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. ❤️

My blessings

10 years ago I married the love of my life. I can honestly say that no one ever gave me dancing butterflies like he does. Or make me so mad that I’m foaming at the mouth when I’m angry! It’s real deep love when after that there’s forgiveness and remorse. I have loved him since I set my eyes upon him 30 years ago. He was my goalie man and I adored him from afar and developed a raving crush on him. And here we are today celebrating 10 years with our amazing son’s, 4 job transfers, and living this wonderful life. Proving that dreams really do come true when they’re touched by love and happiness. Happy anniversary sweetheart I love you more than I did yesterday, and I will love you more tomorrow, because each day my heart grows with my love and adoration for you. I thank you for loving me and being my partner in life here’s to our future wherever it may lead us. As long as I have you and our son’s by my side I know it will an adventurous ride. I love you so much as the world just keeps on turning and we keep evolving with the love we have for each other. You’re my rock, my laughter, my love, and soft place to fall. I thank God every day I’m blessed to spend with you. ❤️
  

🎶So glad we made it, look how far we’ve come now baby.🎶

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The Tapped book Review and Blog Tour

  
I’ve been enjoying being a beta reader the last  while. This month I was able to read a book series from Stacey Grice the author of Totaled and Tapped. In the first book we’re introduced to the characters Drew and Bree. He’s an up and coming UFC fighter and he begins  training at her family’s gym and thus begins their love story. Admist tragedies and triumphs they manage to make it through as a couple together. After following their story and the trouble that befalls the main characters, I needed to read the sequel ASAP! I fell in love with the star crossed lovers and had to see what happens to them. Can they survive Drew’s past demons, will their love really heal his mind, body, and soul? Read on and find out in the next book in the series. 

  
Totaled
We begin the story with Bree and Drew still in love and maintaining their relationship despite her Father’s opposing stance on it. Drew continues training at the gym and is trying to move up the ranks of the Mixed Martial Arts world. Then one fateful night it all changes and Drew and Bree’s love story is tested to its core! I loved getting to know these characters and I was cheering for them with every positive experience, and supporting them with each negative one. I loved all the twists and turns in their journey. Just went I thought I had the story figured out there was another plot twist. Stacey Grimes weaves an exciting story line and really made me want to root for the under dog, and believe that love does conquer all. 

Available on Amazon

Kindle link Totaled available for .99 
Tapped synopsis…

Unexpectedly thrust into a whirlwind romance, Bree thought her relationship with Drew could withstand any obstacle thrown their way. Excited for the future, everything she thought she knew came crashing down in one horrible night. Forced to re-evaluate her feelings, Bree is left alone with a heavy heart and the realization that Drew’s nightmare changed everything. 

The effects of his trauma once again surfacing, Drew had no idea how volatile his actions were until it was too late. He must work to rebuild trust with everyone around him, all while participating in vigorous therapy and being separated from Bree. When a once-in-a-lifetime career opportunity presents itself with impeccably poor timing, Drew has some tough decisions ahead.

Can he heal the wounds his past has created and quiet the demons that haunt him? Can he repair the damage done with his love or will he give up? 

Discover if it’s all too much and Drew ends up…

Tapped. 

Author’s Note: Tapped is a continuation of Totaled, the first book in the Totaled series. It is highly recommended to read these books in sequential order. Due to mature content, profane language, and sexual situations, this book is recommended for ages 18 and up.

Title: TAPPED
Author: Stacey Grice
Add to  Goodreads 

Other Books: (Totaled #1)
Add to  Goodreads
Buy from: Amazon | B&N | IBooks | Kobo | CreateSpace
I am a mother, wife, Registered Nurse, avid reader, and most recently pursuing taking my own writing to the next level. I appreciate honesty but not cruelty, a wicked sense of humor, and a good cup of coffee, blond with enough creamer to coat my tongue yellow.Being an astute people watcher and having an extremely judgmental mind gives me constant inspiration for my stories. But my characters, like many authors, are conceived from actual people in my life. A hodgepodge of personality traits, real world instances, and conversations that I have directly taken part in are the foundation for my fictional world.
FACEBOOK | TWITTER | GOODREADS 

Find Stacey:

Facebook: www.facebook.com/staceygriceauthor

Tsu: https://www.tsu.co/StaceyGriceAuthor

Twitter:https://twitter.com/SGrice_Author

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/StaceyGrice

To add Tapped to your Goodreads TBR… https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/24865564-tapped

Pinterest: http://goo.gl/xwaw19

Instagram: http://goo.gl/iUUME6

 Buy Links:

Buy links for Totaled… 

Amazon: http://amzn.to/1tjNKbi

B & N: http://bit.ly/1hkjGuh

iBooks: http://bit.ly/1pLKXZ6

Kobo: http://bit.ly/1lbdN1L

CreateSpace: http://bit.ly/1peDj7h

to add on Goodreads: http://bit.ly/1nWndSx


GIVEAWAY 

Two winners: (1) a signed paperback USA only (1) $10.00 Amazon GC

giveaway code: a Rafflecopter giveaway

directlink: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/share-code/ZjZkYWNmMmY3NzQwYzczNWIzY2RlN2IyYWI0OGJiOjE3MQ==/?

EXCERPT: 

Something told me to walk around to the back and my legs took me. I followed the skinny path within the dunes and sea oats on the side of his house until he came into view. Standing with his back to me, he watched the water as the sun rose higher and higher above the horizon, the colors beautifully framing his silhouette. He turned his head ever so slightly, I guess sensing that I was there, and then turned around completely. 

I froze. 

I was unable to take another step for a few seconds as we stared at each other. His posture relaxed, relieved to see me before him, and he advanced toward me. I walked forward, my stomach in knots of nervousness, and he matched me step for step until we were mere feet apart. The salty sea breeze blew violently around us both, coming off of the crashing waves and onto our skin. The second we entered each other’s space, my world went silent. I didn’t hear the water or smell the ocean. I didn’t feel the wind on my face or the sand under my feet. I was only in tune to him. 

He swallowed hard, his eyes sharp and assessing, darting around my face as he took me in. They roamed and finally settled on my cheek just underneath my left eye; his shoulders fell as he exhaled. His right arm reached for me, stopping midway and then slowly continuing up, his eyes asking for permission. I lowered my chin and leaned into him as his fingertips grazed over my skin, tracing the scar he had given me. My eyes closed at the intensity of the moment. 

He moved a few inches closer and cradled my jaw in his hand, urging me to open up and look at him—to really see him. I did and his eyes brimmed with tenderness and compassion. I looked into them, trying to memorize every shade of green, every fleck of gold, not knowing what the future held. I just knew that if I was never able to lay eyes on him again, this was the image that I wanted to remember. My gentle and loving Drew, normally stuck inside a giant, rough exterior, was now exploding out, his shrapnel penetrating my soul.


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Diary of an Urban Housewife 21
Sugar Shack Book Blog 21
My secret romance 22
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These Eyes of Mine

I look at these eyes of mine ,bluer than blue staring back at me from the mirror. The crystal blueness takes me back as I see one tear slipping across my cheek. There’s a vast ocean of pain that these eyes of mine hide. I do my best to deal with it, hide it, and keep it all in until it’s pouring forth like a waterfall of emotion. I think to my past and wonder if I could’ve been better. A better daughter, sister, aunt, and friend. I think of all these roles I played from a young age. I became an aunt at the age of six, and I was quite used to being the youngest child in my family. 

I sat on my Dad’s lap and watched my big brother holding this tiny baby. I had a mixture of emotion as I looked at him. Curiosity, excitement, and yes even jealousy. My Dad had left when I was four I remember it all too well; the crying, shrieking, and red hot anger of my Mom as she chased him out of the house. He was running for his life as she brandished a knife, and I knew this was a women on the edge between sanity and survival. He had pushed her to a breaking point and she had pushed back. My Dad left, ran out of our house and didn’t look back. He took on a new family, responsibilities, and lived in their home. 

I visited every weekend and holidays and this never felt like my home.  I was a guest and nothing more, and I struggled to feel comfortable in my own skin. This wasn’t my Mom, bedroom, or backyard. This was too much newness for a little four year old girl to understand. I didn’t feel like I was special, wanted, or appreciated. I remember attending kindergarten in the fall. I was badly in need of a haircut and it was picture day on Monday. This would be my first and last haircut that my step Mom ever gave me. I couldn’t sit still the bowl on my head was heavy and cumbersome. The hairs tickled my nose and made me sneeze. It was an overstimulatmg sensory experience and everyone just thought I was misbehaving. I was called a brat and left on my own after that. 

I looked in the mirror and saw this ragamuffin hairdo and I cried bitterly the rest of the weekend. My first Kindergarten picture and I looked like I had cut my hair with a butterknife! My Mom was furious and tried to fix it but the damage was done. I couldn’t even smile for that Godforsaken picture. It tore me up inside to look so ridiculous. The taunts, jeers, and stares overwhelmed me. I spent more time hiding or throwing my fists around to avoid any confrontation. I was no stranger to it in fact I welcomed it, then someone knew I was there and mattered. After that hideous haircut I avoided going near a pair of scissors or that stool again. 

Then just like everything that floats around elementary schools and germ warfare I got lice at the age of six. I was horrified and scared about what was happening to me as I scratched my head until it bled. My Mom blamed my Dad, my Dad blamed my Mom and I was sent to stay with my Grandparents for a week. I remember sitting in the purple clawfoot tub as my Gram rubbed pink calamine lotion over my head, neck, and eyebrows. I felt that hot water pouring over me and watching those dead bugs lying in the tub. As they swirled down the drain my tears mixed with the pink liquid as it streamed down my face and into my eyes. It burned a lot, but not as much as my hot humiliation of having contracted the condition anyway. 

These eyes of mine have seen a lot of pain, hidden a lot of lies, and have yet continued to be my windows of truth. These are memories I’ve stored away in the tiny box that I’ve buried in my mind. Then something will trigger it and like Pandora’s ill fated box it will open up again. These emotional scars I wear on my heart threaten to overtake me at times. I watched something tonight about children and what their Father represented to them. Some said pride, confidence, anger, pain, love, and nothing but emptiness because he was gone. This struck a nerve with me. A jangling nerve trigger that was hanging in the balance. And my bluer than blue eyes welled up with tears while I struggled to gain my composure. My children will never know of my pain, they will never experience that uncertainty or need to doubt their existence. They will know only love, guidance, respect, and firmness when discipline is needed. They will know only of my joy and gratitude when they blessed me with their arrival.  They will know that they are and will always be, the key to my heart. ❤️

 

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#1000Speak-Building from  Bullying 

I’ve been through a lot in my life but you wouldn’t know it unless you read my blog, or I decided to share with you. I’ve lived my life to be a kind, honest, and caring person. I was taught to be loving and patient even when others were not. I was taught to protect the weak and vulnerable, and cheer for the underdog. I’ve learned to turn the other cheek, and push through the pain and turn it into power. 

When I became a victim of bullying it turned my world upside down. I lived in a very small community so if anyone found out you were doing things outside of this bubble you became local gossip fodder. It wasn’t like I was doing anything wrong I was hanging out with my cousin in a bigger town, going to hockey games, and dating a hockey player. When the kids in my school heard about these things it became a mission to tear me down for having a life outside of my country existence. I can’t even begin to describe what I went through day in and day out with the taunting, teasing, and bullying.

I was only thirteen and the things I had to hear, defend, and ignore about myself were devastating. There was a group of boys and they had a ring leader and he made it his mission to make my life miserable. I wasn’t ugly, mean, ignorant, or self righteous but he was. He had everyone convinced that I was gutter trash and wasn’t worth the kindness of a smile, pat on the back, or acknowledgement for any talent. I was a volleyball player and I was good at my sport. I had all these girls from my grade and one above as my team mates. But no one spoke to me except my coach and my assistant.

If my lead bully saw anyone talking to me then they would suffer his wrath as well. So no one dared incur that, and it was easier to make rude comments or ignore me completely. I still continued to play volleyball and I had a couple friends that would talk to me and be seen in public with me, that were in a grade below me. This disgusting, defeating, behaviour only occurred in my classroom. In between classes I could mix in with the swarm of other kids filling up the hallway to get to their next classes. I enjoyed that anonymity even with however brief it was.  There was this time I went to my locker before gym and had noticed that it  had been tampered with.

Someone had splashed something on it and smeared across the door was the words bitch slut! I was born and raised Catholic so I was the furthest from those derogatory terms. I opened up my locker and saw my binders had all been opened up and papers were everywhere, and my wallet was also missing. I was pissed off and I felt the hot, salty, tears run down my face. My teacher came up behind me and told me to go to the office to report it, so I did. Then I walked out to gym class and in between there and the school was a corridor and I sat there on the steps, trying to process my anger. I had my head in my hands wondering what I was going to do I was ready to cry again, when I felt I was being watched. I looked up and this girl who was a fair weather friend came up to me. She leaned over and said “I saw your locker and it’s too bad that you didn’t get your wallet back, I guess you won’t need this anymore!”

It suddenly clicked in my head that she was responsible as she was holding a picture of my boyfriend in his hockey gear. I flew across the stairs and grabbed her and started punching her in the face. I then grabbed and pushed her into a wall and started banging her face off it. She was frantically trying to fight back but I was possessed with a rage of a thousand moments of being bullied. Classes were ending and people started coming through the corridor. I was still punching and kicking and she began crying and screaming for someone to help her.

Suddenly the principal was there and he was pulling me off of her. He was shocked as well as the school secretary, who always knew me as being kind. This wasn’t the same girl who walked into the school and said good morning to all the staff. In the office, passing them in the hallway, and each of their classrooms. I had attended this school system since Kindergarten so I knew everyone very well. I had to sit in detention with the bitch/thief and she sat there with an ice pack over her eye and glared at me, as we faced each other across the room.

I still wanted to bash her face in as she looked at me smugly as our parents were called to come pick us up. My Dad was working and my Mom didn’t drive, and I refused to go anywhere with my Step Mom so I sat in the office the rest of the day. I had to write out an apology letter to my victim and I was still very angry so I remember wording it as I’m sorry you couldn’t defend yourself after you broke into my locker. I’m sorry that you were such a bitch and I had to kick your ass and I got caught. I was suspended for five days and my Mom sent me to my Grandparents so I could have a break from our community gossip circle jerk.

I welcomed it, attended church, looked after the garden, and helped my Gram with meals. She knew I wasn’t a bad kid I was just tired of being bullied. I just wanted to live my life and not hurt anyone. Enjoy seeing my boyfriend play hockey games, go to his house for homemade Italian meals while his Grandma said “mange, mange your’e too skinny.” While I was at my Grandparents I saw a lot of him. He lived not too far away and he’d walk up and meet me after school. I also went to church and asked God to forgive me for my sins, anger, and bad temper. I was taught by my parents that I didn’t start a fight, but I sure finished one if it was brought to my side of the equation. I didn’t get punished from them as I think they were surprised that their sweet, smiling, studious, daughter finally snapped. The victim that had taken the ignorance, defamation, and horrendous behaviour for a year became the bully.

This is not something I’m proud of but I’m neither ashamed. I feel compassion for that confused, hurt, pissed off, teenager I was. I learned my lesson and today I’m a stronger, capable, and confident adult. I don’t let anyone step on my feelings or crush my spirit. I know when situations and people aren’t good for me as I trust my intuition a lot more. Now knowing my own child had to experience being teased, hit, and bullied, has ignited the fire of that child I was. I’ve advocated with the office administration, his teacher, and have even reprimanded his bully. I will not let the sins of the Mother, visit the son.

I teach both of my son’s to stand up for themselves, don’t instigate the fight, but definitely protect themselves. Now in the school system students use the W.I.T.S. program. The acronym stands for walk away, ignore, talk to someone, seek help. Since my son has been playing hockey he’s more confident in himself. And no one gets away with hitting him, teasing him, or bullying him. I will be that parent on the playground watching and waiting and he knows that I have his back always. My cup of compassion runs over with my children, and I am that Mama bear protecting my cubs. But my patience bucket is empty when it comes to bullies, their lack of intelligence, their own self hatred, and fear of not measuring up in society. So I pass down the golden wisdom to my kids that my beloved Mama would always say to me, “love many, trust few, and always paddle your own canoe.” I’m spending more of my time doing this. It’s so easy to get wrapped up into who we were in the past. The true courage is surviving that, and thriving with that knowledge in the present. ❤️

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Pull

I find I’m struggling with myself lately. I’m feeling this pull to my past. Where I felt really happy I had a great group of friends I saw daily. I didn’t feel lonely or shut in like I do now. I had my respite worker recently say I needed people. I know she was right, but that didn’t make me like less of a loser. I feel so pulled to my old life where I knew who I could call, count on, and have my back. Now I try to navigate a new town and new people feeling so unsure of myself. I’ve never had trouble making friends but I don’t know this time around I do.

I need to pull myself up by the bootstraps and just keep trying. Having children with special needs doesn’t always open the door to having friendships. I’m afraid of taking my son to a playgroup and he reacts to too much noise and stimulus. Or if he’s sensory seeking and he gets to aggressive with another child. The times I’ve gone I’ve sat on the edge of my seat drinking my tea, and waiting and watching. I find the pull of my friendships and lamenting that I haven’t found a group. I have a few friends and they lead very busy lives.

So I connect with them when it works with their schedules. I don’t complain, I don’t demand, but I do cry silently at night when everyone else is asleep. With that pull from my heart I have to decide if I’m going to stay stuck in my past, or push myself forward with my future. I’ve been attending a support group and its been helping. I’m hoping to connect and get to know some parents there as we walk the same path with our children. I find more and more each day I have to resist that pull and push myself towards my future.

With that push I’m hoping to gain some more confidence in myself. I have a dilemma with my online life colliding with my reality. Online I’m admired, respected, appreciated, and yes even loved. I’m told I’m beautiful, brilliant, talented, and yes even funny. In my reality I struggle with being social. I have children with special needs. I have to keep them calm, regulated, and comfortable in their surroundings. If I don’t there’s hell to pay. Not to many know my struggles. And honestly I don’t ask for pity just a kind word, an invitation, a smile or a hug.

I don’t ask to impose on people’s lives but maybe just maybe I shouldn’t have blogged about this. Because honestly reading it back makes me sound quite pathetic. I have hid in my online world that makes me feel whole. Today I chose to be brave and put it out here because this is, what is is. My online world meeting my reality, the whole ugly, beautiful, poignant truth of it. Written by me a lonely, heartbroken soul just looking for a friend to understand. I have to pull myself out of my self imposed depression. I’m starting with baby steps and going to attend a playgroup geared towards children with special needs.

I’ve been in denial that it’s what my son needed but no Mom is an island. And the potty training blues have gotten me down and I’ve been stuck inside the house for too long. So time to pull up my big girl sexy panties and get this social thing on the go. No one is an island we all need inhabitants to create some sort of bond, a family.

This has been my submission to Ash’s Sunday confession from http://www.morethancheeseandbeer.com. Check out her brilliance, anonymous confessions, and all the other talent that link up. Thank you for reading my blog today.

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Attachment

I think we’re all attached to something in life, in one way or another. I’m personally attached to my love for my family, accolades on my writing, and to characters in books I’ve read. I’ve been so attached to the outcome of a movie I’ve been transfixed by my tv. I think there are healthy attachments and unhealthy ones as well. I will focus on the healthy ones as my love for my husband and our children.

They’re attached to my heart in a way I never believed possible. When I walked down the aisle to my future husband, being led by my loving parents was a magical moment. I felt their attachment to me being the youngest and the last one to marry. I felt attached to them and their love and guidance over the years. As I was leaving them behind as an adult and attaching to my future with my husband to be. The first moment I saw my precious babies come into the world I was attached to my love for them, and how I would guide and protect them as my parents did me.

Now I’ll focus on unhealthy attachments as I think both bases should be covered. I was once attached to an unhealthy relationship. I thought he was an ideal boyfriend. He was the quarter back of the football team, volunteer in the community, and had a small part time business while attending high school. I fell for him pretty hard especially when he buttered me up with fantastic comments. They were good for my ego but not for me. He started out all sweet and charming and had met my family I was living with at the time.

As our relationship progressed I noticed little signs of his manipulation. He spent money on me lavishly. I had my hair and nails done, he loved going shopping with me while I tried on outfit after outfit. I loved all the attention and my kind nature over rode my impulsive one at times, while I said stop, I can’t afford to pay you back. He constantly dismissed me and what he called my foolish notions. My reality came crashing down when we were going away on a school trip. He arrived to pick me up and he was very sullen and quiet.

Due to it being very early in the morning I understood, and continued to babble on about my excitement. We got to our destination and we’re boarding the bus and he goes to the back, and sits with a friend. So I’m thinking this is strange and I sit with some people I knew. After a long ride we finally arrive at the location and I walk up to him and hold his hand. He shrugged me off and says “no, not here” so I let him go. I soon learned that this was the beginning of the end.

I don’t really know anyone but a couple of people and my new boyfriend. I gravitate towards them and try to fit in. I feel really dejected as this is a very close knit group of people. I grab my gear as I’m on a camping trip out in the wilderness, and head up the hill. I set up camp and sit down to build a fire. I gather rocks, twigs, and dead leaves. I’m not the best tent builder so I turn around to adjust it and this wind blows out of nowhere.

I suddenly smell burning as I’m trying to hold onto my tent from blowing away! The wind gust has blown sparks all around and my campsite is starting on fire! I trying to grab blankets and beat them out and I end up spreading them and a spark blows up into my hair!!! I’m freaked out right now and screaming while grabbing my water bottles. Suddenly there’s a noise as a stampede of people comes running through the trees. I’m shocked at their arrival as the smelled the smoke and came running. I try to explain that I didn’t intentionally try to burn down the forest, but with the tinder dry conditions things happened very quickly.

My teachers start gathering my supplies and I look over at my boyfriend (who could be my ex by this time) and he looks mortified. It’s amazing isn’t it how I started this post out about how I’m in love and attached to my family, and my past attachments come trickling in? Now that’s a story and experience I must learn to detach from. It goes to show you where I learned to appreciate negative attachments to more positive ones. And there’s a few more stories in between me getting to that realization. As they say that’s a story for another day, and another stream of conscious thought.

This has been my submission to
http://lindaghill.com/2015/02/13/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-february-1415/
I know it’s Sunday and I’m posting this now. I posted as a draft and forget to change it to publishing. I’m attached to being involved as I love Linda’s Saturday Stream of Consciousness.

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Before

I’m sitting here trying to think about how my life was before mental health disorders became an issue. I remember being very young and watching scary episodes in my family play out before my eyes. I was scared and sensed there was danger so I just stayed clear and pretended I was sleeping while chaos ensued around me.

I had an interesting childhood, a very loving and devoted Mom and five siblings. Four of them were a lot older than me, and graduated or were in high school when I was born. My parents had a loving marriage before reality crashed in and my Dad found someone else. That time in my life was heart breaking and unpredictable, as I was sent to stay with my Dad and his new family that belonged to his girlfriend. I seen and heard things I didn’t want to know about.

Alcoholism was predominant in my family tree at that time. So I saw adults behaving badly fighting, cursing, and other drunken behavior. I never saw that with my Mom. She was very religious, honored God, and we went to church every Sunday with her. Every second weekend I would be in the middle of these drunken debauchery nights and feel so confused. I would wake up on the Sunday and there would be no church.

At first the thought of sleeping in was exciting to me but there was always work, and plenty of it. My Dad was raised to believe that idle hands were the Devils workshop. So if he had to work then so did his kids. We had chores to help out with the household and other outside ones. My favorite thing to do was help my Dad in the garage working on his logging truck.

I would spend hours with him cleaning the cab, greasing the axles, and operating the tire gun. I loved those times because we would talk and the stereo would be blasting Charlie Pride, Conway Twitty, and George Jones. He loved the old classic country and I would entertain him with my singing and dancing to Glen Campbell’s Rhinestone Cowboy.

I was only four when my parents separated and I was your proverbial people pleaser, trying to make them both happy. My Mom’s heart was broken as she tried to pick up the pieces of her failed marriage and move on and raise my sister and I. I was her friend and confidant helping her through and remaining loyal and steadfast. She suffered from anxiety and depression throughout my whole life.

I always prayed to God to give me a magic wand like the a fairy Godmother in Cinderella, and make her fears disappear. My Dad had told me he just wanted to be happy so he chose a different life with a different family. This was something that was very difficult for me to except, but I really tried for my Dad’s sake. I think this is where these adult situations gave birth to my anxiety. A monkey on my back today that I still have to control.

I never planned on having to make everyone happy, but somehow I felt like it was my job. What was life like before my parents separated? I have no clue, I was too young to remember. I have a few memories and some involved traveling , visit my Grandparents, and meeting lots of different people. My Dad and his girlfriend were in the process of building a house so there was always people coming and going. My brothers helped with the construction, my brother in-law with the electrical wiring, concrete mixers and painters.

I still remember placing my hands and carving my initials in the cement. Before I knew what divorce meant at five, I was a product of it. My parents never officially did that paperwork, it just felt the same as if they did. My Dad never did remarry as my Mom wouldn’t grant him a divorce. Yet they both moved on, my Mom found solace with raising us and being devoted to her church.

My Dad worked a lot and took us traveling to the United States. I’ve seen the open skies of Montana, driven Route 66, had my hands, feet, and legs in all four corners, and spent time wishing upon a star in Disneyland. I look back fondly on those family vacations with a smile. My Mom never got amazing trips like this so I always made it a big deal to find her a souvenir. I remember when we would make phone calls home to her, how lonely and sad she sounded. My Mom’s children were her life.

My oldest siblings were old enough to have their own lives and two were living on their own, and two still in high school. So having my middle sister and I filled up that void she felt with the empty nest syndrome. There was happiness coupled up with the confusion, and I spent a lot of time with both sets of Grandparents.

Before I was even six years old I knew what the classic black and white movies were, how to plant and maintain a garden, and every tune of an Irish song lovingly sung by my Mom and Gram. I still remember hearing stories of the old country(Ireland and Scotland) and how my Great Grandparents came over to start a new life after surviving hardships in their countries.

What was their life like before they ventured to take a boat to the new world of New York and later Western Canada? I often pondered this in my head as I read stories of Charles Dickens. I’m grateful for the lessons I learned from my parents discussions of my ancestors. Knowing I come from people that are so resilient, has had me rely a lot more on my intuition then people’s versions of the truth.

This has served me well from the past to my present. Today I work through my own mental health issues and my children’s, keeping mindful of who I was before, and who I am today. That scared little girl who loved to sing and dance grew up to love to write, and express herself authentically. And if there’s anything I learned in my childhood was be true to myself before trying to please others.

This is my Sunday confession to Ash’s http://www.morethancheeseandbeer.com. Today’s prompt was the word before and I chose to write about my childhood. Please check out her Sunday confessions on her Facebook page, and all the other talent that link up. Thank you. 😊

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One liner Wednesday

As 2014 draws to a close, I wonder should old acquaintances be forgot in days of Auld Lang syne? No I don’t believe they should, I believe the best things happen in life when we’re not paying attention to the outcome. Happy new year my dear readers. 🎉

This is my submission to the lovely http://lindaghill.com. Check out her creativity and all the other talent that link up.

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