I have always loved my birthday.  I don’t have any family members that share my special day.  It just meant so much to me that people were excited about the day I entered this world.

But now it is a very different reason.  You see, on December 22nd, 2015, I attempted suicide by swallowing a bunch of pills.  The police came and took me to a psych ward for observation.  After spending a bit of time there, I sought help with a therapist.  And now I no longer have those dark thoughts.  I have hopeful thoughts.  Positive thoughts.  And I am eternally grateful that I failed to end my life when I tried.  Grateful that I am here. Grateful for every single birthday I am blessed with, purely because I love being alive.

It’s why I take pictures of everything that I find fascinating or funny or beautiful and share them on social media.  I want to share my appreciation for life with the world.  I love listening to the train as it passes by in the night.  I love beautiful cloudy days and gorgeous sunny ones.  I love the smell of the rain and the sound it makes outside the window or on my umbrella.  I love the feel of the warm rain on my skin.  I love witty people that laugh at their own jokes even harder than the rest of us.  I love to hear people laugh.  I love the sound of dozens of voices talking when I enter a crowded place, especially places where there are family functions going on.  I love hugs.  I love kindness.  I love the roar of the ocean waves meeting the rocks and sand.  I love sunsets and sunrises. I love that first sip of coffee with my favorite creamer, in the morning.  I love the comfort of my bed at the end of a long day.  I love to dance to music, in the kitchen, when preparing food or doing dishes.  I love the hum of the fan when I fall asleep in the dark.  I love my fuzzy Star Wars pajama pants and oversized Harley Davidson sweatshirt.  I love going barefoot.  I love having hope that things will turn out okay.  I love having faith that God is in control.  I love when I see his signs so clearly leaving no room for doubt.  I love peace.  I love solitude.  I love going to the movies and out for dinner.  I love doing things on my own, feeling independent.  I also love having help from people who never make me feel indebted to them.  I love helping others.  I love doing speaking engagements.  I love impacting others lives in a positive way.  I love the castle ruins in Ireland, the sunsets at Santa Monica beach, the history in Delaware, the skies over Texas and all the people I have been blessed to meet in-between. And I love writing.  Telling the stories I watch in my mind as movies.  I love sharing those stories with others.  The love of my family and friends.  The ones who have been here for me in the darkest of times.  I love cuddles from my little dog.  And more than anything, I love my children.  To realize all the years of their hugs, hearing their laughter, being there for them through tears…that were almost gone. It makes me love life all the more.

I am here.  I am alive.  I have learned to love myself.  I have purpose.  And I am loved.

This is why my birthday is so very important to me.  Yes, every day is important to me, but I wasn’t born every day.  I was born March 15th.  That is my day to celebrate me and the life I have been blessed with.

Thank you for reading.  X

“Appreciate someone else’s beauty without questioning your own.”  That is a variation of a meme I recently read.  It spoke volumes to me.  I really struggle with this one.  There have been times in my life that I have sadly invited people in who would tell me the most awful things about myself.  In turn, I actually started to listen to them after years of hearing the negative.  I would hear them call me beautiful, until they were angry about something…anything really.  Then I would hear them call me the most horrific of names.I think the one that stuck the most, the one I am still working to overcome, was old fatass. I allowed that one to do some serious damage.

I have learned that it is important to be secure in yourself.  You have to be so secure in yourself that words like that don’t settle in your mind and shake your self perception. That is so much easier said than done.  The first step is to remove negative, hurtful people from you inner circle.  Surround yourself with people who see your beauty.  People that mirror the love and kindness that you so generously share.  The second step for me was therapy. Cognitive Behavior Therapy (CBT) is working wonders for me.  It teaches me to stop and think, the second I hear those awful words ringing in my ears.  I replace them with the loving things I have heard others tell me.  Then I replace even that with loving words I tell myself.  That right there is what matters more than anything.  The loving words I tell myself.  I make a list of the things I like about myself.  I remember that the things I do not like about myself are either changeable or they are things about me that make me unique. Unique is often ridiculed.  It shouldn’t be.  Unique is what keeps this world from being mundane.  Unique is what adds character.  Think about it.  When you walk into someone’s home and see a standard, cookie cutter room.  You generally think, what a lovely home. But when you walk in and there are pieces of furniture you have never seen before, or artwork that is new to you, it is an instant conversation piece.  That is because it is unique. We need to learn to embrace our unique qualities.  Stay away from those who ridicule those precious parts of us.  Those people, most likely, do not like the unique parts of themselves and are projecting that self loathing onto you.  Pray for them, send them positive vibes, but keep them at a distance.  That kind of negativity can wear you down, get into your mind and poison you, as well.  The things we surround ourselves with are the things we become.

It’s like a person who is drowning.  It takes a life guard, equipped with a life preserver to save them.  If someone who isn’t a professional swimmer attempts to save them, the person going under will pull them down, too.  They won’t mean to, but in their panic for survival, they will cause you to go down with them.  It is much like that in life.  It takes a professional to help a hurting person get better.  And only that hurting person can decide if they want that help.  Sticking around and trying to guide them to help, will only make them angry and get you hurt.  Pray for them, send them positive vibes, but keep them at a distance.

Now that I have explained how best to feed your self love, and what to avoid, let’s go back to the original thought here.  Learning to appreciate someone else’s beauty without questioning your own.  I have been doing better about that.  I used to cringe every time I saw someone young and thin.  I wanted to cower in a corner to hide my old fatass.  I didn’t want them to see me.  I was afraid they were internally criticizing me and laughing at me. Perhaps even judging me.  I am getting better.  Now when I see them, my first thought is, her skin is so young and smooth.  She is beautiful.  I just admire those people as works of art.  I do not go into an art gallery and see a beautiful painting and get angry because I cannot paint that well.  I do not listen to singers that give me goosebumps and feel angry because I cannot carry a tune in a bucket.  I look at the painting or hear the song and I feel something special.  I am filled with appreciation for what I am experiencing.  I am seeing people in that same light now.  I hear a voice that is sultry and sexy and just love listening to it.  I see eyes that look like crystal blue pools and I just love looking at them.  I see youth and watch the how carefree they are and I am glad they are getting to experience that time in their lives, because it changes as the responsibilities begin.

I will end this piece with something that I experienced at work recently.  It reaffirmed that we need to appreciate the beauty in others, not question our own.  A young woman, early twenties was in my line, her toddler in the seat of the shopping cart.  The woman was beautiful.  Her brown hair in a short pixie cut, big brown eyes and she was thin.  I wondered what her secret was to staying thin after having a child.  Maybe she works out, I thought.  I couldn’t take my eyes off her.  She was captivating.  But she was also nervous. She dropped her purse, then a few of the items she was putting on the belt.  She kept apologizing for everything she did.  She apologized to the lady behind her for taking so long.  She apologized to me as she dropped her money again, handing it to me.  I gently asked her if she was okay.  She stopped and looked me in the eyes and said, “No.  I have to have an emergency hysterectomy and I am scared.”  I said, “It will be okay.  I had one at twenty-five.”  Then her eyes filled with tears and she said, “And I just found out I have cancer.  That’s why they need to do the hysterectomy.”  She turned and kissed her toddler on the head, tears streaming down her face.  I told her I was so sorry and that I would be praying for her.  She thanked me and left with her items and her child.  My heart hurt so badly for her.  I realized how ridiculous it was for me to wonder how she looked the way she did.  I should have done nothing more than appreciate her beauty.  I will remember that from now on.  It doesn’t matter how a person has the qualities we admire.  All that matters is that we admire them without questioning them or our own.

So that is what I am going to do from now on.  Learn to appreciate someone else’s beauty, without questioning my own.

Thank you for reading.  X


Heart of Stone

Posted: February 23, 2017 in adventure, aging, hope, love, Uncategorized

I will be 48 years old next month.  That is nearly half a century.  How do I feel about this?  I feel good about it.  My health is pretty good.  I have already lost half of the weight I gained due to extremely high stress levels over the last three years.  And I am in a very good place both physically and mentally.  That doesn’t mean I want to stay this way forever.  Each point in my life is temporary and I know that.  It’s a good thing.  I think about all the things I have experienced in my 48 years.  Some good, some bad and many unforgettable.

I remember getting my first apartment with my best friend, three weeks after graduating high school.  We were poor but it was an incredible time.  We had a cardboard box ,as a table, where we ate our 39 cent pasta that came with the powder and water faux spaghetti sauce on it.  No TV, no phone, no internet, no computer.  It was an awesome time.  From there, I got my own place. Nearly starved, but it was mine.

Every little girl dreams of her wedding day.  Or most of them do, so I am told.  I was one of them that did.  I had a wedding.  It wasn’t quite like I had planned in my dreams, but it was fitting for me and the way I am.  I find humor in most anything.  The preacher showed up in polyester blue pants, white coat, white belt and white shoes, wearing a pink tie.  He caught us off guard when he said(in his thick Texas accent)during the ceremony, “Now, back in the olden days, they would put the ring through the girls nose and the husband would lead her around by a stick with a hook in it.  But nowadays, we just put it on her finger.”  It was so hard not laugh.  Oh.my.goodness.

From there, I had my daughter and my son.  I was blessed to feel and watch life grow within my belly.  They would say and do the funniest things.  I kept journals to remember them all.  I think one of my favorite things about my son was watching him think of what he wanted to be when he grew up.  When he was four he came to me and said, “Momma, I know what I want to be when I grow up.”  I asked what.  He said, “A black doctor.”  I smiled, looking at this little white boy.  I knew his favorite doctor was African American.  I said, “I think that’s great.  You can be anything you want.”  He smiled and left to go play with his toys.  I loved that moment.  One of favorite moments with my daughter was when my ex husband and I were getting ready for church.  Our bathroom had two sinks.  He was at his, shaving, I was at mine, curling my hair.  Sitting on the dock of the bay was playing on the stereo and we were dancing as we looked in the mirror, continuing to get ready. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw my 9 month old baby.  She was sitting on the floor, holding her socks with her mouth and wiggling to the beat of the music.  She was dancing, too.

I also found out how it feels to nearly lose a child.  My son got sick with an unexplained illness when he was 7.  His fever shot up, he had unstoppable diarrhea and vomiting.  The doctor visits and medicine wasn’t helping.  At one point he was in the tub.  Everything exploding out his little body and he looked up at me and asked, “Momma.  Am I dying?” That was the hardest moment in my life.  I told him no, but I knew it was a possibility.  We rushed him to the ER.  His blood pressure was 187/165.  They said he should be having a stroke or heart attack.  His kidneys were failing.  5 days later, after many treatments, and a miracle, he got well.  He is a strapping young man now with an incredible wife.

I got to watch both of my children get married.  I love their spouses.

I have been to Disneyland in California and Universal studios in Florida.  I got to stay in a condo each Summer and spend vacations with my kids on the beach in Destin, Florida.  I got to see most of our 50 states.  I have lived everywhere from one coast to the other. Delaware to California.

I’ve experienced a proposal in Ireland along with my first book signing there.  I wrote a novel.  I have a children’s book out, too, under my legal name.  I have been a Sunday School teacher, run an in home daycare for the underprivileged, sold Mary Kay cosmetics, been a make up girl in a department store, a receptionist, a bounty hunter, a certified nurses assistant, a cashier, but most importantly a mom.

My 48 years have seen friendships created and friendships ended, the same goes for romantic relationships.  But through it all, God has blessed me.  Somehow there has always been shelter and food and loved ones.

I am going to be 48 years old next month and I am so excited to see where the next chapter takes me.  I’ve experienced hardships and blessedly easy moments.  Life will give me more of each and I welcome them both.  All of these things make me who I am and who I am going to be.

I found a stone shaped like a heart on my walk yesterday.  It seemed so very appropriate. Because I can choose to see hope in that fact that is it shaped like a heart or I can choose to see it as the heart of stone I could so easily have myself.  I choose hope.  I choose to see it as a reminder not to let the hardships in life, harden my heart.  I choose love.

Thank you for reading.  x

As a writer of historical fiction, I am often asked why I chose that genre.  I chose it because it comes natural to me.  I feel like I am writing about a life that I have lived before.  My whole life I have had visions and premonitions.  But growing up, as a Christian, made me think those things were evil or satanic.  So I tried to pray them away.  It didn’t work.  As an adult I embrace the ability.  It is a gift not a curse.  In fact, in the Bible there are those who do it. They are called prophets.  I am not saying I am a prophet at all.  I am just saying that certain people possess certain gifts.  They can be called a multitude of different things. Anything from a prophet to a witch.  All that matters is what you do with your gift.  I choose to write historical fiction.

Now if you are still doubting my gift, that is okay.  It’s hard to believe unless you have experienced it.  Kyle experienced such a thing and you are welcome to ask him about it. Here’s what happened.  I had just moved in with him and we were headed to our first convention together.  We took a plane from Los Angeles to Chicago.  We were to connect there and fly to Kentucky.  On the flight to Chicago I got very nervous.  I said that I did not want to get on the next flight.  He asked why.  I said I had a vision.  He asked what I saw.  I said, I saw a small plane, a red check mark on the side of the plane, light shining in through the windows and blue leather seats.  He laughed and said, ‘Leather or pleather?’  I gave him my judgy face and continued, ‘Then the plane takes a nose dive.  There isn’t enough oxygen in the tanks for all the people.  It pulls out of the nose dive but I really do not want to go through it.’  He said, ‘First, I do not fly on small planes.  Second, there is no red writing on that plane.  Third, we are taking off in the middle of the night so it will be dark.  You have nothing to worry about.’

We got to Chicago and boarded the plane.  I looked across the aisle and saw one seat. There were only two seats in our row.  I said, ‘Small plane.’  He just shrugged.  I looked at the seat in front of me and said, ‘Blue leather’.  He got a little nervous.  The pilot came on and said, ‘We are going to be late taking off.  There is a leak in one of the oxygen tanks so they are replacing it.’  Kyle began to sweat.  We sat on that runway so long the sun came up.  I said, ‘Light shining in the windows.’  Kyle asked, ‘What about the red check mark?’  We heard some noise out the window and looked out as they brought in the new oxygen tank. We saw a giant red check mark on the ground.  Kyle said he wanted to get off the plane. But a peace came over me.  I said, ‘We don’t need to.  They fixed whatever was wrong.’ And the pilot came back on and said, ‘Sorry for the long wait.  We had a mechanical issue but it has been resolved.  We will take off shortly.’  Kyle looked at me and said, ‘I will never doubt you again.’

That was just one of many times that I have done that.  And recently I read an article about ancestral memories.  When I write my historical fiction, it is like watching a movie play out in my head.  A movie I have lived before.  Now, maybe I never did live before. Maybe it IS ancestral memories.  Maybe it is their way of living on, telling us their story.  Maybe I just have a vivid imagination.  Whatever it is, I feel an excitement in me when I put it all down on paper.  I love sharing the stories that are so alive to me.  I love teaching others about things long forgotten or sometimes swept under the rug.  They are often painful memories or stories, but history truly will repeat itself if the things are lost, hidden or forgotten.  So I breath life into them once again.  As I write the words I wonder…Is this ME I am writing about?  Or is this my 26th great grandmother?  Either way, it is in my blood. Writing is in my blood.  Drawing and painting are in my blood.  I have many talented relatives.  It is truly in our DNA.

I love being a writer.  I love sharing history.  I love learning and teaching.  I have so many more stories to tell.  I am working on them now and can’t wait to share them with you. Keep an eye out for my next book or read my current one.  Read it and ask yourself, ‘Am I reading about a life the author lived before or am I reading about one of her ancestors?’ Think about it as you read it.  Maybe you can figure it out.  Maybe you can’t.  But it sure would be fun to try.  Okay, back to writing.

Thank you for reading.  I love you all.  x


Speaking as someone who suffers with depression and as someone who has people in her life that suffer from depression, I would like to share my thoughts on both sides of the situation.

For those of you who follow me on social media, you know I love memes.  I love funny memes and punny memes and sad memes and thought provoking memes.  Most of all I love inspirational memes.  I see memes as a way of condensing my thoughts into something more manageable and memorable than a blog post.  They speak volumes in a few amount of words that stick with you.

That being said, I saw a meme today that really struck a cord with me.  I will attach it to this post when I am done.

First, as someone who suffers with depression, I often feel alone.  Even when I am surrounded by people that I know, for a fact, love me more than words can say.  I adore these people, I would do anything for them.  I know they would do anything for me.  Yet, somehow, at times…I still feel alone, even with them right here.  That is part of the lie that depression tells you.  It tells you that you are alone.  So alone that you may as well be invisible.  I have tried antidepressants and they do not help me the way they help so many other people.  I practice cognitive behavior therapy.  That works for me.  It helps me to pull myself out of that negative, dark place that I find myself disappearing to.  It means more to me than you will ever know when someone sends me a message or a text.  I feel like I am seen, like I am really here.  But when I receive calls, that can be an entirely different thing.  Oftentimes, I shy away from the phone when I see someone calling.  I love them.  I want to talk with them, but I am too tired emotionally to interact.  I call back when I am out of that place.  When I am back to feeling like my emotional happy bank is full again.  That is another thing about depression.  The highs and the lows.  They can be brutal.  I hear all these suggestions, like express yourself in your writing or paint a picture. But when you are in that dark place it takes so much to do anything creative.  So do you now what I do?  I make myself get out of my bed and I make the bed!  I make it so well that there is no way I will climb back in, messing up my beautiful artwork.  Did I just call making my bed beautiful…artwork?  Yes.  Yes I did!  I made it and it is beautiful.  Then I make a cup of coffee and I put it in my favorite coffee cup.  My daughter got it for me for Christmas.  It says, ‘Isn’t she lovely’.  I take a sip of that yummy goodness and I feel an amazing sense of accomplishment because I made it.  And I made it well.  And it is good. Then I put on clothes.  Like, real people clothes.  Not pajamas, not work attire, but go for a walk kinda clothes.  Even though I know I probably won’t go for that walk, I put the clothes on anyway.  It gives me more options for what I may want to do that day.  After my coffee and some breakfast, I brush my teeth and then brush my hair.  Maybe put in a braid. I feel better. Not great, not write a novel or paint a canvas kinda better.  But I am up and I am alive and I am taking care of myself, kinda better.  No one can do that for me.  But do you know what you can do?  When you see me post that I made my bed, know that I did something amazing.  Tell me good job.  Celebrate with me.  If you come by and see that I am up, dressed and bed made, hug me for a job well done.  Hugs are a saving grace during depression.  Even when I am in my dark place, a hug shines in a little light.

Now, speaking from the place of someone who has depressed people in her life.  That is a tricky part.  Because I cannot know what they need, since their moods and feelings go from high to low.  If I send them a text and they do not respond, I know not to take it personally.  I know that they saw the text and smiled a little.  I know I let a small bit of light into their world.  And I know that they will reach out to me when they are in a better place.  I know that I can be here for them, when they need me.  Hug them, be here for them and reach out to them without expecting anything in return.  A kind word, a kind text, a kind meme, a hug.  Those are the things I can do.  Well meaning advice only upsets them and causes them to crawl deeper into that dark place.  They feel like they are failing at life because they cannot do the things you are advising them to do.  Advice is only to be given when it is asked for.  That is a very difficult thing to do.  As someone out of the dark place, I want to share the ways I escaped it and how I keep it at bay.  But sharing those things with someone who is not ready to hear it, only hurts them.  It’s like taking someone who can’t swim and throwing them in the deep end.  It doesn’t work out very well and teaches them to fear the water.  You have to wait until they step into the shallow end and wade around the water for a bit.  You have to wait until they see you swimming and they say…can you teach me to do that?  Now, when that happens, do not try to teach them to swim.  Send them to your swim coach.  Let the professional teach them.  Remember, your job is to offer a kind word, a kind text, a kind meme or a hug.  And  now, the number of someone who can best help them.

So those are my thoughts on this subject from both sides of the coin.  Please never give up on those battling mental illness, but remember the boundaries.  Reach out without expecting them to reach back.  Just because they don’t respond, doesn’t mean you are not making a difference in their life.  Reach out and keep reaching out.  Don’t give up.    Like the meme says, When “I” is replaced by “We”, “Illness” becomes “Wellness”.


Thank you for taking the time to read.  x

Oh, where to begin.  Starting over is never easy.  The last time I started over it was exciting.  I had a plan.  Well, sort of had a plan.  More like, I had a man.  I have always had a man there to take care of me in some way.  I lived on my own when I was a teenager.  I moved in with my best friend three weeks after graduating high school.  She and I had been besties for 6 years.  It was exciting and new, but within a year I had struck out on my own.  I lived in a small condo that was on the border of foreclosure.  I rented from a nice man and his wife for a year.  I didn’t make much money and nearly starved to death.  My average weight is 125.  I met a nice man at work.  He was 15 years my senior.  My weight was down to 104 pounds.  He fed me and I married him.  I knew from the start that we married for the wrong reasons.  I moved into his home, when to his church, learned to like many of the things that he liked.  I conformed to his way of life.  By the end of the relationship I found myself going from being a sheltered housewife to a bounty hunter, then a makeup artist at a department store.  Two children and nearly twenty years later we divorced.  I ended up in another long term relationship.  I moved from Texas to Delaware to be with him.  I ended up on welfare until the state offered me a career opportunity.  I did the schooling and became a Certified Nurses Assistant.  I worked in home health and took care of mostly elderly patients.  Many of them over 90.  After a few years they would pass on and I would be devastated.  I stayed in that relationship for 5 years.  He was a quadriplegic.  That was why I chose to become a CNA.  I conformed to his way of life.  It ended and I wanted to move to Maine.  My dream was to live in a little house by a lighthouse and write.  Maybe work as a barmaid.  But my kids were grown and renting a house in Texas.  My daughter and her husband, my son and his then fiance’ (now wife). They had an extra bedroom and asked me to live with them while I got on my feet.  So I did.  Maine could wait for a while.  I missed my kids.  It was the most amazing year, living with the four of them.  I got to know my son in law and daughter in law.  I love them.  In fact, she is one of my closest friends now. We talk about everything.   Within a month of moving in with them and anxious to heal and figure out who I was and what I wanted, I fell right into my next relationship.  I wasn’t ready for a relationship but I didn’t know that at the time.

We would do the long distance thing for a year and then I moved to California to be with him.  I moved into his apartment, learned the ropes of travel, learned the art of public speaking.  I conformed to his way of life.  Are you seeing a pattern here?  This relationship ended, too.  I am still broken over this one.  I am still in love with him and he is still in love with me, but we both know we did the right thing.  Personal reasons that I will not go into.

So here I am.  But this time, my mind is different.  I was in cognitive behavior therapy for the last year.  The state of California offered to help me after my suicide attempt.  They offered me free therapy if I was willing to become a case study.  I agreed.  It made a huge difference in me.  I am starting the workbook over.  The last time I worked through it, I did it all from the perspective of one trying to save a relationship.  Now I am doing it from the correct perspective.  I am doing it so I can heal.  So I can be stronger, more in touch with that little voice that tells me when something is wrong.  I can look back on my life and see that in almost every heartbreaking or devastating situation I found myself in, I heard that little voice first.  I would argue with it and try to reason away my concerns.  I don’t do that anymore.  I listen now.  I seek out that little voice now through prayer.  This is not a get out of jail free card for the ones who have chosen to hurt me.  It is simply me taking responsibility for my own poor decisions.

I admit, I am scared.  I haven’t been ‘on my own’ since I was nineteen years old.  And really, this is the first time I have been 100% single since I was a teen.  Not someone hurting over a recently ended relationship and falling into new one immediately.  I am not open to being taken advantage of due to my vulnerability.  I am vulnerable, my emotions are raw, my mind still goes in and out of feeling independent to feeling like a scared little mouse in a the middle of a herd of elephants and looking for a safe place.  Then I remember, I have one of the strongest support systems one could ask for.  I have a hundred arms ready to give me a much needed hug.  I am at a place in my life that I have never experienced before.  And I am eternally grateful for the friendships that have stayed intact since my last break up.  He introduced me to a world of people that welcome the hurting, the lonely and the scared.  They not only welcome you, but once they take you in, they never let you go.  I have blessings that have remained from all the difficult situations that I have somehow put myself in.  Something good has always come from any of the bad in my life.  And I am so very grateful.

So here I am.  I have gone from a life of luxury and travel to one of very low pay, lots of hard work cashiering and time to focus on me and heal.  I paid all my bills this month and had money for food.  My son and his wife have taken me in until I can get on my feet.  I wake up to people who love me and encourage me every single day.  I get hugs and I love you’s.  I have a place to work, with people I consider friends.  I feel loved every where I go. I have an online community who supports me.  And most of all, I have me.  I am learning to love me and believe in me.  I am taking it one day at a time.  Some days I fail, some days I cry and some days I smile.  And other days, like today, I do it all.

Thank you for taking the time to read.  I love you all.  x

We all grow, we all learn, we all change.  Sometimes it is difficult for us to change. Sometimes we hold on to all the negative ways of viewing the world around us, because it is comfortable.  I’ve heard that referred to as our ‘comfort zone’.

Interesting that we would find negativity comfortable, but oftentimes we do.  It can be a scary thing to view something in a different light.  I have found that change can be good.

There are also going to be people in your life that do not like you.  Even if you love them. They will say things to you like, ‘you need help’.  Unfortunately, they don’t really want you to get help.  They just enjoy saying that to you and making you feel like something is wrong with you.  When you do finally get help, they will remove you from their life.  You were easier to deal with, when they could put you down.  Once you make changes and find your strength, you are of no use to them anymore.  And that is okay.  Hopefully, one day they get the help they need, too and decide to reach out to you.  Don’t let them deter you from making the positive changes in your life that bring out the best in you.  You will find new people entering your life.  Negativity draws negativity.  Positivity draws positivity. You will suddenly find yourself surrounded by very different people and it’s beautiful.

Here is another wonderful thing that will happen.  You will have people that have removed you from their life because they are positive and your negativity wasn’t welcome there. Now that you are positive, they recognize it and welcome you back with open arms.  They will be open to helping you stay on track with your new outlook.

I am in the process of change and some days the struggle is real.  These changes are foreign to me.  It’s much like learning a new language.  At first the words feel strange and you are concerned that you are mispronouncing them.  But over time, and with much practice, you gain confidence.  The next thing you know, you are fluent and it all comes naturally to you.  I am in this part here.  The part where some have removed me from their life and others have welcomed me back.  And all the positive people are happy to help me in my journey.  They are genuinely thrilled to see the changes that are taking place and they are patient with the slip ups.  They lovingly guide me back onto the road.

I am grateful for all of the people from my past who helped mold me into who I am, the good things and the bad things. I am grateful for the people in my present who are helping to shape the person I am becoming.  I know I will forever be changing and evolving, but I do believe I am developing my core friends.  The ones in for the long haul. The ones who will help me continue to stay grounded while exploring the ever changing world around me.  My likes will change, my tastes will change, but my heart will be strong and stay the same through it all.

Just remember that the winds of change will blow the leaves around, pushing some away and pulling others closer to you.  The winds of change often muss your hair.  But mussed hair can also be sexy.