tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26381853609701172722024-03-05T09:07:32.579-07:00We Are OneMy journey out of the darkness of depression.
How I changed from not just surviving but thriving.Ruthhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07083142637240943607noreply@blogger.comBlogger2270125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2638185360970117272.post-74836175772248217162022-07-29T22:52:00.000-07:002022-07-29T22:52:01.295-07:00Sadness is upon me<p> I read it on FB but unable to find it somewhere else. Sadly, trying to link FB to a post is like trying to tape water to the wall. Not happening. </p><p>I have awesome friends on FB that share a variety of perspectives. Today's gem explained that in some languages that an emotion is described as being on you, or you have it. In English we say, "I am sad." However, the Irish say, "The sadness is upon me." What I appreciate about this distinction is that emotions are temporary, and I have them for a while then they leave with another emotion starts to hang out with me. I like the concept that emotions are part of my life, but my emotions are not who I am. </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgel4HLNGf303nRC_IVb-Wsq_vUFCFPkAaGuGqWWGAbONmoO_Mf9ou37s0cVHQGffAQNtm3uxB4eklIAk7xOJGJlZzBppvr4dUs1X00JOU8XdpoYnhNnBaNE52KOlwAiKfm_fH4bHsQA7sV1N4fQLNQvpyyIRXFpFTs8tnjBAI-0tUS0M8nedfuV5vNEg/s1616/RM5_2026dragonflysm.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1296" data-original-width="1616" height="257" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgel4HLNGf303nRC_IVb-Wsq_vUFCFPkAaGuGqWWGAbONmoO_Mf9ou37s0cVHQGffAQNtm3uxB4eklIAk7xOJGJlZzBppvr4dUs1X00JOU8XdpoYnhNnBaNE52KOlwAiKfm_fH4bHsQA7sV1N4fQLNQvpyyIRXFpFTs8tnjBAI-0tUS0M8nedfuV5vNEg/s320/RM5_2026dragonflysm.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p>The dragonfly is upon the rose bush....as soon as it warms up it will take off and fly. </p>Ruthhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07083142637240943607noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2638185360970117272.post-40147027445933473682022-07-25T21:35:00.000-07:002022-07-25T21:35:40.280-07:00Packed a lot in This Year<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfII88TUjPRVLIaU-FWHqOmTp-XxtWxypgQ1F9odH8D79Bn4NT7sTXEshugWHLZ8g7F7K1eJ2MKAVaH8t_GXxaVaMdxo06JTAkP4gSTcQbLmoz23XnTq6_g9c0aclhy5_Pv0a2P7hBnu5pJ3FAgq7Dfu_jHOQtL7e3WYAS1jY5IMA-tJeepnOw-7wXYg/s1776/RM8_3491smaller.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1180" data-original-width="1776" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfII88TUjPRVLIaU-FWHqOmTp-XxtWxypgQ1F9odH8D79Bn4NT7sTXEshugWHLZ8g7F7K1eJ2MKAVaH8t_GXxaVaMdxo06JTAkP4gSTcQbLmoz23XnTq6_g9c0aclhy5_Pv0a2P7hBnu5pJ3FAgq7Dfu_jHOQtL7e3WYAS1jY5IMA-tJeepnOw-7wXYg/s320/RM8_3491smaller.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p><br /></p><p>Last year about this time is when I last posted. I seriously considered quitting all my blogs and just shut down my internet presence. This year, to say the least, was over whelming. I wanted to spend it curled up in the fetal position until the storm was over, but life isn't like that. I wake up, I'm in pain, life goes on, and I am using every healthy and unhealthy coping skill I can think of. Sometimes things are just like that. The old wife's tale says bad things come in threes. This year felt like wave after wave after wave. I would call it a water boarding year, an illegal form of torture, not to be used on enemies. Yet, here I am, after a brutal year, still standing. I had happy times sprinkled in to keep me going. I felt gratitude for many things. However, I learned that happy times and shared jokes don't undo the emotional impact of a tough year. I learned that no matter how hard things got, arthritis still hurts, dinner still needs to be eaten, and making huge mistakes or huge successes does not change events. I felt keenly the last freedom we have is how we respond to our experiences. Viktor Frankl taught this in his book Man's Search for Meaning. I am thankful I am through this year. I am working at treating myself with more compassion. No matter how much I prepared, I underestimated the powerful impact of two deaths in my family within 2 days. A week changed everything. I am stilling trying to figure out where I am, so that I can figure out where I want to go. </p>Ruthhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07083142637240943607noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2638185360970117272.post-1922419676106709792021-07-07T10:34:00.003-07:002021-07-07T10:34:20.583-07:00Great description of Boundaries<p> One of the first things I learned I needed during counseling was boundaries. In fact, boundaries is what finally brought me into counseling in the first place. DH (darling husband) and I were taking a marriage class offered by our church. They spent the whole evening talking about the importance of boundaries. When I got home, I was less than polite asking DH what they were. He knew. After his explanation I felt frustrated and confused that I didn't know what they were or how to use them. That is when I decided I needed professional counseling. Hardest and best decision ever. </p><p>Today, online I found a great description of boundaries. </p><p>https://www.facebook.com/photo?fbid=2722259154722284&set=a.1384623531819193</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqC1INHortJ6WA8a00_9Ad-otnrfDAth2lrUfgrP7Kz3lqz4WcTlDrTCxup03J1tOXFpQMVNKA3xV8QM07Yna3HWE3iiU9KLrdosNiCe0e9jvX7iAF4rUr3TGAlEeyJiRK-YxvT90AK8yV/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="960" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqC1INHortJ6WA8a00_9Ad-otnrfDAth2lrUfgrP7Kz3lqz4WcTlDrTCxup03J1tOXFpQMVNKA3xV8QM07Yna3HWE3iiU9KLrdosNiCe0e9jvX7iAF4rUr3TGAlEeyJiRK-YxvT90AK8yV/" width="240" /></a></div><br />I went to her webpage to learn a bit about her. She is a life coach and has a blog. She also archived it so you can easily get to the other posts. I recommend you checking out her pages if you like this post. <p></p><p><a href="https://www.lisaaromano.com/blog">https://www.lisaaromano.com/blog</a></p>Ruthhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07083142637240943607noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2638185360970117272.post-16563956762592036632021-07-05T23:01:00.004-07:002021-07-05T23:03:20.577-07:00Google is suspicious<p>I've been off this page for so long that Google is suspicious of my presents. I'm working at getting back to my blogs on a more regular basis. </p><p>Hi, How are you?</p><p> I hunkered down into survival mode. My interactions with groups on Facebook for PTSD and CPTSD is about the extent of what I've done for awhile. I am slowly getting my feet back under me. We traveled and visited family far away. We saw beautiful country and visited the Great lakes. Yes, I am impressed with the amazing country I live in. I'm sad when I still see so much fear and distrust. I am thrilled when I see smiling faces that welcome all who come. </p><p>At the end of the day, the power of hope is the belief that the sun will rise in the morning. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXjeselcHt_MUgZIBhZ7y1A3F0iqyc3gbVS06IFbVZhrPiYqpdfZxe8lbTYzVnjqPmURQR1i3vsHGCJ5LkVrmnLZpLFxcDZCgYwdCK4a0aDHL8WOuSQLY9B1x1JOEiHAeyiyffb9LjwFIZ/s1735/RM8_2801.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1735" data-original-width="1152" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXjeselcHt_MUgZIBhZ7y1A3F0iqyc3gbVS06IFbVZhrPiYqpdfZxe8lbTYzVnjqPmURQR1i3vsHGCJ5LkVrmnLZpLFxcDZCgYwdCK4a0aDHL8WOuSQLY9B1x1JOEiHAeyiyffb9LjwFIZ/s320/RM8_2801.JPG" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p>Ruthhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07083142637240943607noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2638185360970117272.post-5419076974344524752021-03-05T08:40:00.003-07:002021-03-05T08:40:20.775-07:00<p> I like this idea I found on Facebook</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpeDFSB-HgZPTAGcrDgYCij_wV94STs_19EkJPug_ewPfkrdat4m2Dr9F5SWNrFzqK70Hu7MUDqvAuejkM5OxFIny4gUa0W0VZ9GSwVpj6ah-3BGszVWRYbHC-pR69yxOPeRe7Lanbuyuy/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="767" height="308" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpeDFSB-HgZPTAGcrDgYCij_wV94STs_19EkJPug_ewPfkrdat4m2Dr9F5SWNrFzqK70Hu7MUDqvAuejkM5OxFIny4gUa0W0VZ9GSwVpj6ah-3BGszVWRYbHC-pR69yxOPeRe7Lanbuyuy/w246-h308/image.png" width="246" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Of course, my take on what they are calling the "new normal" is that insanity is not new....what is new is trying to convince everyone to embrace insanity as normal. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I am thankful to live over 60 years and be able to say I have seen a lot of stuff come down, this past year may be one of the strangest for how long I've stayed home, living like I'm under house arrest, but not the worst. I am thankful for friends and family that call, video chat and share encouragement and love in so many different ways. I pray for those that are sick, lost their jobs, experienced financial hardship, or lost their loved ones. It is much like the book opening in the Tale of Two Cities:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><p></p><ul id="yui_3_10_0_1_1614958570618_207" style="background-color: white; font-family: "helvetica neue", helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; list-style: outside none; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><li class="va-top ov-h" id="yui_3_10_0_1_1614958570618_206" style="margin: 0px 0px 4px; overflow: hidden; padding: 0px; vertical-align: top; zoom: 1;">“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of light, it was the season of darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair.” ― Charles Dickens , A Tale of Two Cities</li></ul><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><p>Charles Dickens could have written about these times. </p><p>My recommendation is find a bit of joy and spread it. On Facebook, I find beautiful pictures and share them. Online teaching, I encourage, leave funny GIFs for daily check ins, and try to help others see that the future is amazing. <br /><br /></p>Ruthhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07083142637240943607noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2638185360970117272.post-3846298028677500602021-02-24T22:21:00.000-07:002021-02-24T22:21:34.796-07:00Fire your mean boss<p> I can't tell you how shocked I was when my counselor told me to fire my mean boss. I was also confused. How could I fire my boss? At the time, I did have a mean boss at work. I expressed my confusion. </p><p>He carried on, "You know the boss that expect you to be early to work and stay late. The boss that expects you do to do more than any one else. The boss that makes you go in on weekends and other times when you could be home...." Took a while for me to finally realize the mean boss he referred to was me. I was my own mean boss. I was my harshest critic and put myself down more than anyone else. </p><p>I am not alone with this challenge of needing to fire my mean boss. Dove sponsored a project that they shared in this video. </p><p><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=litXW91UauE&feature=youtu.be">(545) Dove Real Beauty Sketches | You’re more beautiful than you think (6mins) - YouTube</a></p><p>I agree with their conclusion you are more beautiful than you think. I also believe most of us are doing better than we think we are. You are better than what that inner critic keeps telling you. Learning to fire my mean boss and become my own best friend, which is much harder than I thought it would be. </p>Ruthhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07083142637240943607noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2638185360970117272.post-31365412907499735822020-11-29T10:41:00.002-07:002020-11-29T10:41:25.029-07:00The Last Time<p> One of the things I wished with all my heart is that when our kids were growing up; I worried less and enjoyed more the moments, the heart beats, the days challenges of busy years. I am working on it now. </p><p>This is the holiday season, a time of challenges, triggers, tough memories, an occasional flashbacks that make this particularly difficult. I posted on here before survival guides for the holidays. </p><p><a href="http://weareone-ruth.blogspot.com/2013/11/holidays-are-upon-us.html">http://weareone-ruth.blogspot.com/2013/11/holidays-are-upon-us.html</a></p><p><a href="http://weareone-ruth.blogspot.com/2017/10/didnt-build-in-rain.html">http://weareone-ruth.blogspot.com/2017/10/didnt-build-in-rain.html</a></p><p>This time I am sharing a poem my daughter shared as she enjoyed the Zoo lights with her sons. She is right, I am wishing we could have one more time together, one more hug, one more story time, one more of so many things. Mostly I wish each of them joy in the celebration of Christ. </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><p></p></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="text-align: left;">The Last Time (author unknown)</blockquote><blockquote style="text-align: left;">From the moment you hold your baby in your arms you will
never be the same</blockquote><blockquote style="text-align: left;">You might long for the person you were before when you had
freedom and time and nothing in particular to worry about</blockquote><blockquote style="text-align: left;">You will know tiredness like you never knew it before days
will run into days that are exactly the same full of feedings and burping</blockquote><blockquote style="text-align: left;">Nappy changes and crying</blockquote><blockquote style="text-align: left;">Whining and fighting</blockquote><blockquote style="text-align: left;">Naps or a lack of naps</blockquote><blockquote style="text-align: left;">It might seem like a never-ending cycle</blockquote><blockquote style="text-align: left;">But don't forget...</blockquote><blockquote style="text-align: left;">There is a last time for everything</blockquote><blockquote style="text-align: left;">There will come a time when you will feed your baby for the
very last time</blockquote><blockquote style="text-align: left;">They will fall asleep on you after a long day and it will be
the last time you ever hold your sleeping child</blockquote><blockquote style="text-align: left;">One day you will carry them on your hip then set them down
and never pick them up that way again</blockquote><blockquote style="text-align: left;">You will scrub their hair in the bath for one last time and
from that day on they will want to bathe alone</blockquote><blockquote style="text-align: left;">They will hold your hand to cross the road</blockquote><blockquote style="text-align: left;">Then will never reach for it again</blockquote><blockquote style="text-align: left;">They will creep into your room at midnight for cuddles and
it will be the last night you ever wake to this</blockquote><blockquote style="text-align: left;">One afternoon you will sing "the wheels on the
bus" and do all the actions then never sing them that song again</blockquote><blockquote style="text-align: left;">They will kiss you goodbye at the school gate</blockquote><blockquote style="text-align: left;">The next day they will ask to walk to the gate alone</blockquote><blockquote style="text-align: left;">You will read a final bedtime story and wipe your last dirty
face</blockquote><blockquote style="text-align: left;">They will run to you with arms raised for the very last
time.</blockquote><blockquote style="text-align: left;">The thing is, you won't even know it's the last time until
there are no more times. And even then, it will take you a while to realize.</blockquote><blockquote style="text-align: left;"><p></p><p class="MsoNormal">So while you are living in these times, remember there are
only so many of them and when they are gone, you will yearn for just one more
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<p></p></blockquote><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p><br /><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1Bjtbn4nHQcQyeqtNn5XYABVnNh9vVteE9emcEra55eQkBWPcZnRCCDfsydv9tt93GajzvH_u1AO9HY_2RM_25vtwVXKLwk-GM1vOe3fLhQ-6RiaHw7wVZgT7k3aza5BZRitekyGCLMO9/s723/IMG_7886.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="723" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1Bjtbn4nHQcQyeqtNn5XYABVnNh9vVteE9emcEra55eQkBWPcZnRCCDfsydv9tt93GajzvH_u1AO9HY_2RM_25vtwVXKLwk-GM1vOe3fLhQ-6RiaHw7wVZgT7k3aza5BZRitekyGCLMO9/s320/IMG_7886.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">My children made these in 1st grade, now their children are in first grade. Yes, I still have them. </div>Ruthhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07083142637240943607noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2638185360970117272.post-73052389907241420722020-11-22T14:36:00.008-07:002020-11-22T14:41:42.283-07:00Healing Power of Gratitude<p><span style="background-color: white;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwST1I2rfgcAEGYUjdH3XrkJ4xw2G38dLPsOwI1dtoe2PWThs8uGaE1QTZ-44P5olc6fG_w9HoRXBnLNQt872qdA8-qwm91jsNU-c_U1ivfGm39SCRPuXazC4dxoU5VSO_ySIvZHu1aWiC/s723/RM5_9512.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="723" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwST1I2rfgcAEGYUjdH3XrkJ4xw2G38dLPsOwI1dtoe2PWThs8uGaE1QTZ-44P5olc6fG_w9HoRXBnLNQt872qdA8-qwm91jsNU-c_U1ivfGm39SCRPuXazC4dxoU5VSO_ySIvZHu1aWiC/s320/RM5_9512.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="background-color: white;"><br /> <span face=""Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Gratitude is a powerful thing. I learned of its power when I was sick in bed for about 3 years. I learned to be thankful for things like getting dressed. Gratitude to children that pitched in and helped. Husband that knew how to vacuum. Savior to reassure me I'm not worthless. Prayer to keep me going when things seemed impossible. Grateful that my faith taught me that Jesus takes impossible and turns it into I'm possible.</span></span><p></p><p><span style="background-color: white;"><span face=""Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Too many people blow off simple things like gratitude when looking for healing solutions. There are scientist that actually study the impact of gratitude on the brain. I read a few articles that show that an attitude of gratitude does awesome and cool things to our brains. Scriptures also back this up with many references to give thanks. I know I went through a tough time when I felt like it took all week to find something to be grateful for. Gratitude is a learned skill. </span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white;"><span face=""Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Our church group decided to start keeping a gratitude journal for an entire year. They gave us notebooks to write in, cute pages for every month and encouragement to write daily. I was very skeptical about one more thing to do in my life. However, I was willing to try. After a few months I had to stop not because I didn't feel gratitude but I realized if I wrote down every blessing, way I was helped, everything I was thankful for, all I would do was write all day long. I finally saw a flood of things to be thankful for. I started creating gratitude chains.....Thankful for a car to drive led to gratitude for roads to drive on, gas, money to afford the car and gas, thankful for amazing place to travel to and see...One blessing connects to several others. It felt amazing. Now, gratitude is one of my go to healing tools when I start to feel overwhelmed or like life is picking on me. I am thankful for the internet where I can share my thoughts on a blog and I am thankful for readers willing to spend a few minutes of their day to read my words. I am thankful for those that leave kind comments and help me feel connected. Gratitude is a powerful healing tool. </span></span></p>Ruthhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07083142637240943607noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2638185360970117272.post-42718804616938288202020-11-21T17:08:00.001-07:002020-11-21T17:08:20.687-07:00Run the Dishwasher Twice<p> I found this on Facebook and wanted to post it here as a reminder to myself that when something is overwhelming, I need to rethink the rules. Computer being weird, can't get rid of the black so I changed the font to white. It took some digging but I found the link to the original:</p><p><a href="https://www.quora.com/Has-a-therapist-ever-told-you-something-completely-unexpected/answer/Kate-Scott-6?ch=99&share=924eb0ff&srid=P2BN">https://www.quora.com/Has-a-therapist-ever-told-you-something-completely-unexpected/answer/Kate-Scott-6?ch=99&share=924eb0ff&srid=P2BN</a></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><blockquote><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: #242526; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: inherit, serif;"><span style="color: white;">I really liked the lesson! *original poster (Kate Scott 2020)*:<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: #242526; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit, serif;"><span style="color: white; font-size: medium;">RUN
THE DISHWASHER TWICE. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: #242526; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit, serif;"><span style="color: white; font-size: medium;">When
I was at one of my lowest (mental) points in life, I couldn’t get out of bed
some days. I had no energy or motivation and was barely getting by.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: #242526; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit, serif;"><span style="color: white; font-size: medium;">I had
therapy once per week, and on this particular week I didn’t have much to
‘bring’ to the session. He asked how my week was and I really had nothing to
say.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: #242526; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit, serif;"><span style="color: white; font-size: medium;">“What
are you struggling with?” he asked.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: #242526; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit, serif;"><span style="color: white; font-size: medium;">I
gestured around me and said “I dunno man. Life.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: #242526; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit, serif;"><span style="color: white; font-size: medium;">Not
satisfied with my answer, he said “No, what exactly are you worried about right
now? What feels overwhelming? When you go home after this session, what issue
will be staring at you?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: #242526; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit, serif;"><span style="color: white; font-size: medium;">I
knew the answer, but it was so ridiculous that I didn’t want to say it.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: #242526; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit, serif;"><span style="color: white; font-size: medium;">I
wanted to have something more substantial.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: #242526; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit, serif;"><span style="color: white; font-size: medium;">Something
more profound.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: #242526; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit, serif;"><span style="color: white; font-size: medium;">But I
didn’t.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: #242526; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit, serif;"><span style="color: white; font-size: medium;">So I
told him, “Honestly? The dishes. It’s stupid, I know, but the more I look at
them the more I CAN’T do them because I’ll have to scrub them before I put them
in the dishwasher, because the dishwasher sucks, and I just can’t stand and
scrub the dishes.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: #242526; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit, serif;"><span style="color: white; font-size: medium;">I
felt like an idiot even saying it.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: #242526; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit, serif;"><span style="color: white; font-size: medium;">What
kind of grown ass woman is undone by a stack of dishes? There are people out
there with *actual* problems, and I’m whining to my therapist about dishes?<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: #242526; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit, serif;"><span style="color: white; font-size: medium;">But
my therapist nodded in understanding and then said:<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: #242526; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit, serif;"><span style="color: white; font-size: medium;">“RUN
THE DISHWASHER TWICE.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: #242526; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit, serif;"><span style="color: white; font-size: medium;">I
began to tell him that you’re not supposed to, but he stopped me.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: #242526; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit, serif;"><span style="color: white; font-size: medium;">“Why
the hell aren’t you supposed to? If you don’t want to scrub the dishes and your
dishwasher sucks, run it twice. Run it three times, who cares?! Rules do not
exist, so stop giving yourself rules.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: #242526; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit, serif;"><span style="color: white; font-size: medium;">It
blew my mind in a way that I don’t think I can properly express.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: #242526; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit, serif;"><span style="color: white; font-size: medium;">That
day, I went home and tossed my smelly dishes haphazardly into the dishwasher
and ran it three times.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: #242526; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit, serif;"><span style="color: white; font-size: medium;">I
felt like I had conquered a dragon.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: #242526; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit, serif;"><span style="color: white; font-size: medium;">The
next day, I took a shower lying down.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: #242526; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit, serif;"><span style="color: white; font-size: medium;">A few
days later. I folded my laundry and put them wherever the fuck they fit.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: #242526; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit, serif;"><span style="color: white; font-size: medium;">There
were no longer arbitrary rules I had to follow, and it gave me the freedom to
make accomplishments again.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: #242526; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit, serif;"><span style="color: white; font-size: medium;">Now
that I’m in a healthier place, I rinse off my dishes and put them in the
dishwasher properly. I shower standing up. I sort my laundry.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: #242526; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit, serif;"><span style="color: white; font-size: medium;">But
at a time when living was a struggle instead of a blessing, I learned an
incredibly important lesson:<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: #242526; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit, serif;"><span style="color: white; font-size: medium;">THERE
ARE NO RULES.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><br /><p></p></blockquote>Ruthhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07083142637240943607noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2638185360970117272.post-10192030194322840402020-11-04T06:34:00.001-07:002020-11-04T06:34:15.354-07:00Blessing others<p> </p><p>Tough times and hard times people tend to pull back and stay away and less connection. I like the example in this story where a bookstore employee shares their memory of a most memorable customer. </p><p>Tough times blessing others is not just one more thing to do but a vital way to connect and encourage yourself that if we can't fix anything we can do something to help one another on something. </p><p><br /></p><p><a href="https://timelesslife.info/bookstore-employee-writes-this-on-facebook-after-little-old-lady-shocks-everyone-at-the-register">https://timelesslife.info/bookstore-employee-writes-this-on-facebook-after-little-old-lady-shocks-everyone-at-the-register</a></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUHP4jcwLqcuFLXgqAolrhoJtTPUXdY0CF5V_O7DRtFPLk_p11GjIh1mdpwYUtdcbPXFFSjcToO7TMNSUQhsETuEQYmHsvqUXu4uG5_b8Gz5SuenBUReCyWSlNkEI0M8URObg3SaWYYYlS/s640/IMG_5304.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUHP4jcwLqcuFLXgqAolrhoJtTPUXdY0CF5V_O7DRtFPLk_p11GjIh1mdpwYUtdcbPXFFSjcToO7TMNSUQhsETuEQYmHsvqUXu4uG5_b8Gz5SuenBUReCyWSlNkEI0M8URObg3SaWYYYlS/s320/IMG_5304.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Sometimes we are just tired and need to rest. </div><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Ruthhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07083142637240943607noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2638185360970117272.post-37896510734196435672020-09-06T07:48:00.001-07:002020-09-06T07:48:37.369-07:00Time flies<p> I am working from home and this past month flew by with me sitting for hours in front of the computer connecting with teachers and students. I am struggling with using my computer for work, play and connection. The computer keeps us connected and keeps us apart. If there were no computers, they would have to figure out how to teach students....we would probably be in school instead of struggling to make lessons make sense online. Somethings work ok. Computer programming classes are done on the computer no matter where you are located. However, really tough to had at flowers over the internet for students to learn to arrange them. The visual information does not replace the smell and experience of handling flowers and placing them beautifully in a vase. No matter how much we talk, it is not the same experience. I like what the teacher is doing by engaging the students interactively online but that is still not the same as handling the flowers themselves. I'm ready to go back to work at school when they are willing to open the schools and let us go. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO2dL7gkLp41a-pkqMhxP_8XnqgVCPjD8s8N1846B_1c39N9arTa1y1TdS92P_a87XkWHOKFMsAPEXwo0IhIRq8P35xwC9OhoNdL8EOwoR_Mqj6jnWKggy_qZ24B0udxEtGKacSdX8Rs9v/s723/RM3_6546.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="723" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO2dL7gkLp41a-pkqMhxP_8XnqgVCPjD8s8N1846B_1c39N9arTa1y1TdS92P_a87XkWHOKFMsAPEXwo0IhIRq8P35xwC9OhoNdL8EOwoR_Mqj6jnWKggy_qZ24B0udxEtGKacSdX8Rs9v/s320/RM3_6546.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_WR0B_ZVLuutGSnRuNumXRjdVXqk1g1e5EQDXExwYW8T8whdd6ntKMP2PPDnEnWfb00Ajcdm0TrM3NIztWd1kCRGa5Mjv8paOfzpR9tBeGdyu8HtJaBBT0N9yi_jzNZyOEXeufV63LxSn/s723/RM4_3718.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="723" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_WR0B_ZVLuutGSnRuNumXRjdVXqk1g1e5EQDXExwYW8T8whdd6ntKMP2PPDnEnWfb00Ajcdm0TrM3NIztWd1kCRGa5Mjv8paOfzpR9tBeGdyu8HtJaBBT0N9yi_jzNZyOEXeufV63LxSn/s320/RM4_3718.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM5Lsg842eiSoEozs3IfyjDo6pMIz1gGIsI52x0wWLDWyjFp-fCQiXaUUY4bmN5tPmTBc7AHId477LdG9ipwlFXNGDF_GeFjinTQx3PWOZwilOR9aPfreZnI7O5ptbiweZoVX8A7Obbtbb/s640/IMG_1348.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM5Lsg842eiSoEozs3IfyjDo6pMIz1gGIsI52x0wWLDWyjFp-fCQiXaUUY4bmN5tPmTBc7AHId477LdG9ipwlFXNGDF_GeFjinTQx3PWOZwilOR9aPfreZnI7O5ptbiweZoVX8A7Obbtbb/s320/IMG_1348.jpg" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfvtBZ4kePL0TutT2xSSWE8M5dQwenERppd_QNNYBdiSDs23grLYznBis0jYz9ORSDj8IRwUcBq1EHndfeV_dRrcIgIb8qlajgpKW-7d-JxE_vXF09O5qMUTSez5FCLdocrq_dWxddPiE9/s723/_RM17344W.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="723" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfvtBZ4kePL0TutT2xSSWE8M5dQwenERppd_QNNYBdiSDs23grLYznBis0jYz9ORSDj8IRwUcBq1EHndfeV_dRrcIgIb8qlajgpKW-7d-JxE_vXF09O5qMUTSez5FCLdocrq_dWxddPiE9/s320/_RM17344W.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqZ5TKNCAVRoXyuj4uzuYbZOgtdGMiFYMggzJ8IZhCf7aGCOCQjaHDdB5vA4vjf-HVTPcSaJfT2NMVM2y4NAp_OGoP5RbNugHyQeVR_OVodxSwtS0Xl9jRhR2Pyh56j3Xv5LBUsV5T89x1/s723/RM5_4601.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="723" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqZ5TKNCAVRoXyuj4uzuYbZOgtdGMiFYMggzJ8IZhCf7aGCOCQjaHDdB5vA4vjf-HVTPcSaJfT2NMVM2y4NAp_OGoP5RbNugHyQeVR_OVodxSwtS0Xl9jRhR2Pyh56j3Xv5LBUsV5T89x1/s320/RM5_4601.jpg" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Ruthhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07083142637240943607noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2638185360970117272.post-39396518620103943502020-07-23T09:38:00.001-07:002020-07-23T09:38:31.345-07:00Unsolicited AdviceMy children let me know that as adults it is no longer ok to give unsolicited advice. I felt hurt. I only wanted to help. A life long habit needed to be examined. I shied away because I needed to get to a place where I was ready to listen. (aka I needed to be humble.) An article popped up on Facebook and I saved it for weeks waiting. Finally this morning I took my courage in both hands and started to read. Instead of feeling attacked or put down the article gave examples of what it looks like and why it isn't healthy. I am on the road to healthy so this approach kept me more open to what they were teaching me. Then it pointed out why it is ineffective and harmful to relationships. I am also in some groups online where people are looking for advice. What to do? The article pointed out that when people are looking for advice presenting information as "This is what I experienced...." or "One possibility is...." or another way "A suggestion you might consider....." all implying that the listener is capable of making up their own mind and finding their own solution. <br />
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<a href="https://sharonmartincounseling.com/unsolicited-advice">https://sharonmartincounseling.com/unsolicited-advice</a><br />
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After reading the article, I thought what if I had not given unsolicited advice to my children? What if I encouraged them to find their own solutions? What if I had done differently? Well I didn't but that doesn't mean I can't move forward with change in my heart and paying attention to how I share my thoughts and feelings with others. Learning to listen more, problem solve yes. My brain is hardwired to problem solve which was really good when my job was fixing computers. Now I work with helping people, I need to re-access, examine, and consider how to take this information and more fully incorporate it in my life. I have some thinking to do too. <br />
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My counselor first proposed this concept to me years ago. He describe raising kids is like playing football. (Yup, raised my eyebrows at that one.) He went on to explain, when your kids are little you are out there on the field telling them exactly what to do like a quarter back. When they grow to be teenagers you are the coach with a whistle shouting from the sideline. Then all my kids became adults with children of their own, I throw away the whistle and I get POMPOMs to cheer them on. I'm still working at what that looks like. Sometimes they really do ask for my advice and I am challenged how to present any ideas in a way that is supportive and allowing them to make the final decision. <br />
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Changing me is a life long journey. I am thankful for advice I received over the years from others. I want to pass on the good ideas and helps I received like passing the baton in a relay, I realize I need to do it in away that I am not beating them over the head with baton. I am a work in progress. <br />
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<br />Ruthhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07083142637240943607noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2638185360970117272.post-71857213373930629882020-07-14T20:13:00.000-07:002020-07-14T20:13:13.782-07:00Getting back on trackJune was rough. No doubt about it. This past July 4th I felt imprisoned, less free than I felt for years. I took it badly. I refuse to live in fear. Age 42 I had cancer, that is scary. I lived. Same week I found out about my cancer, planes flew into buildings and fields. So many died in a day. I lived. Counseling taught me a whole new level of emotions that I didn't know existed. I lived. I am alive still after months of staying home. I'm done being afraid. I am making mask, I'll wear them not out of fear but because it is the law right now. When it is no longer mandated, I will stop. Mask wearers threaten me with my life if I don't wear them. People that I thought were nice people, aren't. It was an eye opener for me. <br />
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I am sleeping better. I finished some big projects, pictures below. I am getting back on track. I am deciding how I am going to live. I am working on new projects and relentlessly working on cleaning and sorting over 30 years of paper stuff. I am letting some things go and hanging onto others. My children are in their 30's and I have a box marked to throw-away-after-I-die. Looking at little hand prints and precious learning to write brings me joy. Report cards were all shredded. My children did well in school but report cards are just sad and mean nothing to me....so into the shredder they went. I let go of anything that brought me sadness, most of my mother's letters to me. Anything that I felt hurt by, went in the trash. I saved things to prove they happened. After this past month, I don't need to prove how I feel about anything. I feel what I feel and if someone else doesn't like it, then I do not need to prove why I feel what I feel. Break through. I spent my childhood justifying my existence and that I had feelings. If I couldn't "prove" something with hard evidence then it didn't happen. Yup, classic gas-lighting. I filled the shredder several times in two days. More still needs to be done but I feel like I lifted a burden off my shoulders. I do not need to prove that how I feel is legitimate. Wow. This is something to celebrate. <br />
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Crocheting is therapy for me. Getting better with each one I complete. </div>
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<br />Ruthhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07083142637240943607noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2638185360970117272.post-90671449246498393902020-07-08T21:36:00.000-07:002020-07-08T21:36:01.301-07:00Haunted by past<b><span style="color: red;">WARNING Major Rant below.....READ WITH CAUTION. </span></b><br />
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I worked hard and long in counseling. I felt I made a lot of progress. This year started hopeful and exciting. Then came COVID panic followed up by natural disasters, fires, earthquakes, run of the mill planet Earth happenings then tolerated riots with bricks appearing in strategic positions to maximize damage hurting those that they were supposed to be for. Anarchy, fear, and bullying are this new world order they are demanding we accept. Not just no, but HELL no. <br />
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I lived my childhood with irrational demands and fear mongering. My mother is dead and here she is multiplied by millions screaming, "Do this or you'll die" "Do that or your family will die" no proof, no studies other than what is presented by a media that is known for changing the "truth" more often than most people change their clothes. I've lived this, for years. People, this does not end well. The emotional, social impact are going to be far reaching and incalculable. We will recover economically eventually but will the broken homes, broken lives, and broken children care? <br />
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The screams of a few are drowning out those that are trying to say, "This may not be the best way to do this." The screamers don't care, they want what they want and they will destroy anything and anyone that gets in their way. But to me the screamers are merely puppets on a much larger stage and few will believe there are puppeteers pulling their strings creating chaos so nobody pays attention to what they are doing. This will end badly for so many and I do not mean just those that might get COVID, a horrible disease that kills, but the hundreds of thousands and millions that will start to believe this insanity must be their new reality. I'm not handling this well, at all. Once again, I feel helpless as my reality is ripped to shreds then I am told I am unreasonable for not complying. <br />
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Nope Nope Nope. <br />
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I am thankful for being Christian and knowing that in the end God wins. However, things are really messy and don't look like they will get any better any time soon because you see the puppeteers believe they have the power and know the right buttons to push to send everyone scrambling for cover. A war is on and no one believes it. Ruthhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07083142637240943607noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2638185360970117272.post-17560886479959892742020-06-22T09:50:00.001-07:002020-06-22T09:50:30.816-07:00Added guiltGuilt is an important quality to a certain degree and type. If you hurt someone, you should feel guilty for doing the other person harm. Some people might call it their "Jiminy Cricket" prompting them to do the right thing. However, there is another type of guilt that is far more destructive. It is the guilt passed from abuser to victim that is more like a swarm of locust poised to destroy peace of mind and sometimes the person. These are the shaming blaming behaviors that the abuser blames the victim for their behavior. The screams of rage, "You made me do this. If you were good I wouldn't beat you." Or some other variation that implies that the abusers erratic and irrational behavior is the victims fault. A friend on Facebook shared an article that is helping me wrap my mind around this difficult issue. <br />
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<a href="https://blogs.psychcentral.com/childhood-neglect/2018/02/3-guilt-and-shame-messages-of-childhood-emotional-neglect-and-how-to-defeat-them/">https://blogs.psychcentral.com/childhood-neglect/2018/02/3-guilt-and-shame-messages-of-childhood-emotional-neglect-and-how-to-defeat-them/</a><br />
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I like this article because it breaks down the guilt monster into 3 components...<br />
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<b style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: roboto, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;">No one wants to see your feelings.</b><br />
<b style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: roboto, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;">Your feelings are shameful.</b><br />
<b style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: roboto, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;">There is something wrong with you.</b><br />
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I learned to hide my feelings so well, I hid them from myself; also known as dissociation. I feel ashamed when I had feelings of anger and most of my other emotions. I got the message loud and clear there was something wrong with me. I was damaged, faulty, making mistakes, stupid and the list of things that I was went on and on and on. No doubt in my mind there was something wrong with me. Then came counseling. Trying to undo all this brainwashing crap took time and effort, I am a work in progress. I am still working out that my feelings are important and valid; most importantly I was just a little kid tried to cope in a bizarre situation. I want this article to go back to and review again how I am doing at recognizing what is my responsibility and what was shoved off to me by my abusers. Kind of difficult when they feelings feel so similar. I finally hit on the idea of whose problem is it, and who has control of the out come. If it is me, then I need to pay attention to those feelings of guilt so I can apologize and work towards better relationships. If it is their responsibility, time to strength my boundaries and clarify that they can't treat me like that. It is definitely a work in progress. <br />
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<br />Ruthhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07083142637240943607noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2638185360970117272.post-10595371534018169112020-06-15T16:08:00.000-07:002020-06-15T16:08:03.629-07:00You Tube helperEver wish there was someone you could ask Fix it questions without emotional baggage or lectures? A friend posted an article about this guy that has done that. Yes, there are Dad jokes. Its ok. He has his own You Tube channel and he shares how to do basic fixes around the house, yard and car. This is information I learned the hard way with a husband that was on the road for his job most of the week. If the toilet stopped working on Monday, I couldn't wait until Friday for him to fix it. Yes, I know how to replace the chain on a toilet. <br />
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<a href="https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCNepEAWZH0TBu7dkxIbluDw/videos">https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCNepEAWZH0TBu7dkxIbluDw/videos</a><br />
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If this doesn't interest you, no problem. But I figured for someone out there some where this might be helpful. Ruthhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07083142637240943607noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2638185360970117272.post-58858364838008347852020-06-11T00:14:00.003-07:002020-06-11T00:14:51.513-07:00A favorite of mineTwo tissue true story....when it first went around I tracked down the original. <br />
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My question is: Would you have made the same choice?</div>
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<br />At a fundraising dinner for a school that serves children with learning disabilities, the father of one of the students delivered a speech that would never be forgotten by all who attended. After extolling the school and its dedicated staff, he offered a question:</div>
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'When not interfered with by outside influences, everything nature does is done with perfection.</div>
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Yet my son, Shay, cannot learn things as other children do. He cannot understand things as other children do.</div>
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Where is the natural order of things in my son?'<br />The audience was stilled by the query.</div>
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<br />The father continued. 'I believe that when a child like Shay, who was mentally and physically disabled comes into the world, an opportunity to realize true human nature presents itself, and it comes in the way other people treat that child.'</div>
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<br />Then he told the following story:</div>
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<br />Shay and I had walked past a park where some boys Shay knew were playing baseball. Shay asked, 'Do you think they'll let me play?' I knew that most of the boys would not want someone like Shay on their team, but as a father I also understood that if my son were allowed to play, it would give him a much-needed sense of belonging and some confidence to be accepted by others in spite of his handicaps.</div>
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<br />I approached one of the boys on the field and asked (not expecting much) if Shay could play. The boy looked around for guidance and said, 'We're losing by six runs and the game is in the eighth inning. I guess he can be on our team and we'll try to put him in to bat in the ninth inning..'</div>
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<br />Shay struggled over to the team's bench and, with a broad smile, put on a team shirt.. I watched with a small tear in my eye and warmth in my heart. The boys saw my joy at my son being accepted.</div>
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<br />In the bottom of the eighth inning, Shay's team scored a few runs but was still behind by three.</div>
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In top of the ninth inning, Shay put on a glove and played in the right field. Even though no hits came his way, he was obviously ecstatic just to be in the game and on the field, grinning from ear to ear as I waved to him from the stands.</div>
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In the bottom of the ninth inning, Shay's team scored again. Now, with two outs and the bases loaded, the potential winning run was on base and Shay was scheduled to be next at bat.</div>
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<br />At this juncture, do they let Shay bat and give away their chance to win the game? Surprisingly, Shay was given the bat. Everyone knew that a hit was all but impossible because Shay didn't even know how to hold the bat properly, much less connect with the ball.</div>
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<br />However, as Shay stepped up to the plate, the pitcher, recognizing that the other team was putting winning aside for this moment in Shay's life, moved in a few steps to lob the ball in softly so Shay could at least make contact.</div>
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<br />The first pitch came and Shay swung clumsily and missed. The pitcher again took a few steps forward to toss the ball softly towards Shay. Athe pitch came in, Shay swung at the ball and hit a slow ground ball right back to the pitcher.</div>
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<br />The game would now be over. The pitcher picked up the soft grounder and could have easily thrown the ball to the first baseman. Shay would have been out and that would have been the end of the game.</div>
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<br />Instead, the pitcher threw the ball right over the first baseman's head, out of reach of all team mates.<br />Everyone from the stands and both teams started yelling, 'Shay, run to first!</div>
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<br />Never in his life had Shay ever run that far, but he made it to first base. He scampered down the baseline, wide-eyed and startled.</div>
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<br />Everyone yelled, 'Run to second, run to second!'</div>
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Catching his breath, Shay awkwardly ran second, gleaming and struggling to make it to the base.</div>
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By time Shay rounded towards second base, the right fielder had the ball. The smallest guy on their team who now had his first chance to be the hero for his team.</div>
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<br />He could have thrown the ball to the second-baseman for the tag, but he understood the pitcher's intentions so he, too, intentionally threw the ball high and far over the third-baseman's head.</div>
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<br />Shay ran toward third base deliriously as the runners ahead of him circled the bases toward home. All were screaming, 'Shay, Shay, Shay, all the Way Shay'</div>
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<br />Shay reached third base because the opposing shortstop ran to help him by turning him in the direction of third base, and shouted, 'Run to third!</div>
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<br />As Shay rounded third, the boys from both teams, and the spectators, were on their feet screaming, 'Shay, run home! Run home!'</div>
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<br />Shay ran to home, stepped on the plate, and was cheered as the hero who hit the grand slam and won the game for his team</div>
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<br />'That day', said the father softly with tears now rolling down his face, 'the boys from both teams helped bring a piece of true love and humanity into this world'.</div>
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<br />Shay didn't make it to another summer. He died that winter, having never forgotten being the hero and making me so happy, and coming home and seeing his Mother tearfully embrace her little hero of the day!</div>
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Ruthhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07083142637240943607noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2638185360970117272.post-44685401262181073982020-06-04T08:53:00.000-07:002020-06-04T08:53:28.095-07:00Blogger will changeLike it or not. Yup, there is a reason I dislike computers. They change, constantly, and if there is a problem then it is your fault their software/hardware is faulty. Follow the directions and it doesn't work the person you call can't tell you anything except the directions you already followed and it didn't work. They actually don't know the answers. We created this amazing way to communicate, learn, play and go down numerous and sometimes scary rabbit holes and nobody out there actually knows what is happening. I worked IT for 15 years. People wore lucky hats, chanted to their computers, and generally did anything they could think of and sometimes it just doesn't work. Heavy sigh. Blogger will change I have a months grace period of using the "old" way but it will change. Their comment, well start the new one know and get a jump on it and give us feedback. People please understand, they are using you the readers and bloggers to trouble shoot their problems. I don't try to jump ahead on technology, I let other people have the problems, give them time to fix it then I will use it. Not a happy way to start my morning finding out their idea of progress most likely does not match my idea of something wonderful. <br />
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Three wishes. </div>
Ruthhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07083142637240943607noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2638185360970117272.post-69770846602691766372020-05-25T21:56:00.000-07:002020-05-25T21:56:07.438-07:00Not just another dayRecently with working from home one day blends into the next but today is not just another day. Today was Memorial Day. A time when we honor those that gave their lives so we can live ours. To men and women who died in circumstances that are heart breaking. We sometimes take too lightly what their sacrifice means. Sadly, I was a teenager in the 70's and watched the war protests, the vicious way soldiers were treated, man's cruelty and blaming the wrong people for what was happening. I am thankful to those that felt duty bound or drafted to serve sometimes for things they did not believe in. Sometimes there are no easy answers. However, I was raised in hatred and fear, sometimes the only answer left is to fight back. Not the first choice but there are people through out the World that wish to force their ideals and beliefs on others and have no problem killing to get what they want. It is somber for me to think about the cruelty soldiers faced when they came home. Some times the toughest battles are not fought in the battle field but in our own hearts and minds. Some died and others came home seriously damaged none were unaffected. I ponder if I am living a life that honors their sacrifice. <br />
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<br />Ruthhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07083142637240943607noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2638185360970117272.post-7194711335064528942020-05-17T20:48:00.002-07:002020-05-17T20:48:18.585-07:00100 booksI was given a list of 100 books to read about PTSD/CPTSD. I have not read most of them. I did read a bunch of books, not all of these, however. <br />
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<a href="https://bookauthority.org/books/best-ptsd-books">https://bookauthority.org/books/best-ptsd-books</a><br />
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Many of the books now available were published after I was in counseling, a lot of the information is new. CPTSD wasn't even used yet. However, I did read many books. The ones that connected with me I share on my resource page. <a href="http://weareone-ruth.blogspot.com/p/resources-books.html">http://weareone-ruth.blogspot.com/p/resources-books.html</a><br />
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I do not recommend all of these books. Pick and choose. Many of them are military based. Much of the information I use is from military PTSD web pages. I was never in the military but their articles helped me cope with symptoms of PTSD. It was an article about taking martial arts that got me to try Karate. The results were amazing. It also helped that my teacher is trauma aware. I actually had a complete melt down in class. The next week I tried to apologize. He told me I had nothing to apologize for. I am now in my 5th year....and were are having class on Zoom. It helped me feel like I can control my body in all situations. Cool stuff for me. My confidence grew in leaps and bounds when I mastered ground defense requiring me to do a diving forward roll. Serious stuff when I am over 60 years old. The article was right, it helped me gain confidence that I never had before. I would say this list is simply a suggestion list and one more resource not a to-do list. <br />
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Take care and enjoy your day. <br />
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Crochet-a-longs are another thing that are helping me to build my skills and confidence. Thanks to Mikey from TheCrochetCrowd. <a href="https://thecrochetcrowd.com/">https://thecrochetcrowd.com/</a><br />
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<br />Ruthhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07083142637240943607noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2638185360970117272.post-34803399031558796022020-05-15T07:57:00.001-07:002020-05-15T07:57:46.700-07:00Now I've done itI shoved stuff into one room for over 15 years. My son-in-law is getting me to listen to Bob Proctor which is a way of thinking that I believe but don't do. As I listened all weekend to the different speeches, I realized the gap between saying I will clean that room and actually doing it was commitment. I started pulling things out and throwing things a way and discovering I had boxes in front of empty shelves. Some stuff I actually want to save. In one box I found hair from several of my kids first hair cuts. I am designating the box as "You can throw this away when I die" box....but instead of 3 boxes I am consolidating down to one and pitching some of the stuff without names since I don't know who it belongs to anyway. I spent the week looking at Mother's Day cards with little hand prints from my now adult children. I actually shared some of the stuff with a couple of grandkids to let them see things when their daddy was small. My living room is now a mess. I am looking at it like a can of worms and wondering how on earth I am going to cram that back in. Key....throw away more stuff. Keep what really brings me joy. I found information from doing a play years ago, it was a miserable experience. I pitched all the stuff from that. I don't need reminders of pain any more. The talks during the weekend talked about digging deeper into your behavior and shifting how you think which in turn will change your behavior. For this room, it is taking a bunch of shifting.<br />
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I also accepted that there was a reason I kept stuff that was sad, mad, and ugly. Growing up these things were not allowed so my mother would rewrite history. I would keep the sad, mad, and ugly to prove those things happened. I needed proof to validate the way I felt. I don't need to have that proof any more. I know what happened and I don't need to prove it to anyone. Throw the stuff away. It is ok. I still struggle with the idea I have to prove my perspective is valid. I am taking Flylady's (<a href="http://flylady.net/">http://flylady.net/</a>) suggestion to take pictures of some things and throw the object away. I have a long ways to go in the cleaning process but the first time in 10 years, I am seeing progress and floor space... amazing. <br />
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Some memories are worth keeping. </div>
Ruthhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07083142637240943607noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2638185360970117272.post-17212628561874442762020-05-08T05:00:00.000-07:002020-05-08T05:00:17.278-07:00Not brokenI worked on cleaning up my files and discovered that I missed a bunch of comments. Apparently in my day to day living they scrolled on by before I saw them so I am now caught up according to my information. If I ever miss a comment, please understand it is not you. I insist on approving each and every one so it becomes dependent on me not having a bad day. Not so good this year.<br />
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I was feeling all wore out and tired from digging through mountains of clutter. I have a talent for making mountains out of mole hills due to neglect. Or the cartoon I found was I am not a nit picker but the cartoon stated, "If it weren't for us nit pickers, we would be up to our knees in nits." The piles are well past my knees. I took a break and found this posted by my daughter...I love it.<br />
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<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Me: Hey God.<br />God: Hello.....<br />Me: I'm falling apart. Can you put me back together?<br />God: I would rather not.<br />Me: Why?<br />God: Because you aren't a puzzle.<br />Me: What about all of the pieces of my life that are falling down onto the ground?<br />God: Let them stay there for a while. They fell off for a reason. Take some time and decide if you need any of those pieces back.<br />Me: You don't understand! I'm breaking down!<br />God: No - you don't understand. You are breaking through. What you are feeling are just growing pains. You are shedding the things and the people in your life that are holding you back. You aren't falling apart. You are falling into place. Relax. Take some deep breaths and allow those things you don't need anymore to fall off of you. Quit holding onto the pieces that don't fit you anymore. Let them fall off. Let them go.<br />Me: Once I start doing that, what will be left of me?<br />God: Only the very best pieces of you.<br />Me: I'm scared of changing.<br />God: I keep telling you - YOU AREN'T CHANGING!! YOU ARE BECOMING!<br />Me: Becoming who?<br />God: Becoming who I created you to be! A person of light and love and charity and hope and courage and joy and mercy and grace and compassion. I made you for more than the shallow pieces you have decided to adorn yourself with that you cling to with such greed and fear. Let those things fall off of you. I love you! Don't change! ... Become! Become! Become who I made you to be. I'm going to keep telling you this until you remember it.<br />Me: There goes another piece.<br />God: Yep. Let it be.<br />Me: So ... I'm not broken?<br />God: Of course Not! - but you are breaking like the dawn. It's a new day. Become!!! </blockquote>
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~Author Unknown
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<br />Ruthhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07083142637240943607noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2638185360970117272.post-11368085857419067312020-05-06T23:22:00.000-07:002020-05-06T23:22:22.193-07:00Kissy During this time of enforced stay at home, I am delving deep into my history and cleaning out my craft/storage room. I can barely walk in there. Years of 'shove it in and shut the door' made the room unusable. At first I simply dabbled at moving the junk around. I realized the only way to clean it out is to CLEAN IT OUT!!!! I pulled out half a bed frame. From the location I am guessing at least 10 to 15 years ago. No idea where the rest of the bed is located. Out and gone. There is easy stuff like that and then there are "Oh Sh%#@!" boxes. Memories stuffed away raw unprocessed sitting there waiting to rip back carefully healed scars. One of them was Kissy. <br />
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The saga of Kissy. Like any little girl watching TV just before Christmas, commercials were vying for attention. One was a cuddly little Kissy doll and the other Chatty Cathy. I first fell in love with the little soft Kissy doll then changed my mind. However, my mother already bought the Kissy doll for my present. She decided to take the Kissy doll back to the store and wait for me to make up my mind. Sure enough, Christmas Eve at the top of my Santa letter I wrote I wanted a Kissy doll. By this time, the stores were closed. (This was well before the all night Christmas eve shopping binges.) Christmas morning....no Kissy doll. Plenty of other stuff but not the doll I wanted. My mother decided to get me a Kissy doll and let me earn it. When she went back to the store, the half price toy sales were on. This larger, hard plastic Kissy doll was available for the same price as the smaller doll. My mother's way of thinking that bigger was better. She brought it home. She and my Dad told me the doll would be mine after I worked for it. But it wasn't soft or cuddly and it was humongous, NOT the doll I wanted at any time. Since it was a sell item, she couldn't take it back. I worked what seem liked forever for this doll I did not want. I kept the doll. For about 50 years....well actually I left it at home expecting my mother to throw it away like she did everything else. Nope she saved it. When we moved back to the area she wanted me to take it off her hands and once again here I was stuck with a doll I never wanted in the first place. Shove it in the closet and forget about it. Only I didn't forget about it. Every time I stumbled across it was this tautening doll that my mother had no idea who I was or what I wanted. I kept the very thing that caused me pain from the beginning. Time to let go. Time to say good-bye to sadness. I am giving it away outside the family because the hurt and pain need to be cleaned out of the wounds. I realized as I contemplated this post. Kissy is the reason I didn't set goals. If I set a goal, had a wish, or wanted something, that would be taken away and replaced with something I did not want with the expectation that I was lazy, terrible child if I didn't want what they wanted me to want and work to earn it. Kissy represented all the times in my life I had the taunting, "You want it, you can't have it." It was less painful not to want anything at all. If I didn't want anything, then there was nothing for them to take away. <br />
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<br />Ruthhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07083142637240943607noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2638185360970117272.post-67939561463309137032020-05-04T08:26:00.000-07:002020-05-04T08:26:12.204-07:00My morning walkGood morning. It is a beautiful and soon to be hot day here in Arizona. I decided to share my morning walk with you....enjoy....<br />
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<br />Ruthhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07083142637240943607noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2638185360970117272.post-47771166006230283462020-05-03T11:44:00.001-07:002020-05-03T11:44:45.462-07:00Gratitude for all thingsI listened to a 3 day seminar about improving my life. One of the videos shared was one about Gratitude...for those that enjoy meditation I think it is beautifully done. <br />
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<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cpkEvBtyL7M&t=">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cpkEvBtyL7M&t=</a><br />
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One of the amazing things I learned years ago when at church they gave us the challenge to keep a gratitude journal. I did for a time. This is what I learned. There is a constant flow of blessings. When I receive all things with gratitude, I find the gifts hidden in the challenges. One quick example was the day I was laid off from being a computer tech. My children were worried that I would be terribly upset. I wasn't. I felt such gratitude from being released from a miserable job that I felt bond to continue because the people that originally hired me gave me a chance. Over the years at the job, my position was restructured. I went from the best job ever to a hostile boss that wanted to find a reason to fire me. The stress was tremendous. It was also during the time I was in counseling. The blessing there, I needed to learn some skills like boundaries and standing up for myself. My therapist asked me if I liked this negative boss. Nope. So the poor boss became my guinea pig to work on developing these skills I needed to learn. Much better to try things out on this unpleasant boss rather than someone I wanted to still like me after the learning process. Learning can be messy. I discovered inadvertently that every unpleasant situation is laced with opportunities and blessings would flow from them. <br />
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Gratitude is an emotion that is a helper emotion. Helps me through sad times and tough times. Helps me when I am feeling grief or unappreciated. Talking to one of my therapist he challenged me to find the blessings it what happened to me in my childhood. Tough one to think about. I do not feel gratitude that my mother hated me. I do feel gratitude that I was able to see her emotion was not about me. I do not feel gratitude for the cruelty of my neighbor. I am searching for ways to use what I learned to bless others. I feel grateful to internet and blogs to be able to share hard learned lessons that others may see their is hope in their situation. Sometimes seeing the blessings and feeling the gratitude is a challenge but I am blessed when I can do it. <br />
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Enjoy your day. <br />
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Ruthhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07083142637240943607noreply@blogger.com0