“The only truth is that everything is a lie”…

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Eye Will Not Cry

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There’s something broken about her…

And something not quite right…

Something just doesn’t make sense…

Something that keeps her up at night…

It’s something about her past…

And it’s something dark and cold…

Something so unspeakable…

Something that haunts as she grows old…

It’s something she will never escape…

Something she can’t breakthrough…

It’s something out of her control…

And something she can’t tell you…

Something that’s so overpowering…

And something so very emotional…

Something she just can’t explain…

It’s something hiding in her soul…

And something downright nasty…

Something that makes her weep…

Something chills her to the bone…

It’s something secret she must keep…

It’s something that can’t be healed…

Like something inside has died…

Something evil has left a scar…

And something makeup cannot hide…

Something that infects her thoughts…

Something makes her look away…

And something you can see in her eyes…

That something caused…

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Lost my marbles

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I  lost my marbles this year.

My husband died after seven years of fighting a rare disease that was similar to Multiple Sclerosis.  Still, it came as a shock when I found him that morning not breathing.  The paramedics came and were not able to revive him.  I cried.  Everyone was very kind.  My neighbor, Laurie, came over to help while the medical examiner came and finally the undertakers.   They let me have a few minutes alone with him before they took him.  I cried while I held him. I cried while I touched and caressed his face.  But, looking at him I realized that he looked more well and more at peace than he had in years. It was so hard for us both the past few years because he couldn’t walk or stand and had trouble even sitting up.  Also, he had lost his hearing.  Still, I’d take it all back just to have my Manny with me.

Then, for a number of reasons, I had to move.  Packing and getting rid of things is not my forte, so, my friend, Sue,  and my son helped me.  Sue came over several times a week and bravely sorted through my decades of accumulated treasures and junk.   I don’t know how I would have downsized without her.  As we were packing, we came across my marble collections.  Gathered in different boxes and tins, there were several hundreds.  I had cat’s eyes, comets, clearies, tri-lites, and many others.  Below are more types with their names.

She was impressed by my collection and thought they were beautiful and so, she carefully packed them in a box.  I was so relieved that she didn’t see them as silly or want me to get rid of them.  But, then my son came home for a weekend to help me pack.  He thought that I hadn’t downsized enough and looked in some boxes that Sue and I had packed to see if there was anything that I should be getting rid of.  And then he came across the marbles.

“What are these for? You don’t need marbles, you don’t play with them.” He said while he quickly took them out of the packed box.

“I..I collect them.  They are pretty.” I anxiously replied.

Although a great son (and an incredible help during this difficult time), he saw no need for an adult woman to have marbles and so off they went to the thrift store.  And that’s how I literally lost my marbles. I miss my marbles.  They sparkled and glowed in the light and felt cool and smooth to the touch. I liked the feeling of rolling them around in my hands. But it’s nothing compared with losing  my Manny.

Soon after, I figuratively lost my marbles and ended up in the psych ward of a hospital.  But that is another story.

Over/Under

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These pictures come from a terrific blog and are so special I just had to share. Hope they make you feel as good as they made me feel 🙂

My OBT

Matty writes that this man o'war ended up wrapped around his camera and ended up stinging him on the nose. Ow! ©Matthew Smith The photographerwrites that this man o’war somehowwrapped itself around his camera and stunghim on the nose. Ow! ©Matty Smith

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Yes

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The author of this blog took the time to give me a much needed pep talk after I commented on this quote. I like the self-image of warrior so much better than survivor. It is a more true representation of those of us that fight to function despite our mental battles. Much gratitude and thanks to Pattyspathtohealing.

Becoming a Warrior Queen

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Children: To Hit or Not to Hit? (spoiler: NOT!)

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Hitting children is abusive.  It is taking advantage of adult power over children and should not be tolerated in our society. Please read this thought-provoking blog.

Barking Back

The text in this image can be found at the bottom of the post. Children Learn What They Live poem by Dorothy Law Nolte from http://www.docstoc.com/docs/158159649/Children-Learn-What-They-Live

Another facebook friend is advocating hitting children. In the wake of another local bullying incident, my news feed is once again spattered with variations on the meme of “If there was more of THIS {image of a child being spanked}, there’d be less of THIS {image of young criminals*}.”

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Where the Ponies Run

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GettingrealwithPTSD

Somewhere the ponies run —

And I can ride, I can ride

Somewhere the ponies run

 past all the memories I fear.

Across the fields, under the sun —

We will ride, we will ride

Across the fields, under the sun

Into fair  meadows of cheer.

Sad thoughts — there will be none —

And we will dance, we will dance

Bad dreams — they will be gone —

 Our eyes will have no tears.

Somewhere the ponies run

And joy is somewhere near.

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Shadows of Betrayal (Part 7)

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GettingrealwithPTSD

This will probably be the hardest post I’ll ever write. Its about my father.  My father whom I loved and trusted.  The voice in the attic had been warning me, preparing me. “Good daddies don’t do that” it had said.  Then the flashbacks started.  First it was just my father walking into my darkened bedroom wearing his untied rubber-soled shoes.  The sliding and clumping sounds they made were ominous.  The next flashbacks  were of him saying my pet name in the dark “Sander, Sander” as if to see if I was awake. But I wasn’t yet ready for more memories to surface.  I wasn’t even telling my therapist about my visits to the attic or the strange flash backs.  In the midst of this, I continued writing in my journal.  This had become strange.  Often I would access memories from the rapes when I would sit down to write and of the remarks they…

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Out Of The Mouths Of Babes…

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For everyone who has ever been loved by a dog.

Sunshinebright

A shared article on my Facebook page touched me so deeply, that I had to share it with my WordPress readers:

A Dog’s Purpose?
(according to a 6-year-old).

Boy with Wolfhound

Being a veterinarian, I had been called to examine a ten-year-old Irish Wolfhound named Belker. The dog’s owners, Ron, his wife Lisa , and their little boy Shane, were all very attached to Belker, and they were hoping for a miracle.

I examined Belker and found he was dying of cancer. I told the family we couldn’t do anything for Belker, and offered to perform the euthanasia procedure for the old dog in their home.

As we made arrangements, Ron and Lisa told me they thought it would be good for six-year-old Shane to observe the procedure. They felt as though Shane might learn something from the experience.

The next day, I felt the familiar catch in my throat as Belker ‘s…

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