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Crumbs of Truth from the Tower of Pain.

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  Tower of London Raven -Image by Gustav Sommer from  Pixabay The crumbs led to the Tower of Doom, the Tower of London. It has been an unbelievable path leading back in time to a historic memory. It took all the steps of my life along with a sense of destiny connected to the first steps my ancestors walked. Curiosity and a need to escape in the late night hours brought me there, and in my mind’s eye witnessing the energy lingering of a woman who I would have called my Aunt, Anne Boleyn.  It was a path well documented by DNA and others collecting landmarks -paving the trail. It took my breath away once I figured out who Mary Boleyn was, evidently my great grandmother and then her sister Anne, my great Aunt. Part of me was screaming “no way” in disbelief while the other part of me saw puzzle pieces coming together.  I submersed myself into documentaries in an effort to understand that piece of history, and because I wanted to feel what it was like back then, what they saw during their d

Grieving is for the living- not the dead

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  For Beau and James —a couple of my heartbeats. Grieving is for the living, not the dead. This thought is playing over and over in my head and has been since listening to a voicemail message last night — one that told me my nephew, Beau, had passed away from renal cancer. The news was like a giant slash to my heart, and I wailed sobs of grief as the message played.  It was the release of grief that had been building since news of his cancer hit my heart. It was the release of generational trauma that bonded us and played out in our family. My nephew was only 9 years younger than me. It was the pain knowing what all has played out and how it ended, here on Earth.  Together all those aches were released with a wail so loud it disturbed my own ears. It was needed.  I know he is okay and probably experiencing a peace to his soul that he never knew living. I am sure my parents welcomed and comforted him in his passing, waiting for him with open arms. And there’s not a doubt in my mind that

Acceptance — when it really matters

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  https://www.facebook.com/superbrickband/photos_by My youngest child is getting married in October. The young woman who agreed to this union is a beautiful human being. I am filled with joy and pride in how our family is growing. They both are working towards their dream of being able to live off the music they create, together and individually, while also working fulltime jobs to support that dream. I’ve had box seating in watching their relationship grow as if it wasn’t for them along with my other child, and a childhood friend of theirs my little healthcare adventure of the last 5 years would have been non existent. They’ve helped to support me as I applied for Social Security and sought out physicians and healthcare that would treat me the patient, and not some text book I’ve never fit into. I live with the band,  Super Brick. Not the ideal for a young couple to grow together in, but these two have aced life lessons many of us do not have until our middle years and have done it to

It happened, someone listened and agreed — Return those PAC funds!

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  https://pixabay.com/users/geralt-9301/ Finally, it happened! After weeks, maybe it’s been months, I am no longer sure, of daily posts tagging those who are employed by the people to represent the people, someone — -YES, an actual politician, finally heard me and agreed…. IT IS TIME TO GET CORPORATE PAC FUNDS OUT OF CONGRESS — and, specifically the one I find especially vile, Centene, the main provider of Medicaid managed healthcare for our vulnerable population; the elderly, the disabled, those in dire poverty, and CHILDREN. And yes, he agreed, they are basically viewed as bribes. Now granted, it took me attending an event in my county last night sponsored by the  League of Women Voters of Greater Rockford Illinois . It was a meet and great of candidates running on our local ballots — from county to state positions. Peter Janko , #pete4illinois It was there I met  Peter Janko , #pete4illinois, who is a Democrat and a State Central Committeeman, 11th Congressional District and candida

Wandering through time - an outloud journal entry

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 Never in my life did I ever really wanted the label of writer. It was never an ambition of mine. Some may not believe that since I made a mediocre living reporting on small town America in a rural Wisconsin county, but honestly, that all happened by accident. I was trying to afford life as a separated mom of two with my soon to be ex becoming more and more violent, emotionally and physically. I found my way into that job purely by trying to survive.  I can remember telling myself to just be a fly on the wall and observe, keep your personal opinion out of it, allow the readers to decide for themselves. It was something I would make an honest effort at maintaining for those almost 13 years.  Some days I loved it, some days I despised it. It wasn't what I wanted to do, it was because I had to - isn't that the truth for most of us? Sad. We have dreams as children and somewhere along the line they get derailed, altered, or just plain left in the dust of the chaos of our lives.  Peo

More than a flash

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An outloud journal entry (trigger warning) https://pixabay.com/users/lian30-8159218/ I had a flashback this morning. It has been building in me now for quite some time, I could feel it coming on but I wasn’t sure where it was taking me until this morning. I was around 12 years old, 7th grade at Gemini Jr. High in Niles, IL. (actually unincorporated cook county). I was with my parents and we were standing in front of a judge. The school had turned me in for truancy because I had surpassed that magic number that affected their funding from the state. That was the year my spleen went on hyper-drive in enlarging. I was hospitalized a few times and doctors were completely clueless at what was happening. It was the year they buried long needles between my ribs and into that spleen burning doses of steroids. I had been in a couple of hospitals, Resurrection and Lutheran General. It was also the year I had to take the school bus to school. I refused. I refused and was punished for it, repeated