Jsack's Mom's Blog

Welcome to my blog where I share my special needs parenting journey with my heart, truth, and love, one story at a time. ❤️

In the mind of an artist

I love to write, sing, dance, and act and have a great appreciation for art. These are my passions in life, and when I feel a blog coming on I write it out as fast possible. Before the idea dissipates in the air, like moonbeams on a still star encrusted night. When I feel a block and want to write so badly but the ideas just don’t appear, I look at art. The emotions of the artist, the medium, and the subject they chose all speak to me. I’m empathic so I feel these things very strongly. And they open up the block and the words start flowing. So today I’d like to introduce you to an amazing artist friend of mine named Amanda Deshane of Deshay Designs. So I decided to interview her to give you a glimpse into the mind of an artist.


*All images courteousy of Amanda Deshane and found at http://www.colourfulmindsart.com*
Q- When did you discover you had a talent for art?

A- I discovered I had a talent for art when I was 13. Although I had been working with mediums like clay, paper mâché, crayons, and felts since I was really young, at 5 years old.

Q- Did you ever study professionally, or is this God given talent?

A- I’m mostly self taught, creating art has always seemed effortless and natural to me. For me, it’s like breathing or knowing a second language.

Q- What are your strengths and weaknesses in life? And how do you apply these to your art?

A- My strengths are perseverance and the ability to have a greater empathy for others. I’m intuitive, so I understand people, situations, and animals. Sometimes on levels that other people don’t. That being said, my weakness is caring sometimes too much. As this can open up a world of hurt for me. I apply these attributes to my art, by portraying my empathy towards my subjects. By telling people’s stories and relationships between them and animals in my work.

Q- What other talents do you have?

A- I would say I’m multi-talented. I weave baskets, paint in acrylic, water colours, work with ink, and use pointillism techniques. I also use clay, paper machee, and wood carving. One of my greatest accomplishments was building a paper mâché town for my son! I’m also working on writing and illustrating a children’s book.

Q- Excellent! Can you explain what pointillism technique is? I had never heard of it until I seen your work.

A- Pointillism is a technique where an artist uses dots to form a picture. Hatching is when an artists uses lines to form a picture. I use both these techniques, each piece takes 30-150 hours to complete. It’s a labor of love, that’s for sure!

Q- What brings you joy in your life? And how is that portrayed in your art work?

A- Joyful things in my life are my son, family, and friends. I’m a single Mom and I’m raising him to believe he can accomplish anything he puts his mind to! I think it’s important to lead by example as I follow my dreams. I love my family and friends for who they truly are, with no judgements. I show that daily with laughter, love, and support.

Q- What’s your favourite medium to work with out of ink, acrylics, oil, water colours, charcoal or pastels?

A- My favourite medium to work with is ink. It’s not forgiving if I make a mistake, but it’s amazing when a piece is complete.

Q- What are your likes and dislikes to forms of art, music, and books?

A- I love art history, although Van Gough’s story of being famous for chopping his ear off to give to a prostitute was scary, when I was younger! It made me fear that all artists eventually go insane. As I matured, I realized I’m as sane as it gets. I love Celtic music, and my favourite band’s Creed, and so many more! Anything but rap, I love books too. I have my own library in my house with autobiographies, spiritual, religious, history, self help/development, and action. I have to read, to escape my over thinking mind since I have ADHD. Science has proven ADHD minds are highly intelligent. As their brains operate faster than the average brain.

Q- What inspires and influences you as an artist?

A- I’m inspired by my relationship with my son. He is my world and very creative himself. As long as an idea has a higher meaning or purpose that inspires me! My influences are art, music, literature, and spirituality.

Q- What motivates you to create your art?

A- I’m motivated by wanting to make a difference with my art. And hopefully make a living at it at the same time! I’m currently working on a women warrior series done in ink. It’ll be a showcasing of 15 women warriors and throughout history and modern day. I believe that throughout history women have forgotten their own power. Our stories are important, thus the project idea.

Q- Is there any other passions in your life besides your art?

A- My passions in life are my son, morals, values, art, spiritual beliefs, and loving others.

So there you have it folks my honest, deep thinking, amazing, artistically talented friend Amanda. She specializes in custom portraits of people, animals, and tattoo designs. And also has a line of gift cards and prints available.

You can contact her on Facebook https://m.facebook.com/DeshayDesignArt, http://deshaydesignart.weebly.com/ and a graywool@live.com

She accepts Paypal, e-transfer as methods of payment.




Thank you for stopping by to see who inspires me, smooches. 😘


Dragon slayer of depression and anxiety.

I’ve lived with anxiety for most of my life. It started when I was 4 when my parents separated. I lived with my Mom and sister and had visitations with my Dad and his new family. I struggled to make sense of the situation and developed anxiety over it. I seen, heard, and was exposed to things that a young child shouldn’t have to witness. There was fighting, crying, drinking, and drugs. To cope I began climbing. I would climb out my bedroom window and climb on top of my house. I’d climb up onto my Mom’s piano or the porch of our home. You could find me climbing trees, buildings, and on top of vehicles. The higher up in the air I was, the better I felt. I was a happy child, I had my Mom and Dad and a family that loved me. And I also had heartbreaking, gut wrenching, debilitating anxiety. Even back then at the young and tender age, I felt lonely in a crowded room. In my elementary school years I did my best to cope and hide my anxiety. I’d be out on the playground climbing the highest structure, while the teachers would be trying to convince to come down. I made great friendships back then, but I did everything I could not to show my fears. Even in my teenage years I knew something wasn’t quite right with me and my view point on life. So I did what every other teenager did and went into therapy. I discovered things about myself that encouraged, and yes even scared me. I didn’t like large crowds so I tended to avoid that. As it was one of my triggers for running away. When I got older I survived being bullied and skipping out of school to avoid the mob mentality. I even had a teacher side with my bully, when he’d come up with a particular insult for me. In turn I threatened that teacher, that I’d get them fired if he didn’t deal with the situation. I got into fist fights and ended up in the principals office. I had been suspended and then my Mom chose to withdraw me from my nightmare. My high school years brought me to a new school. And finally I could escape the constant pain and harassment. I was glad to leave that school behind but the memories followed me and haunted me. I had a great existence in that new school. And yet I was still struggling with the depression I was in for a year. I went through the motions in life and turned to alcohol and late night partying. The stress of high school life proved to be too much for me to handle. So I found drinking as a way to cope. Plus no one knew I was anxious when I was life of the party. I could dance, sing, and do anything when I had liquid courage. My bully ended up attending the same school the following year. At first the fear of having to endure all the embarrassment and humiliation all over again, came back to me in waves. And I’d have panic attacks and frighten my poor Mom and Grandparents. A strange thing happened though I made a lot of friends and my bully never even talked to me. I’d talk to my Mom and Gram about it and they’d say he’s a small fish in a big pond. And due to my popularity I had become the whale in that ocean. In my senior years I moved to a large city and attended yet another new school. I needed to stop my partying and buckle down and take school seriously. So I chose to move in with my older sibling and his family. I lasted a year there as my depression took me into a funk that was hard to shake. I was 16 years old and I was too young to feel this sad and homesick. I dated a few guys and made some friends but I always felt like I was living some lie. What would everyone think of me if they knew what thoughts were running through my head. I never did try to self harm with cutting, I wasn’t numb from the pain. My problem was I felt it so deeply that I cried every single day. I decided to come back home for my graduation year to be with my friends. I got a second chance to make things right with my family so I took it. There was trial and tribulations as well as I went back and forth between my parents and Grandparents homes. And I ended up with my boyfriend (now husband) and he protected from life’s cruel storms. He loved me, and loving him gave me a break from my constant anxiety. I graduated and went to college and we moved into together. We started a new life in a new town which led to marriage and our amazing sons. I have to laugh though, because my first instinct was to climb when I was in labor with them! The more things change, the more they stay the same. I have survived Postpartum depression twice and the deaths of my Grandparents, parents, and step sister. I have struggled with depression, anxiety, and grief for many years and yet I’m still here. I have begun to take the steps to look after myself. I meditate, do yoga, and eat more healthy. I’m not on any medication anymore as a personal choice. And choose now to heal myself spiritually and nutritionally. I have a strong faith in God and that has carried me through the dark nights of my soul. I have a great support network and I have come to terms with the fact I’m not my past. I don’t need to go back to it because I don’t live there anymore. And most importantly I have begun to slay that dragon of depression that has taken so many years of my life, happiness, love, and self worth. If telling my story begins to open a door for communication, or help someone heal then it’s all been worth it. Keep on fighting the good fight brave and courageous souls. I know I will, because it’s not the destination that matters, it’s the journey. ❤️



I’ve been in denial a lot of my life. I’ve denied that got scared and couldn’t learn how to spell my name in Kindergarten. I remember trying to to be taught through family. Unfortunately there wasn’t a lot of patience in my learning outcome. I can go back in my memory bank and see myself as a little precocious 5 year old, who couldn’t sit still. I wanted to sing, dance, and climb because it helped me think better. I would stand at the blackboard with my teacher and look up at the alphabet train seeking inspiration. I’ve denied that I felt weak and small when I was bullied as I child. The bigger the world around me appeared, the smaller and more insecure I felt. I have denied that there was anything wrong with me when that world appeared to be too bright, loud, busy, and overwhelming. I denied that I was scared and anxious whenever I’d see large crowds of people in a room. I always thought someone would take me away and kidnap me. I grew up denying I could see things like spirits and auras because I didn’t want anyone to think I was too different, and weird. I remember telling a friend who was upset about her Grandpa dying that she wasn’t alone. She was so sad about it, that I told her he was there beside her holding her hand. She got so upset instead of feeling better with this knowledge, and ran home to tell her parents. After I was questioned about what I said, I denied I could see anything. I just wanted to comfort my friend when she was in pain. I have denied that I allowed people to treat me unkindly and thought if I did and said more, they would do the same. I denied that rambunctious boys that grew into horny men just wanted one thing from me and it wasn’t my smile! I lived in denial that I’ve suffered from anxiety from knowing, seeing, and feeling too much. Some people are easier to read than others and some vibrations come through so strong they’re like a homing beacon to me! Denial is no way to live. It causes anxiety, depression, and hurts you emotionally, physically, and mentally. It can cause you to lose your true authentic self and try to mold yourself, into who you think people want you to be. Something happened to me when I turned the big 40, I didn’t want to live in denial anymore. It was an eye opening age, where I couldn’t tolerate the lies my ego would tell me, or deny that I was a slave to it. I wanted to live my truth, make no apologies, and finally be free from all the pain, frustration, and remorse. I believe if you don’t walk the walk, then you’re all talk. And that dogma is so bad and destructive to your soul. So here I am taking each day as learning experiences instead of failures. Facing my challenges head on and becoming a dragon slayer to my fears and anxieties. I’ve grown tired of the self doubt, constant questioning, and negative tapes of “I’m not good enough” playing in my mind. We only have one life, many ambitious dreams, inspiration, and the potential to make them happen. And I’m going to be living them authentically and denial free. Who’s with me? Maybe we could start a rock band. 😃

Today’s Sunday confession brought to you by the brilliant http://www.morethancheeseandbeer.com. Check out her rocking blog and all the other terrifically talented bloggers that link up.




As I sit here listening to the ticking of the clock I contemplate all the changes in my life. It all started when I was born,,I came along the last of 6 kids and changed my sister’s life. She wanted a baby brother and she named me Jimmy. When she found out I was a girl she said “take that one back to the hospital, and bring me a Jimmy.” Out of the mouth of a precocious 4 year old this sounds hilarious. Time went on and I had more changes to deal with. I was 4 now and my parents were separating. I wonder what I could do to fix things so things wouldn’t change, and why did my Dad have to leave. So I lived with my Mom and my sister during the week and had visitations with my Dad and step family on the weekends. At first it was too much change to deal with and I acted out and rebelled. Change meant adapting, change meant frustration and tears, change meant anxiety. We took many family vacations over the spring and summers. I travelled a lot of amazing places in the United States, seen a lot of wonderful things, and met some very special people. I’m Canadian so that’s par for the course, we’re a friendly bunch. I’ve never adapted well to change, it’s just so hard for me to except the sands of time carrying on, and everything changing. Elementary school was a big change for me. In Kindergarten I had to leave my Mom’s side and that was difficult. We had carved out a routine while my sister was away at school. It was only a half day so we would still had our lunch and tea parties in the afternoon. We would go for walks, sit in the field read books, or go cloud watching. I’d throw the ball for my dog Bo, as I watched him run for hours. He’d collapse in my arms and is hug him so tight.
Life was great, I entered Grade 1 and I stayed in school full time. I had made friends so I didn’t mind this change as much. I missed my Mom but I knew I would see her after school and the little girl she was babysitting. We became the best of friends and she was like my little sister. I felt grown up and important, since I rode the bus to and from school with my sister. And I learned how to read, and I loved my teacher. She made books come alive like my Mom did. With her expressions and her tone of voice when reading. I then discovered I could do that, by making the words in my mind create a story in my head. I felt incredible and invincible and I actually liked this change when the print became powerful. I entered Grade 2 and things really changed not for the better, but for the worst. My teacher was tall, loud, mean, and scary. She bullied and ridiculed me on a daily basis. She was very strict, and we had alphabetical attendance taken every morning. No talking, no laughing, just listening. Well I was chatty so I got stuck in the back of the class by her desk so I’d be quiet. I’d talk and she’d hit me on the head with her pencil. I sucked in math and she’d read out everyone’s math score alphabetically at the the of the day. Everyone that is but me, I’d hear mine last 2/20 she’d boom out the score. I’d lay my head on my desk and cry just like clockwork. Then the bell would ring and I’d be on my way home. Back to my safe place my Mom and my books. When a story, a nice cup of tea and a treat would take me away from the pain and onto my next adventure. I started math tutoring with 3 other boys from my class where I was teased and bullied. I had enough so I started fighting back. Being bullied every day I began to get very angry and very vocal. That teacher hit me, pushed me, yelled at me too many times and I took action. The next thing she knew she was in the principal’s office with my parents and my principal. She was there begging for her job while my Dad was raging over her and making her cry. He never wanted to see me hurting , and my Momma bear would do the hurting to defend her cub. The next few years were a blur as I grew up and my social skills increased, and my reading and writing skills grew stronger. I had to face another teacher who was a bully. A lot of time I would ignore her and retreat into the world I could create with my pen. I was a modern day hero writing adventures for my characters taking them on journeys I wished I could take. Over the years in school friends were made and lost, boys were discovered, young love blossomed, and hearts were broken. So much change as I grew from a young anxious child to a tough talking adolescent. No one got me hurt me anymore or I’d do the worst back. I got to Grade 8 when I was bullied again. I retreated into my books and writing as a means to escape. I wanted to become a writer and my Mom supported and encouraged me on this endeavor. With a lot of change, I left that school and those memories behind. With some bumps in the road, more changes of being the new kid, I made it through high school. I was proud to hold my diploma and go to college. After that experience I took a long distance writing course until I ran out of money. So I had to get out in the real world, find a job, and a place to live. Although this change from a cushy cared for life happened, a brave independent one took it’s place. I met and fell in love with my husband, had our precious sons and we built a life together. He likes change, he believes it keeps things new and exciting. I still don’t adapt as well to it, but I don’t fear it as much as I did in the past. In the nearly 9 years of our marriage we’ve moved 4 times for his career. And here I am, yet again the new kid on the block. But there’s also a change in me, I’m an adult and I’m brave and courageous. And I now see my daily life as an adventure instead of a challenge I must conquer. I’m becoming stronger, perusing my love of writing again, and becoming like my characters I wrote about so long ago. And I really love this change, this new me, I’m discovering in life and in print. Thank you for supporting me on this amazing journey. Cheers and hugs to all of you brave souls that are following along. 💓

Today’s Sunday confession brought to you by a very special lady http://www.morethancheeseandbeer.com
Show your support for her blog and all the other brave and beautiful bloggers that link up. Thank you. 😃


Goodbyes are always final

Well here I sit waiting to write, when I feel emotional it’s almost a compulsion to get the words out of my head. Last night I sat down to watch the news with my family which isn’t something I ever do. But last night was an exception as my hometown was being featured on Global news. There will more about that in a future blog, as I’m still gathering information before I write it. As I waited for the broadcast to start there was breaking news of actor, comedian, and philanthropist Robin Williams death from an apparent suicide. I was transfixed hearing that, at first I thought I didn’t hear it correctly, he was only 63 was what raged in my head. Then it really hit me like a ton of bricks, he’s really dead and we were going to watch Mrs. Doubtfire for our family movie night. In the early 80’s a young and up and coming actor Robin Williams burst onto the scene as the character Mork from York on the tv sitcom Mork and Mindy. He captured my heart as the beloved alien and I constantly ran around the house driving my sister crazy saying “Nanu nanu!” I also owned the Mork action figure complete with his egg shaped space craft. His comedic talent, lovable laughter, and infectious smile made me want to be an actress. I think that’s the first time I’ve ever told that to anyone before. His zany personality and comedic timing on Robin Williams live at the Improv is one of my favorite acts to YouTube. If you haven’t seen it I highly recommend you do, it’s a game changer. And the cause of his death the coroner has ruled as suicide, due to asphyxiation. I take suicide very seriously, as it’s touched my life and the life of my family. My step sister was going through a lot of pain and turmoil while dealing with my Dad’s cancer diagnosis and eventually his death. She was his care giver, his confidant, and the one he sat up with late at night and they drank honey tea. I was glad she could be there for my Dad when I couldn’t be due to the location I was living in. She was so lost when he died and she told me that. I reached out and tried to help her, but she wanted to help me with my grief. She took precious time to tell me how much my Dad loved me and how proud he was of me. She said he stayed up at night and listened to a recording of me singing on repeat for days. She shared how he thought I was a great Mom to my son and I was living a good life and I deserved happiness. I had made my Dad a scrapbook for his birthday of his life. I included little stories and pictures of his children, and Grandchildren and his animals. Things that I knew would mean a lot to him. It really was a labor of love and she told me how he looked through that every night before going to bed. My step sister put her grief aside to help everyone in our family with theirs, she was selfless like that. And the last thing she said to me was I’m so lost, and I told her she could be found again. It would just take time, and she was so loved. Shortly after that, a month later she took her life. I was dealing with my own grief with my Dad’s death, raising my 2 year old son, and then this devastating news rocked me to the core! I still wish I could’ve done more for her and it will always remain as the biggest regret of my life. I still miss her and occasionally dream about her. She was an angel on earth, and now she’s one in heaven. I think of her up there drinking honey tea with my Dad keeping him company like she always did. When suicide has touched my life and my family’s in the way it has, all I can feel is the heartbreaking loss when others are affected by it. And to have another family have to go through that pain, confusion, and devastation is too much bear. I offer my condolences to Robin William’s family, and to all the lives he’s touched with his talent and brilliance. And a special tribute to my sweet step sister who touched my heart and the lives of many other family and friends. Shine on sweet angel, like the beautiful star you are. ⭐️❤️

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My Sunday confession today is about sex. This was always a taboo subject in my house growing up. So I don’t talk about it very often unless A. I trust you even to babysit my kids, B. You’re my soul sister and there’s wine involved. C. I’m married to to you. 😉 My childhood story was that my Mom had 6 kids and was very Catholic so this wasn’t a family dinner discussion. Most of what I learned about sex was through my friends and of course what kids said on the playground. I knew one thing, was that my Mom wanted me to abstain and wait for marriage. Which wouldn’t result with a unwed pregnancy or STD’s. That was what she called the proverbial putting the cart before the horse. I know I wanted to make her proud so I chose to not take that route. And I also chose to make my other choices very private. She had always said she had hoped I would make the right decisions for myself and my body. She knew that she was raising me in a much different world then she was raised in. Growing up as an only child of my Grandparents, she was loved and doted on and had a very sheltered life. When my Grandpa went off to war when she was only 9 he came back 5 years later and saw she had become a teenager wearing makeup. Which took a lot for my Grandpa to wrap his head around his little girl growing up. When my Mom did start dating after high school she was what they call courted. My Grandparents had not only met her escorts but had them over for dinner as well. And during the courting ritual she went out with other couples. There was no chance of any promiscuous behavior with a car load of people! So her experience with dating and mine were so much different. She took the time to get to know my friends and only then when she was comfortable, I was allowed to date. I had only brought 2 guys home that I thought were worthy enough of my Mom and Grandparents scrutiny. As I had lived with them all during my high school years. I had heard stories of my Mom’s earlier adventures when she met my Dad, when he was driving the car on one of her many dates! Those stories, pictures, and memories written all over my Mom’s sweet face always made me smile. So when she grew to realize he was the one then the courting ritual commenced. And that love story continued on for 24 years later resulting in 6 children, multiple Grandchildren, and Great Grandchildren. My story of meeting my hubby was similar as my parents. We group dated for awhile then we got to know each other and started dating exclusively. I would say my dating journey was a lot more old fashioned then what my friends were experiencing. As some of them were hooking up with a different guy every weekend. I think today sex is treated with a caviler style where people want what they want, and they want it now. I think sex should be treated as a full course meal instead of a fast food order. It’s what today’s society projects to our today’s generation that concerns me. As today’s youth are sexually active at a much younger age even when I was I high school! And no, I’m not standing here waving my sign abstinence is best as I know everyone has a choice. I believe in today’s world there’s no sacredness to sex. I seriously can’t wrap my brain around Fifty shades obsession that’s sweeping the nation. No, I haven’t read the books or saw the movie but I’ve seen every sound bite that’s flooded the media since it’s release. So I’m not qualified to comment on what Bondage discipline dominance and submission (BDSM) culture is really about, as I’m too vanilla for that and it doesn’t float my boat. From what I do understand about Christian Grey’s character he’s a pompous ass and his mistreatment of Anastasia is deplorable. And if a guy that I was in to treated me that way I didn’t stick around. As always in life there’s choices and to each it’s own. I choose a committed relationship where I’m treated with love, respect, and cherished and to me that’s as sexy as it gets. ❤️

Today’s Sunday confession brought to you by the fantastic http://www.morethancheeseandbeer.com Check out her beautiful blog and all the other beauties that link up.

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There are times in my life where I’ve almost given up on hope. Sometimes by the skin of my teeth, but yet I held on. After the deaths of my friend who was like my brother from another Mother, my Uncle, my Dad, my step sister, and then my Mom all within the last 6 years I’ve been spiritually devastated. It was more than my mind, my heart, and my soul to handle. Then after my Mom’s death, and my baby’s premature arrival I was a physical, emotional, mental, spiritual mess. I was living on antidepressants and caring for a newborn baby and my oldest son. I had a huge void in my heart as I tried to stumble through. I was sleep deprived, stressed, and my heart was breaking when my baby was in the NICU. My baby came home eventually and my husband, myself, and our sons became this family who was making it work against all odds. Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months and slowly but surely I began to create this new normal around the void in my heart. What got me through this dark night of my soul you may ask? It was hope, I had hope that I would smile again and that my tears would stop flooding my existence. As I watched my baby growing up learning and growing, I felt the joy in watching his big brother teach him the ways of the world. Seeing my husband hold our precious babe and hug our big boy warmed my heart beyond belief. I even moved to a town by the name of Hope a year into my healing journey. I was feeling very hopeless in Hope, it’s located in the costal mountain range so it rains a lot there. The beauty of the scenery, and the friendliness of the community, and the freshness and greenery left after the rain, definitely helped a lot. Especially as the rainy days turned into a rainy season for 3 months! I shed a lot of tears, drank a lot of wine, being homesick for the life had I created before. And I was missing my friends like a piece of heart had been ripped out. There I was for the 7 long, never ending months raising my kids out of a hotel, in the process of trying to sell my house, and find a new place to call home. In Hope I struggled to find myself again. I spent a lot of tear stained days and nights as I had left my support network and didn’t know many people. I was so overwhelming lost and alone. I thank God I had my family, they’re my soft place to fall and in the end that’s all I’ll ever need. Over the 2.5 years in Hope I moved twice from the hotel to a house, and found a place to rest my head. I kept on putting my one foot in front of the other and I found an outlet for my pain. I took my oldest to school and my youngest to a play group and met some wonderful parents and the amazing teacher there. I met more people in the community and I then started acting, and creating a whole new world through the characters I portrayed. I found my voice and began to publicly sing again, I hadn’t done that since my Moms funeral. I found a love and acceptance with my theatre family and a joy that my soul was crying out for in the worst way. I began to feel confident and happy in this new me skin, so I began to dance. I was strutting my stuff learning how to burlesque which took the blues away. I began loving this sexy, free, fun loving, self I had become. My muse, and caring instructor and my loving sisters of the dance became my life line. As did my babysitter and precious friend and neighbor. And even though I had to move and say goodbye I have found hope again. Grief doesn’t have an expiry date and I will feel how I feel without apologies because of the love I shared for my loved ones. I know I went from feeling hopeless to hopeful and through this foggy haze of emotion that’s the best gift I can give myself.

Today’s Sunday confession brought to you by the terrific and talented http://www.morethancheeseandbeer.com
Check her fabulousness out as well as all the other excellent bloggers that link up. Hugs. 💓

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