Thankfully Chewed Up and Spat Back Out!

So this is a Covid Christmas.  I awoke to news of food lines, moms fearing eviction and an explosion in Nashville.  I have friends dreading the day of memories they know they will remember. Memories of when they were with their parent for the holidays, the parent who passed away in a hospital far from the kisses and hugs of their loved ones. They said goodbye via a video chat. Too many of my friends have that day ahead of them today.  My kids are safe but not without worry. They all are already in unemployment limbo as they wait for the State of Tennessee to approve their extension but it will not matter much if the Covid relief bill is not signed by midnight tonight.  I'm not good at pretending -  It is hard to be in the Christmas spirit with all of this happening -  Happening during a time we're stuck in the upper level of the home we rent while we await the renovations to be completed after toxic mold has been remediated.  No, you can't make this shit up.  There are no p

Single moms, when overwhelmed....... Take that longer than necessary bubble bath and let those tears fall.  Do what you need to do so that a smile fills your face when you look into the eyes of your little ones.  They need that blanket of comforting love.  You're not lying to them, you're not pretending. Even though Today feels heavy ---and the hope you thought you had coming..was on its way, is getting further and further out of reach. Just know this is one moment in time.  I feel your pain - that ache  You're tired.  Just remember your steps.  You're strong.  You've done the impossible.  You can do it again.  And you will.  Those little eyes looking to you know that you can and you will.  They give you strength.  They propel your drive.  Remember - take that time for yourself so if tears need to flow - they do. You need to make room for all of that unconditional love to fill your soul. That is your fuel.  It will be okay. Give the photo a  click! 

To Read Part 1 of History Shrouded in Mold To Read Part 2 of History Shrouded in Mold. Give a click!     Does the word struggle strike fear through you? Does the mere mention of it weigh you down? That heavy feeling? It is definitely a word that carries a weight to it and at one time I feared it, now, it just means that carrot of hope is a bit further down than I imagined it to be. It doesn't mean all hope is gone - I just need to keep reaching.  Life does that to a person.   Today is Christmas Eve. I am still stuck in the upper level of the home we're renting. Downstairs is currently a renovation zone, the last part of the process of toxic mold remediation. It feels like just another typical day, typical that is for the last month or so of the revolving door of workers.     There are no decorations, no Christmas tree, nor any presents under one. The one thing I am blessed to have that so many cannot say this Covid holiday, is I have my children by my side. Our holiday will be

  The Mallory Neely Home  To Read Part 1 of History Shrouded in Mold Give a click! Victorian era mansions still line the streets of Memphis. Huge sprawling homes with the ornate details letting all those who view them know prestige had lived there - money made before and after the Civil War and when the industrial revolution spawned new avenues for capitalism.  Prior to my first visit Memphis in 2014 my only frame of reference for the area and the landscape came from textbooks, movies, and articles. After moving here to live in a home within the Glenview Historic District,  I realized everything I had once known was just a summary of events, and a poor one at that.  When looking back in time, perhaps you're like me and envision upper class women taking long strolls with their parasols protecting their fragile white skin. Men in suits bustling about, waiting for the next deal to latch on to - while "other" segments of the land is where the poor live, namely Black Americans

  Sipping my morning coffee I sit on my bed looking out almost century old windows and into the backyards of my neighbors. This morning was no different. The sky is grey and there is a slight chill in the air, reminding me that outside that glass is another world filled with life and adventure, stories to tell and lessons to be learned...knowledge to be gained. In other words, hope.  That sentiment brings back the emotions I felt as a little girl. Then, I sat on my bed looking out the massive Victorian era windows of the 3rd floor apartment we called home. It was in the mid 70s -Evanston, Illinois. I loved being able to see into the green of the trees that lined our street. Between the leaves and branches was another world playing out before my eyes. The birds, the squirrels and sometimes even a stray cat - they lived out a day in their life without ever knowing they had an audience taking in their story.  I would spend a lot of time watching them and getting to know their personalit

Learning to be Free - a guided journal for survivors of trauma For part 1 please visit this :  Learning to be Free - a guided journal part 1 For part 2 please visit this :   Learning to be Free - a guided journal part 2   For part 3 please visit this :   Learning to be Free - a guided journal part 3     LETTERS  (Take what you want from this, use it to prompt you in writing in your journal. Remember, to let it flow and don't worry about mistakes, typos or how it sounds)  For the following exercises you may want to write them out on a separate piece of paper or directly in your journal.   These are letters that are not ever meant to be delivered, they are communications you are doing towards your growth in flying free.  In this series we focused quite a bit on emotions, feeling them as we identified them. As stated previously, emotions are nothing more than the guideposts in your life. That is it. They do not control you. It is like driving past a street sign. You make the decision