak up and shatter the silence on childhood trauma and family secrets.
Your friend and host, Catherine Mellen aka Irishgirl692
Going from victim, to statistic, to survivor may have taken nearly 40 years to get too… but I have no more unanswered questions, doubt, shame, secrets or silence to carry anymore. From my book Survivor’s Mind, here is a poem that describes myself going from a hand written book to a published two-part memoir…
Once upon a staircase A giant step I made Looking up to struggles Down a waterfall cascade.
Another step is taken A giant leap I take All the different stages With every step I make.
Once upon a staircase Another step I took Growing through the pages Of a written journal book.
Inked in footprints Left behind by stain If I keep going Only a few steps remain.
Once upon a staircase I looked up the last time A cascade of courage In taking the last climb.
I took the final steps A fear I had to face I finally got there Once upon a staircase.
Wishing everyone a fabulous Friday and a wonderful weekend ahead 🦋
I may not have had a mother, but I was blessed with love from so many other moms… That it made not having that one mom, so much better knowing I was blessed with so much more.
I’m hurt but I’m not cruel. I feel pain but I still love. I am nothing like my birth mother but I am everything she wasn’t.
ABirth Mother
How can a mother not even bother A child is being abused? Her cruel words came in chords Always left me confused.
Life would derail if he went to jail So his secret she kept All the abuse was an excuse Her reasoning to accept.
Her nasty ways shamed my days Her hands stayed out of reach. Ignored my cries, she told her lies No lessons did she teach.
With every attack protection did lack It was like she didn’t care Lasting results, broken adults A childhood left in despair.
Losing the count of the amount Children she did not raise Being none other than a birth mother Are words I’ll always praise.
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. From a twenty-seven year career as a cook to a published Author, Poet & Blogger… Let your beauty shine bright and never allow anyone to dim your sparkle.
I lived nearly three decades under the clouds of shame, secrets and silence. At age fifteen, I attempted to walk into my hometown police department. At age forty-eight, I completed that walk. The stepping stones I used to build the strength, courage and determination to tell my story and my forty-four year journey from victim, to statistic, to survivor is told in my two-part memoir.
I never thought I’d tell my story. I never thought I’d finish that walk. Never give up on your dreams, because they won’t give up on you.
The horrifying truth behind child rape, torture, family secrets and the monstrous predator my birth mother harbored…
Isn’t it funny?? My body fought for me, my self being and my self worth for many years. I No longer live in Shame, Secrets or Silence (Deserving happy dance included) I posted this 5 years ago and it is true…. Never forget the things that make you feel real ⚘ #WisdomWednesday
Many people have questioned me, “Why are you using two names for a two-part memoir?” I do understand why this would confuse people since it is a memoir and not a series, so to speak. I guess that answer is in my handwritten journals from the 1980s…
‘I lived a childhood tragedy and it was all under a mother’s watch.’ I wrote those words in my journal and from that day forward, I always said if I was to write my life story, then I would call it A Childhood Tragedy Under A Mother’s Watch.
After that journal filled up, I started another one. The very first line in that journal reads…
‘I’m about to fill these pages with words of a life given to me.’ Eight journals later, I found myself at age forty-five writing my life story and a whopping 245,000 words later, I was finished.
That was when I began taking advice from so many who have supported me with their empathy, kindness and experience in publishing a book. Advice, at times, I dreaded hearing, but also advice I accepted without hesitation. Even the advice that stated: ‘I highly recommend you splitting your book into two parts.’
I remember staring at that comment in my email and feeling like I was looking down a long and winding rabbit hole. But I gave in, I turned my memoir into two parts and the two names I once wrote in my handwritten journals.
A Childhood Tragedy Under A Mother’s Watch: Part One 1975-1982 Lowell Massachusetts and A Life Given To Me: Part Two 1982-2019 Lowell Massachusetts Part two picks up where part one left off; standing on the sidewalk looking back at the front door I was not welcomed in. And though my childhood tragedy was over, the mental, emotional and psychological abuse from my own family was only beginning.
A forty-four year journey of living as a statistic in a world full of abused children who were growing up. From victim to survivor, my life story is an open book for the world to read.
May we one day, end the shame, silence and secrets that follows the lifetime of a child who suffers through childhood trauma and family secrets.
The horrifying truth behind child rape, torture, family secrets, a forty year trail of unsolved murders and the monstrous predator my birth mother harbored #Shocking #truecrime
I was only two weeks into being forty-five years old and I was on my way home from work. It was the start of a new year, January 2, 2015.
I had returned to work one day a week back in the summer of 2014. I was nervous about returning to work after being out of work for almost five years taking care of my daughter. But it was my daughter’s eagerness to recover, be independent and live her life, that got me back into the workforce. It also helped that I was returning to my job at the Four Sisters Owl Diner where I had their support and encouragement throughout my transition back to work.
A Friday after work, just like it was back in 2009; a Friday after work. My life had changed so much since 2009; my oldest daughter had her own apartment, my son was now living with his father and my youngest daughter was going to be roommates with her oldest sister. And there I was in my own one bedroom apartment.
My kids really grew up since my daughter’s accident in 2009 and I guess I also did.
After work on January 2, 2015, I stopped at my daughter’s who was outside hanging with her friend’s. We talked for a bit before I headed out of her parking lot and onto Bridge Street.
As I drove over the Bridge Street bridge, I got stuck at the red light. It was a long light as it was at a major roadway intersection. I watched the cars, I watched the lights changing until finally looking out my driver’s side window over the bridge.
I remember thinking how beautiful the sky looked and then I was looking up at my steering wheel. My head banged or something made my eyes open as I saw my steering wheel in a foggy like state. As my eyes started to close I quickly went into panic mode. Why was I looking up at my steering wheel?
I felt my feet were sideways and not on the brake pedal. I quickly tried pulling myself up when I was thrown above my steering wheel and just as quickly snapped back. The over strap of my seat belt was ripped off me but the strap around my waist is what snapped me back onto my seat. The headband I had on my head was on the passenger side floor along with my phone which I kept on my drivers side door.
I looked ahead and saw the SUV in front of me was now on top of the front end of my car. People came up to my window telling me not to move. (I actually thought the bridge was falling) They were pointing to the back of my car and yelling, “He’s moving his jeep off your car.”
Uhhhhhh? I must have looked so confused as I looked in my crooked rear view mirror. All I could see was the front of a black jeep as my car bounced and banged. Shaking me as I held onto my steering wheel.
Before I knew it, I was surrounded by police, emergency medical technicians and onlookers. That was when I turned around and saw RT 110 over the bridge where my daughter’s accident happened just five years earlier. And I panicked, I had a panic attack thinking I was at my daughter’s accident scene.
My car was totaled and I was in a lot of pain. After X-Rays, MRI, Catsscan, surgeon and a therapist, I was referred to a pain doctor. I never imagined how many needles can go into one persons head and neck in one lifetime. But I am living proof that anything is possible.
I felt like my cervical spine was on fire
I felt the back of my head was shattering into cracks
I felt like a hole was in the back of my neck
I felt like I had lumps in my neck and head
I felt sharp pains
I felt throbs, spasms, electric shocks and pain.
I was unable to work, unable to drive, unable to move fast, turn my head to the left or be happy.
Along with all the pain associated to my accident, I was also dealing with horrifying repressed memories.
After one round of cortisone shots and no relief at all, my pain doctor scheduled me for a branch block.
A painful procedure I had to be awake for.
A branch block only blocks the nerve which is causing the pain. My first branch block was on eight nerves… that was eight long hot pronged needles in my neck area.
Because there was some relief, I was then scheduled a radio-frequency where the procedure is the same as a branch block, but instead of blocking the nerve, a radio-frequency burns the nerve right off.
Only problem, nerves grow back.
I was told the accident left me with a 10% loss of sensation in the back of my neck, I suffered multiple damaged facet joints, irreversible ligament, tendons, muscle and nerve damage
I suffered injuries which resulted in vertigo, tinnitus, dystonia, occipital neuralgia until finally being diagnosed with complex regional pain syndrome.
It took over two years but my pain doctor figured it out and diagnosed me. I suffer from CRPS. Ok so now, what is the cure?
There is no cure.
Wait? What? No cure? How can this be? I am in intense pain. So what do I do? My pain doctor has me on daily nerve medication, Tylenol and prescribed Motrin. He also has me in for radio-frequencies, branch blocks for above my C-2 area and Dysport injections every ninety days.
The only other option aside from all the needles in my neck and head was to take daily opioids and narcotics that would only be upgraded as I became more dependent on them. It was easier to agree to the needles than to agree on becoming addicted to narcotics.
So I have been diagnosed, I receive ongoing care with my pain doctor… But what now? How has living with CRPS affected my daily life?
It starts the minute I wake up until I go to bed and even waking me throughout my sleep. I haven’t slept more than five hours at a time since my accident.
I hurt in my head, the top of my skull, the hole in the back of my neck and the lump on the side of my neck.
The rotated cervical spine flares up, the Dystonia is like irish tap dancers are in my neck. The occipital neuralgia is like vertigo meets nausea meets tinnitus.
The dead arm, lack of strength and pain, so much pain. Like a twisted neck and a migraine having a bonfire in my neck.
My doctor explained to me how he could not help me with my injuries or pain…. All he could do was help me live through the injuries and pain.
And that’s what I do… I walk slow, I move slow. I barely bend down, I manage my vertigo along with my head and neck injuries.
I make sure I take it easy, I rest when needed and I don’t do things to ignite flare up.
Sometimes the hole in my neck will form a lump and causing me to be very discomfort in pain.
Some days I just squeeze my head, begging it to go away… but it never does.
So what is CRPS? It is the most painful medical condition known to man with a 45/50 on the McGill pain scale.
Type 1 is known as RSD Reflex Sympathetic Dystrophy and does not involve an apparent lesion on a nerve.
Type 2 is known as CRPS Complex Regional Pain Syndrome with a known lesion is present.
Both types of RSD/CRPS are caused by trauma to the nerves in regards to injuries, surgery, heart attacks and strokes.
Even with todays medical technology, there is no cure for this painful condition.
It is so painful it is hard to find good doctors to treat this condition.
CRPS has a grim nickname known as the, ‘Suicide disease.’ Some patients who are desperate to halt their pain, end their life.
It is one of many tragic aspects that accompanies RSD/CRPS.
Of course I had to go all out and be diagnosed with Type 2 😓 Fewer than 200,000 cases per year have been reported and I am one of those cases.
I am a continued case study for my pain doctor as he tries to find better measures for me to live in a less pain as possible.
I have since forgave the man who used my car as his brakes. His careless driving has affected my life in ways I am sure he has no clue about.
I no longer work, drive, run, walk fast, play hopscotch with my granddaughter. I no longer have a social life and I no longer live a physical pain free life.
I always lived with emotional pain, I’ve carried it with me throughout my life, only now I carry physical pain in my head and neck, like I did when that monster from my childhood would poke, squeeze and punch me in my head and neck.
Now over seven years since my accident, my pain doctor continues to see me on a regular basis and keeping me away from opioids and narcotics as he continues to find ways to improve my daily living in a more comfortable way.
I wouldn’t wish this diagnosis on anyone, just like I wouldn’t wish my childhood or the caring loving safe family I never had on anyone.
I am now a young fifty year old legally disabled collecting social security disability benefits. It was not my plan in life but most things in my life were never planned.
They say we are only given what we can handle. They say we only get what we deserve. They say karma is why.
It is none of the above…
My childhood was because of my birth mother and her monster of a boyfriend. My car accident was because an idiot driver wasn’t paying attention.
My strength to get through, get by or move on is because of my faith in God, my faith in the angels I have above me and the good people in my life.
Aside from all the other heartache in my life, I also deal with complex regional pain syndrome. But like everything else in my life, I got this, one day at a time, but I got this ♡
This Monday, March 7th, I will have my 26th round of Dysport injections and on Tuesday, March 8th, I will undergo my 24th radio-frequency (Gulp) Just how many needles can go into one girl’s cervical spine in a lifetime?… Stay Tuned 🖤
Thank You for reading me.
I wish nothing but Peace and Blessings to all ♡
Your host and friend… Catherine Mellen (aka Irishgirl692)
1 Can you tell us a bit about yourself? Add some fun facts.
I am a mom to three children who grew up way too fast and a grammy to two granddaughters. I’ve never seen a baby picture of myself, but I think my youngest granddaughter is a mini-me.
2. When did you start writing?
I was fourteen when I wrote my first poem and eighteen when I began writing my life story.
3. Some authors write under a pseudonym, what name do you write under?
I use my own name, except Twitter, Instagram & Pinterest, I use Irishgirl692
4. What genre/s do you write in?
Poetry, Non-fiction, Short Stories
5. How many books have you written and how many are published?
I have 12 written books, 3 are published and a 4th one will be out in June 2022, with others to follow.
6. What are the titles of the books you have published?
Christmas in Poetry Land
Survivor’s Mind: When Childhood Trauma and Poetry Collide
A Childhood Tragedy Under A Mother’s Watch: Part One 1975-1982 Lowell Massachusetts.
7. What inspired your stories?
The first poem I wrote was about a bird escaping abuse (I was the bird) I guess my longing to be heard by the same people who only wanted me to stay silent.
8. Can you tell us a bit about each of your books?
Christmas in Poetry Land is a collection of over thirty holiday themed poems. From lazy elves, an ugly sweater party, a Mistletoe Kiss to a Santa sleigh ride, Anti-bullying Rudolph & more.
Survivor’s Mind is a poetic memoir into the world of childhood trauma, family secrets and inside the mind of a survivor. Poetically written.
A Childhood Tragedy Under A Mother’s Watch: Part One 1975-1982 Lowell Massachusetts is the story behind the poetry and the horrifying truth behind child rape, torture, family secrets and the monstrous predator my birth mother harbored.
A Life Given To Me: Part Two 1982-2019 Lowell Massachusetts is my continuing life story of growing up a statistic in a world full of abused children. Shame, silence, secrets, reconnections, distances, repressed memories, unsolved murders and a girl who just wanted to be heard. Coming June 2022
9. What are you working on right now?
I am currently editing my 2023 releases, Understanding Childhood Trauma, Do You Understand It Now? Christmas Stories in Poetry Land and American Dream: Tales of a Poet.
10. Do you have a routine you like to go through before you start writing? If so, tell us about it.
Not really, it seems every time I go in routine, life goes and messes it up 🙃
11. What kind of writing process do you go through?
I don’t let myself stress over it. I take my time and edit it multiple upon multiple times.
12. What comes first for you, the plot, or the characters?
In my memoir, they both came first. In my short stories, it is definitely the plot.
13. How do you keep your plot straight?
When I find myself confused in my own plot, I take a day or two before diving back into it.
14. What is your favourite part of writing and why?
Writing has always been my saving grace and there were times when it was also my best friend. I do find serenity in writing,
15. Which of your characters do you relate to the most and why?
For over thirty years, I never really thought of the girl in my memories, but since writing my memoir, I can finally relate to what it felt like to be me when I was a child.
16. Have you ever modelled a character on someone you know? If so, did they ever find out? And how did they or would they react?
My short story collection 33 Cases of Karma is still in the revising stages, but many of the characters are based on people I know, including me. Many will laugh and the others probably wouldn’t have a clue lol
17. Are any of your characters modelled after yourself? If so, did you find any part of writing them therapeutic?
Writing my memoir was extremely hard, but knowing I am being heard, I am no longer a secret, that is extremely therapeutic for me.
18. If you were to write a spin off from one of your books, which book and character would it be about? And why?
My 2024 release of Promise Made, Promise Kept would be the book and the spin off would be about my character Jon coming back to life. Because I miss him ♡
19. What part of writing your book was the hardest? Tell us why?
Part One of my memoir A Childhood Tragedy Under A Mother’s Watch was the most hardest book I will ever write in my life.
20. What part of your book was the most fun to write and why?
Despite all the horror from my childhood, I did enjoy writing about my teenage years and the stepping stones to my strength and courage.
21. What is your favourite and least favourite part of publishing?
Favorite part is reading people’s reviews and words of encouragement. Least favourite is knowing I’m not in Amazon’s top ten yet.
22. Have you ever had writers block?
I think we all suffer from that sometimes, mine also spreads to laundry block, cook diner block and so on.
23. What to you are the most important elements of good writing?
Giving it your best. Sit in front of that type writer and write until you bleed.
24. How do you use social media as an author?
My main blog is through MightyNetworks, I then share my works on WordPress, Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, LinkedIn, Goodreads, Allauthor and Amazon Central
25. What advice would you give to help a new writer?
Don’t give up. It takes a lot of work, but eventually you will get there.
26. Add all the links of where we can find you to follow and purchase your books.
Thank you Hayley and all behind the scenes. I appreciate this opportunity to share my story, poetry and more.
All my love, Catherine Mellen
Thank you so much for participating in the Ink Pot’s author spotlight. It’s been an absolute pleasure getting to know more about you and your work. I wish you every success for the future.
Hello darkness my old friend, I’ve come to talk with you again.
Because a vision softly creeping, left its seeds while I was sleeping.
And the vision that was planted in my brain, still remains.
Within the sound of silence.
A song driven to give companion to the voices in one’s head.
A darkness we try to forget, put behind us and move on from until suddenly… Hello darkness my old friend.
It comes with the silence, then the anger, followed by resentment only to end with, “What did I do to deserve this?” Why did I have to hurt in silence? Why did I have to live in darkness? Why did I have to suffer, deal, move on, forget or put it behind me, alone?
I believed it was what I was suppose to do.
Society, family and friends… It was the way of the times in the 1980s and 1990s. I needed proof and I wasn’t enough proof because they wanted more proof.
My birth mother and two older siblings were my proof. But they were sick of me bringing it up.
I sat with darkness my old friend for too long.
I stood my ground, saw some light and I distanced myself to save myself.
But now what? As positive as I tried to live there were always many, many times when I found myself stuck in an emotion and I held it in as long as I could, but he always paid me a visit…
Hello darkness my old friend.
I would get so mad at myself for remembering, for hurting and for crying over the same damn thing over and over again… My Damn Childhood.
But it was my darkness that helped me see it was so much more than just my childhood.
With the help of darkness my old friend…
I was able to see how I deserved to be treated.
I was able to see I deserved acknowledgement.
I was able to see I deserved to be heard.
I was able to see I could keep my darkness as my old friend.
Many mornings, days and nights, darkness was my only friend.
Until one day, in my late forties my old friend darkness became my bright light.
Through my darkness I found strength, I found courage and I found support from everyone except the ones who didn’t care I lived in darkness for all those years. They only cared I lived in silence.
I learned a lot on my own and learning to welcome my darkness was a tough lesson I had to learn.
It was one too many trick questions, a sound, an image, a trigger… I cried and cried as I sat with my darkness until I made my darkness my old friend.
When my darkness now visits, I let the tears fall instead of getting mad at myself for crying.
I remind myself, ‘It’s ok to cry.’
I remind myself, ‘They treated me wrong.’
I remind myself, ‘My God, I’m only human.’
And suddenly darkness became my old friend.
Throughout life we are all subject to darkness. We lose loved ones to death, we struggle to belong, we fight to survive, we hope, pray and wish everyday.
Adding depression, PTSD, C-PTSD and any form of mental health to the already heavy plate life throws at us can make anyone’s darkness seem like the enemy. But you are not sitting with an enemy, you’re sitting with your darkness.
Sometimes your darkness is the friend that helps you see the light.
And if there is no light, that’s ok… Sitting with your darkness can always be the oldest friend you have, but also the most honest one ♡
Thank You for reading me and be sure to catch…Hello darkness my old friend (Sound Of Silence) by Simon and Garfunkel or my favorite by Disturbed
Peace and Blessings to all ♡
Please feel free to stalk my social media accounts at …
Meet Catherine Mellen, author of A Childhood Tragedy Under A Mother’s Watch: Part One 1975-1982 Lowell Massachusetts.
Happy Friday, bookish friends! For today’s #FebruarySheWrote spotlight I have another guest author from the Feed My Reads community: American poet, author and blogger Catherine Mellen. Born in 1969 in Lowell Massachusetts, she wrote her first poem at age fourteen and quickly adapted her love for words. Shamed by the childhood she lived, she became a cook and caterer for nearly three decades. An auto accident at age 45 left her disabled and a victim to horrifying repressed memories, then in 2018 she started a blog where she shattered her silence on childhood trauma, family secrets and unsolved murders in her hometown.
Her poetry has been published in numerous poetry journals, and she is also the author of Christmas in Poetry Land, Survivor’s Mind, and A Childhood Tragedy Under A Mother’s Watch: Part One 1975-1982 Lowell Massachusetts.
What made you decide to publish independently?
I decided to self publish two of my poetry books back in 2021 as the Coronavirus put a stall on querying to agents.
You’re also traditionally published. Got a story to share about your querying and publication journey?
I began querying back in 2016 and though I received rejection letters, they were also filled with advice and opinions that I gladly took. As much work we put into our writing, the revising and editing is a must do, no matter how much we dread it.
What has been your most unforgettable experience (good or bad) as an author?
My most unforgettable experience was when I received a full manuscript request for my poetry book and by accident I sent the file for part one of my memoir, which mortified the beta-reader.
Who do you think you inspire? If not, who and what do you want to inspire?
I hope I inspire others to know they do not have to live in shame, secrets or silence. At times, I inspire myself for having the courage in telling my story in such graphic detail.
What character archetype would you be if you were a character in a book, movie or TV series?
I would love to be Snow White from Once Upon A Time because she is a bad ass character.
What kind of animal character would you be in your story, and why?
I would say an elephant. They stick by family, love their offspring and don’t let anyone walk all over them.
If you were not doing what you are doing now, what activity or hobby would be keeping you busy?
I was a cook for 27 years until a drunk driver left me disabled back in 2015.
What do you consider as your weakness, and have you done anything to overcome it?
My weakness was accepting the truth about my birth family. Who wants to remember the caring, safe, loving family you never had? As life proved, for nearly 30 years, I didn’t.
Anything else you want to tell your fans, our readers, and the writing/reading/blogging community at large?
Part Two of my memoir will be out in June 2022 and I will be adding many more books to my collection of published works.
I would also like to thank all at Feed My Reeds for their over abundance of work they do behind the scenes. Thank you all for your support, I truly appreciate it.
A true story chronicling the young life of Catherine Alice Mellen and the mother who harbored a monster. A graphic, in-depth detailed look into the daily life of childhood trauma, family secrets and a young girl who just wanted the abuse to stop.
Catherine was five years old when she was subjected to a horrifying evil as fear instilled her every day life. Being a trophy in a child predators sick world, she turned to a mother who turned her away, she looked up to brothers who looked the other way. She pleaded for help, begged to be protected and assumed it was love. It wasn’t long until Catherine’s mother turned her excuses for her boyfriend into hate for her own daughter. A childhood full of inhumane sexual abuse, torture and cruelty would all end with the completion of a well dug out tunnel inside the cellar wall. Knowing she would be silenced for good, Catherine’s desire to live and not be abused anymore would be decided in a split second decision she made as an eleven year old. Would her family be there for her or would she just disappear from the home? This is a true story of one child’s desperation for survival.
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It’s feeling your ribs slam against the bandaged torn sealed scars of your heart as you gasp for a breath that is really a knife, slicing the pain wide open~ A Repressed Memory Reality
‘This is in memory of my high school mentor, Fr William Joseph Dowling of Kilburn, and in salute of the power behind this book by Catherine Mellen’ ~ Jack Oswald
A powerful, supportive and beautiful mockup banner by Jack Oswald #grateful#blessed and #thankful
A Life Given To Me 