What was it like?: Turning in a neglected cat

I'm torn. I've thought about this mid sized grey cat for weeks, months. He's been perched outside of a house a block away from mine. We walk by it everyday on our way to school. The cat hardly moved. It was being fed, but it was sick. I knew the homeowners had grown attached to it, there would be cans of cat food in the morning, by the afternoon half eaten cans remained, filled with flies. The cat would eat and go back and perch on a sliver of fence. It rained? The cat stayed. 

It was perched on a half inch fence, a fence only three feet tall. There were places along the small fence that were thicker and once he found those, weeks ago, he stayed there. In the same spot. Throwing up, defecating, same spot, every day. 

It tore me up! My son told me one morning, Mom, is his tummy getting bigger? It was. The cat was in pain. 

I put in a request for animal cruelty yesterday morning. Probably around this same time. I did put the address of the homeowner, I also put in my details. By the afternoon, the cat was not there. I didn't want to think it had already been picked up. It had been 4 hours, max. My worry was that upon the cat's eventual death, it would rot there. It didn't deserve that. A slow, painful, certain death. 

As we turned the corner to come home after school, I told my kids I had decided to contact the city for help with the cat. My kid's talked about how sad it looked. My son reminded me about the big stomach. He touched my shoulder and told me I did the right thing by getting it help. 

This morning was the truth. Had it taken hours to get him help? I'm not naïve. I know they probably will/have put it to death. Did I want that? Never. But did it deserve to humainley leave this Earth and not feel pain? absolutely. 

It wasn't there. The cat was gone. 

It's 8:58am, just an hour after dropping off my kids and I had to write all this down. This is the type of thoughts that cross my mind. The cat, the perching, sadness, relief. 

Little Kitty Cat, 

I love you. 

Let's do it!

I've been on a bit of a journey. Like I've shared before, my neighborhood isn't the best. It is dirty, gang infested and can be a downer. I've been walking my neighborhood on and off for the last year and it doesn't get any easier to ignore the BS. Still, I make the effort to get out there and at least take a 10 min. walk. It helps my mental state and gives me a quick heart rate jump. 

I'll give it to most people, I don't seem the most approachable. I'm here to live my best life and small talk and friendship are just not things I look for while taking a walk or taking my son to school. People see that as rude or bitchy. It's not. I had a man come out and tell a woman I seemed conceited. From walking by people, for just a few seconds he deduced I was arrogant. How in the world. 

Another time I'm walking by and some women say to each other, it must be 1:30pm, time to get ready to pick up the kids. 'Cus I'm a damn clock. My last straw was walking by a house and a man saying, loud enough for me to hear him, "to get rid of the love handles." I flipped off the house. Like, what in the world, folks. People cannot see someone and think, she's working out for her health. She seems busy. Nope, its critics and bullshit commentary. 

Has all that deterred me from my goals!

You bet.

It got me in a bit of funk. Not angry, just not productive. Leaving the house to go for walks didn't seem fun anymore. My daughter didn't want to go on walks since they were "too long" for her. So without her saying, "Yeah! Let's go," I stopped. Three weeks later, I've gained weight, and do not like my double chin. My body goes from thin-ish to overweight quickly. But this time instead of hating myself, telling myself I have nothing to wear and all around tearing myself down. I stopped.

I reflected on what goals I want to accomplish. One of them is to loose weight, yes but it is also about t not keep gaining weight. To look at what I'm eating and changing it up. I've ditched my eggs in the morning and started eating salads and adding more meat and veggies to my diet. Less soda during the day means a soda in the evening. More water. I even started doing a Youtube workout. I added resistance bands to my workout to add something new to my routine. 

Point is, don't give up on  yourself. Don't be hard on yourself. Do reflect and make small changes.

Even though I don't take my daughter for 30 min. walks, I take her on 10 min. walks and she gets to pick a few flowers. 

Small changes equate to small victories and over time, they will add up and you'll feel better. 

Living life is the point, so let's do it! 

Final Therapy Session - Therapy Graduation

Today is the big graduation day. 

Some heavy stuff has gone on in my life this week, and I know that would have broke me 6 months ago. I'd be a devastated heap of emotions, barely functioning in my own home. 

I can say that at times my kids still get on my nerves, its normal. They are figuring out this world right along with me. 

I still get mad. My period and I still don't function 100 percent together. I get irritated and feel the need to let you know. Funny thing is...I can laugh at it. Sometimes during the episode, before I open my mouth, and often after the episode, after I've said too damn much, and may have been too dang harsh. But, I am also apologizing, making sure it happens less often, and I am proud the episodes are shorter. 

All the episodes were so hard on my family. I was a façade of myself so often they had no idea what version of upset they would get. It still is hard, but speaking truthfully to them about my therapy, my family life and our goals helps. 

I still cry. My emotions can be too darn much! But I can acknowledge that and can see myself as less of a bad guy. My brain, hormones and body are a lot during my period and I see that as a version of myself. Not the loving me, so I have to remind myself during those times I am more than my emotions, or anger. I am love and compassion, too. 

I am here for a reason, I am living this for a reason, I blog it because I am not alone. 

Taking medication is not for everyone. Perhaps if I had gotten help sooner, in my 20's, early 30's this might be a completely different blog, maybe still about babies and figuring stuff out. Alas, it is a journey of self discovery none the less. Perhaps I wouldn't need medication, but I do and I know I am better because I take it. 

It took our last therapy session for me to feel excited about speaking to Elsa, my therapist. It often felt like a heavy feeling in my chest. Felt like we were once again talking about what went wrong and how I fell apart. During our previous session, my therapist congratulated me on being honest with her. The honesty was what helped our sessions get better and in turn I got better. 

Thank GOD for honesty.  

Therapy graduation coming soon

 Hi. 

Happy Winter Solstice. 

Happy return to the lovely winter months in the USA. I know this season is not easy for everyone. Sunny days are almost here <3

Reading the previous post was needed. I left in October because the session that followed that post was terrible. Asking my husband to write 'No' sentences turned into a fight. 

I don't want to get into him and how he feels, but his inner feelings crept in that day. It really messed with my mind. I cried the entire session that followed but it helped see myself more. Helped me see my husband as a flawed individual, like myself. His family dynamic was better than mine, but even they had situations that made for pent up feelings. We can all have that. Approaching life with less expectations and more understanding has helped ease frustrations.    

***

Since my last post there have been ups and downs.

More ups than downs. 

After many therapy sessions, I am graduating. 

My original therapy goal was to cry 4 or less days out of the week. 

A week, folks. 

I was a mess every other day. Picking up the pieces; exhausted by the constant negative talk. When she said my goal aloud, so many thoughts came back. I went back to those hidden files I  never wanted to see. Each time I cried, it felt like a new issue to tackle. A new thing to fix about myself. 

I have gone weeks without crying. That fact took me out of my thoughts and into reality. 

How much I have improved. 

Thank you for sticking with me. I always felt like I was running away, and I was. Things get too real, and I need a pause. This last time, nothing made sense. I had to detach and assess my life, my thoughts. I spent a lot of time on the couch, but I wasn't crying. It felt like I needed to sit and relax after years of my mind racing with thoughts and laments. 

I feel good. 

Around this time last year I came back to blogging. I am so damn proud of myself today. Feeling like myself each day. I was usually an ogre. PMDD is a bitch. But after all these years, I'm still the bader bitch :)

I hope you and yours are having the best of holidays. Have a wonderful new year!

Love, 

Kat

Setting Healthy Boundaries

 I told my brother I'd get back to him when I felt ready to. 

I was struggling with communicating with him, much like I was with my mom. I don't want confrontation, or misconstrued ideas. I want what is best for me, my family and them as well. But I cannot compromise the latter for the former. 

He text me first. He said he was sorry for his joke and that he knew I was "in a rough spot" and was sorry. That is not an apology. My emotional state had nothing to do with me thinking his "joke" was not funny. 

There is nothing wrong with you for disagreeing with someone else. That person should not use their words to make you the victim. No victims here. I'm looking out for myself. Normal human things we don't do enough of. 

I sent him information on mental health, but he said he'd read it when he has time. I don't have the time to wait for that. I don't want the type of energy he has at this time. It is dark. I almost feel like he enjoys talking about some things that I find triggering. I am here to help him, but he has to find himself. 

I told him I was not in a rough spot, but instead was setting healthy boundaries. 

As we all should. 

Love,

Kathy 

Negativity and looking in the mirror

I never wore makeup in high school. I think it was more common then to see girls, makeup free. I don't think I even plucked my eyebrows. I'm the oldest of three boys, so I never had someone to teach me makeup or buy it with.

When I graduated high school at 17, in the early 2000's I went straight to CSULB. That was a struggle in itself. I never fit in. In high school I did not care. But in university that changed. I felt alone. I didn't make friends, and getting into groups was intimating and the feeling, fleeting. 

During that time,  I start working at an arcade. I loved it! I loved the people there. The girls really took me under their wing. I let my wild side show and I was untamable! Aaaah, to be young. After working there two or three years, I had to stop because I was in my last year at CSULB and that meant 'Student teaching' in a classroom setting, supervised by an actual teacher. I also had a shit experience there. So I saw my friends less, but we tried to hang out when our schedules allowed it. 

We all finally made it to L.A. Live in Downtown Los Angeles for drinks and dinner one Saturday evening. I was gifted a beautiful pink jacket by a student during this time and couldn't wait to wear it. I was also using tutorials on YouTube to learn to do my makeup. This was circa 2010. After talking and eating, as a group of like 8 girls we go to the restroom and take a bathroom pic. When my friend looks at the pictures, and almost in shock, she says, "Kathy (Pause) you look (pause) good?"  Like what did you expect? Ugly duckling status? Maybe. I've always had it in me, I just never put the effort in myself. Time taught me to find myself, and makeup played a role. Make up is art. I felt creative on top of feeling beautiful. I was using the tools (they were the first to tell me to wear make up) and empowerment my friends taught me and made myself feel better about my appearance. 

When that happened in the restroom it was life letting me know I am beautiful, I have value, the bomb!

I have a hard time looking at my body, my face and loving what I see. I'll critic my body, my face, or better yet, avoid the mirror. I've gotten better at it though, I am me! I will still walk by a mirror, but more often I'll stop, smile at myself and keep on walking. Years later I still think about my friend  making me feel ugly by telling me I looked "good." My brain often takes hold of what I perceive as bad and makes it worse. But it was not like that at all, I looked more beautiful than she could ever imagine.

Once in Las Vegas, with my then fiancé, I go to the restroom by myself. I rush by the mirror and do my business. As I am washing my hands, I finally decide to check myself in the mirror. For me, at that time, it took courage and talking to myself to do it. And I see this beautiful face looking back at me. Years later that Vegas memory brings a smile to my face. Thoughts about ourselves should not be harsh. If they are, it isn't your heart speaking. Bad thoughts can blind us and diminish our self esteem but we are all worthy of feeling good and proud of ourselves. Makeup and friendships were a catalyst to my transformation. 

Forever grateful. 

-Kat

[Poem] E. Bass (Oct. 2012)

I surrender to myself:

Temptation.
Deception.
Lies.

The filth that comes out of my mouth,
the lies!

I fail for all the times I should of, could have said, "No!"


I failed at life again.

Its temptations a life's lesson for me; self taught.

But I revel in now!

I try to say no more...

but how is it that I still go?

The heart of the beast, it yells for more!


...it asks for the tenderness of your kiss, the song on your lips 

& the strum of your instrument. 

Had I locked the door, 

so long ago, 

it would never be. 

Hadn't I locked the door, 

Who'd I'd be?

Thoughts on marriage

I am mostly in my mind. Trying to hide? 

I pray every morning for patience, the sun lights up my face and assures me it's all well. 

But deep inside, I want something else. Selfish me. Not finished with A and wanting to run all the way to the end. But these almost 8 months have taught me that I don't have to wait for time. Time is now. It is never too late to be better. 

I said something honest last night that I've been holding on to for months. I am not happy. The indifference and deflection are usual. But I won't take that, we are all responsible for our own words and actions. One cannot lead to the other without some type of reflection. 

I want to be treated with kindness. Not told to do things. I typically just do whatever is asked. The less I talk, the faster you move on. But last night, I had to say it. Acting happy vs. actually being happy are not the same. In a marriage both adults have to work towards bettering themselves and thus hopefully the marriage. 

Working through things is not my forte, but I am taking back my voice. It's not nagging, or being in trouble, it's about respect. It's about how to show affection and admiration. There isn't time to waste staying in old habits. It is time to act and behave with haste and compassion. React. Listen and show you care. 

This world is so vast, and to tell you that the monetary working that make this world run aren't for me is so cliché, but man, do I want to run in fields of flowers and grass. I want to be alone with the trees. I want to bathe in the lakes. 

Riches and bitches come and go, make room for self love and mental clarity. 

Have a wonderful day, 

Kathy 

Ghetto wishes & cosmic dust [poem]

 

How can we thrive in the destruction of the chaos?

We become exposed; explode.

 Innocence taken away,

turned to anguish bursting to expose!

Expose the hate felt deep inside for the loss of a loved one for something they can’t control.

Lucky the ones that turn that pain into forgiveness and a passion for change.

 

If we could go back to the time of zero.

And Love each other for what makes us, us.

Devine beings.

Cosmic Dust. 

Happy Birthday to me

My birthday today. 

My mom reached out. 

At the end, 

She made me feel bad. 

She told me hurtful things. 

Brought God into it. 

But I have the power to speak my truth. To Be kind. 

I am not here to hurt, I want to heal this fucking world. 

I've cried at church, asking God why I wasn't loved by my mother as a teen. 

I've cried in my car as an adult. 

I cry in my living room, today, on my birthday (as an older adult :/)

She never heard ME. She always had a knack for taking my feelings and invalidating them.  Making it about herself, closing the door, and leaving me, a mess. A child. 

I feel guilty for all my learned behavior.

I have memories of her being hurtful with her words. Me asking simple things and getting rude answers, making me feel like I was not important. 

Even now I question things. Did I do something wrong? 

I told her about therapy and my doctors. She said my childhood was good and there was no abuse, so she didn't know what I was talking about. 

I told her it started as a child, that it was difficult because we didn't have a relationship. The way she spoke to me as a kid was rude, she made fun of me in cruel ways to make my feelings invalid. When I would try to speak up, shed mock me, and in a taunting voice say, "What does the little girl have to say now?"

How can I take that?

I couldn't call her. Tried to for two months.  

Today, she said I got what I wanted, I made her cry. That was her reaction to my texts. I know things can be taken out of context. I swear, I was kind. I know it's hard to deal with raw emotions, but her way of crying, getting sick, not picking up, getting my dad on her side, is textbook her. 

 I have to tell myself, "You knew how'd shed react. Enough, Live your Life!" 

Perhaps it's liberating. 

I am healing something, torn. 

Like the tape on old library books. It has to be the thick clear one, or it wont work, no scotch tape on this book. I started healing one side with therapy, and medicine. Today, I taped the other side. Have to tape both sides of the page, or else, wtf are we doing? 

Can't risk two pages getting stuck together and ruining the rest of the story. 

Love always, 

Kathy 

Can my PMDD deal with Potty Training? (Again)

My three year old went number one and number two in her potty, by herself!!!

We are so proud of her. 

But, honestly, I'm so proud of me. 

When my son was her age, I was struggling with depression and anger. The thoughts of dealing with a child and potty training seemed like the biggest, dumbest, most complicated chore. I hated it. 

I remember yelling. Yes, yelling at a child to learn to shit in a foreign object. PMDD (Premenstrual Dysphoric Disorder) does not allow you to see beyond the hurdle. It keeps you stuck in the toughness of the situation without words of kindness or looks of love. It was something my son could not do. Of course he could. But at the moment, in those days, hours, weeks and months, it felt like something he could not comprehend. My little guy. Always so smart. I wish I could go back to those days. See myself and have compassion for us both. To hold you both and weep for whom you all used to be. Forever changed, impacted by my actions. But with so much love to overlook the sadness and the past. We can all go back to a moment of sheer shit. And hopefully look at oneself now and see the growth. 

With the grace of knowing it is never too late to ask for help. Any type of help. 

So, it was a rough experience for both of us. 

I dreaded a similar experience with my daughter. 

The biggest change I made was asking for help. I did not want to start this journey alone. I am a busy mom, and I have routines. I have to take away the pressure to fulfill a schedule and tend to her first. My husband helps when he is home, encouraging her to potty, and sitting with her when she needs us. 

Or looking away when she doesn't.

At first she would cry, and scream. The battle was just getting her to want to sit on a toilet. We bought her a Minnie Mouse Potty, and she loved it, but not enough to sit on it. So we would give her small toys, books or technology (our word for tablets, or phones). We also bribed her with her favorite gummies. She saw us buy them at the market. We got home and she wanted gummies, we told her she'd only get gummies if she sat on the potty and tried to use it. It worked!

After trying for a month, she began to tell us when her tummy "hurt," meaning she was ready to poop. 

This time, medication, counseling, and freaking breathing helped tremendously. My husband helped more than before. He encouraged her to try, and she was happy to try. I never raised my voice. I was not unkind. We all told her she could, as a family unit, and she did. 

Proud AF, 

Kathy 

PMDD has taught me to be honest about my baggage

Writing is a weapon I tend to use against myself. 

I'll write sad things, angry things. 

Talking is also a weapon I use.

Either on myself or against others. 

So, sometimes, I just want to STFU. 

Just be silent. 

People can have so much to say, but all I can do is agree (often with a nod), disagree (with a 

disapproving nod), or smile. I have wanted to call my mother for 3 weeks. I want to be honest with her, 

but I don't want to be vulnerable. I want to tell her the hell I've gone through all these years. Be honest 

about my thoughts and their impact on my life. My inability to see beyond them without medication 

and psychological help. I don't want to upset anyone. Be misconstrued. Point fingers. None of it.  I just 

want to speak my truth. 

I am healing my inner child. 

The woman who as a child, a teen, felt alone. Unloved. Unheard. Misunderstood. 

I needed mental help for years and years and years. 

It was all taken as me being a fucking bitch. I just needed fucking help. 

How to heal that in a year, filled with loss, and changes? 

I want to be love, and love others.

Keeping a secret regarding mental health from my family is somethings I don't want to do anymore. 

I can't be me without saying that sometimes I feel terrible and it isn't me, it's my brain, it's my period, 

my hormones. But none of that will define me. I will learn to live with this and thrive. 

Depression and Postpartum thoughts

 I struggle to figure out who might relate to emotional numbness. 

I think my postpartum depression ladies might relate. 

Your family could be the  most awesome group of people, but the numbness creates a barrier between you and them. 

I was speaking to my husband about this. How powerless I feel about my feelings. 

It's hard to find passion in things. To say I love you and deep down inside not question it. I question if I belong in that space to even utter those words. 

Anger is something I also can't wholly control. It feels like anger comes in like a bull in a pen, ready to just you, GO! It takes a hold that sucks me into depression and anger. 

Escitalopram Or generic Lexapro has helped. My emotions are less explosive, but things are still triggering. I believe my family could help around the house more and alleviate some of the stress I feel. My son could be more willing to go with the flow. My daughter is growing up and becoming more and more independent. I love that, but I am so frustrated by my son's immaturity that hers is just difficult to enjoy. 

...

I want to be loved, I deserve love. I give it abundantly and deserve it in return; with no strings attached.

Depression does not allow me to see love. It asks me to see the world through a lens set on the past, looking into the future. I allow my whirlwind of thoughts to penetrate the future with a fury. 

I am asked to take a step back, assess, and I am working on that. Depression and sadness come too easy for me to detach. Writing, cooking and other activities seem too much. I can't pick them up. I ask myself what I want to do and get sadness in return. 

But honey, I can't stay there. I can't dwell there any longer. I have to understand that I have those thoughts, but they are thoughts, I have to fill the void with something that let's me see past my pain. My doctor suggested I purchase a coloring book for adults. I've always hated on those. But at this point bring it on.

Postpartum cannot eradicate the years of not having depression! The years filled with depression cannot eradicate the renewed sense of changing things around. 

Dammit, I will not allow my world to dictate my life, or my mind to dictate my body. There have been setbacks. The worst I have had in four months, but I am overcoming it. I spoke up. I asked for help. 

It ain't pretty, it ain't over, and there may be more steps back, but I can't give up on me.

I am a human being on Earth, before I am a woman, a mother, or a wife. 

I am a being here for some reason and have to make the most of this. 

I have to make this one count!

-Kathy 

Helder & Co. (4/1/10 3:31pm (edit:5/15/21))

The time and place of all is never what we think.

We look to space.
We transform Earth.
We destroy the human race.

At times, I too think, things are not as they were told.

I listen to the sound from the news.
I try to not take it all in.
Not to cry.

But

Why is it that a kid can be killed and there's no crime?
The death of people in certain circumstances crush my spirit.

Why are we all here, if not to save those who die...
I believe. 

But

Is faith what we have coming; to those who choose to hurt you?

Is this what life is supposed to be like?

Some walk with faith, some choose another path, still they die, and flowers are left to pass.
Others are never found, or found too late, do you listen to the sounds that their crying makes?

I think you do, but there's so much to get done, only superheroes could be the one.

Is that why we make up stories?
To pretend that we can?
To combat... the heartache...

Tomorrow is another day.
The truth might be uncovered.
Or the truth might be revealed as we look to the sky.
...Could it be...I just can't make it?

Is it that I am weak?

I smile at love...it brings me back.
If only there was more of it...
If only they'd come back.

Happy Wednesday

 Happy Wednesday, 

Boy am I acting like I don't have stuff to do!!

But I wanted to say hi to you! 

Wish you a happy day!

Love, 

always, 

Kathy

Poem - Loveless Torpedoes - 3/22/13

Just before I open my eyes to the aftermath of our disease,

I see you collapse, and still stand on your own two feet.

I see your eyes changing into loveless torpedoes,

they zero in on the ego.

From then on it's the battle of the ages.

Every time it happens adds a notch to our belt. 

 

Its anti-venom dished out after,

Hugs and Kisses.

Cheers to the time between the outbreaks.

Gloom suffocates when it comes.

F*ck Man (neighbors be trippin')

My neighbors are the fucking worst. 

They play loud assss fucking music, loud assss fucking music with full blast bass. 

My daughter cries, no longer wants to take naps. 

They are just absolute fucking trash. 

I can't handle this. 

I don't want these vibes around me!

It feels like my walls come crashing down. 

People!!!

Fuck! Be kind. Just be fucking kind. To anyone. 

Enough of seeking revenge for wrongs that were never done. 

You've met the type, fucking mean, just for the heck of it!

I don't want to take it!

I wish I had money. I'd give it to these creeps to make them go away. I'd build parks, and place gardens in the places where they used to stay.

God, sometimes I feel like you just leave me alone, here. 

Like you don't even care. 

And then I think the lesson is more for them than for me, I know I have things to learn, but alone I am not.

I hold on to that so ferociously, as I have for all my life. 

Always dreaming of beautiful things on the horizon.

Palo Santo, Sage, prayers, intentions and Love.  

....The worst just happened, I wanted to loose my temper. thank god for medicine, therapy and patience. Man, I called the police, twice. They never came. My life is this strange juxtaposition between good and bad. I'm always trying to be the good. This shit sucks. I've lived here about 12 years, and they've lived here about 8. They have always been loud. Parties, Banda music, DJ's. The husband would wake up at 5:30am and start playing loud music. He then bought chickens, fixed cars at crazy hours of the day and night, bought multiple dogs, accused us of killing his dog (that was when we knew this dude was crazy, we would never harm an animal!), bought loud cars and now this bass business. This has turned into repeated harassment. I want to work towards moving out of this house. I want to write, and be recognized for it. To make a living showing the world I am good at this. 

This can't be it. I was supposed to be this awesome fucking teacher, and I got pregnant and things went sideways. My PMDD made it difficult to find a part time job, or write and be a mother. With things going smoother with medication and with therapy I hope to accomplish something that lasts a lifetime in this world. 

Poem - Loving Someone Like You - 4/24/2013

Loving Someone Like You

Loving someone like you,

like you.

Attaining the emotions to encompass us, 

in my heart, 

my thoughts, 

my veins.


Letting go of sides,

in order to trust.


How often do we understand what we have lost,
  
                to begin to handle what we had attained?


Love lost,

love won,

Love lost again.


The cycle, ongoing, unyielding... 

until i get it.


It was never what you had, but shouldn't,

It was never what you wanted so bad and had. 

 

It was always in a home full of love,

it was inside the heart that beats so furiously for us.


Never take it back, never make it undone.

Suzy's flower shop

I went to Ikea today, Ok, I drove by Ikea today. There was a line and I didn't want to put my kids through that. So we went to Burlington instead. It was my first time. I liked it! 

But to get there from Carson we decided to take the streets. We hardly ever drive down this particular street. 

15 minutes into our drive, we have to quickly apply our breaks! An illegal U turn up ahead. As we dodge the stop and veer towards the right lane, a flower shop catches my eye. 

Suzy's flower shop. 

I smile. 

Last night I was speaking to my cousin, sending love to the beyond.

As we drive a few feet, a license plate also catches my eye.

On it, a purple daisy. The same color and flower as were given as a memento at Suzy's internment of ashes at the cemetery, yesterday. 

Another angel in heaven...moving heaven and Earth in her own unique way...

Love you always, sweet cousin. 

Poem - The Heart - 6/23/16

The heart has the key to your light.

It shines brightly even when you've lost your spark.

Your heart is where your kind words lie.


The heart has the tough answers the brain can choose to ignore.

The brain can damage the little confidence we may have.


Rely on YOUR heart to tell the truth.

When your brain is on rant, when you hate the thoughts you have,

ask your heart, "Are you alright with that?"

If the answer is NO! Then remind yourself that over time, those shitty little thoughts will go away, as you check in with your heart each and every day.