Parental Alienation

This is a message the must be read, heard and understood by all divorcing/divorced parents. PLEASE DO NOT TRAUMATIZE YOUR CHILDREN IN ORDER TO EXACT REVENGE ON YOUR SPOUSE.

Breaking Sarah - Bruised, Not Broken

I am so very mad right now. I don’t watch Dr. Phil’s TV show but it happened to be the channel it was on when I turned the TV on. The subject matter immediately caught my attention: a mother has been telling her daughter for 16 years that her father molested her when she was a toddler.

The father denies it. The police found no evidence of abuse. Schools and peers believe the abuse didn’t happen and that the mother, instead, was making things up or making huge exaggerations. Okay – it had my attention! The father took a polygraph, administered by a well-known ex-FBI agent considered the best at giving and interpreting polygraphs, and he passed with flying colors. It brought the father to tears of relief. When Dr. Phil asked if he was glad the public finally knows the truth, the father said that he didn’t care about that, he…

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I AM NOT ASHAMED OF MY BIPOLAR DISORDER!

I could relate to everything Tessa has to say here. I have been bi-polar my whole life. Too many are suffering in silence which I why I feel this story needs to be seen. Thank you for sharing with us, Tessa.

Tessa Can Do It! Positivity is Catching!

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For the record, I am not ashamed of my Bipolar Disorder or my other mental health conditions or the physical disorders that have disabled me. I am thankful that I can still walk a little. I am not ready for a wheel chair. As long as I can hobble along I will do that.

For the first half of my  life I  had no idea what was wrong. Now I know and it doesn’t shame me. I am still a human being that just has a disease like any other. There are doctors to treat this disease and therapy to help us through it. We just need to clear up the stigma and shame put on us by others, whether well meaning or not.

I won’t say it hasn’t affected my life because it has. I have had some bad experiences because of it. I have trouble with medications and…

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Major Fail!

I can’t begin to thank all of you for the likes and the follows! I am humbled and grateful. You guys are so amazing!

I want to apologize for not having responded to each and every one of you personally. I do not have internet at home right now. I use my cellphone for everything. Well, the old cellphone bit the dust two days ago. I will be ordering one in the morning and I’m having it overnighted. As soon as it gets here I will get it activated and return to immerse myself in your life stories, poetry and beautiful photography! After far too many years I have found my voice and I long to hear yours.

Thank you all again for the love. I can’t wait to return. My son’s phone will not allow me to reply directly to comments so I apologize. Probably because it’s a Windows phone.

Hugs to everyone and thank you for your patience!

A life not worth living.

Three months ago I had to be placed on life support. I had gotten pneumonia and my body was shutting down, rapidly. The doctor informed me the only way to save my life was to put  me on a ventilator. Darkness set in. There were no angels. No bright light trying to lure me away. I remember nothing. Did you know that every day you remain on a ventilator, your chances of coming off of it alive decrease? Up until the eighth day my body fought their efforts to wean me off. Perhaps somewhere in the recesses of my mind I knew this. Ten years of unbearable physical pain and ten years of “him”  breaking my spirit were enough to make me not want to come back.

On the eighth day, my body was able to sustain without the breathing tube. I was angry. I was sad. I wanted to lash out at God for ignoring my desire for it to end. I felt betrayed. Why would he send me back for more? So many days I had prayed for Him to take me home. Home, where the would be no more pain. No more breaking my spirit. I guess He wasn’t finished with me. There must be unfinished business.

There is. I suppose He waned me to fight to get my spirit back. Of all the places I would find the courage to fight, I am finding it here with total strangers. Because of your support, I had enough courage to tell tonight that I would no longer allow him to break what was not his to break. I told him if things did not change soon he would be packing his bags. He is even ugly to my mom. She has been through enough abuse in her life. He has abused her for the last time unless he wants to pack his stuff. This is my house. He has no claim to it. My dad bought it
for me since I am disabled and can not work. He didn’t want to leave this world unless I had my own place, fully paid for. One that no one could force me out of. I am very blessed to have a dad that do that for me.

There are no words to adequately express the gratitude I have for the encouragement that total strangers have given me. You have also helped me find the courage to stand up for myself. I can not thank you all enough. The fire in me has returned. I can not wait to explore your blogs and get to know you guys.
Thank you for the love.

Joyfully,

Leah

Crying can feel like dying – one drop at a time.

Blown Away!

I am blown away by the love and encouragement I have received here. You guys are amazing! I was so afraid to put my thoughts and feelings on this blank canvas and share them with strangers. I fought with myself, feeling no one would care about what I had to say. This internal struggle has gone on for two years.

My husband is a truck driver. He isn’t home very much. When he got home yesterday he made it very clear that I was to spend time with him, watching TV of all things! That is all he ever wants to do. I hate TV. How is that spending time together? I am able to post this because he has run down to the corner store. There is a desperation inside of me to write and to read all of your posts. I have been locked away in this situation for ten years. The noose is getting tighter by the day. I can’t breathe anymore. I have to find a way out. The support I have found here over the last two weeks has breathed new life and fire into me.

I am so sorry I have not been able to respond to all of you amazing people. He will leave out again tomorrow night. I will be back the minute he leaves. I long to be a part of a world outside of this prison. I can not thank you all enough for the love I have received here. Mere words are not enough. Please know that my gratitude runs deep. My soul is on fire, in a good way! I hear the truck. I will be back tomorrow night.

Thank you from the depths of my soul!

Leah

Crying can feel like dying – one drop at a time.

Southern and not responsible for my ancestors choices!

If I had a penny for every time I heard someone say that I would be filthy rich. The statement is true. But what if we changed that statement by adding something to it? What if we tacked on something meaningful at the end of it? Let’s just change the whole damn thing!

Hi. My name is Leah. While I am southern born and not responsible for my ancestors choices, I AM responsible for making a positive change in my community so long as I walk this earth. Doesn’t that sound SO much better?

Just because my ancestors were ignorant doesn’t mean I have to be. I owe a debt of gratitude to my mother for choosing NOT to carry on family traditions. It was not an easy choice for her because of the hell her family gave her. It was however, the only choice she could live with.

My mom had one of the worst childhoods you could imagine. There was one bright spot in an otherwise bleak life. Her name was Bertha. Bertha was the family’s “black” maid. She provided the only arms my mother felt loved in or safe in. I think my mother would have committed suicide before 18 if she hadn’t had Bertha. She loved my mother without strings or expectations. She loved my mother just because. Just because she did. I probably wouldn’t be here today if it weren’t for that wonderful woman. My mother might not have been so quick to turn against her family’s beliefs if it weren’t for Bertha’s love.  I thank God for putting Bertha in my mom’s life.

I guess my grandmother was too good to do her own cooking and cleaning. Instead, she hired Bertha to do those chores that were beneath her. If you fear and hate a particular race, why in the world would you hire them to work in your home? I have never been able to understand that choice. In the end, it would be the greatest decision my grandmother ever made. In my opinion, anyway.

Just how deep did that fear run? Bertha had her own plate, bowl, silverware, glass and coffee cup. Again, I don’t understand. If you are frightened that this woman is harboring some secret disease, why bring her into your home? I will never understand.

My mother ate many meals with this nurturing woman. The only adult that actually cared about my mom’s thoughts, opinions and feelings. My mom was 12 and 13 years younger than her sisters. She wasn’t really welcome at their dinner table. Bertha welcomed mom with loving arms and a joyful smile. Bertha didn’t see skin color. She saw a child that she loved. No more. No less. What if we could all be like Bertha? What a wonderful world it would be!

Instead of walking around with your head held high and accepting no responsibility, why don’t you get off your tiptoes and accept that change is indeed your responsibility?

One more thing. If ever there were a flag that needed to be burnt, it is the rebel flag! I am so sick of hearing people talk about it being their heritage. Please. I bet 95% of the people that say that have no idea who created that flag or what he said about it. The only thing you are saying by waiving that monstrosity is that you are an ignorant white person and you are better than ever other race out there. If you really think God created all of us but only the white folks are any good, then you will most likely rot in hell!

A big thanks to my mom for teaching me about love and acceptance rather than fear and hate. Bertha, you were gone before my time but I pray that someday I will get to hug your neck and thank you in person. You were a much needed role model and hero to a tormented little girl.