Since Thanksgiving shouldn't ever end, I guess it's not too late to share a post of Angie Smith's I found in the (In)Courage blog. It really inspired me on Thanksgiving - click here to read it.
An excerpt:
I've felt called to spend some time studying gratitude in an effort to work on my own negative tendencies and the Lord recently gave me an amazing glimpse into Scripture.
In Luke Chapter 17, Jesus is traveling to Jerusalem when He hears ten men with leprosy calling out to Him in desperation. Most likely, they didn't expect a response, but they were used to announcing their ailment whenever anyone walked by.
Jesus did respond, and He instructed them to show themselves to the priests. It says that as they walked, they were cleansed.
The Greek word for cleansed in this passage is "katharizo," and it means "to cleanse by curing."
After they are healed, one of them recognizes that he is not leprous anymore (the Greek for healed in this passage is "iaomai" which means to be cured) and goes back to thank Jesus.
So all of them are not leprous anymore but only one has returned to thank the Lord.
Upon falling at Christ's feet, Jesus tells him to "Rise and go; your faith has made you well." (Luke 17:19)
I was intrigued by the fact that while the rest of the Greek words refer to healing of a sickness, only the leper who returns is told that he has been made well.
So what is the difference?
Actually, quite a bit.
The original meaning of the word "well" in this passage is "sozo," and it means more than a physical healing.
It means that in the Biblical sense, the man was saved.
It seems gratitude is an intimate part of our salvation. This doesn't mean that our salvation is earned by it. But it does challenge us to think about how we are living it out that gift every day.
I want to encourage all of us to fall at His feet in gratitude, if for no other reason than that we are "sozo." Loved from before the beginning of time.
Let's be like the leper who returns in shameless gratitude, spilling out our thanks as we lay at His feet.
After all, He has made us well.
Speaking of Angie, her book is coming. Have you preordered it yet? I have. It's called I Will Carry You: The Sacred Dance of Grief and Joy. So. Excited!
And one last thing... her latest blog post brought me to tears... Permission to Hope. Start from the beginning of her story over at her blog if you're unfamiliar. In a nutshell, she has three beautiful little girls and when she was pregnant with the fourth, they found out she might not live until birth. She ended up living for a couple of hours and they named her and loved her and then lost her. Angie is pregnant again, and here's the highlights of what inspired me and quite honestly, resounded in my heart and soul because I've been there... I hope her words can touch you too.
It has been really difficult to go through this again, and I really covet your prayers as we face our fears. I know that the Lord is trustworthy and that I can believe in His goodness but it's not easy. Yesterday I spent a long while crying on my closet floor as I processed the fact that I need to pull out my maternity clothes again. I think I am reliving things in a new way as I sort through the things I wore with Audrey, tucked away in a corner I haven't really faced. I have the kind of memory that can smell perfume across the room and remember sitting next to my third grade piano teacher while pounding out a horrific version of the love theme from Romeo and Juliet. She said I was really good.
She lied.
Turns out she was in love with my father (yes, we let her go shortly after gifts starting arriving for him...my mom was not about to eat the cake she sent). That was my last attempt at piano, and I assure you that the human race is better for it.
I remember little things people have said, the way hospital soap fills a room with anxiety, the exact expression Todd had on his face when he told me he loved me for the first time. It's locked away in a little vault that opens with trigger points in my life.
Unfortunately, trigonometry, driving directions, and Spanish never made it into the vault.
I honestly feel like that's one of the reasons I love to write so much. It can get all tangled out and if I can just get it on paper it unravels a little and helps me connect the dots. The hard part about that is that I can't run from it when it's right in front of me. I have to dig around in my closet, past the wedding dress, past the girl's linen dresses, and into the corner I have not wanted to face. I opened a vacuum-sealed bag of maternity clothes yesterday and I could feel her again. I screamed at God because I wanted her back so badly I ached. Todd came and found me there, face-down in my pain, clothes spilled all around me.
"This is the sweater I was wearing when we found out. This is the shirt I almost returned because we got her diagnosis and I knew I wouldn't ever be big enough to wear it. This is a nursing gown I never got to wear, this is the dress I bought for the photography session..."
They are just clothes, I know.
But they were a part of my life with her.
I needed to have a little meltdown. I've been moving along as if I could get through it without feeling this, and I can't. I'm just not going to bother to try anymore because it isn't going away. I really want you all to know that I have struggled in my walk recently. It isn't that I don't believe or trust in the Lord. I do. I just haven't been as disciplined as I should be with my quiet times and spending time in the Word. It isn't like me to retreat so much, and I finally realized yesterday that there was a part of me that just felt like going it alone because the last time He let me down.
Is it false thinking? Absolutely. No question Satan wants me to be convinced that I am better off on my own, trusting that doctors and logic will sustain me. I confessed this to the Lord, and I confess it to you all. Many times I have shared about my spiritual life, urging you all to be disciplined and faithful, and I owe it to you to tell you that I have just not been there in the last several weeks.
Truthfully, I have not felt permission from the Lord to write on the blog because I knew there was a disconnect between what I wanted to say to you and what I felt. I know He wanted me to focus on Him, and sometimes that means stepping away to get my priorities in check. I don't want a ministry if I'm being hypocritical or false. So, all that to say, I am working to get back in my groove... :)
I want to believe that this time is different, and I do feel a peace about everything. The night before my first appointment (I even switched doctors because it was so hard to think about going back to mine) I started letting my thoughts get away from me. I pictured the room, the gel, the screen. My heart was pounding and I pleaded with the Lord to give me a sign of hope. Lord, you don't have to tell me the baby will be fine, and I don't expect you to. But would you just let me know You are there? That you haven't let go of me?
There was a time of great hope during my pregnancy with Audrey, when an ultrasound seemed to conflict with her diagnosis. A few weeks after we learned she wouldn't survive we were surprised to see that many of her original diagnoses were not what they thought. That evening we went out to dinner for my nephew's birthday and I photographed Kate asleep with a balloon in her hand. I posted the picture and said that when I saw her I knew that we were doing the same thing; against all odds, we were holding on to hope. I actually wrote about this event in my book because it was such a pivotal moment for me, and the picture of Kate is featured in that chapter. It was a symbol that the Lord used to remind me that He was with us and that we had permission to hope.
When the sweet technician did my scan a few weeks ago, she had the screen turned away from me. Todd could see it and he was trying to make out what was happening. We knew it might be a little early to see a heartbeat so I had prepared myself that we might not get that reassurance. Just after she started, she said "148 beats a minute!"
Oh, Jesus. Thank you. Thank you.
She continued to look at the screen while I looked at Todd. All of a sudden she giggled a little under her breath.
"Well I can't say I've ever seen that before! That is so funny. Look at this, Angie."
She started to turn the monitor as her words filled the gap in the room. She shook her head warmly and continued, having no idea how it would bless me.
"It looks like the baby is holding a balloon."
I stared at her and then I took a look for myself and indeed, it was uncanny. I felt a peace come over me when I saw it because I knew He had done it for me. He hasn't forgotten how much it hurt me and He knew I would understand Him. I felt my eyes get hot as I thanked Him for letting me sense Him so strongly in a moment I needed to believe He was there.
She repeated herself and I nodded.
He isn't so big that He can't find His way into an exam room. I couldn't wipe the smile off my face as I agreed with her.
"It does look like the baby is holding a balloon."
I let out a 2 years-long sigh and finished the sentence in my head.
And so are we, Lord...
So are we.
Amazing, no? These words touched my heart because I, too, get attached to smells and items and anything. The smell of certain plastics immediately take me to the operating room. Putting on a hospital gown for an MRI sends my mind to laying in a hopsital bed, 9 years old, watching the rain fall out the window. I can't wear certain items of clothing because of the grief I felt in that shirt or with that bag. I can't drive by certain places without chills shuddering up and down my spine. Certain songs take me to the times I have been laying on the floor screaming at God or curled up in a ball in my closet, sobbing into a pile of clothes, struggling to catch my breath. I have meltdowns all the time... usually in a longing dispair for what isn't, what cannot be. But you know what? God has been there every single day through all of it, and He's been beside me through every hard time, to see each tear fall.
He was there about a month ago when I had just failed a nursing paper, I was in over my head in school and life, and Jonathan was taking a class that made him only come over a couple times a week. (He's usually here every day.) Then, I had a day of appointments. A new pain psychologist helped me realize some things. The appointment was a good three hours long and just emotionally draining. I need to get my life down to a quota, not stress my tolerance. She told me that my pain - physical and emotional - is always going to be there. If I do less to handle it, if I am deconditioned, the painful thing or the physical pain is just going to hurt more. She told me to take pain out of the equation and no longer make pain the determinant of what I do or don't do. She told me life is like an airplane and said my life is turbulant, and the plane is coming down. She asked me what to do when the life masks pop down from the plane ceiling. All of a sudden the light bulb went on. I remember exactly the soft tone of voice I had when I slowly said, "I put mine on first before I help others." That was it. I'm killing myself trying to save the world when my own "life mask" isn't on. And then I saw my liver doctor, which is usually emotionally painful. She's told me in the past that she had a patient with my condition, and after she got pregnant, she advised her to abort the fetus because the pregnancy and birth would kill her. That has always stuck with me, but this particular day, we discussed the genetics of my disease and how it's thought - although no one knows to what extent or how - to be somehow genetically composed. She said my children would have a small chance of having liver problems, and even my sister's children or if my mom would to have more children, were to be slightly at risk. So then of course, I immediately feel guilty for tainting my entire family's offspring (even though no such offspring exist), and I also start getting sick to my stomach because although I'd risk my life to carry a baby and bring her into the world, even a small chance of passing on this hell I've lived through is without question just not going to happen. I would never, ever wish this on anyone, God forbid my own children.
So an hour long drive home got my mind in a mess of stress and fear and exhaustion and something set me off later that evening (no idea what...) and I literally went into a crying hysteria that lasted about 3 hours. It went into a full blown nervous breakdown. My mom came into my room twice to try to calm me down, and I know it upset her to see me like that, but I guess that's what moms do best. Eventually I texted Jonathan who was in his class and told him to come over ASAP because it was an emergency. I'd never in a million years ask him to do that, but I knew if I didn't get my strength to me soon, if I couldn't sob in the only arms who could stop the tears, I wouldn't get out of this fit that was suffocating me and stabbing knives in my stomach. I'm not even sure I should type these next words because it makes me look so lame and pathetic, but when I'm at my absolute worst and cannot find the words to talk to God, his arms are just a little longer to reach God and bring Him to me. Jonathan connects me to my hope, and until I'm strong enough to hope on my own and learn to trust God just a little better... until my crippled legs straighten and my broken hands heal, he's the only one who can pick up my broken pieces and place them in God's hands.
That's what true love is, and that is what the grace of God means to me.
How thankful are we for the love of God, the grace of God, the mercy He has for His broken ones. He wants us to hope in Him. Even if we don't feel like hoping anymore, even if we can't see the hope. It's there. Hope is a powerful, powerful thing.
Well yayyyy for me! I scored impressively high on the Post-traumatic Stress Disorder indexing test!
Yes, I'm thrilled, aren't you?
Riiiiight.
See, I knew it all along. I knew living through the hell I lived through for most of my childhood could not possibly leave me untouched. I see the scars every day. So almost two weeks ago, when my new way-better-than-the-old-one therapist double checked her math and told me the thrilling news, I guess I didn't even care.
It's like, Tell me something I don't know, right?
But let's forget about me for awhile. There is something dynamic about childhood stress (specifically life-threatening illness-induced stress) and trauma. I love to research it and the more I learn, the more I realize that the field is relatively untouched. The more I realize that these are the things that have molded me into who I am today. The more I understand, yet at the same time? The more I fear.
What is PTSD?
Post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) is real. It's deeper than living though daily memories of some vicious trauma in your past. It's more than a remembrance. It's a consistent dwelling, something that haunts you every second of every day. It's a ghost that refuses to leave, a gripping fear that never lets go. It's flashbacks, nightmares, behaviors, anxieties, ideas, and much more than just the normal growth through grief or the decision that something was a bad memory but is now over.
Traumatized Troops
The federal government pours billions of dollars into treating (and researching) returning troops with PTSD. If you pay even a little bit of attention to the news, you probably have heard how the soldiers come back with wounds far deeper than their physical battle scars. It's awful. Thankfully for them though, the government is involved in an almost guilty way, so they will not deny their cause.
Traumatized citizens... and more specifically?
The little soldiers who live to tell
But anyone in medicine knows that research is miniscule without funding. Any new findings are futile unless grants are in place. So PTSD victims with torments from rape? Child abuse? Mass trauma? That's where the funding lacks. We are at the mercy of the findings of the soldiers' cases. We sick kids who grow up? In the past, most of us didn't live to tell our stories. Many still don't. But those of us who do? I guess we stay silent.
There is so much unknown about these precious children who do live through their illness, cope with it, and manage (healthily or not) the scars. I'm motivated and we'll see where this interest takes me and my career. There are people out there who need help. There are kids who are going to outlive any stats from when I was their age. Medicine is getting so advanced and as a result, capable of saving so many children. Because so many more kids are living, I really think there is going to be a huge increase in pediatric illness-initiated PTSD, whether it appears in childhood or lasts (or recurs ) in adulthood. I'm excited about this.
But on the other hand, I'm petrified.
To find out why, please let me first share what I know with you. I know all of this from my life and from hours and hours of research and talking to any doctor who would listen... So here goes...
Children coping with their illness
Powerful influences on perception, development & adulthood
Children are fascinating. Remember, especially at a young age, children cannot process their perceptions like you or I could as an adult. They take things at face value and notice things you or I would never even think about. They "feel" a little deeper. Their innocence is still beautifully intact. To many of them, the world knows no pain.
Then bring in a trauma. Abuse. Molestation. Observing domestic abuse. The sights. The sounds. The pain. It hurts inside and outside. Why? A 4 year old little girl doesn't know. She just know it hurts. Pain is pain, and when she's a child, pain is fear. Pain scars just a little deeper. Instead of losing her innocence little by little, it's ripped apart prematurely - not minding that her skin hasn't had the chance to toughen up yet. It's raw. It bleeds. And it happens all at once, leaving her so vulnerable to the same elements that the other kids can handle with relative ease.
The little girl moves on and assumes this is how life is supposed to be. After all, she knows no difference.
Fast forward a little and she realizes, Wait a minute. Nobody else is like this. I'm not normal. All my friends at school don't have to do this. They don't cry all night long. They don't go to the hospital. Their daddies aren't in jail. Their arms aren't bruised. Whatever the case is, her comfortable standard of normalcy is now in flux. The little mind cannot understand. It notices, it observes, it questions, but it cannot understand.
You know how children constantly ask questions and want to know why this, why that? Well this is no exception. Why am I different? Why do I have to deal with this?Their new realization spurs a cascade of questions. Of course, we all know there are no answers, but children need answers. It's instinct. So they make their own. It's my fault. It's Mommy's fault. It's God's fault. It's SOMEONE'S fault. Things can't just "happen" - little minds don't understand how to accept the unknown as an answer.
And then there's the whole fairness thing. "Why" and "It's not fair!" are little kids' favorite things in the world to say. Alllll day long. It's right or wrong, fair or unfair. These little fighters are no different. They have the same questions, only their same questions mean just a little bit more than the exact same words from the "other" kids...
I could go on forever, and sometime I probably will, but that's just a little intro of how PTSD impacts children.
What about me? An intro to my journey...
So, at the raw age of 5, chronic illness came and robbed me of a childhood I never knew and left me with memories I couldn't overcome.
Fast forward to today.
I've been "officially" diagnosed with PTSD even though as I said, it is really no surprise.
Pretend you have a huge cut and you neglect to go to the hospital and get it stitched up. It may get infected, heal wrong, or leave a larger scar than if it were carefully mended. Now imagine a hurting child. When she doesn't experience immediate therapeutic interventions, her emotional wounds don't heal correctly. Harmful ideals are pursued and wrong thought processes are established.
16 years of that can sure do a lot of harm. I'm haunted day and night, and I deal with fears I cannot defeat. Things press so hard that I can't shake them. Rumination, nightmares, anxiety over simple things... I see it every single day. Additionally, working in the very place that used to send me into fits (the h-o-s-p-i-t-a-l... too bad I was a good speller at that age...) isn't necessarily easy. Far from it.
I came to a decision that if I ever wanted to get some peace, I wouldn't be able to do it on my own. I've watched myself spiral downward and the oppression has become too much to bear. The panic attacks and nervous breakdowns have gotten past the point of ridiculous and I'm so weak. My defenses are down - nothing can hurt me any more than I have already experienced, so a month or two ago, my thought was, why not try whatever I can? I have nothing to lose.
Since my previous therapist wasn't helping one bit, I did something courageous. I picked up the phone and called what I had researched and decided to be the best option in my area. They paired me with a new therapist in their practice who is absolutely amazing. We are a lot alike and she intuitively knows my strengths and weaknesses. She's so friendly and encouraging, and being ever-so-careful with my scars and broken parts, she is leading me on a path to wellness.
Tomorrow is my third visit to her, and we are officially beginning one of the hardest yet most effective PTSD treatments: Prolonged Exposure Therapy.
Prolonged Exposure Therapy
Imagine it's winter time. For some odd reason, you are determined to go swimming. You can inch into the water slowwwwly because it's soooooo cold and the icy water is so painful, or you can jump right in, and feel indescribably miserable for just a few seconds.
Yep, it's kind of like that.
I can go through therapy forever and gradually get better, or, with Exposure Therapy, I can go through a few months of intense treatment where I consistently force myself to face my fears, "triggers," memories, etc. (in a "safe" environment) until they become less threatening.
I'll tell you more about it later because of course, there is so much to it, but for now, just think of me as tomorrow, I start what will be a really hard, but hopefully really rewarding journey.
Here I go...
I'm serious about this. Scared out of my mind? Yes. But I keep reminding myself that I'm no stranger to fear, new things, and definitely pain... so I think I'll be okay.
It's time to face my past.
It will always be a part of me, but I must realize that it lacks the power to threaten me.
After all, I am determined, and I am telling you right now, once and for all: I cannot and will not fail.
Will you come along?
I invite you to join me on my journey not out of pity or lack of things to blog about. (Quite the contrary...) I'm a private person but I've spent 16 years mostly hiding this part of my life, and I realize that I need to overcome all traces of denial and any feeling of inadequacy and shame. Secondly, maybe there is someone out there who can be strengthened by my journey or inspired to start their own. And lastly? Because we're all in this crazy miracle together.
And alas, I have been tagged by my blogging buddy (check her fab blog out here)... SO, It's the 10-for-10 Meme, and all you have to do is come up with 10 random/funny/serious/whatever facts about yourself. Or list 10 favorite whatevers. Or just do 10 something. Or whatever. It's still summer, so be crazy and do whatever is FUN for you!
I'm supposed to tag 10 people, but instead, I'm tagging 5 and then anyone who wants to participate, jump right in, k? Lurkers.... I know you're out there, and here's your chance! So whoever wants to join in, go right ahead and don't forget to share your link in the comments so we can head over and check it out!
I officially tag.... (ahem ahem)
1. My fiance, Jonathan because he likes to neglect his blog (and it's sad because he's so amazing, or well, at least I think so!)
2. Kevin (Jonathan's hilarious friend who just made a blog last week - shall we show him some love?)
3. Monique (cuz she just opened an Etsy store that you MUST check out, keeps a wonderful blog, annnd, she's an OFFICIAL nurse now - she just passed her boards!! Yay!)
4. Jenn, who not only shares the most fab scrapbooking ideas but God's used her to encourage me through some very difficult times (one of these days we'll get our coffee, k buddy??)
5. Stephanie who she has a bunch of internet-ish tips and tricks on her site (plus she's fun, and she sure knows how to pick her guest posters because yours truly will be having some fun there in a couple weeks. :)
K, onto my 10 things... I have no idea where I'm going with this one, so yes, even I am a wee bit scared! ;-)
~1~
My sister is going away to college in about 1 1/2 weeks. She may only be 2 years younger, but she's still that baby sister who I've grown up to love and protect, and sure, "away" is only 1/2hr south of here so I will still see her sometimes, but still. Big sister is sad. Ya got that, little sister?
~2~
One of my pet peeves is having a messy desktop. My primary computer is my iMac (even though I still use my old, trust PowerBook G4 for school!) and I prefer 1 icon on the desktop, and 1 icon only. The hard drive. Every now and then, I'll have a folder on the desktop of a project I'm real heavy into, but other than that, if my desktop is cluttered, my mind feels cluttered. Can you guess what's been driving me nuts all day?? Is anyone else like that?
~3~
I can easily get interested in just about anything. Once I'm into it, I can't stop. I love how wide my interests range, but at the same time (I feel guilty for admitting this) I wish I loved learning just a tiny bit less. I get so passionate about so many things that I can't seize them all in the capacities I wish I could. There are only 24 hours in a day... I guess that's where prioritizing comes in, but when you really enjoy everything, it's hard to prioritize. Of course, I have a few top passions, but everything else is pretty high up there as well. There's no reason for not having a full life... it's all right there.
~4~
I would seriously pay someone to take my car and get the oil changed tomorrow. It's my number one, worst-ever, do-I-seriously-have-to-do-this kind of thing. Any takers? lol Every 6 months, I push it just a few more months.... until I'm scared my car will explode or whatever happens when you don't get your oil changed. Then I take it in and wait. Every time, they promise it will take 15 minutes. Every time, I seriously think I'm there 4 1/2 hours. One time I really was there over an hour, but that's another story...
~5~
I am currently missing a couple things (a picture hanging thing and some cute magnets I got on etsy) that were on my desk last night. How that happens, I'm not sure. My desk is actually clean, too. Do things ever run away from you even when you know you didn't move them and they weren't in a big pile or a mess or anything? Frustrating!
~6~ There's so many great things about growing up, but I miss being younger. I miss the days when my friends and I could get together anytime because no one ever had to work. I miss the childhood oblivion regarding money and dreams and justice and simple kindness and acceptance. And on a personal note, I just miss the life I had before the scars, before the nightmares. I hope after college, after marriage, it all gets better again. Well, maybe that's comparing apples to oranges. So maybe not better. Maybe good in a totally different kind of way. Not sure. Guess you'll have to stay tuned.
~7~
I just hung 4 new pieces of art on my wall just because I love love LOVE colors and mediums and interpretations so much. Most of the wall space in my bedroom is pretty much covered in either art or pictures. The pictures are because, well, they nourish my soul. There's just something about seeing the love and everything else that goes with your friends and family and memories just by glancing at a photo. As for the artwork, I'm huge on original Etsy pieces. Every single piece has some kind of significant meaning to me. I'm funny like that - if something doesn't have a meaning - not exclusively in decor either but really in a lot of things, I have a hard time bringing it into my life. Never really thought about that till now. Crazy meme has me all deep thinking, look at that. Ha... I should show you pictures of my pictures sometime, especially my custom painting I had done of my princess Haylie :)
~8~
I so want to lay in bed and watch a movie but I know if I do that, I'd only fall asleep. And to think it's barely past 11pm. That means I got up too early this morning. It was for a good cause though. My dad was having iPhone troubles on his work PC. I think everyone should just get a Mac, and then everyone would be much better off. Especially people without technologically savvy 20-something daughters. I can't even im agine what my poor parents would do without us...
~9~
Funny story? (That could easily turn wayyy NOT funny??) I turned 21 on August 2 and since the BMV doesn't accept credit cards, I never did get my license renewed (I tried - I actually went there and everything!) so I have to go back with cash or a check but I keep putting it off (bad!), so if I get arrested or something, well, you'll know what happened. I'm just determined to look nice for this picture because for my under-21 license I looked like a really short marshmallow in the picture (just fyi, I DID look cute on my temps license, go figure) but anyways, I vowed that the 21 license will not be all messed up. Even my hospital ID badges for work and clinical have great pics on them, something just happened with the last license....
~10~
Leaving on vacay in a few days. Just a short trip. And no you can't stalk me because I'm not telling you where I'm going, but I will be blogging once I get there!! (That's the plan at least...) And no, you can't come rob my house because I have someone super fabulous who is going to sleep in my super fun girly room and stay with my baby puppies to love them and snuggle them and make sure they are treated just like the perfect little princess they are (ahem ahem, fiance.... lol) And I'm trying to get puppy playdates in order during the day as well. And we have a fancy alarm system. So yes, creepy internet people who are supposedly out there somewhere (not my lovely bloggy peeps, duh, you guys are awesome!), even though you DONT know where I live... I'm just making my point. Have fun breaking in because my house is definitely going to be occupied in a loud fun party kind of way. (No, fiance, no. No fun without me!)
Oh yes, I just thought of one more, can I please do an 11th?
~11~
I DO NOT want to leave my fiance. :(
3rd time we've been apart since we got engaged.
So sad. Glad it's only for a few days though. :)
Anyone come up with that billion dollars so we can get married yet? ;-)
Annnnd before I sign off for the evening...
I have a lot of posting to catch up on, pics to share, etc. Just finished my summer classes, trying to get ready for vacay, hopefully after that I can get back on a normal regular posting schedule... blah blah blah. New things in the works, ideas.... It's all in my head, I just have to get it all going. And most importantly, I should be writing more. My therapist would not be proud. Shame on me. I do enjoy it though too - I've always been a writer. Oh well, look at that, neglecting "me time," - I'm gonna get it from my therapist for that too. So lack of therapeutic writing AND lack of me time. Ahh, well, practice right? Rome wasn't built in a day. So I'm still working on it.... Hopefully on vacation I can get some practice in. Key word, Hopefully. Afterall, this family of mine is known for my father's "whirlwind vacations"..... yes, stay tuned. This oughtta be good. :)
*be blessed*
