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Tag: nonfiction

Happy Birthday, Mommy.

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Hey there. Today is April 17th, 2019. Today is mom’s birthday. Today is also the sixteenth anniversary of her passing on April 17th, 2003. Some folks are kind of shocked to realize that she died on her birthday. Like… almost as if it was a bad omen, or as if it was unfortunate. I’ve always thought it was a matter of perspective.

These are some heavy times for the lovers, the introverts, and the givers.

At the risk of coming across as blasphemous, I am personally glad my mother is not here to bear the burden of these polarizing trials life has handed to us.

Perhaps I may have had a rough decade or so and maybe my view’s a bit skewed. I digress.

As time goes on, the blindfolds come off; allowing my worldview to grow exponentially. I am grateful for growing pains. I hope to experience as many as I can.

My mother only lived to be twenty-seven.
I am currently twenty-six.

Admittedly, I have recently been plagued by the hope that I will not die at twenty-seven like my mother. This phenomenon is not uncommon; though I do find it odd how it hit me so suddenly, so heavily.

Death will not come for me. I will not allow it. Give me another five years at the very least and then we’ll talk. 😉

I’m kidding. Pretending is something I am atrocious at. Therefore, I won’t pretend that I plan to evade the reaper. On the other hand, I do not intend to go down without a fight. I have always struck out only to come back swinging.

Ask about me. 😉

My destiny does not have to align with my mother’s, and I don’t think she wants that for me. I will not allow her passing to override the joy of my own aging. (Honestly, I think I get more attractive the older I get). I’ll be a hot old lady.

I love the confidence that comes with aging.
I wish I was able to witness more people embracing the passage of time.

My mother was so young. She was just starting out. She had such love and light to give to others. She was hurt easily. She loved easily. The classic blessing begets the classic curse.

I have definitely followed in her shoes when it comes to being a lover. I love, and love, and love. These days, it’s called codependence. If love is my affliction, I think I’m doing pretty good for myself.

I didn’t love my mother as I should have. Who knows love at ten? Though, I love her now, every day, fully. There is not a day that goes by that she does not cross my mind. It is a feeling that cannot be grasped.

Yet, I can think of no one who deserved the freedom of the afterlife as much as my warrior of a mother.

I love you, Ma. I love you with all of my heart. I think of you daily. I know you don’t like to see me agonize over life the way I often do. So, I’m trying to get my shit together, Ma. I’m writing again. I try to be a good wife. I talk about you a lot. I wish I could see films about you. But, that wouldn’t suffice. Take care of your granddaughter for me. I miss her every day since I lost her. Though, I sure am glad she got to meet you on her own. My stories of you wouldn’t do you justice. I love you. I’ll be alright. I’ll be alright, Ma. Sleep good, beautiful. How lucky I am to have my daughter and my mother as guides.

Happy Birthday Mom ♥





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It would mean the world to me.






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F*ck it. Smile.

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You know how we see motivational speakers and when they’re done speaking, for a few minutes we believe the world won’t eat us alive? Me too.

I’m not saying that your dreams are too far out of reach; I’m not saying that you shouldn’t believe their light.

I’m saying that at this very moment, I’ve done all of the things that my spirit and creator asked of me. I’ve pushed myself out of my comfort zone, I’ve let myself see and be seen, and I’m proud of myself.

Still, it sucks when then there is little to show for it.

If you’ve put your last few dollars into a dream, your last bit of faith in a cause that seems to turn it’s head, if you’ve struggled to see results, or if you’ve doubted your purpose at all, I’m here with you.

When It seems easier to light a match and watch it all burn, while simultaneously flipping the debris a middle finger, (I can’t believe I’m about to say this) SMILE.

Can’t pay rent? Fuck it. Something will shake, or you’ll move on. See the road.

Got cancer? Fuck it. You’re still alive and beautiful. Your sickness does not define your legacy.

Homeless? Fuck it. Mortgages are expensive.

Negative in the bank account? Well, now you damn sure cant give those thieves your money.

I empathize with you, and I say these things to help laughter bubble up in your chest.

When we can’t choose anything else, we can choose to laugh.

I love you.

Welcome Home.

You’re safe here. <3

Oh hey, it’s me again.

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I’m currently working on my podcast and patreon for y’all. In the meantime, I’ll be uploading more poetry.

I have failed. Here’s Why I’m Okay With That.

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I will never again go to a school, job, or organization that does not value its students. I will never enter a shady job simply because it is a job. My time, brain and stress levels deserve better. You do too. Know your worth!

I entered school (College) in January 2019. I was determined to succeed and not waste any more of my life.

via GIPHY

Up until this moment, I have had a 4.0 GPA. I put all of my time, effort and energy into being there, and doing well. Things started out great until I reached out for disability accommodations, and then this [dis]organization revealed itself.

I was supposed to start at this school and then transfer to get my B.A. in Psych; I would then move on to my Master’s in Marriage and Family Therapy. It looks like I won’t be able to do that now. At least, not at this moment.

However, though I am disappointed, I remain unfazed by this. I am unfazed because I know I did my part 100%.

I purchased practice-test books, hundreds of dollars in school supplies, and this doesn’t include proctoring fees I was charged (which by the way, I did not even need to purchase because I’m not on campus, but was never refunded).

via GIPHY



As an example:
I wrote entire chapters by hand because something was off with the tests. What we were given to study was nothing like the exams we were assigned.

I thought I was crazy. Maybe I hadn’t studied hard enough – maybe I had to think outside of the box. So, I did. Still, the second and third exam came around, and again the tests did not match what we (my classmates and I) had read.

Lo and beholds, seventy-eight other students had the same issue. The. Exact. Same. One.


It was then that I realized other schools had the same exams word-for-word; apparently, it was what I had suspected – the materials were mismatched. I was so weirded out!

When the other students reached out to the professor, they were told it was something they, themselves had done wrong!

I’m guessing the teacher saw where I pointed out the tests were mismatched and felt as if I were playing hero. (To be honest, I guess I was, but there were so many students who had worked just as hard as me, I couldn’t stand the injustice and I felt compelled to help out).

So, I try to be a good person. Stone me.


(I did not cheat, I googled the answers BEFORE the tests, not during).

A few weeks later, one professor tells me that I have not read the chapters.
(Remember, of course I read them. I wrote them!)

via GIPHY



I was pissed off. I sent the professor photos of my handwriting on the work we were assigned – three to four pages front and back.

NO RESPONSE! NOTHING.

via GIPHY



I suspect this professor may believe I was cheating, because the institution’s name and password (that I need to enter class) has been removed. When I try to do the assignments, I simply can’t. I’ve sent multiple messages to no avail.

I learned that the “school” is on probation. Enrolled students were sent “word-salad”:
“We’re on probation but we assure you we are dedicated!”


What a crock.

via GIPHY



I can no longer give my all to shitty places, people, or even things that do not value dedication.

You shouldn’t either.

Do you know what that’s like? Running full speed at a brick wall? I bet you do, and I bet you’ve learned this lesson too. For that, I commend you for keeping your head on straight.

via GIPHY


BUT I NOTICED AN UNHELPFUL PATTERN WITHIN MYSELF.



I run at these brick walls. Again. And again. And again. Insanity? No.

It is more like the need to prove that I am worthy, no matter how much that stresses me out. No matter how one-sided things are, I noticed I push myself harder than I should. In some way, I think I have misplaced my intrinsic, static, God-given value. I have tied my value into how hard I work, how hard I push myself.

It’s almost impossible not to when as a culture people are praised and celebrated, rewarded even, for tenacity and grit.

Harder still, when you’re in a wheelchair: when you’re disabled and you strain, when you climb, when you take a few unassisted steps. When you don’t need to bother anyone to help you use the bathroom – when you can wipe your own ass. You know what happens?

YOU GET A FUCKING STANDING OVATION.


via GIPHY



How crazy is that? I had never made this connection before.

My friends, you are worthy not because of your actions. You are worthy because you are alive.



via GIPHY

If you have never known or come to this realization, I genuinely assure you that I am dead serious. I am so sorry that you have never felt loved just as you are; just as you should be.

Most importantly, I want to apologize to myself; to the child within me whose feelings got so hurt that they thought they had to prove themselves worthy of anything. To the little girl in me who was not protected – who only dreamed of unconditional love, who gave everything within her in hopes that others would give back, much to her dismay.


And to you, dear reader, I love you as you are.
Still, it is more important that you fail at everything so that you learn what you need to heal the most. It is okay to love yourself.

via GIPHY


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Welcome Home.
You’re Safe here. <
3


So… money? 🙂

Donating to the site helps keep the domain up and running. It also takes care of necessities. Most of my entertainment comes from reading books. Your money isn't wasted here.

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Elephantiasis is a thing I learned about.

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Good morning,

Whatever kind of morning you’re having, I appreciate you being here with me.

Ringing true to my word and promise to you, I took the leap – learned to fly, and recorded a thirty-minute video of my self talking both directly and indirectly about what personal Hells gave birth to Welcome Home Healing.

So if you’d like to watch, feel free to comment on this post; otherwise, if you don’t have thirty minutes to spare and are expecting perfection, I won’t waste your time.

I am both apprehensive and a bit embarrassed by it, because I’m aware that I can brush up on my speaking skills, and that being vulnerable, though noble and effective opens up doors that we sometimes don’t know we want to remain closed until the truth is already out there.

Additionally, I did post it to Facebook, because everyone’s pretending there. To me, it is too large a platform to be able to afford authentic feedback. I am fortunate to have you (writers, artists, philosophers, rant-spewing dual-awareness humans who may just be broke enough to be humble). – 🙂

That was a joke, by the way. Maybe not all of us are starving artists, but you get the gist.

There were snails on my door this morning.
I love you.

I’ll be posting poetry soon.



How can I help you?

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It’s been said that less people are willing to help.


I don’t even remember where I read that. To me, it doesn’t seem true. Maybe lots of people, want to help lots of people.

Perhaps our hearts have arms that want to hold even the coldest souls, but our self-awareness and imagined embarrassment stops us in our tracks.

We overthink the other person’s reaction.

Without even realizing it, we’ve planted a rose garden in our cheeks and change our minds about saying hello, or about holding that door open, or about asking our friend who looks incredibly worn out if they’re truly okay, or if they’d like someone to listen to them.

Our good intentions remain good intentions.

If you want to help, help. Try your best not to let over thinking get in your way. The worst that could happen is that you’ve made someone’s life a little less hectic.

How can I help you? No, really. How can I help you today?

Let me know in the comments.

You’re doing awesome at this life thing.

I love you.

Welcome home.

The Purpose Of Welcome Home Healing (Part Two)

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It is not what happens to you, but how you react to it that matters.

Epictetus
Picture of the author
Hey there, is this your first time seeing me? I love you. ↨♥

In Part One of the Purpose, or story that inspired Welcome Home Healing to come to life, we talked about some tough stuff that I experienced. If you would like to read it, please do so here, it does have a trigger warning as it mentions abuse in various forms.

Part two is where I’ll show you how we can take our power back — how we can move from victim to victory – from powerless to empowered.


Step 1:

Believe that you will heal the way you’re meant to.
When we first come out of the F.O.G. (fear, obligation, and guilt) that has caused us to stay silent about our abuse, we are often so overwhelmed and overburdened, that we come to doubt our ability to heal. We’re so beat down and used to abuse that it colors our world and vines ensnare our soul.

We come to truly believe that we are doomed to be in despair for the rest of our days. We see healing techniques and mindfulness as jokes, as bullshit, to be honest. I’ve been there. Some days I still feel that way.

But. Believing in our God-given right to feel better, and in our ability to reintegrate ourselves back into life – to trust again – is the first step to rebirth and growth into ourselves. I have been fortunate enough to find a trusted therapist to show me where the light was, and I encourage you, gently, to do the same.

(I will post resources that may help you, depending on your situation). If you need assistance feel free to contact me, and I’ll try to point you in the right direction.




Step Two:
Rediscover, and reinvent your world on your terms.
When we’ve been mistreated, abused, bullied, whatever term you wish to call it, our power has been taken from us. In severe cases, our inner selves, our inner world, and even our imagination. We lose our ambitions, our goals, our drive.

white and gold mandala wall tapestry
No mud, no lotus.

The painter who paints will cease to paint, the writer will cease to write, the speaker will become mute, the passionate lover of people, of animals, places, and comedy sitcoms, will morph into someone who is indifferent. When this happens, it shows in their surroundings, in their environment.

To give you a real-life example, the first thing my wife and I started doing after she left her toxic environment behind, was redecorated our house, the way we wanted.

picture of cozy work desk with dim lighting
♥ This is where I typed this post for you. ♥

Next, we got hanging light fixtures (I think they were actually meant to go outside) but we made it work by placing them on detachable hooks and draped the lights around our living room.

Then we got a small water feature that continuously has a stream of water flowing. The noise and visualization help us stay grounded.

We then moved on to smaller things, like putting pictures of our loved ones on corkboard near our workspace.



Picture of corkboard with family and friends pinned to it.
Corkboard!


We put flowers in a vase to spruce up the room. (They came separately.)

Lastly, we got these cool tapestries as wall art from amazon.

woodland tapestry with hanging lights

Step 3:
Trust your progress.
Progress, recovery, growth, rebirth, the road back to yourself, and other homecoming processes, or life after abuse, is not linear. It is not a straight line.

You will relapse. You will miss the abuser. You will wish to revert back to what is familiar rather than running out into the wild unknown; because that’s friggin scary right?! Right?

This is normal. This is natural. It is human nature to be drawn back to what is familiar, but familiar is not always what’s best for us and can hinder our recovery.
During these times, it is important to be gentle with yourself- to comfort yourself – and gently bring your awareness back to how far you’ve come.

You are in control now, of your life, and your choices. You can cope. You can trust again in time with boundaries and a healthy amount of self-love.

So, although you may stumble, you can still walk forward. Walk slowly or baby step if you must, but you will come to realize you’ve worked too hard to stop or to turn back.

I believe in you.
I love you.

Christmas with the puppies.

Welcome Home
You’re Safe here.





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