Thankfully Chewed Up and Spat Back Out!

While peace comes from within sometimes being in a certain place will fill you with what you need for reflection. Reflections while wrapped in the positive energy of an invisible loving embrace allows you to heal - Saint Nicholas Roman Catholic Church Google Maps When I was a little girl holding on to the shame of others for what they did to me, I found my peace sitting in the pews at Saint Nicholas Church in Evanston, IL. The church sat at the top of a hill on the corner of Washington and Ridge. One block up from the apartment building where I lived. The doors were always open. Being an extremely responsible child I was often home alone while my parents were at work. When I needed peace and comfort I would put on my Sunday church dress, my little lace gloves and make the trek up that hill to the church I loved. There I would sit in the pew and stare in awe at the beauty of the old stained glass windows and the story they told. It was quiet, my surroundings were beautiful,

This spring and summer I've been hosting some journaling workshops and this past month the theme has been to write letters to the abusers in your life and also a letter to yourself. These letters are an exercise to help bring out all those emotions survivors carry within them but may not have honored. The letters are symbolic of your path and where you are at on your healing journey - they are not to be given/mailed out unless you choose to do so. They are for reflection and self-discovery. It has been a while since I've written some for myself, so I thought I would do as I preach. The following are free form, as they should be - no planning, no worries about what is said, and no worries about grammar or sentence structure. For me, I need music in the background when I write and since I am writing about my childhood, I am listening to songs from the 70s.  For this post I am writing a letter to the monsters who molested me and to the little girl I once was and thought (at

Current events have me remembering my sweet German Grandmother. I think back to the days of coming home from school and warming by the pilot light on the stovetop would be a potato pancake or some wurst, my after school snack. Grandma Woywod was the definition of a Hausfrau - during her waking hours at home that apron of hers was secured around her waist and a feather duster always in her hands. Sweet, soft features - she was a short round woman with a huge heart. It always amazed that she gave birth to my father and uncle, both large men - extremely tall and sturdy. I loved helping my Oma. We'd sit at that enameled metal kitchen table of hers and roll out cookie dough, peel potatoes,  or snap beans. Then I looked forward to those moments, now I long for them. It was during those times she would talk about the Motherland, the village she grew up in- Rosengart, East Prussia . Simple times although back after WWI her homeland was ravished with poverty. A poverty that killed

Whether we want to admit it or not, hate is something that many of us grew up around - just it was not blatant. It was woven into the fabric of the times. I know I have been exposed to it and by some people I greatly loved. I was born in California but my childhood was spent largely growing up in Evanston, IL - during the early to mid 70s.  Around 1977 we moved 10 miles west from Evanston to Des Plaines.  Both suburbs of Chicago and both were extremely diverse with cultures, races, and religions.  A true melting pot.  Even so, I was exposed to racism. I can remember being about 8 years old and begging my mother for a black Barbie doll. I wanted one so that when my best friend came over to play we could pretend that the Barbies I had were us as adults. My mother's response never made sense to me - "No, you're white so you play with white Barbies."   That response bothered me on many levels - 1) I cried for my friend. 2) I didn't understand it- how come I coul

Today I sat and watched live video from Charlottesville - hate being spewed and violence overtaking the streets. I was watching a live stream as a car was driven into a crowd of counter-protestors..a live stream as people suffered from the plague of hate - domestic terrorism. Heartsick is the only word I can think of to describe my emotions right about now. At what point is enough, enough? I don't know about the rest of you but I am tired of living this way. Sure we can go back to the days of Chicken Soup for the Soul , but what did that really do? Were those really happier times or did we pretend they were? We still managed to end up where we are , even with all those positive messages. You can argue that we've turned away from God, but I am not buying that either. I seem to recall those days of "traditional values" still had wars to be fought, families were still battling alcoholism...domestic violence..poverty...and much of what they do now, except it was

I don't want pity. I actually will say something not nice if I receive any - sarcasm will erupt. This is more for informational as autoimmune disorders are a hidden illness. People have a hard time understanding what they cannot always see, I know - it used to be me when my dad was first diagnosed. I didn't fully understand why one day he could be fine and the next day, still looked fine, but unable to move. Now I do.  I need to learn patience with myself. I have just a few months left in my 40s and before I turn 50, that is a goal- patience with myself. Kinda ironic, I know - putting a timeline on patience. Welcome to my world. Picture looks better than my hand looks in person, that swelling around the joints in my hand is synovial fluid, there's also redness from the imflammation - This is what Rheumatoid looks like.  It is a world of living with autoimmune disorders and how they wreck havoc on a body, a mind, and dammit, sometimes my spirit. I need to lear

Those who create the behind the scenes drama are usually knee deep in jealousy and considered toxic. Recently I ran across a posting that sums up their triangulation tactics to a "T." In the posting they speak about splitting - " This method of triangulation involves pitting two people against each other. The narcissist does this by smearing the character of one or both of the people behind their backs. This enables the narcissist to preserve their false image and ensures they’re viewed positively among the triangle. In many instances, the narcissist will portray themselves as the victim, especially if they feel their partner is growing tired or aware of their manipulation,  hypocrisy , and abuse." Creating and spreading the rumors keeps the toxic person at the top of the triangle, at least in their mind. They view themselves as the go to person, their need for adulation dictates all they do - if anything or anyone threatens their self-perceived notion of imp

We all have that relative or friend...you know the kind; the one who gets a new job and in a few months they think they can run the place, be the manager and take over. They know more than anyone else and when it doesn't happen as laid out in their head, they quit and lash out, playing the victim....everybody else sucks except them. I am not sure what happened over the last few decades but that type of mentality has magnified. On top of it, jobs are now supposed to be "fun" ....all the time. We've also have lost respect for honest work. People who do those tedious service jobs. Society treats them like stepping stones, lower life forms who do not deserve a wage that can keep them off of welfare - they don't deserve anything, they must grovel as they are laughed at..humanity is taking a nose dive. I don't understand how and when this all happened but it appears to be out of control. We're allowing our society to divide off into classes with a great