I just received a "nudge" to write about this, first thing when I woke up this morning. Not sure why, or for whom this might be intended for. Maybe this is meant for one of my children to read in the future, or present time, because they are having a struggle with this too. I try not to question my "nudges" and just listen and respond the best way I know how. So here it goes, without professional editing or word choice, just me, listening and responding to my nudge. :)
In the past I've always let other peoples hurtful words pierce through me like a knife. I'd let that pain linger and continue to twist and turn inside me for many days. It would consume me and effect my relationships with those that truly mattered because I would obsess about the hurt that was inside me due to someone else's words or actions. As I'm writing this, part of me can remember and almost feel the devastation that those mean, hurtful words or actions would cause. It took me many years to finally realize that other peoples hurtful words, directed at me, were not about me. It was all about an experience that person has had in their past, to cause them to strike out and direct their anger or hurt at me. I may have done something that reminded them of a situation that was directly related to a past experience that caused them fear, or pain. Fear, can be fear of losing control of the situation, fear of not being adequate, fear of rejection, vulnerability etc etc. I've learned someone who is insecure, will lash out and say or do hurtful things to make another person feel as low and wounded as they do. They may think that it will help them feel better about themselves and their condition. I'm not trying to be Miss Teacher or a know-it-all, please don't take me that way. We've all heard this and "know" this but REALLY understanding it has helped me more than words can say.
These days I am choosing to be happy, content and excited to live each day no matter what someone else says or does to try to bring me down, or their attempts to hurt me. There was a time when I knew I wanted to be able to make this choice but wasn't sure how. I was desperate to find out. I've learned that feeling COMPASSION for these people and understanding and empathizing with their hurt has changed the way I view everything in life. Somewhere, sometime in their life, they have been injured and are struggling to find their happiness and don't quite know how to do it either. I have to remember, it's not really about me, and have compassion and forgiveness for that person and the cruelty they are trying to inflict. I know I've done the same thing myself. I've done it many times out of my own insecurities and fears. I definitely don't want to play the victim, because I am guilty. It's something I've always tried hard not to do even as a little girl, but we are all human. I think I was probably in 4th or 5th grade when I made a deal with God. I told him that I didn't want to talk bad about other people or do hurtful things to others, but I needed his help. I asked him to please tap me on the shoulder or make my tummy feel sick to remind me of what I was doing so I would stop. Sometimes, I wouldn't realize that I was speaking negatively about someone until I already had, or if I was in a group of girls that were bashing someone, and I was agreeing with it all, it was hard to realize what was really going on until the damage was already done. Because of this, I made my deal with God. He sure pulled through on his end because after the deal was made, I would feel nauseous almost instantly after something negative about someone came out of my mouth. Funny thing is, it still happens today. I am sooo thankful for God sticking with our deal even, 31 years later!
I'm grateful that my parents raised me knowing God and having a relationship with him pretty much as long as I can remember. There were times I pushed him away or when I didnt really like him very much but he's always been there. I remember a time about 11 years ago when I was struggling with insecurity and really letting other peoples words hurt and effect me. I had found out that a group of women were talking negatively about me. It hurt me so bad. I couldn't stop thinking about it, it was affecting my relationships with my friends and kids because I was swimming in a pool of devastation, hurt and anger, trying to figure out WHY they would be talking so negatively about me. What did I ever do to them? Who are they to judge me? Etc etc. It sounds silly to me now but I let it consume me for about a week or so, then something really cool happened to me, and I've only shared it with a couple people until now. It was a Sunday morning and we went to church like we tried to on most Sunday's. My dad was in town and we usually sat in the back row, but because of his poor sight (severe macular degeneration), this week we sat up close to the front. I went into the row first, followed by my dad and then my husband. The music was already playing so I sat down quietly. I noticed to my left was an elderly couple probably in their mid eighties or so. I was sitting next to the man and he smiled at me with a warm friendly smile. We didn't have much interaction during the service of course, but I remember passing out pens to my dad and husband and not having one for myself to take notes on the weekly handouts we were given. (I planned on sharing with my dad) The elderly man noticed, and gave me one of his pens to use. I smiled and thanked him. I listened through the sermon and tried not to think about the negative things those girls had said about me, it was hard to concentrate because I really let it consume my thoughts. After the sermon, everyone stood up to leave and I turned to my left to return the pen to the kind man next to me. He touched my shoulder and he said something like this, "Don't let anything hurtful anyone says or does to you, effect you negatively. If it does, imagine your in a room with a trashcan. Take those words, or actions and crumple them up like a piece of paper (he motioned like he was crumpling up paper), toss it in the trash, and then close the door to that room behind you and walk out." He ran his hand down my shoulder and touched my hand. He then smiled at me and turned around to steer his wife down the row to join the herd of people in the isle heading to the back of the church to exit. I just stood there with goosebumps all over me. I tried to think of what the preacher said in the sermon that day that might provoke the man to say that to me, but the sermon had NOTHING to do with his words to me or anything to do with peoples hurtful words etc. I then tried to look into the crowd of people making their way out to see if I could see the elderly couple. Did I imagine that whole interaction? I knew it really happened. Was he an angel? Did he disinigrate into thin air? I didnt think so but maybe he could sense something was wrong with me? Maybe he just said that to me and had no idea why or what he was saying, but some higher force "nudged" him to. I get "nudges" all the time and I can't wait to share more about them, maybe next time. Anyway, whatever the reason for that man's words, I was in awe. I felt a blanket of love and warmth around me. I knew and was again reminded that I had a higher power looking out for me and letting me know he was still there. I was grateful for that man, grateful that I went to church that day and sat right where I sat. Coincidence, I think not! Remember as I said before, I don't believe in coincidence, I believe it's God's way of being anonymous.
So today if anyone says or does something hurtful to me. I first remember IT IS NOT ABOUT ME. I try to understand and have compassion for the person saying or doing the hurtful act because something in their life isn't right. They are sad or wounded and looking for a way to fix it. Underneath their anger or fear is hurt, and they are lashing out. THEN, I picture myself in a room with a trashcan, crumple up whatever hurts me, toss it in the can (it always makes it on my first try) :), and close the door behind me as I walk out of the room. I think of that little old man every time and and it brings tears to my eyes. I don't think I could ever remember what he even looked like but ill never forget how he made me feel.
Saturday, March 31, 2012
Monday, March 19, 2012
"If you judge others, you will have no time to love them." ~ Mother Teresa
I have never liked the feeling of being judged by people who thought if I didn't think, feel, live, look-like or believe the same way as they did, I was wrong, and I don't want to be that person to others. I know I've been guilty of this in the past, but I'm working on eliminating it in my future. Sometimes its hard because we don't want our loved ones to make the same mistakes we did, or take the harder road. Over the past 10+ years I have worked hard to truly accept that everyone should be able to live how they choose, as long as they aren't hurting others. You know, "Live and let live". Who am I to say my way is better? Or my way is the right way for you? I don't want to believe that now, and I want to appreciate the fact that my world is diverse. I love having friends of all different kinds, colors, cultures, backgrounds, lifestyles. It's exciting how much more full my life is with all of these different people in it. Peoples lives are so interesting to me and I find there are always lessons to be learned from each one of them.
My oldest son has taught me many lessons in life without even knowing it. Each of my kids have taught me lessons, but today I'm talking bout his. His experiences have been much different than my other kids have and he has chosen paths than I could've never imagined. Our life together hasn't been easy, and I have been through many painful endeavors with him, to say the least. He's 23 now but so far in his short lifetime he has challenged me beyond words. My son is a very smart kid, he was in extended studies all through school and tested in the 98% on his national tests. He also suffers from ADHD and was diagnosed at 7 yrs old after seeing 4 doctors and getting the same diagnosis 4 times. I didn't believe there was such thing and thought most kids with ADHD were mis-diagnosed. I thought ADHD was a parent's excuse for not disciplining their kids. I felt that way until I met Dr Johnson, who made me a believer that some kids really do have this problem and my son was one of them. My son was a challenge for me since he was about 2 years old and I am thankful for our struggles now, even though then, at times, I thought I'd break. I wouldn't take back all the heartache and stress for the lessons he's taught me. We've been through so much together and thankfully I've been able to learn some life skills along the way. I know I wasn't the perfect mom and I was very young. I did the best I knew at the time and was struggling to grow up myself. I believe everything happens for a reason and/or lesson. I've learned to accept the time I had raising my son for what it was, forgive myself for what I did wrong, and just be here now to love and support him. I've learned the difference between supporting and enabling, and it's a continual learning experience for me. He's also taught me to never judge other parents of struggling teens. I know that we can teach our children everything we want to, but they are not robots. They have a mind of their own and have the ability to make their own decisions, especially when they become 18.
From about age 15-18 my life with my son was probably the most difficult. His father passed away when he 15 and they both loved each other very much. Although they didn't have a close relationship, the idea that now it could never happen, was enough to put my son over the edge. During these years I got to know many of the local policemen, youth probation officers, and judges. But at 19, he made a decision that will continue to effect me forever. He chose to be homeless. Definitely not the life I would choose for him. He knew he always had the option to stay here in our home, with just a few rules, but he made the choice to be homeless. This truly broke my heart and was one of the most difficult things I'd been through with him. The burden of worry and stress, of not knowing if he was safe, hungry or cold, is indescribable. Like I said before, I've been through many hard situations with him and It's taken me some time to have the peace in my heart that I feel for him now, and I still am working on it.
I've struggled with accepting homelessness, because there are many people that don't choose to live like this. That's a whole different topic and my heart breaks for people forced into this situation. I'm talking about those that choose this lifestyle. Believe it or not, many actually choose to live this way, maybe not consciously, but many people have other options they choose to ignore or deny.
Trying to see the world through clear, unbiased eyes and an open heart is what I'm continually striving for. Realizing that just because I don't choose to live that way doesn't make it wrong for him. Maybe he likes the stress free feeling of not having a mortgage or not having to pay rent? Or maybe having/paying bills isn't what he wants to do in his life? Living the way he chose to, means no bills. Maybe the prideful feeling of getting a raise at a job for some people equals the feeling of a homeless person getting themselves a meal. Is it the same sense of accomplishment felt by both completely different situations? How do we know? I don't want to ever be homeless, but who am I to push my feelings onto someone else?
I went to visit my son in Portland while he was living this homeless lifestyle a couple years ago, and again, it was one of the hardest things for me to do. I offered him my hotel room while I was there and let him choose where we ate every meal. I tried to buy him new clothes and shoes but he was very careful about accepting my offers. He could only posses as much as he could carry in his backpack and he didn't want 'name brand' clothes that might offend his 'roommates' that also stayed with him at the shelter. He was sensitive to their feelings and that really touched my heart. He was kind to the people we walked by on the streets and to the waitresses in the restaurants we ate at. He has no idea how many times I went into restrooms just to cry my eyes out so he wouldn't see. And at night while he was sleeping, I quietly cried myself to sleep like I had done many nights at home while worrying about him. My heart was so heavy for him and I wanted so badly to save him from this lifestyle and bring him home. He, on the other hand, seemed quite content although he had future plans in the making.
Since then, my son has taken some college classes and moved on to live in 2 other states. He graduated from the Job Corps program and has a skill certification. I ask myself, why can't he just settle somewhere and get a good job? Why can't he stay in one place or at one job for long. All these questions stem from my own judgement of how I feel he should live. All parents want the best for their kids and want them to be successful, but whose definition of 'success' was I using? What I feel success is, isn't the same to someone else. I'm also learning that MY definition of 'successful' has changed quite a bit over the past few years. To me, the definition of success, is to be happy and content whoever and wherever you are. We can be happy and content no matter what, if that's what we choose. I know some people that make lots of money, have amazing college degrees, great high-paying jobs or own their own companies, huge beautiful homes but are totally miserable. That doesn't feel like successful to me. Some people in our culture use "things" such as homes, boats, degrees, cars, life-styles etc to measure their worth. I like to have nice things but I don't believe it makes me better than anyone else just because I do, if I do. And because people have nicer, bigger, more expensive possessions than me, I don't think they are better than me. I think we get so brainwashed in our culture.....Ok, I got off track here.... Back to my son... (I think his ADHD may have been genetic! - Duh)
My son, at this moment, is not homeless but he doesn't tend to stay in one place for long and I have no idea what his future holds. The word "nomadic" has been brought to my attention more than once while talking about my son with others. Nomadic- what a great word. My son is part Sioux and part Chippewa and very proud of his heritage. What if he is only being who he was meant to be, but trying to do so in our modern world? I hope I'm not making excuses for him because if I were, I'd be using my judgement in doing so. I have recently found peace in my heart for him, and will always love him with all I have no matter what. Part of that peace has been turning him over to my God. He can do a much better job with him and I know he's always there, even when I cant be. Please understand I am not saying that I agree with or accept the wrongs my son has done or things he has done that have hurt others. There are many things that he will have to face our creator with someday, just as you and I will. But I still cant stop thinking, WHAT IF HE IS ONLY BEING WHO HE WAS MEANT TO BE but in our modern mixed-up world? I won't be the one to judge.
So, from now on when I see a homeless person on the street, I smile and say hello whether I choose to give them money or not. Or when I see some guy driving around in his expensive sports car sporting his rolex and flashy clothes, I smile and understand they are just people like you and I, living in this crazy world, trying to be successful in THEIR OWN way. And then I quietly thank the man upstairs, and think of my son, for the many lessons they've both taught me. :)
My oldest son has taught me many lessons in life without even knowing it. Each of my kids have taught me lessons, but today I'm talking bout his. His experiences have been much different than my other kids have and he has chosen paths than I could've never imagined. Our life together hasn't been easy, and I have been through many painful endeavors with him, to say the least. He's 23 now but so far in his short lifetime he has challenged me beyond words. My son is a very smart kid, he was in extended studies all through school and tested in the 98% on his national tests. He also suffers from ADHD and was diagnosed at 7 yrs old after seeing 4 doctors and getting the same diagnosis 4 times. I didn't believe there was such thing and thought most kids with ADHD were mis-diagnosed. I thought ADHD was a parent's excuse for not disciplining their kids. I felt that way until I met Dr Johnson, who made me a believer that some kids really do have this problem and my son was one of them. My son was a challenge for me since he was about 2 years old and I am thankful for our struggles now, even though then, at times, I thought I'd break. I wouldn't take back all the heartache and stress for the lessons he's taught me. We've been through so much together and thankfully I've been able to learn some life skills along the way. I know I wasn't the perfect mom and I was very young. I did the best I knew at the time and was struggling to grow up myself. I believe everything happens for a reason and/or lesson. I've learned to accept the time I had raising my son for what it was, forgive myself for what I did wrong, and just be here now to love and support him. I've learned the difference between supporting and enabling, and it's a continual learning experience for me. He's also taught me to never judge other parents of struggling teens. I know that we can teach our children everything we want to, but they are not robots. They have a mind of their own and have the ability to make their own decisions, especially when they become 18.
From about age 15-18 my life with my son was probably the most difficult. His father passed away when he 15 and they both loved each other very much. Although they didn't have a close relationship, the idea that now it could never happen, was enough to put my son over the edge. During these years I got to know many of the local policemen, youth probation officers, and judges. But at 19, he made a decision that will continue to effect me forever. He chose to be homeless. Definitely not the life I would choose for him. He knew he always had the option to stay here in our home, with just a few rules, but he made the choice to be homeless. This truly broke my heart and was one of the most difficult things I'd been through with him. The burden of worry and stress, of not knowing if he was safe, hungry or cold, is indescribable. Like I said before, I've been through many hard situations with him and It's taken me some time to have the peace in my heart that I feel for him now, and I still am working on it.
I've struggled with accepting homelessness, because there are many people that don't choose to live like this. That's a whole different topic and my heart breaks for people forced into this situation. I'm talking about those that choose this lifestyle. Believe it or not, many actually choose to live this way, maybe not consciously, but many people have other options they choose to ignore or deny.
Trying to see the world through clear, unbiased eyes and an open heart is what I'm continually striving for. Realizing that just because I don't choose to live that way doesn't make it wrong for him. Maybe he likes the stress free feeling of not having a mortgage or not having to pay rent? Or maybe having/paying bills isn't what he wants to do in his life? Living the way he chose to, means no bills. Maybe the prideful feeling of getting a raise at a job for some people equals the feeling of a homeless person getting themselves a meal. Is it the same sense of accomplishment felt by both completely different situations? How do we know? I don't want to ever be homeless, but who am I to push my feelings onto someone else?
I went to visit my son in Portland while he was living this homeless lifestyle a couple years ago, and again, it was one of the hardest things for me to do. I offered him my hotel room while I was there and let him choose where we ate every meal. I tried to buy him new clothes and shoes but he was very careful about accepting my offers. He could only posses as much as he could carry in his backpack and he didn't want 'name brand' clothes that might offend his 'roommates' that also stayed with him at the shelter. He was sensitive to their feelings and that really touched my heart. He was kind to the people we walked by on the streets and to the waitresses in the restaurants we ate at. He has no idea how many times I went into restrooms just to cry my eyes out so he wouldn't see. And at night while he was sleeping, I quietly cried myself to sleep like I had done many nights at home while worrying about him. My heart was so heavy for him and I wanted so badly to save him from this lifestyle and bring him home. He, on the other hand, seemed quite content although he had future plans in the making.
Since then, my son has taken some college classes and moved on to live in 2 other states. He graduated from the Job Corps program and has a skill certification. I ask myself, why can't he just settle somewhere and get a good job? Why can't he stay in one place or at one job for long. All these questions stem from my own judgement of how I feel he should live. All parents want the best for their kids and want them to be successful, but whose definition of 'success' was I using? What I feel success is, isn't the same to someone else. I'm also learning that MY definition of 'successful' has changed quite a bit over the past few years. To me, the definition of success, is to be happy and content whoever and wherever you are. We can be happy and content no matter what, if that's what we choose. I know some people that make lots of money, have amazing college degrees, great high-paying jobs or own their own companies, huge beautiful homes but are totally miserable. That doesn't feel like successful to me. Some people in our culture use "things" such as homes, boats, degrees, cars, life-styles etc to measure their worth. I like to have nice things but I don't believe it makes me better than anyone else just because I do, if I do. And because people have nicer, bigger, more expensive possessions than me, I don't think they are better than me. I think we get so brainwashed in our culture.....Ok, I got off track here.... Back to my son... (I think his ADHD may have been genetic! - Duh)
My son, at this moment, is not homeless but he doesn't tend to stay in one place for long and I have no idea what his future holds. The word "nomadic" has been brought to my attention more than once while talking about my son with others. Nomadic- what a great word. My son is part Sioux and part Chippewa and very proud of his heritage. What if he is only being who he was meant to be, but trying to do so in our modern world? I hope I'm not making excuses for him because if I were, I'd be using my judgement in doing so. I have recently found peace in my heart for him, and will always love him with all I have no matter what. Part of that peace has been turning him over to my God. He can do a much better job with him and I know he's always there, even when I cant be. Please understand I am not saying that I agree with or accept the wrongs my son has done or things he has done that have hurt others. There are many things that he will have to face our creator with someday, just as you and I will. But I still cant stop thinking, WHAT IF HE IS ONLY BEING WHO HE WAS MEANT TO BE but in our modern mixed-up world? I won't be the one to judge.
So, from now on when I see a homeless person on the street, I smile and say hello whether I choose to give them money or not. Or when I see some guy driving around in his expensive sports car sporting his rolex and flashy clothes, I smile and understand they are just people like you and I, living in this crazy world, trying to be successful in THEIR OWN way. And then I quietly thank the man upstairs, and think of my son, for the many lessons they've both taught me. :)
Tuesday, March 13, 2012
Until we stop competing and comparing...
Competitiveness- I love the concept of balance in my life and this word, has given me some grief, to say the least. Growing up in a small town, sports and athletic activities were very popular. Being competitive was a nice compliment, at least that's how my younger mind took it and I still believe that in the right situations, friendly competition is healthy. In my past, I perceived the word "competitive" to mean ONLY a positive adjective and that's what I wanted to be viewed as. It wasn't until I understood there was negative side to this, I was able to find a balance that my sub-conscience was desperately seeking.
In my middle-aged mind I have a little different version of the word "competitive" and I think I know just when it all started to become clearer to me. About 4 years ago, I was sitting in a salon chair getting my hair extensions filled, (yes, that's another story) and I happen to glance over at the hair dresser's station to my left. On her mirror was a sign, and those words for some reason, would be etched in my mind forever. It said something like this, NOT UNTIL WE STOP COMPARING OURSELVES AND COMPETING WITH OTHERS, CAN WE TRULY BE RESPECTED. I thought about that sign off and on throughout the next year or so, and wasn't yet aware of the effect it would continue to have on me. I wasn't even sure I knew exactly what it meant. I believe there is no such thing as coincidences and I think we see, read, dream, or experience certain things at certain times when we need them in our life. Whether we choose to listen to these things is another story and I could go on and on about that too, but not today.
I believe I needed to read that sign that day, even though it took some time for what it meant to me to sink in. Those words would continue to haunt me on certain occasions, sometimes too late, but other times they came just in time. Is it more important for me to win, or more important to me to be respected?...and I had to start with respect for myself. Don't get me wrong, I'm not necessarily talking about sporting events here, because if any of you know me, NFL football is a big part of my life and I do like my team to win! I'm talking about relationships and getting along with people. (I guess my Steelers can sometimes fall into this category) :)
I began to realize that when I would compare my physical features, clothes, kids, home, jobs, life, car, HAIR, etc, to others, I wasn't being grateful for all I had. Without being content with my own life, and not being grateful for what I did have, I wasn't able to allow COMPLETE happiness in. Yes, this meant that I even had to find a way to love my fine, (Tales From the Crypt) hair. I'm also learning that there will always be people in our lives that are constantly wanting to compete with us for these materialistic things. I'm still working on recognizing the challenge and not allowing myself to get roped into playing the game. I'm finding that with practice, it starts to become easier. (I'm still practicing)
Taking myself out of the competition is such a feeling of relief. That peace, I'm finding, is much better than "winning" the competition. I'm also learning to take it as a compliment, instead of a challenge, when someone chooses to compete with ME. Taking a step back, and removing myself as a 'player' in their game, feels powerful and very serene. It removes stress and friction in my life that I don't have room for, making space and time for many positives. Why did it take so long for me to understand this? I think I needed to go through some classes in the school of hard-knocks before I could truly appreciate and understand the lessons. I'm a long-term student there and find myself back on campus now and then. Remember, people make mistakes because they are acting out of their own pain. The person that is constantly competing with us and causing negative feelings isn't a bad person, they are just searching for someTHING that they think will make them happy. Feeling compassion for them, keeping them in my prayers, and keeping my thoughts positive, helps me to move on. Hopefully, someday they too will experience a moment as simple as a little sign hanging on a mirror. I'm definitely not perfect at this non-competitiveness but I now have knowledge of how I want to handle it, and knowledge to me = power. As Maya Angelou says, "When we know better, we do better".
So the arms of my scale start to slowly tip towards the center, as I keep reaching for that balance, in true Libra fashion.
Monday, March 12, 2012
The purpose of my blog :)
Welcome to my blog!
...even if this welcome is viewed just by me, I say welcome! The purpose of my blog is for me to take the time for myself and type out my thoughts, right in front of me, for me to see. I can look back at them or someday my kids may want to read what/how I felt about certain things, or just know their mother's random thoughts. I love to write. I'm not saying I'm good at it, I just love to do it. When trying to communicate my feelings, I feel it's easier for me to justly express myself when I'm writing them down, as opposed to trying to verbalize them. Sometimes when I try to explain or communicate myself, my many emotions get tangled up and it causes my words to come out wrong. I feel I frequently get taken the wrong way, or misunderstood. With writing, my thoughts seem to flow and I'm able to express myself more accurately :).
My blog is not up for criticism, critique or discussion. It's just my feelings, experiences, and thoughts down for me to see, physically, in front of me. I was telling a close friend of mine my plan to blog to myself, and she asked if she could read my blog too. After thinking about it, I am taking a chance, leaving my "safe-place", and exposing myself by making some of my thoughts public. By doing so, maybe just maybe someone will connect with something I'm thinking, and if anything, they will know they are not alone.
So here I go on my new writing adventure!
...even if this welcome is viewed just by me, I say welcome! The purpose of my blog is for me to take the time for myself and type out my thoughts, right in front of me, for me to see. I can look back at them or someday my kids may want to read what/how I felt about certain things, or just know their mother's random thoughts. I love to write. I'm not saying I'm good at it, I just love to do it. When trying to communicate my feelings, I feel it's easier for me to justly express myself when I'm writing them down, as opposed to trying to verbalize them. Sometimes when I try to explain or communicate myself, my many emotions get tangled up and it causes my words to come out wrong. I feel I frequently get taken the wrong way, or misunderstood. With writing, my thoughts seem to flow and I'm able to express myself more accurately :).
My blog is not up for criticism, critique or discussion. It's just my feelings, experiences, and thoughts down for me to see, physically, in front of me. I was telling a close friend of mine my plan to blog to myself, and she asked if she could read my blog too. After thinking about it, I am taking a chance, leaving my "safe-place", and exposing myself by making some of my thoughts public. By doing so, maybe just maybe someone will connect with something I'm thinking, and if anything, they will know they are not alone.
So here I go on my new writing adventure!
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