Thankfully Chewed Up and Spat Back Out!

I don’t know why and what, but whenever I hear a certain call, I feel alive and at home all at once. Over the years I’ve examined that part of myself because I also understand the traumatized and how co-dependency can and will play out. It’s difficult to step outside of yourself and evaluate motivations and intent, but when you’re stepping into a lion’s den, you need your wits to tackle what will be before you. Yesterday I did something I haven’t done in years, what it was and who is not what I am sharing today, it was hearing the call, that call that goes straight to your heart and you know you can answer it. For waking up that part of me again I must thank a woman who reminds me of myself in some ways, and I barely know her. My son alerted me to a few situations in the news and revolving around a woman who has dedicated her life to be there for those in crisis. Kyle grew up on my hip doing similar work but rather it being in Rockford, Illinois, we did our work/volunteering in rural W

  an outloud journal post Earlier this evening I said a farewell to someone very special to me. In a way it was also myself letting go of fear. A fear of letting go. Holding on to regret I should have never owned. I faced a milestone in my life and theirs not knowing how it would turn out or if I was doing the the right thing, but I did know my heart needed it and so did they. No one else mattered. No regret in the end, if anything it was meant to happen. I grew up tonight and so did they. Tomorrow when I wake up I will recognize the woman in the mirror — she’s the one a little girl once dreamt about becoming, someone who loves life and appreciates those she loves as much as her own reflection. She’s lived life embracing challenge.. She’s loved the unloved, including herself.. She’s mothered the motherless, including herself.. She’s groped her way through the dark and squinted at the light But she’s never lost sight with moving forward… No matter how hard the path may have been.. She’s

an outloud journal entry Last night I got the call from Northwestern Physical Therapy, Meridian, my Medicaid — I’m on SSDI, disabled due to a congenital defect in my spine spinal failure from that and autoimmune issues. In October I had major surgery on my lumbar spine, and ended up with it being far more involved than anyone had planned on - The holidays were tough. After two weeks in a hospital came months with trying to keep my spine straight but also get through just manuvering the home. It’s been painful mentally and physically, but I’ve done everything I could do to try to keep my spirits up and push on because I want to make all of this a distance memory and soon — I want to not rely on this system that has caused me so much pain. Delays in getting healthcare and approvals almost had me on the streets living, thank God for my kids. Then the delays of preauthorizations denials cause took my down a spiral of unrelenting pain, the type of pain death is a dream. Top it off with all

An outloud journal post https://pixabay.com/users/vicente0-4894368/ Three decades plus ago I was young and thought I was in love — I was rushing to get in the door, home from work, so I could get ready to leave on a date.  Andy stopped me in the mutual walkway to our family homes. He was my mother’s best friend’s son. Older than me, we weren’t in the same crowd, but our families were best friends — holidays, bbqs, garage sales… He wanted to talk about something, I was in a rush — it was also cold out, I asked if we could talk later, I told him I was in a hurry and I had somewhere else to be — he said no problem, don’t worry.  About 8 hours later I awoke to his mother, my mom’s best friend — someone like an Aunt to me, screaming on the phone that Andy was dead, he had committed suicide — I was probably among the last people he spoke to before making the decision to go to a gas station, take a hose, and then off to the woods to asphyxiate himself. Deep in me I’ve carried a guilt, even th

  Most will tell you I don’t sugarcoat much when speaking to trauma survivors, and the reason I do that is because I appreciate knowing what I am facing rather than being lied to or considered so fragile I cannot handle knowing the truth — I treat them like I would like to be treated. These are just some samples on how when I did volunteer and handled crisis calls, what I tried to do and be for other survivors. Survivors, whether five minutes old from their abuse or decades later, appreciate one thing over nice words, Truth ← NOT JUDGEMENT, the two are very different in delivery and intent. If you find yourself comparing your story to other stories of survival for any other reason than finding a bond, there are core issues going unaddressed, in you. Comparing who had worse trauma misses the boat on healing from trauma. Insisting someone follow what you do to heal is controlling and not allowing for that individual’s personal situation, needs, and how they process information. Listening