Reality or Imagination?

Buckle up buttercup. We're going for a ride...

When someone tells you "It's all in your mind" it really is. Real, or not, all our thoughts originate in the subconscious mind. For instance, have you ever wondered if you are real? Have you ever sat and contemplated reality as we know it? Have you ever looked around you and wondered if what you were seeing was indeed real? Before you begin to wonder if this blogger is on some weird medicine, or has possibly given in to the psychotic behavior you've always thought she teetered on, let me dispel your fears. It takes something pretty scary, health wise, to get me to even down an aspirin, or an anti-inflammatory. I have to have a raging headache that causes my eyes to feel as if they will explode, for at least 3 days before I reach for the Tylenol bottle. 

I treasure a clear mind so that I can be aware of reality, and have the ability to make good decisions, which I haven't always done. Yet, there have been days (not recently...thank God), that my brain has taken me to places that some would consider concerning. I have seen some pretty horrific things, over the years, that I keep tucked away in an obscure, subconscious file, that will cause me to wonder about reality from time to time. Rightly dividing the truth can, at times, take a minute (or two). And, yes. I have pinched myself to make sure I'm still among the living. Are you worried, yet? 😉😂

There was a time, some years ago, while in one of these "reality" situations, nothing felt real. Standing in my kitchen, I began questioning myself about things that had always been true. Call the hubs (I didn't, 'cause I knew what he would say and I didn't want to hear it, real or not). Call the girls (they laughed while assuring me I was still present). Stir up some Energy Bites (yum!), clean the house (ahchoo!), touch the reflection in the mirror (hummmm), etc., etc. The way I was able to finally release myself from this dark feeling, was to decide that if I wasn't real, if the life I had lived was truly no more, then whatever this was that I was experiencing at that moment WAS my reality! And it was time for a pinch. 😁 

Just a curious question: Did you know the conscious mind can speak with the subconscious, and that the subconscious can speak to the conscious? The subconscious mind processes information and affects everything we say and do. It stores our beliefs and values, determines our memories and monitors the information around us, deciding what to send to the conscious mind and what to store for later. Interesting! Yes? Scientists say the subconscious mind is 95% of the brain, while the conscious mind is only 5%. So, most thinking takes part in the subconscious, then hands it over to the conscious for planning and critical thinking.
 

Soooo...is this why we can have moments of life "disappear" for a time? Some call it a "memory lapse." Does the subconscious protect us while it processes what we can, or cannot handle in the moment??? I say it's very possible. Even likely. Do you think we can reprogram our subconscious? Can we change our mental reality? Ugh! My brain hurts. 😉😁

Resting in God's Grace, here you'll find me...in Mary's World

Overthinking the Wind's Resistance

As long as I can remember, I've been someone who loves to be different than the norm. I rarely "go with the flow". It's much too boring and why would I want to "fit in" with the masses? This attitude crept into the world of business as I took up the challenge of being my own boss. The buck would always stop with me as I chose the extra ordinary. Rarely did anyone know the why behind those choices. 

I had mostly kept to myself in the early years of teenage-hood, as I became known as the quiet one. Maybe a little shy. But that wasn't it at all. I had been taught that children should be seen, but not heard, and it carried over into my pre-adult era. It's super easy to judge someone by what is shown outwardly, but super hard getting to know the real human behind the curtain. 

I took it all in, storing everything inside a file located in the back room of my brain. I saw the lions. I saw the mice. I saw the richness of souls. I saw the poverty of souls. As I read the rooms my feet carried me into, I prepared myself for the unknown. Little did I know the unknown was about to completely mess with my views of humanity and the world at large.

There is a Celtic expression from long ago, that has forever intrigued me. It sounds nice, just not realistic enough for my views. "May the wind be at your back" indicates life should always be easy, never challenging, and we all know that simply isn't reality. I get it, though. The expression was meant to give as a blessing of always being in good situations where help from external forces was present. Possibly even spiritual forces helping us along our journey. And even though I know that many times I have been accompanied by the spiritual realm (the unseen), as I navigate life, I still want the challenges that serve to improve the journey. The ones that cause me to look inside myself to see what God has put there that I can draw upon.

Without challenges, without difficulties, without sorrows, without self-reflection, without stumbling blocks and mountains, we would be a tad spoiled without any real value. We may be great to look at, but without any depth of the soul, I fear we wouldn't have much to offer this world.

Sooo....let the wind be in my face. Let it cool my physical body, as it warms my spirit, while forcing me to engage with it. Let the wind be in my face, pushing against this human shell I call home, so I might try harder, become stronger, and be more understanding of others reality. Let the wind be in my face so that I might learn to resist the push-back and look for a better way than my own.

"May the road rise to meet you. May the wind be always at your back. May the sun shine warm upon your face, and the rains fall soft upon your fields." It's really a nice Irish blessing, but...don't we always reap what we sow? 

Sowing doesn't come without hardships. I'll just leave that here for us to contemplate for a bit.

Overthinking the wind, here you will find me...in Mary's World

Becoming Conditioned to What We've Become

It was around the age of 7, or 8, that I remember thinking I must be an obedient child, just to please my dad and not be an embarrassment to the family. As with many little ones, the brain processes discipline a bit differently than the adult brain does. I thought it was the only way to make him proud of who I was. And so, I began the process of becoming someone I was never created to be. A people pleaser. I'm sure he had some of the same experiences as a child. Most do. Humanity does.

Throughout my lifetime I have worn many masks. Some would have said I had multiple personalities, had they stuck close enough to witness my people pleasing attributes. It all came from an underlying fear that had been felt early in life and continued until around the age of 22, when I finally began to face it for what it was. It's identity came from a fear of punishment if I didn't conform. Please don't misunderstand. I had parents who loved me and wanted the best for me. But I've often wondered if my dad (the one given the heart-wrenching responsibility of disciplining his children), acted more out of what others would think of the preachers kids had they been allowed to be anything other than "seen, but not heard". 

We (my siblings) all learned early on not to speak unless spoken to. Especially when adults were around. In retrospect, that may have actually been a good thing. And for the most part, I do believe we showed the respect required of us. We MAY have messed up a time or two, 🥴😉 for which I'm sure we would have paid dearly. At least discipline was consistent in those days. No warnings. Just actions, because we "knew better." Today, the pendulum has swung so far away from center, we now find ourselves living mostly in a "me first" world. Almost as if we are the only ones who truly matter.

You've heard the old saying that still waters run deep, right? Those who are slow to speak are the ones that intrigue me the most. I wonder what they're thinking. And if a smile (NOT a smirk) were to etch itself across their face, my curiosity peaks! Those are the ones that don't demand they be heard, but I'm pretty sure they still have fight in them, should they need it, and enough wisdom to lead a world, should they choose.

The years flew past, and I was told early on in my adult life that I had a need to be seen. Yet, the need to be seen wasn't nearly as strong as the need to be heard was. That statement hurt my innermost being, and is most likely why I still remember it being said and when it was said. WHY it was said is still a mystery. It was an observation of theirs, I suppose. As a woman freed from her marital abuser at the age of 22, it took another 10 (or so) years for me to feel my opinions were worthy of hearing. So, with shoulders back, and head held high, my journey took a much needed turn around the age of 35. I was about to prove the meaning of my linage's last name. Yep...I had become pretty vocal. Maybe that is the why.

It's so easy to become conditioned to what we've become over the years, that we no longer consider we may be living a lie. We may have forgotten our real identity and just conformed to a reality that is temporal, at best. 

I want to end this small entry by sharing a quote from The Road Back to You, written by Ian Morgan Cron and Suzanne Stabile. Ian quoted Thomas Merton, a great Christian thinker referencing our spiritual birthright journey. He said, "Before we can become who we really are, we must become conscious of the fact that the person who we think we are, here and now, is at best an impostor and a stranger." 

Diving deep, here you will find me...in Mary's World.

Randomosity (things about me) from March 26th, 2011🤣

Waiting on my last client of the day (I had 15 minutes on my hands), I started scrolling through my "Memories" on FaceBook. It's always fun to see what was happening this day last year and up to however many years one has been on FaceBook. I Can't believe gas prices were as high as $3.39 (#29), 13 years ago!!! 😳

It's interesting to me that 13 years ago I was thinking about my mother, hoping I was something like her (#9). It was just the 8th of this month that I wrote a blog post asking that question. It's titled Am I Anything Like Her?

Read on...

RANDOMOSITY:

Rules: Once you have been tagged you are suppose to write a note with 30 random things, facts, habits, or goals about you. At the end choose 30 people to be tagged. You have to tag the person who tagged you. If I tagged you it's because I want to know more about you. Just quit the internal whining and do it. (To do this go to notes on your profile page, Paste these instructions in the body of the note type your 30 random things, tag 30 people, then click publish.

1. I can't believe my daughter asked me to do this.

2. I don't know if I really know myself that well...

3. I have a secret. Not sure how long THAT will last.

4. I have a bad habit of leaving my clothes on the arm of the love seat.

5. One of the goals in my life is to "go out strong."

6. I love it when my husband actually listens to what I am saying. And then responds.

7. I do not like being pacified. I would rather hurt and know the truth, than to be spared pain.

8. I hope it's raining the day God calls me home.

9. I hope some part of me is like my mother. There are times I would love to sit down with her and just listen to what's on her mind.

10. I have decided life is what you make it. You can turn situations around if given the opportunity and permission.

11. Seasons change. That's actually good. They are not the same. They are different...yet each one holds life and death.

12. There is a very real possibility that the Boston Fern is my favorite plant. Along with the Asparagus Fern, the Gardenia, and the plant with the tiny blooms and the end of a very tall, skinny stem...that I don't have a clue to what their name is.

13. My husband thinks I'm beautiful.

14. I love Phantom of the Opera and Chicago and Les Miserabe and Kenny G and Il Divo.

15. I have met the mental giant that decided that bathroom doors should open inward instead of outward. He said there would be way too many law suits if they swung outward. He thought too many people would pretend to be using the potty, just to lay in wait for their next victim. Open door, human falls to floor with broken nose.

16. I have a picture of myself at 28 years old, sitting on my jewelry chest, to remind me of who I am. The mirror lies.

17. I think I have the beginnings of arthritis in my left arm.

18. I actually like who I am. That has not always been the case.

19. I suppose 24 hours is still the same amount of time as it has always been. Yet, for some reason, I think God has commanded the earth to turn at a greater rate of speed so that 24 hours is now about the equivalent of 12, in years gone by, time.

20. I enjoy the memories of taking the girls to Silver Dollar City in Branson, MO.

21. I don't enjoy the memory of Dennis & I and LeRoy and Jani going to Silver Dollar City. WARNING: After reaching the age of 50, never get on a tilt-a-whirl whose seats face each other...'cause somebody has to sit riding backwards. And should that be you,  this may cause you to be VERRRRYYYY sick! For hours...

22. I was FFA Sweetheart my Junior year. I think it was fixed.

23. I love seeing my girls smile, hear them laugh, and yes...I still have the notes they wrote to me when they were very young. Well, actually...I have EVERY note/letter they have written to me.

24. I wish I had been kinder and more serving to my sister that got on my nerves.

25. I greatly dislike a runny nose.

26. It really tests my patience for people to drive 30 in a 55 limit, no passing zone, for 30 minutes and then stop in the middle of  high traffic, to make a non-signaled turn.

27. Every morning, I eat Honey Nut Cheerios with a sprinkle (or three) of walnuts, covered in Fat Free Milk (from Brahms) and have 2-3 cups of coffee.

28. I wish the crazy, weird things would stop happening at the shop.

29. Gas prices in Miami, OK.? $3.39

30. The biggest job (outside of being a parent) I have tackled? Decluttering!

Now wasn't that interesting? 😉😉😂 I probably could do a 2024 edition if you'd like. 🤣🤣😂

Until I find something more interesting to talk about, here you will find me, randomly waiting...in Mary's World.

Time and It's Stored Memories

They say that as one ages, memories are all they have left. I'm not so sure I agree with that, exactly. But, most definitely memories are, on many days, front and center of my thoughts. 

This one, for instance. It was in the year of 1986, taken at our very small church gathering to celebrate something or another. I think we looked for things to celebrate back then. 😁

This was taken about 3 months, or so, after B.F. Goodrich closed their doors in Miami, Oklahoma, and Dennis had just landed a job at Walmart that paid $11 LESS (on the hour) than what Goodrich had been paying him at the time they decided to get rid of one of their tire manufacturing places. His beginning pay at Walmart was a mere $3 (and some odd cents), per hour. Miami took a hit that almost turned them into a ghost town when B.F. Goodrich closed its doors. Seriously! It took the town a few years to recover, because many of the residents of this small Northeastern town worked for B.F.Goodrich. They were the highest paying employer for miles around and it kept our economy booming.

After the loss of that job, our backs were up against a wall, so-to-speak, so I had to reopen my salon, known as Mary's Place. I cried for a solid week. Every day, as I prepared the relaunch of the salon, my heart broke into a million pieces. I had closed the salon just a few days before Lindsey made her way into this world, and we had decided I should be a full time mom. Now, 4 years later, I was having to choose business over cuddling and playing with my girls. Still, the added work just wasn't enough, even though we had been humbled as we accepted Food Stamps to provide the bare necessities of life with 2 little people depending on us. Dennis needed a job! It took a while. Yet, while others were claiming bankruptcy, losing their homes, divorces invading the once secure families, and men refusing to work for under $14 an hour (that was a lot back in the day), Dennis was protecting his. As was I.

The girls were just getting used to their dad without all his facial hair, when the above pic was taken. "No beards," was one of Walmarts rules if you wanted to work for them. That changed over the years, and D.W. grew his beard back to look more like himself, as the first "okay" came down the pike. I remember the tears coming from Lindsey and Meg when they first saw his shaven face. I think they must have been a bit confused as to how he sounded like their daddy, but looked nothing like him. His (now gone) prickly whiskers caused them to doubt his words. Meghan cried a little harder, as Lindsey took a couple of steps back away from this strange looking man, that looked more like a very tall boy, who claimed to be her daddy. If Lindsey wanted nothing to do with him, Meghan sure didn't! She wasn't falling for that bag of tricks.

It's been said that pictures are worth a thousand words, and that pictures don't lie. Pictures do lie. We were just holding it all together, smiling as if nothing was wrong, when the above picture was taken. But, we DID get through that very trying time, and many other trying times (with a different twist) have come our way since then. I suppose the moral of this story would be to always look forward, pull yourself up by your boot straps, and forge onward, until that brighter day comes towards you. Reach for it, pray for it, stand steady while waiting, doing all you know to do, and grab it when it comes! Because it WILL come!

See? We made it!!! 

Left to right: Lindsey w/daughter Warner, Me (Grams), Meg w/daughter Reagan, and Dennis (Gramps). Look how we've changed over the years! I suppose we should get a picture of our entire family, right? It's really, really, hard getting all 10 of us in the same place at the same time. Maybe next blog post...

Until then, here you will find me...in Mary's World.

Am I Anything Like Her?

My morning walk took me back to my growing up years. The last couple of days have brought my emotions to a quiet reckoning. Emotions I haven't felt in awhile. Emotions that brought tears to my eyes, and because it's only me on the walk, I let them have their way. 

I wondered what her life had been like. If she was happy. Did she have moments of sadness that tried to overtake her? How on earth did she raise 10 kids?!!! Was she able to spend any amount of time with them, or was she constantly doing the work that needed done to raise those little ones? That's how I remember her. Always busy with providing for us. Maybe she was able to spend time with the first 5, but I don't remember ever having time with just her. I don't recall being read to, snuggled, or purposefully taught anything, other than how to survive by putting in the work. Maybe all those things happened. I just don't recall them. But, oh how I loved my momma!

Do I act like her? Would anyone that knew my momma say that I reminded them of her? I'm pretty sure I'm more aggressive than she was. She seemed so shy, quietly going about her household duties that included planting and caring for a huge garden and harvesting it, taking care of the hen house, the cooking (from scratch, no less), and cleaning. Doing all that laundry, on a scrub board for many years, and eventually a wringer washer, then hanging her labor out on a clothes line to dry. She loved flowers. I do remember that. She cared for them much like a mother cares for her children. She spoke to them. Nurtured them. They were her escape. Looking back, I'm so glad she had one. 

In the knowing of how to get things done, I can lean a bit towards a demanding attitude, even if it's only of myself. I suppose others may misunderstand my thinking patterns and become defensive when asked if something has been done yet. I don't even realize my inquiry is coming off as controlling. Maybe even as if I think lesser of anyone who isn't constantly working. However, I do think I have become more mellow as the years have flown past. You may even find me on any given day, when away from the salon, not doing much of anything. And it drives me crazy! I feel as if I've thrown away a day I've been given to live. I suppose it's in my DNA. But I do try relaxing more these days...

Do I look like her? There are times I catch a glimpse of her in my reflection. Maybe it's because I want to. Maybe I look hard for it. For anything that reminds me of my mom. She was a gentle soul. Me, not so much. I do love with a whole heart, but gentleness has never been used to describe any of my attributes. Can a heart be gentle, yet express demand? There are times I feel as though I'm a mix, half and half, of dad and mom. Stands to reason. Right? But where does my individuality come into play?

I wish I had her laugh. That is my favorite memory of her. Her laugh. She spoke with gentleness, laced with anxiety at times. The years took their tole on my mom. As they do most of humanity. We change mentally and physically, as the seasons of life come and go. The storms hit us directly in the face, occasionally. They weather us. Right? They grow us up, so-to-speak. Yet, to see my momma smile and then laugh, was priceless.  

As I rounded the corner of a major roadway, this morning, I felt as though she was walking beside me, telling me how much she loved me. And we spoke about Danny. Dan was/is my brother, born 2 years before me. I've been looking for him for the last several years. Maybe it's been 5, or more. We used to speak with each other at least once a year, but usually 3-4 times a year. He lived in Texas, last contact with him. Mom worried about him so much. He was a runaway at 16 years of age...much too young to be on his own. He did make it through those tumultuous years, married, and had 3 boys. Divorced, Remarried (3 or 4 times), last count. I do wish I could find him. Was mom trying to tell me something about him? Is he with her?

If there is anything in me that is like my mom, it is that she was a big time worrier. Same! I've been accused of looking for things to worry about. That triggers me. Makes me mad, actually. My dad used to say the same thing to my mom. "Why pray when you can worry," he'd say to her. I didn't find that funny then, nor do I now. I do know we should place our trust in the fact that God is for us, and not against us. I do know He is a loving God. I also know that life has its concerns. Its challenges. Its dangers. And even though mercy and grace follow us, we live in a world where it's a bit dangerous to stick our heads in the sand and simply ignore life that is happening all around us.

Would others that knew my mom say we are anything alike? How much of her was passed down to me? Because of her, I live. What part of her is me? She's been gone from this earth since March 19th, 1980. Born in the year that Oklahoma became a state (1907), she was only 73 years old when she left it. I miss her. What a beautiful soul...

Reminiscing, here you'll find me...in Mary's World. 

Rainy Day Musing...

Soooo....one of my Christmas gifts this past year, was an ecard from Ruggable. Having been told (on more than one occasion) that I should consider replacing the throw rugs that have been protecting my hardwoods since 2013, I decided to take a peek at the Ruggable website. With the thought in mind that my rugs were still in great condition and didn't really "need" replacing, I had caved, simply because of money laying on the table. My rugs may a bit outdated, but still, if not now, when???

I had put the task off because, quite frankly, I kept forgetting I had the ecard. It was out of sight, tucked along a trillion other cards hanging out in cyber space. Plus, the first time I took a look at the Ruggable website, my heart skipped a couple of beats because the price line was a bit steep, in my humble opinion. Although the gift was a substantial one, there would still be a balance that would come out of our pockets. Even for the smallest of rugs...

The rug came yesterday while I was working, so it remained in its box until this morning. When awaking at 2:15 AM (I KNOW! 🙄), I decided it was time to throw DW's jeans in the laundry and prep the office floor for the new rug. Yeah. I went big. Got the smallest indoor rug available. 😂 Gotta start somewhere, right? Plus, the silicone mat that had been under my chair for way too long, needed replaced. It never gripped the floor like it was advertised to do. Dirt always managed to get beneath it and I was always having to move the chair off it, realign it, and position the chair again and again. I was tired of it.

Please know that I consider myself to be a fairly intelligent woman. I'm beginning to question that...

Office chair removed from its amazing throne area, silicone mat taken up, and floor ready to sweep and prep for new housemate. I wasn't surprised to see just how bad the mat had scratched up my hardwoods it has sat upon for years. Years! I was so glad I could cover it back up. At least for now.

As I was looking over the rug pad my thoughts were, "Wow! If I thought the silicone damaged the floor, THIS is going to eat the wood like termites." I thought I could be wrong (1st mistake 😉), and proceeded to lay the "grippy side down". It didn't want to unfurl. As I walked on top of it, trying to coax it to do my bidding, the neurons inside my brain began to dance. The process of synaptic plasticity was firing away, waking me up to the fact that I had been duped by brain fog. Seriously, it's been found in severely depressed people where the thought process has been broken down. Not enough protein substance in the neurons. Just so ya know, I'm not depressed. Severely, or otherwise. But that's off script...🤣  

The thought crossed my mind that "the grippy side" could actually be the softer, more welcoming and pliable side. Isn't that always the case? All of a sudden I KNEW I had unwittingly used the wrong side of my previously used pad. And that is what messed my floor up, with all the movement of an unsecured mat. Now I'm starting to feel really stupid. Years! 🙄🙄🙄

Finally, the new rug pad and rug cover is in place, and it feels amazing! My chair moves like it's on a sea of glass with no movement beneath it. Maybe the new pad will restore my hardwoods while it lovingly kisses the floor. JUST KIDDING!!! I'm not that far gone. Yet...🤣

Feeling like a wet cat, here you'll find me...in Mary's World. Years...ugh!

Triggering Mental Stress Points

Researchers agree that acute trauma or repetitive micro-trauma may lead to the development of a trigger point. Please re-read and allow this to be absorbed into your understanding before going further.  

Of course, those researchers are talking about muscle pain...not mental pain. Yet, isn't it the brain that controls how a muscle works? They say that lack of exercise, prolonged poor posture, vitamin deficiencies, sleep disturbances, and joint problems may all predispose to the development of micro-trauma. I believe this statement is easily translated to the organ that controls the muscle. That being the brain. I will add that just as a hand slides easily into a glove made for it, so trauma slides easily into the memories bank inside a brain made for it. How we store it makes a difference. How long we were exposed to the trauma, also makes a difference. We are told, "Don't let it imprison you." "You give the reason for the trauma to control you if you revisit it too often." "Rise above it." "Re-invent your life." "Your life is what you make it." "Change the patterns that trigger the trauma (how in the name everything holy, does one do that)." 

We encourage those with life's left-over trauma(s) to do the impossible, in my humble opinion. How does one wipe out their memory hard-drive? The only way I've ever been aware of is to just get a new hard-drive. Bringing a new hard drive into the arena of mental trigger points can be an impossible thing. One would have to cease breathing, right? However, I've done a bit of research myself...

Turns out one can repair a non-functional hard drive without destroying it. The computer kind. (And if the computer kind, why not a human kind?) Just by opening it up and adjusting the faulty arm that has been compromised and has shut the computer down. An under 5 minute fix. I'm one that believes all things are relative, while understanding the human body is unique, and is not an inanimate object, yet because God is a connection entity (in all things), I'm prone to believe that my own "hard drive" can be fixed (lived with). One of the divine mysteries that is unexplainable. Fixed...but rarely erased. Memories are just that. Memories. And memories trigger responses.

The organ that controls our whole body is the most mysterious of all organs. Turns out what we feed it the most, is what will rule over us. Much like what we feed our body will define health or sickness. If fear has been given command of the brain, it's not that big of a task to create trigger points that cause disruptions in everyday life. 

I have actually experienced trauma erase...for a time. When I was able to face it head on and live knowing I was free from it, the memory returned. The memory that said I wasn't important. Wasn't valuable. Wasn't needed, and most certainly wasn't loved. That I was too sensitive, too weak, too unimportant. Memory stacked upon memory of mental and physical abuse. They are easy things to trigger, because life isn't perfect. We make mistakes. We say things that shouldn't be said. By-in-large, we are selfish people, trying to live our best life while dodging bullets. Or maybe shooting them...

Our brain is an amazing organ. It's been said that we actually use only 10% of it, but that myth was busted awhile back. Truth is, a healthy human uses 100% of their brain. Not all at the same time, just parts that are needed in the moment.  

Even though I believe I have overcome, even subdued, most of the memories from traumatic experiences, I will on occasion, be triggered. This doesn't mean I allow the trigger to take over my consciousness for long periods of time. What it does mean is that it will take me back to a moment in time that will confirm I was right...that few of humanity can be trusted...if any. And that is not a great feeling to have. Sometimes I get defensive. Sometimes I get resentful. Sometimes, I just retreat and become quiet for a very long time. 

Until truth seeps back in, I'm a mess. 

I think it's safe to say that most of humanity has trigger points. Don't you agree? Question is, how do we handle them? Are we able to really live? Or do we just place one foot in front of the other as we figure it out? How many years does one "live" before they have a handle on it? How long does it take before we can say, "Not today. This experience will not steal my joy and knowledge that I am worthy of love." 

We all have someone who cares about us. I was reminded of that just this past weekend. We need to remind ourselves of this truth and not allow a victim mentality to consume us. We either control our mind, or our mind will control us.

Reminding myself to be calm as I weather the storms that pull at my peace, here you'll find me...in Mary's World, totally whole.