I Cry

I cry because I feel like a failure in life.

I cry because I am getting a 4.0 GPA in my college courses at the age of 45.

I cry because I have had so much happen out of my control.

I cry because I have survived that which would have broken me.

I cry because my finances are in ruin.

I cry because I am mindful of my budget and working to change my future.

I cry because I live every day in physical pain.

I cry because I can still get up and move and walk through that pain.

I cry because my house is falling apart and looks horrible.

I cry because I have a home to live in and we are not homeless.

I cry because my 16-year-old daughter has to get up at 5 am to go to school then after school work from 4 pm to 11 pm just to help us survive.

I cry because my daughter sounds like an angel when she sings.

I cry because my children have never had the life they deserve.

I cry because I have provided for my children despite our difficulties.

I cry because the love of my life betrayed me and abused our daughter and broke our family apart.

I cry because I stood up to stop the abuse once I knew.

I cry because I miss being in love.

I cry because I am learning to be independent.

I cry because I am medically disabled and this is not the life I would choose.

I cry because my disabilities have not prevented me from living.

I cry because I am lonely, oh so lonely.

I cry because I know what morals and values are.

I cry because my mother does not know how to truly love her children.

I cry because sometimes, sometimes my mother at least tries.

I cry because my father abandoned us when we were kids and does not care about us.

I cry because my father at least sometimes talks to my siblings.

I cry because my relationship with my son is sometimes strained.

I cry because my son is following his dreams which is what I always wanted for him.

I cry because I don’t know how to share my pain and no one would even care.

I cry because some days are good despite the pain.

I cry because I feel helpless and hopeless.

I cry because I am working through those feelings.

I cry because I don’t know how to stand up for myself.

I cry because I have not hardened my heart.

I cry because I have always been stressed to the max.

I cry because I have learned to be inventive.

I cry because I feel little joy in life.

I cry because my children help me smile.

I cry when I am sad.

I cry when I am happy.

I hide the tears I cry in an effort to be strong.

 

 

Inchoate Dream

I had an inchoate dream last night. One I would rather forget. Unpleasant and scary, this dream or vision as it really was, only lasted a few seconds.

I was riding in the passenger seat of my SUV. I can see the tan dash in front of me with all of its dust specks shining in the light of the sun dancing through the windshield. My daughter was driving. We were laughing at something unknown said moments before the dream started. Suddenly without warning the vehicles in front of us stopped. The silver rear end of a Honda Civic loomed ever closer as we continued our forward motion. “STOP” I yell out as my arms instinctively reach out to brace myself. At first, no intelligible sound uttered out of my daughter’s lips. Only the gasp of fear. Finally, after what seemed hours of time went by, able to speak only two words break the silence, “The Breaks.” Only the sound of metal on metal can be heard after that. The crunch of cars colliding. My sight fades to black on impact as if I had died.

I woke up in that instant. Heart racing, sweat covering my body, and terror, heartbreak, and extreme sadness fill my head. We have a long road trip today in which my daughter is driving. Was this a premonition of things to come? I cannot live my life in fear or change plans based on a dream. The trip must go on. My daughter is reluctant to drive now and has to be forced. It must be done. Just like riding a bike, if you fall you must get back up and try again. Knowledge is power, the power to change an outcome. We have not had an accident, she has not yet fallen. Therefore, she must overcome fear and put the effort forth to try. It will be fine, I am inspecting the SUV before we leave.

Question of the Day 2 – Response by Cheynoea

A Writer's Life

Thanks, Cheynoea, for the beautiful response.

Cheynoea

You inspired a short poem 🙂 I haven’t written a poem in quite some time. So thank you for breaking my writers block on that portion of my brain.

Memories

I failed to take any photos of my yesterday and today as well.
Other than in my head where those memories reside,
I shall have no physical proof barring the stories I tell.
Tucked away ever so neatly in a section of my brain they hide,
I will remember grazing upon them once in a while but never to linger and dwell.


How many pictures did you take yesterday?

Contrary to the norm, I didn’t take any pictures yesterday.  I did video my welcome home from my dog and one cat. Mostly blurred puppy.

I normally walk during a break at work, but did the stairs instead, so no chance of pictures…

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A Touch of Light

Chapter 2

 

Upon feeling the car stop and listening to her mother’s movements as she put it in park and turned the car off, Onix quickly removed her seatbelt and jumped out of the car. Not wanting to prolong the awkward silence in the car between her mother and herself. She was not eager for the appointment but it was better than being in the presence of her mother.

“Hello, Onix you may go right in. Gabe has been waiting for you.” exclaimed the secretary as she walked through the front doors of the building. Onix could hear her mother and the secretary mumbling to each other as she proceeded to the inner office where Gabe sat waiting.

“Hello Onix, how are you today?” came a cheerful voice with that all too familiar lip smack.

Grumbling under her breath incoherent words Onix made her way to the chair and plopped herself down as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “I don’t wish to be here and would like to inform you this will be my LAST visit.”

Taking a deep breath in and slowly letting it out, Gabe, took a moment to mentally prepare for a difficult session with Onix. He had tried everything in his power to get Onix to open up to him and trust him. She was his most difficult patient to date in his 14-year career as a therapist and he had been graced with a lot of difficult patients.

Onix had been coming to see him once a week for the last two and a half years at the recommendation of her physician. Dr. Phorphenden had called him to discuss Onix and personally ask that he take on her case. She was what he liked to call a holdout, not wanting to share her true thoughts and emotions. He could sense the anger emanating out of every ounce of her being and had to find a way for her to connect with it and let it out and soon.

“Onix, since this will be your last visit with me, can I ask that we try something new? Will you allow me to take you somewhere instead of sitting in this tiny office? Will you allow me the entire afternoon instead of just an hour?” quickly adding, “If you will do so, I will not argue with you about coming ever again if you don’t wish too.”

Onix sat and thought about this proposition. It was a very intriguing offer. One he had never asked of her before. She would be all too thankful to be free of her mother for the entire afternoon but did not want to let Gabe know just how much she needed time away from her mother who was smothering her to death.

“If I agree to go with you, you promise to tell my mother I am no longer in need of therapy and cancel any further appointments despite her reaction or arguments?” Onix countered.

Standing up and smoothing out his blazer, Gabe walked over to Onix and took her hand in his to shake on the deal. “I promise, do we have a deal?”

Standing up herself and shaking his hand, “Yes, we have a deal.” she replied.

Onix followed Gabe out into the waiting room where they briefly paused so Gabe could talk to her mother and his secretary. “Sandy, cancel all further appointments for the rest of the day. Tell them I am sorry but a personal issue came up and I need to reschedule.” Turning towards Onix’s mother, “Julia, Onix and I are going for an outing instead of sitting here in this little office today. I will personally see that she gets home this evening.” The two of them walked out before either woman could interject.

Gabe maintained a distance of a few feet before Onix while walking to his car. He never looked back to see if she was behind him or able to follow. He never offered her assistance and just assumed she would be able to do so of her own design. Onix could hear every sound as if amplified. Never even hesitating she followed Gabe to his vehicle and found her way to the passenger door to get in.

Once she was safely buckled in, Gabe started the car and drove off in silence.

 

To Be Continued…

 

I don’t care about your child’s SAT score…

I am deeply humbled by Mr. Graden’s words and thoughts in this blog post. I agree with his direction and am deeply grateful to be a part of this wonderful community. More educators need to take this approach.

There is only one thing I would add to this equation, teaching our youth to follow their dreams and choose a career they love. It is proven time and time again that if a person loves what they are doing as a career, they are more successful at it and in all of their pursuits.

The education system is flawed and has been for years. We teach things that are unnecessary to actual daily life and true to the careers or fields children choose. Not everyone needs advanced calculus or to learn about scientific methods. Instead, the focus needs to be taking these ideas that Mr. Graden talks about in this article and fine-tuning a course of study to the individual student to help them get a jumpstart on their chosen profession.

Kudos to you Mr. Graden.

Scot Graden's Blog

Saline-Values-Compass-for-white-bgI need to be honest with you; I less concerned about your (or mine, too) child’s SAT score… or their ACT score…. than I am about the knowledge that he/she acquires by the time they graduate. I know society and the “education industry” says that as a superintendent, I should care more about standardized test scores.  But, I don’t.  I want them to do well; sincerely, I do.  But when we talk about your child – instead of scores, tell me what they are passionate about, what skills you have seen them develop, what challenges they have faced, and how they have worked to overcome them.  Tell me about how they treat others, how hard they work to achieve what is important to them, and how they reach out to help others in need.

Over the last ten years, I have handed out 4,500+ Saline diplomas – a fact that…

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Sympathize

via Daily Prompt: Sympathize

Sympathize
SYmpathize
SYMpathize
symPathize
symPAthize
symPAThize
symPATHize!

Sympathize = The path to understanding the emotional state of a fellow human being and what they are going through good or bad, happy or sad. The key to successful human contact between two parties. The PATH to true human connections and relationships.

I Am Back

After several months of dealing with a TBI/Concussion and lots of therapy, I am finally able to sit at the computer and write again without getting a migraine. This excites me because being a writer and not being able to write is horrible. I have missed being here more than even I ever thought possible.

To commemorate this occasion, I have decided to go all the way and purchase my domain name removing the WordPress adds and allowing me to upload audio and video content without having to use links to other outside sources.

The first video I would like to share is one of great value to me. You see, my daughter was asked to perform at an event celebrating the success certain individuals with mental illness had accomplished throughout the year in 2017. She chose a song that resonates and inspires those with mental illness and performed it so beautifully. I am so proud of her.

Lastly, before leaving this short post, I want to say thank you to all of my fellow bloggers, friends, and followers for standing by me throughout my injury, all of the well-wishes and being patient with me while I heal and took time off from blogging. You are all so special to me. I look forward to being back full force and bringing you content you can enjoy.

 

The Old Are Still Young

oldpeople on playground

Take a walk with me into the sunny day. We will take our shoes off and enjoy the grass beneath our feet. To lollygag, dance and joyfully meander, out in the open air. Freeing ourselves from daily routines leaving our cares behind. Let us worry not for what we should be doing and give in to childhood remembrances of play. Giving no thought to our ages now, as we roll down the hills and pretend to fly like the birds. Let’s splash in the slow moving waves as we walk by the lake. Cooling our bodies from the heat of the sun as we bask in the delight of our free time. Come with me to the playground to soar up on the swings. Pumping our feet as hard as we can as we reach for our toes to touch the sky. Then laugh till our sides hurt as we spin endlessly on the merry-go-round then try to stand and walk once again upon the ground. Let’s race down the slides and see who can jump farthest as we reach the end. I will race you to the seesaw then play hide and seek in the jungle gym. Let’s end by laying on the ground staring up at the clouds sharing what wonders our imaginations can see. We will leave no stone unturned on our way home as we search for lizards and worms in the setting sun. Then curl up snuggling on the couch with popcorn and a movie to fall asleep in each other’s arms with smiles on our faces. Content and happy to have felt free and alive once again. Paying no attention to the wrinkles on our faces, gray hair on our heads and walkers and canes standing alone in the corner. We may be old, but we are still young.

OH The Bees…

The day started out as any other. I completed my morning routine in record time, delivered my daughter to school came home and busied myself cleaning house. Had everything done by mid afternoon. After a short late lunch break, I had decided I would also tackle the task of mowing the lawn so that I could have a completely free evening.

Now, I know we have all seen those Hollywood movies depicting what it was like to be stung by a horde of bees. Most notably, My Girl comes to mind. I had always thought this was just an exaggeration to make movies more interesting. I had never seen ‘real’ bees take on this attacking nature in real life. My day was about to get a whole lot more interesting and scary.

So filling the push mower with gasoline, I pressed the primer button a handful of times and yanked that chain. It started like clockwork and I was off. I had not even gotten one full foot of lawn mowed before I felt one tiny little sting, then another and another. I let go of the lawnmower handle and that is when I saw it, literally a cloud of bees starting to swarm around me.

They attacked with such precision and anger the likes of which were not to be compared. I screamed and panicked as I felt them penetrating beneath my clothes and into each and every open hole they could find. Flailing my arms about like a wild woman, I knew in the movies the person had always run to the water. Remembering my hose did not work I had to think quick.

I started peeling off my clothes one by one as I ran for the house and comfort of the shower inside. The relentless bees followed as if in a trance with a one track mind, attack and kill. By the time I had made it to my living room I had already been stung several hundred times.

Darting down the hall I had shed my last piece of clothing as I hit the bathroom door. I was now fully exposed for them to unmask their full potential on my naked skin. It did not matter though because they had already gotten under every part of my clothing in the most private of spots. Places I did not even think they would consider going. I know, I know… they are bees, they don’t reason or pick and choose where to go. But this was how my mind was working in that moment.

I turned on the cold water full blast and climbed in. It was not working, the bees continued their plight to sting and kill. Having a very hard time breathing now as I went into anaphylactic shock, I kept my wits about me, though I have no clue how. I was not getting rid of these bees, I was allergic to them and did not have an epi pen.

I had to call 911. But where is my phone? OH, MY GOD…. I left it out in the yard in the pocket of my jacket. I would have to try and make it back out to the yard to grab it. Wait, I am completely naked!!! Life or embarrassment, what a choice. Yes, that really went through my head in the throws of this crisis. I could barely stand on my own two feet as I half walked, crawled and scooted my way back outside. Now, any sane person would have just stopped there and called 911 as soon as they had their hands on the phone. Not me, nope…. I had to get back inside so the neighbors did not see me standing or laying in the yard in my birthday suit. The shame would be too much to bear.

I have no clue how, but I did make it back inside and finally collapsed in my recliner just inside the door. By the time I dialed 911 I was gasping for breath and could not speak. The 911 operator on the other end tried her best to figure out what was going on, “Hello, 911, please state your emergency.”

“Gasp, gasp, big indistinguishable noise.”

“Do you need assistance?”

More gasping as I try to take in enough air to tell her that I did indeed need help.

“I have your address, do you need me to send help?”

One last final attempt, I mustered enough breath and half whispered half mumbled, “BEES.”

“I understand, you were stung by a bee. I am sending help now. Please stay on the line until someone arrives.”

“Mam, are you still there?”

I had dropped the phone as I drifted into a semi-conscious state.

I could hear the sirens now and knew help would arrive shortly. Trying so hard to stay awake, I saw my life flash before my eyes. My last thoughts being, who would pick my daughter up from school and how scared she would be if she thought I had forgotten her.

The next thing I remember was waking up to every single cop, fireman and rescue worker in my tiny little town standing in my living room over top of me, about 10 men in total. I do not remember hearing what the ambulance drivers were saying as they worked on me but do remember a few of the police and fireman making statements like, “They’re everywhere.” and “Do we have any spray?”

Finally back to a fully conscious state and able to reason. My next thought was, I am completely naked in front of all of these men. Instead of answering their questions and being worried about my health and well being, I asked, “Can someone please get me some clothes or cover me up?”

Unaffected by my question, they continued to work on me and ask me questions like what my name was, if I knew what day it was, and what happened? As they were poking me with needle after needle explaining to me what each one was for, I could hear the cops talking about finding the underground nest and requesting someone to bring them some spray to douse it in.

Able to focus on the correct task at hand, my health! I finally explained to them the entire story about how the bees came to attack and I had ended up in my living room, collapsed on that chair completely naked. Someone had finally grabbed a blanket to cover me up with and they were ready to load me on the stretcher and into the ambulance only after four epi shots and two of Benedryl amongst starting an IV of fluids. I insisted they were not going to move me one inch until someone grabbed me some clothes to take with me and allowed me to call my cousin who lived down the road so that I knew my daughter would be taken care of. One of the cops picked up my phone, asked me my cousin’s name and proceeded to call for me while another rummaged through my dresser to grab some clothes for me.

Satisfied, I allowed them to load me into the ambulance and proceed to the hospital. What I neglected to mention during this entire time was that those relentless bees were STILL attacking, not just me now but all of the rescue workers who had come to my aid. They were so bad they followed us into the ambulance and onto the hospital.

The doctors and nurses spent over two hours trying to pick bees and stingers off of my body. Now anyone who knows me knows my hair is down to my butt and very thick. One nurse spent the entirety of her time just focusing on the task of pulling them out of my hair, some still alive. By the time all was said and done I had been stung somewhere in the ballpark of 1500 times from head to toe. Folks, that is a LOT of bees.

Believe it or not, I was okay after several hours and able to be released that very same day thanks to the awesome work of the emergency workers, doctors, and nurses. I now carry with me at all times not only one but two epi pens and was told to use them both if I ever get stung again, even if it is just one little sting.

Although okay physically, it was quite some time before mentally I was able to show my face in town again knowing I had bared all my glory to so many, intentional or not. That embarrassment was just as bad as the bee attack.  I know it was in my own head and that they are professionals, but that did not stop my cheeks from turning red each time I had seen one of them in town. I wanted to cower away and become a rock laying on the ground so they would not see me.

I can laugh at the entire situation now sharing the story for others to laugh at as well. It has been over 3 years since this incident happened. It seems like something straight out of a Hollywood movie set and I lived through it.

 

Blogging Milestones

 

Today, I hit not one but two different milestones in my blogging world. Thanks to all of my wonderful followers and readers I have hit 200 total likes and I have posted 100 blog posts. That is an average of 2 likes per post. Being a new blogger, I am extremely delighted about these achievements.  It helps me to know I am connecting with all of you and that I am making a difference.

So please accept my deepest and most sincere thanks for helping me to reach these milestones.

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