the-winds

There are some big changes in my life right now.  I am anxious to see what happens. Anxious and excited.

Here is what is happening in my world.  About a month ago we realized we were going to need to move.  The landlord has not done any of the important things that needed to be done to the house they rent (they took me in until I can get on my feet).  There was hail damage April 2016 and as of today, the tarp they put on it is still coming off in small pieces.  It was never actually repaired.  The foundation has a crack through half of it and there are monthly notices on the door from the bank saying the landlord isn’t making his monthly payments.  Therefore, it will be foreclosed on at some point.  Our lease is up and so we are moving this weekend.

A month or so ago, I posted a Facebook status about how I wasn’t getting enough hours at my part time cashier job and was really worried about finances.  I got many pieces of valuable advice and a few job offers.  One in particular appealed to me.  One of my dearest friends has been doing it for three years.  And I would be working from home. As a writer, that is ideal.  I refuse to get my drivers license again, it lapsed back in 2014.  I had moved back to Texas and thought I had 30 after my birthday to get it renewed.  I went in a week after my birthday.  They said that only applies to people with a Texas drivers license.  I had one from Delaware, so I would have to take the written and driving tests all over again.  I decided that I would just walk to work, it was close enough. My kids began to drive me since the main road I had to cross was like a game of Frogger. Sometimes I would take Uber or Lyft, but that costs one hour of my pay to cover the ride. But, working from home means my kids save time and gas and I don’t have to Uber or Lyft unless I am meeting up with friends(something I haven’t been able to afford to do, but will with the new job).  It just seemed so perfect.

So I bought the special equipment I would need, off Amazon.  I gave my two weeks notice at work.  Paid to have a landline installed in the new house, in my room.  Now I just have to apply for the job.

It occurred to me the other day, that this was much like my favorite go-to movie for when I want to run away from life.  Under the Tuscan Sun.  There is a part of the movie where she is concerned that she made a mistake.  She impulsively bought a huge house that needed serious work.  She only had a certain amount of money left to her name and was putting it into this house.  She was talking to a guy and said she thought she made a mistake.  He asked her why she bought it then.  She said, she wanted a wedding in that house, a family in that house and to cook for lots of people in that house, but it was just her.  He said, “Signora, between Austria and Italy, there is a section of the Alps called the Semmering. It is an impossibly steep, very high part of the mountains. They built a train track over these Alps to connect Vienna and Venice. They built these tracks even before there was a train in existence that could make the trip. They built it because they knew some day, the train would come.”  I loved his explanation of having faith for the things she was preparing for, in her future.

I see this as along those same lines.  I quit my job, bought the equipment, got the landline installed in my room, even arranged my room so I will have an office area with my desk, chair, new equipment and all.  I am planning for a job I haven’t even applied for yet. That is on the to do list for Tuesday.  I am at a point where I can see this as falling off a cliff and fearing the crash or I can see this an opportunity to fly.

I am a bit anxious that there could be a crash, but incredibly excited about my wings.  I knew I would never fly if I didn’t take that leap.  So I jumped.  Now watch me fly.  Faith is the wind beneath my wings.

Thank you for reading.  X

his world

I posted a meme recently that seemed to ruffle some feathers.   It is interesting how one person can see something as beautiful and yet another sees it as sad.  There is nothing wrong with different perspectives.  Everyone is entitled to their own.  And depending on life experiences, age and time frames, the perspectives can vary to a large degree.

I am attaching the meme I speak of.  When I posted it, I didn’t add a message as to my point of view.  I honestly didn’t think it was necessary.  That was rather presumptuous of me and wrong.  I am not sure of the other opinions involved.  It seems that some think of the meme as sad.  Perhaps they view it as a man offering a woman everything and her saying no thank, because she already has everything that he offers.  I’m not really sure.

But when I read this meme, it spoke to my heart.  It was one of the most beautiful things I had seen in a while.  To me, it was a man offering a woman his world.  He was offering her everything he had.  She lovingly let him know he didn’t need to do that.  She already had those things, plus some things that were different than his world.  She took a weight off his shoulders and let him know she doesn’t mind visiting his world, but she needed to live in her own.  That also meant she didn’t expect him to live in her world, but just to visit it and continue living in his own.

A partnership.  A mutual respect.  And no enormous expectations.

I have always enmeshed myself into the world of whatever man offered me his own.  I would adapt and learn to fit into whatever world that might be.  In the end, I would lose myself and become sad.  And more often than not, the one who offered me his world would suddenly feel I owed him for what he gave me.  He would see it as a lack of respect if I complained of missing my own.  It would become leverage in heated situations.

Nothing good came from that for me.  There ended up being resentment, frustration, sadness, loneliness, anger and strife just to mention a few.

So when I saw this meme, I saw a situation where it was acceptable for her to say that she had her own world.  I saw a mutual respect and a situation where he could sigh a breath of relief.  He offered her everything he had, but saw that he didn’t need to do that.  All he needed to do was to be himself.  Be willing to visit her world from time to time and enjoy her presence in his world from time to time.  They could be together in a new place that they created.  Something different than his world and her world.  Something they built as a team, as a couple, and as friends.

I love this meme.  I love what it says to me.  I see a beautiful future one day, very different than any past I have known.

Feel free to leave a message and tell what the meme says to you.  There are no wrong answers.  Only varying perspectives and all will be respected.

Thank you for reading.  X

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