FIRED AND SENT ‘HOME’

Posted on January 21, 2015 by atlonglastheard

From my journal:

4 October 1987

“I’m getting sick. My throat is infected. I don’t feel too bad but not good either. Maybe today will be busy and go kind of fast. I hope anyway.

7:30p This is just great. I’ve basically been fired. I’m being sent back to Hamburg tomorrow morning. Supposedly, it was mainly my not understanding the language. And the regular model is well now. But Katharina (the bitch) made me believe that my not understanding German had nothing to do with it. That girl is so in love with herself, it’s ridiculous. She’s such a snot. Enough said about her.

Anyway, once again I wonder what the fuck I am doing over here trying to model. And for that matter, why am I in this business at all? I really don’t like Germany. I think the people (as a whole) are very rude. I simply don’t like being away from what I know. I wonder if I subconsciously wanted to lose my book? I also wonder what’s going to happen tomorrow when I get back to the agency? I think I should get paid for the whole time even though I didn’t stay. I was booked for the 4 1/2 days and any other booking (ha) that I might have had, would’ve been turned down because I was already booked. I wonder if they (Cosmo) are going to blame me for this? I sure hope not. This is just one more thing to add to their list of why I shouldn’t be here. Just what I need.

Chipsey is just like Charlotte. She is sleeping under her blanket. She’s so cute.

I guess I should call Jan and let her know I’ll be back tomorrow morning. She has that look-see at Otto. I guess I’ll just have to hope that Siggi is there and can let me in to the apartment. I should get back around 10a or so.

This whole deal just makes me want to go home. I sure didn’t need this on top of losing/having my book stolen. I am so tempted to just say fuck it and leave.

5 October 1987

I’m sitting on the steps outside the apartment door. It is now 1p; I’ve been here since 11a. Siggi is not home. Neither is Jan. I sure hope she has a break between appointments. With my luck, she’s either testing or booked until tonight. I’m tired and I want to sleep. I don’t feel good. I do have my blanket, but I don’t really want to sleep in the stairwell. I feel like a derelict with no place to go. I bought a book in the airport in Munich, but don’t feel much like reading.

I can’t stop thinking about L. I sure don’t know why because I don’t even like him. He’s really kind of a jerk. I know he’s just out to get what he can, but that doesn’t seem to bother me. I guess as long as the fantasies remain in my mind, there’s nothing wrong with it. But every time I close my eyes, I imagine him kissing me. I guess I’ll never have the pleasure. Besides, he likes Jan and they are probably already engaged. I couldn’t believe how envious and jealous I was of Jan the other night. She has no strings on her. She can do whatever whenever with whomever she pleases. I think I still love D and miss him (in a way) but… I won’t do anything I shouldn’t though. At least I don’t think I will.

8p Finally go in the apt around 1:30. The lady across the hall had an extra key and let me in. Jan arrived about 10 minutes after that. She had quite a weekend. She tested on Saturday with L. He ended up staying the night Saturday and Sunday. She says she doesn’t like him, but I think she does. She slept in my bed and he slept in hers. I wish I could stop having lewd thoughts about him. It would be foolish tho do anything with him though. He seems to me to be the type who would blab to everyone. Sure don’t need that. Jan’s attitude about it amazes me, though. We were talking about it and she said that it’s not like it would mean anything. She also said L asked about my marriage. He said I seemed to him to be in a weird situation, and wondered if I was happily married. I wonder why I give that impression? (Maybe because I’m not!) He’s not the first to think that. Oh well. I guess I’ll go on in my mind thinking about him, but I can’t see it going any further. Besides, fantasy is always better than reality.

13 October 1987

How true that last line I wrote is. So much has happened since I last wrote, but I’m not going to back track. Suffice it to say that I’ve once again learned a lesson and that I’m over my ‘crush’ on L.

I have a lot of things on my mind that I should probably write down, but I am simply not up to dealing with them. Maybe later.

I sure hope the test Jan and I did on Saturday comes out good. The film will be ready this afternoon. I certainly need the boost a good test will bring. I also hope that my other photos from Chicago will be here this week. They have to be. I’m pissed that D didn’t make more of an effort. And since he is going out-of-town today for business, there is no telling when they’ll be sent if it he didn’t already send the package. Fuck.

Well, Jan, it’s 11 o’clock, so why the fuck haven’t you called me? I guess you are just going to be locked out. You should’ve called. She’s probably off having sex with L. I’m so glad that I didn’t.

15 October 1987

I’m getting dissatisfied with my life again. That’s a dangerous thing for me. I don’t want to go back to Chicago. I want to wander Europe for a couple of years. What I really need is to be a wealthy man’s kept woman. With no strings attached, of course. Fat chance! I wonder if D’ll screw that bitch again. I wouldn’t doubt it. I guess I’ll never know, and, really, do I even care?

16 October 1987

It’s getting harder every day not to just give up and go back. But it’s like Jan said, I don’t want to back or I would have 2 weeks ago when my book was stolen. Another week of doing nothing. My stuff from Chicago still hasn’t arrived. That really pisses me off.

2:30a I’ve decided/realized I am on a course of self-destruction, and I’ve got to get off. I know that’s why I’ve been eating the way I have. Trying to stuff my sadness…”

It has been years since I’ve read this particular journal and I am amazed at just how unhappy I truly was. And what a potty mouth I used to have! The saga continues in next Wednesday’s installment of ‘My West German Adventure.’

DYING TO BE ME

Posted on January 18, 2015 by atlonglastheard

From the back cover of the book: “In this truly inspirational memoir, Anita Moorjani relates how, after fighting cancer for almost four years, her body began shutting down—overwhelmed by the malignant cells spreading throughout her system. As her organs failed, she entered into an extraordinary near-death experience where she realized her inherent worth . . . and the actual cause of her disease. Upon regaining consciousness, Anita found that her condition had improved so rapidly that she was released from the hospital within weeks—without a trace of cancer in her body! Within these pages, Anita recounts stories of her childhood in Hong Kong, her challenge to establish her career and find true love, as well as how she eventually ended up in that hospital bed where she defied all medical knowledge. As part of a traditional Hindu family residing in a largely Chinese and British society, Anita had been pushed and pulled by cultural and religious customs since she was a little girl. After years of struggling to forge her own path while trying to meet everyone else’s expectations, she had the realization, as a result of her epiphany on the other side, that she had the power to heal herself . . . and that there are miracles in the Universe that she’d never even imagined. In DYING TO BE ME, Anita freely shares all she has learned about illness, healing, fear, “being love,” and the true magnificence of each and every human being! This is a book that definitely makes the case that we are spiritual beings having a human experience . . . and that we are all One!”

I listened to this book while in the middle of my healing process (not that is it actually over at this point) from my sexual assault, and I realized that I, too, had had a NDE, a near death experience, though not in the way that they normally occur. Because my assault was interrupted, which prevented my attacker from following through with his intention to rape me, I was also saved from the punches that were coming my way. The last thing I remember before hearing my guardian angel’s voice was DCD’s fists getting ready to beat the shit out of me because I wouldn’t stop screaming and fighting him. The only way he was going to be able to get control of me was to knock me out. As I’ve said in the past, I was literally fighting for my life. And in doing that, I dissociated from myself from the situation I was in. It wasn’t so much that I left my body and was watching what was happening to me as it was the feeling that I simply was not there. Dictionary.com defines a near death experience as “an unusual experience taking place on the brink of death and recounted by a person after recovery…” Given that definition, that’s exactly what happened to me. I am sure I’ll have plenty more to say on this, but for now this post is about Anita Moorjani’s book and her experience.

I loved the book. Her story is simply amazing. She was, literally, hours away from certain death when her near death experience occurred. What she ‘saw’ and ‘heard’ changed her life forever.

YOU CAN HEAL YOUR LIFE

Posted on January 11, 2015 by atlonglastheard

My choice for today’s book recommendation is YOU CAN HEAL YOUR LIFE by Louise L. Hay. In 1976, Louise wrote her first book HEAL YOUR BODY, which began as a small pamphlet containing a list of different bodily ailments and their probable metaphysical causes. This pamphlet was later enlarged and extended and became her book YOU CAN HEAL YOUR LIFE in 1984. And when no one was interested in her book and what she had to say, she founded her own publishing company, Hay House. Thirty-one years later, the book has definitely stood the test of time. A movie version came out in 2007, and I was fortunate enough to see it at the Seaside Center for Spiritual Living in Encinitas, CA before it was released to the public. 81 years old at the time, Louise introduced the movie beforehand and was a delightful speaker.

The copy of the book pictured above, the one that I have, was published in 1999. I’m sure that part of the reason I bought it was how colorful it was. The larger reason would have been the title. I very much like the idea that I am/we are, with the thoughts we think, capable of healing ourselves. “Louise’s key message in this powerful work is, ‘If we are willing to do the mental work, almost anything can be healed.’ She explains how limiting beliefs and ideas are often the cause of illness, and shows how you can change your thinking–and improve the quality of your life!”

YOU CAN HEAL YOUR LIFE made the New York Times bestseller list and remained on it for 13 consecutive weeks. More than twenty years later, in 2008, due to her appearances on the Oprah Winfrey Show, You Can Heal Your Life was again on the New York Times BestsellerLlist. It was the first time in that publication’s history that that has happened! More than 50 million copies of YOU CAN HEAL YOUR LIFE have been sold throughout the world.

“The thoughts we think and the words we speak create our experiences.” ~Louise L. Hay

HAPPY 2015

Posted on January 4, 2015 by atlonglastheard

I am a bit under the weather, and do not feel like writing. So instead, I’ll just post these quotes that really resonate with me:

YES!!!

Posted on December 31, 2014 by atlonglastheard

It’s that time again. Time to figure out what my word for the coming (tomorrow, for goodness sake) New Year should be. I’ve had some difficulty deciding. And really, it’s more of a phrase than just a word, though it can be either, I suppose. The point is it’s an action more than simply a feeling; a reminder to: Just Do It, to Go For The Gusto, to Grab Life By The Horns, to stop waiting for whatever it is I’ve been waiting for, to say YES to everything. I said back in September on the 3rd anniversary of my attack that I had survived and was ready to thrive. It’s time to take it a bit further and stop being so guarded. Do I have a good reason for continuing to hold myself back? For my heart and mind still being the slightest bit closed? Perhaps, but where does that get me? Alone…not necessarily lonely…but definitely by myself a lot of the time.

So my word for 2015 is YES! And my phrase is Say Yes To Everything! Well, most everything. I am all for dancing like no one is watching, loving like I’ve never been hurt (or, for that matter, sexually assaulted) but I draw the line at singing like no one is listening, because the truth is I simply cannot hold a tune. Okay, not only cannot I not hold a tune, I can’t even get into tune. So, no singing; any and everything else, though, I intend to say YES to.

I also intend to continue my twice a week posting. Last week I was in Atlanta for Christmas and decided to skip it since it’s more challenging to do it on the phone. Overall, though, I did pretty well throughout the year with my intention for 2014 and consistently posting. I find I really do need a set schedule to make it happen. Some weeks I didn’t post on Wednesday, but I discovered that Thursday is just as good in case I can’t get my act together for Wednesday. As for my Sunday posts about books that I read that have made a difference in my life and in my healing process, I’ll continue with those for the foreseeable future. I love books and love to read, so I don’t think I’ll run out of recommendations for a while.

Thank you to all who continue to read my story. There is so much yet to be told.

And as the sun sets on 2014…HAPPY NEW YEAR to everyone.

May 2015 be full of love, happiness, prosperity, peace and joy for us all!

A BETTER CHRISTMAS

Posted on December 10, 2014 by atlonglastheard

I hesitate to say that the Christmas of 1983 was my best Christmas ever, but it certainly was up there on the list, and, really, I can’t name one that was better. So, I guess, by default, it must be my best. If you read my last post, you know my experience of Christmas over the years wasn’t so great. Before I get into the details of what happened in 1983, I need to give you a little background.

On 29 October 1983 I got married. I was 23 and my new husband had just turned 24 a few weeks before. We should never have gotten married, and as it turned out, when we were divorcing 4 years later, if came out that he didn’t want to get married either. We just did not know how to not go through with it. At the time, though, it seemed like the thing to do. I was living in Athens, going to the University of Georgia and hating every minute of it. After moving to California in 1980 to establish residency so that I could go to UC Santa Cruz, I had decided to move back to Georgia (I do wonder sometimes how my life might be different if I’d stayed and gone to school out here.) I was living at home, which at the time was in Canton, a town north of Atlanta. I had no friends there because I had never lived in this town, and everyone I knew from high school was away at college. I was working and trying to figure out where/what I wanted to do. I decided I wanted to go back to school in Boston and chose Boston University. My mother said, “Too expensive. Pick another school.” I had it in my mind that I wanted to be in New England, though I had never been at that point. Since BU was out, I settled on University of New Hampshire. I applied and was accepted, but wouldn’t be starting until the next fall, which was about 10 months away. One day my mother said to me, “Why don’t you go to Georgia?” Me, with no doubt a horrified look on my face and incredulity in my voice asked, “WHY?” She said, “So you can get out of my hair sooner.” I thought, okay, not what I want to do, but obviously she doesn’t want me around, so I applied and got into UGA and started winter quarter, which was January 1982.

I hated it from the very first moment. Let me make that more clear – I HATED IT. I was older than a lot of the kids, it was a giant school, my classes were huge and worst of all, I was bored. So I got a job at Macy’s, part-time. I figured I may as well get paid while I’m miserable. That’s where I met my future husband, a year later. He was a sales manager in housewares, and since I was what was called a floater, working in whichever department needed me, I eventually worked for him. This was in January 1983. We started dating, got engaged in June and got married in October. I guess you could say it was a whirlwind courtship.. But as I already said, neither of us really wanted to go through with it and did it anyway.

By the time we got married, my husband-to-be had been promoted to assistant buyer and we had moved to Atlanta, actually Clarkston. I so clearly remember being walked down the ‘aisle’ (we got married outside and it had rained the night before and the ground was still wet and my heels kept sinking in the grass with each step) and saying under my breath to my step-father, “I don’t want to do this; let’s go the other direction.” I’m sure he thought I had cold feet, but nothing more. He had no idea I was actually serious. Even before we had gotten to this point, my mother had come into the room where I was finishing getting ready and said to me, “You don’t have to do this.” All I could think was, ‘Really? You’re going to go out there and tell all those people to leave, that I changed my mind? I don’t think so.’ And so, I went through with it.

And now the good part – for Christmas that year, my brand new husband did the 12- Days of Christmas for me. He knew I wasn’t fond of Christmas; okay, I pretty much hated it, but he was determined to change my mind and give me a Christmas that I might actually love. Although now I do not remember the specific gifts he gave me, I still do remember that it was the first time I really enjoyed the holiday. So beginning on the 14th, and ending on Christmas Day, he gave me a gift or gifts each day. None was overly expensive or extravagant and he did his best to follow the song without literally giving me what the song said for that particular day. The only gift I remember was, I think, Day 8, when he gave me 8 crystal ornaments for the tree. Or maybe it was Day 12, and there were 12 ornaments. In any case, it was a fun and clever way for him to make my Christmas merry.

Today, Christmas is still not my favorite time of the year. There always seems to be so much pressure. I do my best to let it not get to me. Don’t get me wrong, I do like aspects of it–the ornaments and twinkly lights (not that I actually decorate, though I do have lovely ornaments and such)–but the reality is just so much work, and because I am always working to get jobs finished before Christmas, and am super busy, I don’t feel like I have time to get into it fully. And then it’s over.

Over the years, even though it wouldn’t be original, I have contemplated doing the 12- Days of Christmas gift giving for someone else, and, yet, it has never happened. I do love the idea and maybe one of these years I’ll do it.

THE PATH TO LOVE

Posted on December 7, 2014 by atlonglastheard

I read “The Path to Love,” by Deepak Chopra, the first time after a breakup. It wasn’t just any breakup; no, it was a heart-squooshing, blindsided, out of nowhere, walk-90-miles-a-week just to try to get my equilibrium, if not back, at least, well, not so off-center type of breakup. What made this even more difficult was the fact that I was truly and completely ready to be in a relationship, probably for the first time in my life. I had gone through a bunch of really challenging stuff over the several years previously, and realizing that I needed to do some, okay, a lot, of work on myself, and that meant taking a step back from even the thought of dating, let alone a serious relationship. It took 18 months, but I was ready. Then I met M, and though my very first impression was, he’s too old for me, after spending approximately an hour or so with him, when we said goodbye, and I saw his eyes for the first time (just so you can understand why it took an hour to actually see his eyes, we met in the dark to walk and by the time we finished, the sun was up), I thought, uh, oh, I’m in trouble now. I did not, at the time, realize just how prophetic that thought was.

I won’t go into much more detail here now because this post is about a book, and the reason it was so important for me to read when I did. Suffice it to say that I had gone into this relationship with a completely (COMPLETELY) open heart, and that it truly did make all the difference. So, after M lost his mind and got his head stuck up his ass, after my heart was thoroughly squooshed, it was all I could do not to slam my heart shut again. I mean, if this was what happened when I/it was open, why in the world would I want to stay that way? I did want to, though, and I knew that I had to do whatever it took to keep my heart open. And that’s where this book came in quite handy.

(Sorry the picture isn’t better. Deepak’s name is in gold lettering and flash or no flash, it washed out in the photo.)

This book was originally published in 1997, and as with most of the books I’ve been posting about, I do not know how this book came to be in my possession. I think I had it for many years before I ever read it. I read it when I needed to hear its message.

As Deepak writes in the final paragraph of the book: “The love you seek is seeking you at this moment. Your longing, your deep fantasies about being loved are mere shadows of the melting sweetness that makes spirit want to love you. Be honest about your seeking, and be alert to the moments when love is showing itself to you. You are the only means that love has for conquering its opposition; therefore, you are infinitely precious in the eyes of spirit. The messages of love may not be clear to anyone else around you, even those most intimate to you. That doesn’t matter; they are meant for you and you alone. Be assured of that. And above all, keep looking for clues.”

MY WORST CHRISTMAS EVER

Posted on December 3, 2014 by atlonglastheard

When my brothers and I were teenagers, come Christmas time, my mother asked us to make a list of what we wanted. Did she want us to feel like we had some kind of a say in what we ultimately received? Was it just something for us to do? I never understood why she had us do this, since she never got us what we asked for. And it wasn’t like I/we would ask for outrageous gifts. It wasn’t like we got the Neiman Marcus catalog and chose the most expensive, ridiculous items offered. No, and I can only speak for myself here, I was always very careful about what I’d ask for, conscious of how much it cost and how easy it was to come by. This did not seem to make a difference to my mother. After several years of not getting anything I wanted, it finally dawned on me that we got what she thought we needed, so, really, there was no reason for us to be making a list.

I have never liked purses. To this day, though they seem to be a necessary ‘evil,’ I still do not like them. When I was in high school, and it became clear that something to carry the various things I needed was necessary, I used a backpack. I was fine with this. It never really got in my way since I could carry it on my back. We are not talking about a real backpack here. It was more a canvas sack with straps. No matter, it suited me perfectly.

For Christmas of 1974, 40 years ago, I still had not figured out how things worked with my mother and so made the requested list. I probably asked for a new pair of 501 jeans and something from Spencer Gifts, like a new black light and a poster to go with it. What I did not ask for was a purse. When I gave her my list, she made some kind of a comment about how I should ask for a purse. That should’ve been a big, fat clue right there, but, as I already said, I had not yet realized what her M.O. was. Since she mentioned it several times over the next few weeks, I specifically told her, “Mother, I do not want a purse.”

Come Christmas morning, I had a sinking feeling I was getting a stupid purse. My feeling was not wrong. Not only did I get the unwanted purse, but it was brown, which made it even worse. I burst into tears and ran upstairs to my room, where I stayed for the rest of the day. I was heart-broken, not only because I was given a stupid purse, but also because it was clear that my mother did not listen to me, that what I said just didn’t matter. Once she decided I needed something, that was it, it simply did not matter if I wanted it or not.

While in my room, I hatched a plan for the following Christmas. If my mother liked purses so much, then she could have mine. I eventually went downstairs to the living room and retrieved that stupid purse and put it in my closet. I cannot even remember what else I got that year because I was so upset about not being listened to.

I thought about that stupid purse all year-long, and by Christmas 1975 I was ready to get my ‘revenge.’ I got the purse out of my closet and wrapped it up all nice and pretty. On Christmas morning, I had the camera all ready to take a picture of her expression when she opened her present. It took her a minute to realize exactly what it was she was seeing, and when she did, she made a face. I smiled sweetly and said, “I thought you needed a new purse.” I am pretty sure she never used it, and she got better at listening to me.

Next week — one of my best Christmases.

AN ABUNDANCE OF GRATITUDE

Posted on November 27, 2014 by atlonglastheard

Although today is Thanksgiving (in the United States), I am grateful every single day of my life. I have fought long and hard to get where I am. It has been incredibly difficult at times, and I wondered on many occasions if I would make it, BUT I have. Each night before I go to bed, I write five things in my journal that I am grateful for that happened that day. I’ve been doing this for a couple of years, and I have to admit, I look forward to it. During the day, I am always on the lookout for things to be grateful for. Some times it is something big and important; other times, it may be as simple as penny I find on the street. Having an attitude of gratitude really does make a difference.

(the above artwork/poster was done by Jodi LeBlanc)

TIME CHANGE

Posted on November 6, 2014 by atlonglastheard

Most everyone set their clocks back an hour this past Sunday. It is my favorite day of the year. Whenever I tell people this, they look at me like I’ve lost my mind. The reason it’s my favorite day is the day seems endless. Or at least it used to when I’d wake up at my usual time, but instead of it being 5a, it was now 4a, and I’d get up and walk for 2 hours, which is 8 or so miles, and when I’d get it home, it was only 6a. The entire day would go like that. It would seem so much later and it would only be, like 10:30a. Now, though, because I don’t really walk in the dark anymore, when I wake up super early, I don’t want to get up, because, really, what am I going to do? This last Sunday, I woke up and realized I couldn’t get up and walk, not because of the darkness, though it wouldn’t be that way for long, but because I have beach yoga on Sunday mornings at 9:30 and I walk to it, which is about 2 miles. And then afterwards I walk home. So I am getting a nice walk and yoga, and a 4-6 mile walk before that seemed silly. So I went back to pretend sleep. Pretend sleep is what I do when I don’t want to get out of bed because it’s either dark or cold or both. I’m beginning to think I was a bear in a past life, and that’s why all I want to do these days is hibernate.

It is very strange, but before the time changes, and before we have nighttime temps in the 50s, I have no problem getting up. Now, it’s a completely different story. I so do not want to get out of bed because it’s cold, freezing actually, in my house. It doesn’t help that I have to sleep with my ceiling fan on to help with my stupid hot flashes, so not only is the house cold (no insulation, typical in old California houses) because it’s cold outside, I have the extra breeziness from my fan making it even colder. In past years, I used to sleep with my workout clothes on so that all I had to do on our chilly mornings was put my shoes on, that way avoiding being naked to get dressed. If I tried that now, I would cook myself, even without the electric blanket because of those stupid hot flashes I already mentioned. It is quite a dilemma.

I also realize that any of you reading this while living someplace other than Southern California, someplace where it is actually cold, will probably be rolling your eyes and saying this isn’t cold. I’ll be the first to agree that it isn’t cold, but I am the world’s biggest wimp when it comes to being cold. Besides, it’s all relative. I lived in Chicago for 10 years, so I definitely know cold, and this is, of course, nothing even close to that. However, it’s cold for here and especially after the really hot weather we have had since we began May with 2 separate heat waves. And this week it is hot again. I know, I know, poor us, right? Well, if you lived here, you’d understand. This picture I found on Facebook might help explain it a little better:

And I am not afraid to say I did this on Tuesday. And I wore two jackets to beach yoga. Of course, once I got over to the beach and into the sunshine, it was warmer. Clearly, it doesn’t bother me to look like a dork. I would have worn my slippers, but I don’t want to get sand in or on them.

I digress…back to the time changing…I’ve decided that it may no longer be my favorite day of the year. I love that it is light earlier, but I do not like that it is dark by 5:30p and that will only get worse until we reach 21 December, which by the way is not the shortest day of the year. It may be the day with the least amount of daylight, but every day is 24 hours, regardless of the light or lack thereof. Anyway, getting up when it is dark and cold is just too much for me. And I do it anyway. Just this morning (and Tuesday) I met a friend to walk at 5a. According to my phone it was 61 degrees, though my thermometer said it was about 10 degrees colder. I didn’t look at it until I got back though, so thinking it was above 60, I wore a skort. I was fine because we walk fast. Now, though, I am trying to decide if I can keep it on or if I should put yoga pants on; not long pants, mind you, because it isn’t that cold…yet. I am sitting here, wrapped in a blanket, freezing, while writing this, but it is sunny outside and going up into the high 80s again today, so even if it is little chilly on my bike ride over to the beach, the actual beach should be warm enough. I know I have tough decisions to make, but someone has to live here and deal with this kind of stuff on a daily basis!

At Long Last Heard

A Story of Survival

Tag Archives: mental-health

FIRED AND SENT ‘HOME’

DYING TO BE ME

YOU CAN HEAL YOUR LIFE

HAPPY 2015

YES!!!

A BETTER CHRISTMAS

THE PATH TO LOVE

MY WORST CHRISTMAS EVER

AN ABUNDANCE OF GRATITUDE

TIME CHANGE

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