As I began to write this book, I lost my breath with the thought of those who would be offended by the truth of my life, and those who would be offended by the courage it took for me to write it. The terrifying thought of my experiences being unique, and no one else being able to identify with them, at times consumed me. Being a part of the body of Christ and speaking the truth has become "taboo" or, at least, it seems that way. We stand with conviction in our pulpits and preach with loud voices what we know is the truth; however, the truth in our lives has become silent. I spent years trying to get both those in authority who were responsible for my spiritual welfare and my brothers and sisters in Christ, to hear my story. I was a believer in distress crying for HELP among a body of fellow believers who couldn't see me much less hear me. I wondered how many other saints were in distresses, which were also not being acknowledged. This experience in being a part of the body of Christ was like being thirsty in the desert, noticing a pool of water under a welcoming palm tree, and running towards it only to find it to be merely an illusion. The church had become an illusion to me. No one would speak out on my behalf for that which was right according to the Word of God yet many were aware of the circumstances that caused my family so much grief. There was one, however, who listened to the matter and sought to bring resolve according to the Word of God. However, death silenced his voice and left things unsettled. I dare to think of how many situations of countless others had been left unresolved, not only by the physical death of those who sought righteousness but also by the death of righteousness in the church. My story has been told by many in the church who were deceived by the lies that shaped their perceptions of my life. My story has been told by those who determined my worth solely by my physical appearance. It has been told from the perspective of many who did not consider me to be a part of their social class much less their spiritual company. In their renditions of my life, I have been insecure, mentally and emotionally unstable, not anchored in the Word and just plain crazy. These were all of the perspectives of those who never took the time to know "the internal me." My story is, in fact, my experience and the experience of my family who endured the hurt and pain. Yes, my story has been told yet, it remains untold, therefore; I WANT TO TELL THE STORY AGAIN.