A Voice Cries Out in Silence

With brows furrowed, her head throbbed and pulsated to the rhythm of her heart. Her stiffed limbs weigh her down like anchors as she drags them at a crawling pace. Every pounding footstep inches her across the frigid tile floor, causing her muscles to ache. In between sobs her throat — parched and raw — gasps for air. Finally she reaches for a nightlight and flicks it on.

She shudders at the image in the mirror that mocks back at her. One eye swollen shut. How did I come to this? Bruised cheek bone. How did that happened? Bloody nose. When will it end? Busted lip. How much more can I take?  His curses echo in her head. But the dagger of betrayal she feels in her heart hurt more than the blow to her face.

She thought he loved her! Hadn’t she given him everything? But it’s never enough. He takes and takes, sucking her very life, until she’s deflated, a shell barely standing on the breaking point. She keeps offering herself, just one more time, hoping this time will be different.

“He will see me now!” Yet she is invisible to him.

The voices in her head tell her you are a mere child to him, like a puppet held by a string with no goals, dreams, or desires. He’s blinded to your needs and deaf to your cries. You are dead to him!

Truth be told, she died long ago. She’s empty. Used up. Bruised. And barren.

She turns from the image and screams out in darkness! Crying. Pleading. Longing.

“God, are you there? Do you feel my pain? Can you hear my voice? Do you not see my tears? When will you mend my bleeding heart?”

But she feels her prayers only hit the ceiling.

“Mama! Mama, are you praying for me? I’m still here. I’m not a quitter. I thought I could do better but I was only fooling myself. I can’t go on.”

“Somebody, tell me: How. To. Live.”

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Image by DiamondCoverdCookies via http://www.loverofsadness.net

Why did I write this? Because I know from my own personal past experience what this feels like. While my memoir mentions some of the dark, hard knocks that I endured within my first marriage, I am happy to report I’m not that girl anymore. I am no longer a victim. I am a survivor. I learned that my yesterdays does not have to define my tomorrows. 

I want to reach out to those who may be in a dark place, and involved in a relationship that is sucking the very life out of them. I want you to know that you don’t have to be ashamed of your pain. You don’t have to suffer in silence! My prayer is that if my story touches just one person — bringing hope and light into their dark place — then I have done something right.

I am desiring to write a compilation of stories from others who have also survived domestic abuse and domestic violence. Those who have moved on, healed, and don’t have a vendetta against another or hold any bitterness. I believe these are the ones who come out stronger and better and can shine and bring hope to the hurting.  If this is you please contact me.

Together we can make a difference.

© M.A. Pérez, 2016, All Rights Reserved

About "Running in Heels: A Memoir of Grit & Grace"

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Thy Will Be Done

I know you hear me
I know you see me, Lord …

 

I’m so confused
I know I heard you loud and clear
So, I followed through
Somehow I ended up here
I don’t wanna think
I may never understand
That my broken heart is a part of your plan
When I try to pray
All I’ve got is hurt and these four words

Thy will be done
Thy will be done
Thy will be done
I know you’re good
But this don’t feel good right now
And I know you think
Of things I could never think about
It’s hard to count it all joy
Distracted by the noise
Just trying to make sense
Of all your promises
Sometimes I gotta stop
Remember that you’re God
And I am not
So

Thy will be done
Thy will be done
Thy will be done
Like a child on my knees all that comes to me is
Thy will be done
Thy will be done
Thy will

I know you see me
I know you hear me, Lord
Your plans are for me
Goodness you have in store
I know you hear me
I know you see me, Lord
Your plans are for me
Good news you have in store

So, thy will be done
Thy will be done
Thy will be done
Like a child on my knees all that comes to me is
Thy will be done
Thy will be done
Thy will be done
I know you see me
I know you hear me, Lord

Isaiah 65:24 “And it shall come to pass, that before they call,
I will answer; and while they are yet speaking, I will hear.”

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September 15, 2016 · 9:05 PM

I Remember

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By 2001, I had worked two years for a reputable high-end carpet cleaning company. I started out as a receptionist, and then promoted to inside sales. I sported around in a Jeep Grand Cherokee and I’d been married for seven wonderful years. Mark had become a devoted Christian, and we attended church as a close-knit family. In April, we purchased our home southwest of Houston in Fort Bend County. Five months later, while driving to work, my tranquil life was interrupted by distress and unexpected terror.

On September 11th, around 7:50 in the morning, I heard on the radio that a plane had crashed into the World Trade Center in New York. As soon as I arrived at the office, I flicked on the TV to see the live broadcast of a massive hole in one tower caused by the plane’s impact. Co-workers gathered around and we couldn’t peel our eyes away from the screen. Black smoke billowed out the building, soon engulfed by flames.

We heard what we didn’t want to hear and continued to see unbelievable images that will forever be etched in our minds. My heart plummeted as I saw a second plane hit the other tower. Buildings collapsed minutes later and we all gasped in horror knowing that hundreds—thousands—lost their lives.

That night, President Bush spoke powerful words: “Freedom itself was attacked this morning by a faceless coward, and freedom will be defended.”

Freedom isn’t free, I thought, and freedom is worth any cost.

For the first time, within my own life I truly felt free. Free from the clutches of loneliness. Free from wondering where the next meal was coming from. Free from being a prisoner in my own mind, my marriage, my home. I also knew that in a split second, a life could be gone. I experienced that harsh truth the day I lost my baby sister by a hit-and-run driver. I lived through that stark reality from nearly drowning twice as a youngster. I re-lived that nightmare every time my former husband abused me, and again, on the day he shot at me.

(An excerpt of “Running in Heels: A Memoir of Grit and Grace” –  Chapter 43)

Your turn:

What is your memory on that fateful day?

 

© M.A. Pérez, 2016, All Rights Reserved

About "Running in Heels: A Memoir of Grit & Grace"

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“Running in Heels” 2nd Book Tour

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Ladies and gentlemens, fans and followers: Announcing my new book club edition! Check out the expanded, updated version of “Running in Heels: A Memoir of Grit and Grace“, packed with Questions & Topics for Discussion, Reader Reviews, and New Photos!

https://www.amazon.com/Running-Heels-Memoir-Gr…/…/1944952055

Check my CALENDAR, stay up to date and see where I’ll be next!


“Running in Heels: A Memoir of Grit and Grace” PRESS RELEASE

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It Is Well With My Soul …

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Dear friends:

These past couple of weeks,  I’ve been on an emotional rollercoaster, but my family and friends have literally lifted my spirits. Today, it being my birthday, I am thanking God for His neverending grace and His unfailing love. My journey continues and for that I am truly grateful.

Thank you for being my friend.

About "Running in Heels: A Memoir of Grit & Grace"

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Crossing Over

Our dear Elizabeth crossed over to the other side this morning. Even though you try to prepare yourself for the inevitable, reality in losing a loved one and having to say goodbye, still has a way of slapping you in the face! Never mind that she was 105-years young, it was hard to see her go.

Many of you know that Elizabeth was not my mother but a dear, precious friend of some 30+ years; however, I realize that many of you don’t know that. I got to know her intimately these past few years while my husband, daughter and I cared for her around the clock. She was like a grandmother to me, but she was more like a mother to my husband (he had lost his own mother at age 15). The picture I have of my husband saying goodbye to Elizabeth this morning, I will never forget. I love the way he loved her!

Elizabeth’s feistiness, wit and humor held her in good stead for all these many years. She was easy to love, a precious gem to all who knew her. She loved life, she loved people, and she loved her God.

In the days ahead, much preparation needs to be done. We are also planning a Memorial Service at our church next week. Elizabeth’s funeral will be held in Tulsa as she wished.

I thank everyone for their love and support extended our way. I thank God for the Blessed Hope that one day we shall see our loved ones again that went on ahead to glory! Imagine the grand reunion Elizabeth is having with her Savior, family and friends!

I have blogged about Elizabeth several times. Here is one of my post about her.

So long for now Elizabeth. May you rest in peace with no more pain, dancing with your Father God in fields of grace. Until we meet again.

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Bronze sculpture in the Spilsbury Mortuary in St. George, UT

In Loving Memory …

Elizabeth Bearden

January 6, 1911 – August 12, 2016

 

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Channel 2 Houston News

Author recalls ride on balloon months before deadly accident

By Samantha Ptashkin – Reporter

Posted: 6:35 PM, August 02, 2016

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HOUSTON – A Houston area author recently wrote a blog about the tragic hot air balloon accident near Austin, months after she took a ride on the same balloon, with the same pilot.

Mary Ann Perez McNulty and three of her girlfriends went on the ride last January.

View the original article and see the video on the Click2News website ~~~

(http://www.click2houston.com/news/author-recalls-ride-on-balloon-months-before-deadly-accident#)

 

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Tragedy in the Sky – The Broken Heart of Texas

As a recent Heart of Texas hot air balloon rider, you can imagine the shock and devastation that went through my mind upon hearing that this same balloon with 16 passengers tragically lost their lives(Channel 2 News Reporting).

I knew the pilot as Skip. He was warm, friendly and one could immediately tell was also very knowledgeable in his work. He gave 14 passengers, which included my friends and I, a great adventure and a thrill of a lifetime ride! (Read about it here.)

As a writer and author you may know I happen to be skittish of heights. I knew the risk involved, but I was determined to harness my fears. However, way before our flight, there were some warning signs that gave us pause. I am sharing them now for awareness.

When we arrived to our destination, we all boarded two vehicles to take us to the open field. The girls and I got to ride in Skip’s truck with his assistant. The rest climbed into a van behind us. It was about a 30 minute ride and his assistant got off course and they had to rely on their GPS to finally get us there. When I asked Skip how many times he had flown over the location where we were headed, he said it would be his first time. When I asked him why was that, he said he was bored and wanted someplace new. I have to wonder, isn’t “new’ adding more risk?

I knew Skip wanted to get us up in plenty of time before the sun set. After we arrived, we watched Skip and his crew get into action, backing up the trailer and pulling all the equipment and ropes out to set up the balloon. We couldn’t help but look up each time we heard jets zooming by and wondered about the safety in what we were going to do. As they were filling the balloon, a man walked up to us asking who the person in charge was. We all pointed to Skip. That’s when we learned we did not have permission to fly over this field. Another 15 minutes or so went by with Skip and the other gentlemen arguing over sufficient insurance coverage, regulations, policies, and the buildings in the area before Skip made the call to shut it down and board up.

We then headed for San Marcos Airfield. Once we arrived, Skip and his crew went into action again, rushing to get that balloon up before dark. When ready, we were instructed to hop in, howbeit somewhat clumsily, unable to lower a leg from the ledge of the basket down into our tight space. But once up, it became obvious that Skip was in his element. Our nerves dissipated and the view was absolutely breath taking!

We stayed up about 40 minutes, watching the sun set and taking plenty of pictures. As we started declining, Skip asked us all to be on the lookout for power lines! When we came close to a post he radioed one of his teammates asking if it was a power line. Thank goodness, it wasn’t.

In retrospect, I realize we may have bitten off more than we bargained for and the tide of events could have easily turned against us. Perhaps if one sees or feels unnerved before doing anything, one should pay attention to their God given common sense.

Our hearts and prayers go out to all the family members affected in this recent tragedy.

A sadden heart,    

About "Running in Heels: A Memoir of Grit & Grace"

 

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Alfred “Skip” Nichols, may he RIP.

 

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At 3000 ft – my hot air balloon ride on January 2016

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The truth behind Mary A. Pérez’s autobiography

My interview by the talented and fabulous Ella Ritchie of Stellar Communications Houston.

Stellar Communications Houston

You may know Mary A. Pérez as the author of Running in Heels: A Memoir of Grit and Grace, her incredible true story of survival and forgiveness against all odds.

blog image 4 The author chatting with a new fan at a Kroger book signing

If you don’t, then let us fill in you in. Somewhere between stealing cold cuts from stray cats and watching a stranger leave her mother’s bed after breaking in through their bedroom window, Mary figured out that her family was dirt poor. Worse than her empty stomach, she was hungry for acceptance and love in the shadows of her mother’s choices and on through an abusive marriage.

Running in Heels: A Memoir of Grit and Grace is Mary’s promise of hope for anyone who was abandoned as a child, for anyone who woke up hungry and went to bed hungrier every day, and for every wife who has…

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Celebrating the Birthday Boy

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Happy Birthday to my hubby, confidant and best friend! You still light up my life, the wind beneath my wings.

 

 

 

 

 

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