Circle of Trust

In the movie, Meet the Parents, the main character’s soon to be father in law tells him about the “circle of trust”.

“But the fact is, Greg, with the knowledge you’ve been given, you are now on the inside of what I like to call…the Byrnes family circle of trust. I keep nothing from you, you keep nothing from me..”

My “circle of trust”  is a very small circle and difficult to penetrate.  Once you are in, it is much easier to get out than it did to get in.   My circle is more like a fortress than a simple circle.  It comes complete with high walls, a moat, and ferocious monsters living in the water surrounding it.  There is a larger circle surrounding the fortress that I would describe as a type of purgatory.  You enter that circle and wait until I open the drawbridge to the let you into the “circle of trust”.  It is a system that has served me well in my life.  Obviously I have some life experiences that  caused me to implement this system.

The statement in the movie says that people in the “circle of trust” keep nothing from each other.  Most people think that means sharing our biggest secrets with those in the circle.  While that is something that happens in time, I think it means much more.  For me it means being able to tell the truth to each other.  If one of us is having a bad day, we can say it.  We ask each other for help.  We can share something exciting or scary or boring.  We can even say I need some space and want to chill.   We can call each other on things in a kind, loving way. We also remember that all of us are human and we are going to make mistakes.  We forgive in love.  It means that we want the best for each other-always.

Once in a while someone will make it into the circle before they had earned that right.  When that happens, I question my judgement and wonder why I would let the drawbridge down so easily putting all of us in the circle at risk.  I wonder what magic charm they used to confuse me.  I begin to doubt myself and everyone in the circle.

I am in long term recovery and have learned many things over the years.  In the Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous  Step Eleven says, “Sought through prayer and meditation to improve our conscious contact with God as we understood Him……”  If you  work the program and do this it says” We will intuitively know how to handle situations which used to baffle us.”

This week, someone I allowed into my outer circle long before their time broke the trust.   It confused me and I started to doubt. When this has happened before, I have tried to make excuses, close my eyes, and ignore the intuition. I didn’t want to believe I had fallen prey to someone’s games.  I blamed myself for their choices and actions.  I chose not to do that this time.  I listened to my gut, intuition, and logic.   I talked to a “circle” friend and decided  to send this person away from my circle.  I didn’t offer an explanation or make excuses.  I decided to protect myself and my circle.

There was a time in my life I chose to close the circle to everyone.  I stood alone and I was alone indeed.  It was a dark time in my life.  One person helped me open my circle again and begin to fill it.  My circle is not large but it is impressive.  In fact there are less than a dozen.   It includes a couple of members of my family and men and women of various ages.  That outer circle is larger but I still am cautious and protective of those in that circle as well.

Please don’t read this and ask me if you are in the “circle of trust”.  You already know.  I am grateful for each of you and I love you all.  I promise to keep you close to my heart and keep “nothing from you.”

“The glory of friendship is not the outstretched hand, nor the kindly smile, nor the joy of companionship; it is the spiritual inspiration that comes to one when you discover that someone else believes in you and is willing to trust you with a friendship”….Ralph Waldo Emerson

Trail of Breadcrumbs

I took a couple of days off to drive to a town about three hours from home.  My  brother drove down after attending his high school reunion in another state.  We have a sister who lives close to this town and she came to meet us.  In a blog, Now You’ve Done It I shared a bit about the strange and unique relationship between all my siblings.  It will take more than a blog to explain all the intricacies of my family; that is why I am writing a book.

About a month ago I came to this same area and decided not to use my GPS for the trip home.  I drove an extra forty-five minutes in the wrong direction because of it.  This is not the first time I have done this.  I am directionally challenged.  I posted on facebook today that I decided to follow my brother back to the area where we had booked the hotel.  I followed his black car onto the freeway and then a few minutes later he got off and I followed.  I though perhaps they were stopping for something to drink.  I blindly followed him for a few minutes when the phone rang.

I saw my brother’s name on caller ID.  “Where are you?”

“I am right behind you.”  I wondered why he would ask such a silly question.

“No, I don’t see you.  We are just passing exit 82.”

“What do you mean?  You got off and I am following you down past all these service stations.”  The realization hit that I was following the wrong car.   I immediately did a u turn and  proceeded to get back on the freeway.  We had a long laugh and everyone has shared in the humor on facebook. My daughter, Lory, has shared quite a bit on the subject.

I was texting my friend Jan and told her that I also went the wrong way each time I left my hotel room and walked to the wrong end of the hallway.  My brother has found it quite amusing.  Jan suggested that I “leave a trail of breadcrumbs.”

I realize that I have taken many wrong turns in my life.  I have been so very lost at times I didn’t know if I could ever find my way back.   What if i had left a trail of breadcrumbs and followed them back instead of following my instincts and going to a place I had never been before?  It might have been shorter and safer, but would it have been better?

Many of my wrong turns and bumbled directions have led to places of pain and heartache.  Others lead to times of confusion.  And yet I am here in this place today because of each step I took along the way.  What if I had followed the road map others handed me?  Where would I be and who would I be if I had never gone off course?

I can’t answer those questions.   A friend said, “if I’d never gone through what I have,  I never would have known life to be any different.”  And for that reason, I am grateful for all the detours and wrong turns.  I think I will continue to follow my instincts and leave the bread crumbs for the kids in the fairy tale.   But I will take my GPS and be sure let my friends and family know where I am going!

 

What Is the “Right” Kind of Princess Story?

Reblogged from simplyjan:

• 
• 

*Spoiler alert for the newly released Brave.

Last Friday, the kids and I went to see the newly released Pixar/Disney animated film, Brave. I wrote about the effect it had on me – a grown woman – in my post here. I loved the film! I loved how it portrayed the struggles often faced between mothers and daughters. I loved the strong-willed, strong-minded, strong-bodied young princess.

Read more… 755 more words

My friend Jan at simplyjan blog wrote this after seeing the new movie Brave.  If  you enjoy her post, please be sure to look around and "LIKE" her blog!!  She has just recently started sharing her blog publicly and I know you will enjoy it.  I loved this post as a woman, a mother, and once upon at time princess.

Do You Believe in Angels?

A few days ago, I posted a blog Do You Believe in Monsters.  The next day I reposted a follow up blog written by my friend Jan at “simplyjan”.   The subject matter took me to a dark place, but Jan’s blog and the response of several others reminded me that I don’t have to battle the monsters alone anymore.

Last night found me back in a place emotionally I didn’t want to be.  Once again, a couple of friends reached out to support me.  I had trouble sleeping and woke up during the night.  I decided to go into my office for a while.  I reached for a scrapbook I made after the death of my friend and a letter fell out of the sleeve.  I picked it up and opened it.  The words of that letter spoke a message of comfort that were intended for another time in my life but spoke to me none the less.

I journaled for a short time and just as I finished, I saw an email pop up. It was from another friend and she was sending me an angel.  It was the kind of email you typically pass on.  She put a personal note on the end that said, “I don’t usually send these things, but just felt you needed an angel tonight.”    I felt overwhelmed with peace and went back to bed.

Today I have been thinking about the angels in my life.  They have come at various times throughout my life when I needed them most.  They don’t look like the glowing, pure, golden haired, winged being you so often see in pictures.  They look like everyday people.  Some don’t look very angelic at all.

I went to lunch today with a friend, her daughter (who will be upset if I do not tell you that she is also my friend) and her two younger children.  As we sat around the table eating, telling stories, and laughing, I knew this was a rather strange group of angels in my life.

I thought about my daughter and son and my incredible grandchildren.  While my daughter and son will disagree with me at times, these precious children are also my angels.  My son and daughter are too, but you have to give the grandchildren top billing.

I thought of the friend who wrote the letter and others who have passed away.  I thought a family who helped me through a troubled childhood.   I was reminded of a teacher in high school who took an interest in me and encouraged me.  I remembered a woman at seminary who helped me open my mind and heart. My list grew as the afternoon went on.

Yes, I still believe in monsters, but I also believe in angels.

“So what are we supposed to do again, when we hate everything?
You stop pretending life is such fun or makes sense. It’s often messy and cruel and dull, and we do the best we can. It’s unfair, and jerks seem to win. But you fall in love with a few people. Like I love you, Elizabeth. You’re the angel God sent me.”
― Anne Lamott

A Sandusky Sermon – Especially for Preachers and Youth Workers

Reblogged from simplyjan:

Last night at about 10:00 pm, the verdict was read for Jerry Sandusky: guilty on 45 out of 48 counts of sexual abuse of children. Immediately afterward, my Facebook and Twitter feeds exploded with reactions. Some were more classily worded than others, but across the board there was a sense of great relief and joy that justice had been done.

Read more… 587 more words

This is a courageous and powerful post!

Do You Believe In Monsters?

Jerry Sandusky the monster is held accountable and his sex abuse victims are heroes for testifying.  

This was the headline I saw as I opened the internet this morning.  If you were on facebook last night you couldn’t miss the news spreading across the posts. People shared anger, pain, applauded the jury,  congratulated the victims for their courage,  and felt that justice had been served.  What you didn’t see where the people who cried out in disbelief.  They do exist and they will raise their voice.

They don’t believe a child would  remain quiet about something this horrendous.  They don’t believe in repressed memories.  They will tell you that one or two children misconstrued acts of caring and support for something more.  You might hear these one or two children were getting even as adults because they didn’t get the scholarship or award they believe they deserved.  The rest just came along for the ride.  Why even his adopted son made up allegations.  He must have wanted a book deal. Two reporters clearly stated that it must not be true because the defense didn’t call him to testify.  He wasn’t called to testify for strategic reasons well stated by defense counsel.   But we need that little bit of doubt to be planted by reporters.

Do children lie about sexual or physical abuse?  Yes, they do it all the time when they say it NEVER happened.  In the testimony of one victim he told why he never came forward.  The chance to leave his little town and troubled home for afternoons hanging around the Penn State football program were enough, he testified.   “I thought, ‘I didn’t want to lose this. This is something good happening to me,’ ” he said.  Someone is going to use that statement as proof the child wasn’t traumatized or hurt by this encounter.  You have to understand the nature of predators.  They make the child feel special and important or they terrorized the child into believing it is their own fault this is happening.  If you tell something bad will happen.   Something bad does happen when you tell, whether as a child or as adult.

I wrote about feeling special and loved by my abuser in a blog post.  It was the most confusing thing to know in my soul that this thing that was happening was so wrong.  He said if I told we would both be in trouble and he would have to go away.  The darkness took over my being and I just want to hide or maybe die.  And yet, I was so desperate for someone to love me that I was afraid of losing this person.  When it happened at the hand of older teenage boys in my neighborhood, it was different.  But they used similar tactics.  They threatened to hurt me, my dog, my home, and told me we would all go to jail.    I never told.  I was thirty-five when I did tell my therapist.  I didn’t tell anyone else until years later. You see,  I was afraid that maybe I was the monster.

Today,  I tell my story here and to anyone that needs to hear to it.  I don’t wear it as a badge honor.  I don’t claim it as being who I am today.  I am not what happened to me, but it will always be a part of me.  I am going to use a cliché even though I hate them.  I am a survivor and thriver, not a victim.  I have found healing.  But if you ask me, I will tell you this.  I still believe in monsters.

Unforgiven-The Ugly Truth

Day Twelve of the Fifteen Habits of Great Writer’s Series Challenge said,

If you’re going to be a great writer, you’re going to have to shake things up. Maybe even break a few rules. Here are some ideas:

     Tell the ugly truth.

    Pick a fight with something that’s wrong with the world.

    Call yourself out.

    Make a giant confession.

    Take a risk.

    Write something dangerous (something you’ve never written before).

 I thought about this one for a while.  For the past couple of months I have written about things I believe are wrong with the world, about things I haven’t written about before, and I have taken risks.  None of the horrible things I imagined actually happened.  How would I be able to complete this challenge?

I was talking (texting) with my friend Jan C. last night.  I told her something about my grandmother and mentioned that I don’t typically share that with anyone.  As I read the challenge today I realized I have written about my mother, my father, my grandfather,  my siblings, and many events in my life.  What I have not written about is my grandmother.

I started to think about why I haven’t written about her.  I believe the answer is simple.  She is the one person I haven’t been able to forgive.  For some of you who know my story, you may not find that unusual.  When I was ending therapy last summer, Rhonda said I had one thing left to do.  That one thing was to forgive my grandmother.  I am not there yet.  I understand it is the one rope still holding my soul tied down.  I don’t believe I can ever find true peace and healing until I do that.  But, I don’t know how.

I forgave my mother for not protecting me, for abandoning me (more than once), for never letting herself  fully love anyone including me.  I know her story.   It helped me understand more about her and some of her life choices.   But that isn’t why I forgave her.  I forgave her because she cared enough to want me to forgive her.

I forgave my father for the early years of my life, I forgave him for not fighting to see me, and for not keeping his promises.  I know his life story.  I know he had to make hard decisions as he got older and had another family.  But that isn’t why I forgave him.  I forgave him because he cared enough to want me to forgive him.

I forgave my grandfather.  I forgave him for being a drunk, for being cruel, for never hugging me unless he was so drunk he was almost falling down.  I forgave him for never trying to a father after they adopted me.  I forgave him because I understand the disease of alcoholism.  I was a drunk and I did things that hurt people.  I could not forgive myself without forgiving him.

I forgave the boys who molested me when I five and six.  I forgave the “adult” that did it, too. I forgave the kids who bullied me in school and church.  I forgave my ex-husband.  I forgave the people in my church who turned their backs on me.  I forgave everyone, except my grandmother.

She choose to make me her child.  My mother said she started when I was just a toddler.  She would come and take me with them for the weekend.  I don’t know why two people who spent their weekends partying at local bars would want to drag along a child.   She told me as I got older that they would put me in the back room or upstairs room and give me whiskey so I would pass out and sleep.

She choose to adopt me and let my brother go to my father’s parents in West Va.  She choose to lie to me about my father and brother.  She choose to lie to the rest of world and made me part of her lies. I had to lie to my grandfather about all the adult things she shared with me.  I had to remember to tell the right story to people.  I didn’t dare tell anyone about what went on in our home.

She told me God didn’t like little girls who cried, who were afraid, who told secrets, and that God punished us for the bad things we did.  Bad things happen if you are bad.  So many bad things happened in my young life, I knew God must not love me.  When my best friend died after  he got tangled in our rope swing in the tree, I thought it was my fault because I was bad. I carried that belief around for more than 35 years.

She didn’t hug me or kiss me like some of the other mother’s I saw.  When we sat in church, I moved close to her and put my head on her arm in hopes she might one day just put her arm around me.  I finally quit trying.   She told me I was fat so often that I started to see myself as fat even when I wasn’t.  She would take me in her room, show me her closet, and tell me she hadn’t bought a new dress in months.  She wanted to be sure that I understood the sacrifices she made just so I would have a home.  She told me I couldn’t learn to cook because I would catch something on fire, I couldn’t sew because I would put the needle in my finger or break the machine, and so on.  She made promises and then said she prayed about it and God told her she shouldn’t do whatever she had promise.

She decided to turn her back and shut me out of her life when I was drinking.  She wanted nothing to do with me. She forgot that she was a drunk until I was almost seven.  After getting sober, I made my list of people to whom I should make amends.  She was not on the list.  Jan F. asked me why my grandmother wasn’t on the list.  I blew up at her.  I had nothing to make amends about to her.  She should make amends to me.  I was told I had to make amends for my part and God would deal with her for her part.  I didn’t like it, but I did it.

I wrote a letter explaining my sobriety and my new way of life.  I asked her to forgive me for the list of things I did wrong.  I secretly hoped maybe she would forgive me and ask my forgiveness.  WRONG.  She wrote a short letter saying she wanted nothing to do with me until the “old Kathy came back.”   Before she died she sold our family house, disposed of everything in the house, and gave all the money to a church.  After she died, she had a lawyer send a letter stating that I was being awarded $1.00 from her estate. She had the same letter sent to my kids.  It was her final “F” you from the grave.

I have only scratched the surface with things I don’t forgive when it comes to her.  I feel the anger building as I share these things.  I hate the way I feel when I remember her.  I hate the way it poisons my spirit. Why can’t I forgive her?  She didn’t do anything worse than those I did forgive.  Or did she?

I know sharing this may bring some unwanted advice.  I know all the Bible verses about forgiveness.  I know all the reasons to forgive.   I know someone will say it is just a choice.  In recovery, we say we forgive for ourselves and not for the other person.  I know I need to forgive for me.  Maybe I need to forgive myself for not being good enough to forgive her.    Many people say the thing they love about my writing is the ability to get past the anger and write from a place of detachment and healing.  This blog post will disappoint you because it is written in a “different voice.”   I hope you can forgive me.

 

The Other Side

My life has been in a bit of turmoil recently. Things are changing in my life and I don’t like change. Even when change is for good, it is still something unknown. It is still losing something that once was. There is grief in loss, even loss that brings something much better into my life. It is entering unknown territory. Good change can be a new job, a new house, a new car, a new friend, or anything that changes life. Once I embrace the good change I often find it is the most exciting and wonderful thing ever.

Then the thing I enjoy, love, or think I can’t live without changes. I fight, stomp my feet, throw a temper tantrum, and I am convinced that life will never be the same. The truth is that once change happens, life isn’t the same anymore. Sometimes thing work out for the best and other times it doesn’t. Some people try to convince me that change always turns out good in some way. An old cliché says, “God doesn’t close a door without opening a window.” There are variations of that cliché but they mean the same thing.

I don’t necessarily believe that God is sitting around watching my life and waiting for the moment He can slam a door shut. I can’t believe that God would say, “Oh, let’s see if she can find her way out of this one. I will throw a few obstacles in the way and see.” Life happens to all of us. People make choices that affect lives. I do believe that I can grow and learn from any situation and that God can help lead and direct me to the next door or window. The more I fight what is happening, the longer the journey to that door or window.

Last night I had the opportunity to be in a group and talk about what is going on in my life. I learned some lessons from the encounter. Some of the lessons are ones I have to keep learning. Maybe the first question I should answer is one my therapist used to throw at me. “What are you gaining from behaving this way or staying in this situation? You are getting something from it or you would change it.” It is a hard question to hear and often more difficult to answer.

We talked last night about what it looks like on the other side. If I am so busy focusing on the problem, my pain, anger, or confusion, I will surely miss the other side. Let’s take a beach ball. Let’s say you and I stand face to face holding the beach ball. If someone asks what color the beach ball is, I would answer blue and red. You would wonder what I was thinking and answer that the ball is green and orange. Neither of us would budge on that answer since we are telling the truth as we see it. But, if we decide to stop arguing and turn the ball so that we can each see the other side; we will see something we didn’t see before.

My friend used to tell that my life was like a huge puzzle. More along the lines of 100,000 piece puzzle rather than the 500 piece ones. The outside of the puzzle was easy. The straight edges were a dead giveaway. Other pieces seemed to come together quickly. In time, huge sections of the puzzle were completed. As life goes on more sections will be completed. Then I get stuck. I fight to force pieces in place that don’t really fit. When I do that, the piece that was meant to go there is cast aside. Other pieces seem to have no place in my life until I turn them over and see the other side. Once I turn it over and see the color and lines, it is much easier to see how that fits into my life.

In the same way, I need to let go of the anger, pain, and confusion about what is happening in my life. That isn’t something I can do simply by sprinkling my magic pixie dust and wishing on a star. It is going to take effort and faith. I can’t see the other side yet and there is no guarantee I will. There are things I may never understand. Losing custody of children, my best friend’s death, winding up in an abusive marriage, the death of my only friend when I was six are things for which I haven’t found the other side. There have been times in my life that I gave up, ran away, and turned my back on everything I knew. I had no hope of ever seeing the other side. I still have times I want to give up, when it seems to be too hard and too painful.

I do not claim to understand the ways of life and faith and God. I don’t think bad things in my life happened JUST so I could share my experience, strength, and hope with someone else. Because they did happen, I have the opportunity to share my other side. I choose to do that today because I know there is power and healing not only for others, but also for me. I have the choice every day to give up or give back. Trust me when I say there are days I give up. Funny thing is, at those times, someone always comes to show me their other side.

I Just Had To Laugh

 

The 15 Day Great Writers Challenge today was to “declutter”, however I am going to write about something else that was mentioned in the article today.

The challenge is to find time to do what you were made to do without forsaking what you must do.

First, I think you have to figure out what you were made to do.  I believe I was made to write.  Why?  I think about writing, read about writing, and write any time I can.  I love writing and everything to do with writing.   Finding time to write while doing the things I must do is a challenge.  I often get angry that I can’t live in Key West, have a multitude of cats, lead an exciting somewhat crazy life, and write for a living.  Yes, I want to be the female Hemingway.

I have also found a love for karate. At sixty years old, some have questioned my decision to pursue this.  I have trained for several months and last week received my purple belt.  I am taking traditional Okinawan Karate and that includes learning forms and Japanese.  It takes time and work but I have gained so much in this process. I don’t know if I was made to do this but it makes the things I must do much easier.

Friends and family are a huge part of my life that allows me to keep going with the things I must.  My children are adults and I love spending time with them.  We are fortunate to live in the same city. I have three grandchildren that provide entertainment and a reason to act like a kid.  I often blog about my friends so you can read  some of the blogs to learn more about them.

Like most people I have bills to pay, have errands that must be taken care, and work.  These are necessary things to living and necessary if I want to continue to write, take Karate, and spend time with friends and family.  My work is often stressful and there are some days I feel overwhelmed.  When that happens I often go to lunch with my friend Jan. Her daughter Anna is usually there as well, although college will start back soon so we may not see her as often.

Recently I invited myself to lunch and it turned into a comedy of errors.  Jan needed to leave before Anna, her son Gus, and I were finished so I agreed to take Anna and Gus to meet her after we ate.   I handed Anna my IPhone and told her to pick what music we would listen to on the way.  The phone was connected to the radio by auxiliary jack so we could all hear the great tunes.  Anna and I continued to talk.  A rocking country tune was playing and we had discussed running away quite a bit that day.

Anna said, “Charlotte calling.”

I wondered why she would think Charlotte (N.C.) was calling us to run away. We usually think about the beach or another exotic location.  Charlotte-not so much.

Anna again said, “Charlotte calling.”

I noticed the song on the IPhone had changed to the song by Kelly Clarkson that I use for my ring tone.  I started singing along.

I notice Anna holding my phone up in the air and saying more forcefully, “Charlotte calling.”

At that moment I notice from the corner of my eye the IPhone with called ID reading Charlotte Calling.  I realized the song had not changed but my phone was ringing.  I grabbed the phone and tried to say hello a couple of times before remembering to remove the auxiliary jack. Eventually I did  answer the call and talk to Charlotte.

Anna laughed the entire time I was on the phone.  She said I would have something to blog about today. We both continued to laugh the rest of the way to the church.  Gus seemed oblivious to anything that was going on thanks to a Lego vehicle he brought with him.

I was able to return to work and realize the most important thing in life isn’t about the job.  The job is a must in my life.  Sharing my life with friends and family is one of the things I was made to do.  I spent a lot of my life hiding and keep people at a distance.  I can tell you that my life is so much richer and more complete today because of them.

And now, I have something to blog about today.

 

My Blog Award

This morning I found this comment on my blog.   Cathy, you have an Award! Come on over to my blog at http://samantha-stacia.blogspot.com and see what it’s all about. When I got mine, I thought of you to pass it onto!

Sweet.  I love awards.  I have received an award a couple of times that required me to list things about myself.   I completed it once but don’t know if readers will want to keep finding out my favorite concerts, colors, things I did in high school and so on.  But, this award was a bit different.  Someone thought my blog was worth sharing.   Thank you so much Samantha.  Her blog is My Paranormal Pen-Samantha Stacia.

(*My blog actually just went over 200 followers.)

The Liebster Blog Award is an award for blogs with under 200 followers. According to Samantha’s Blog, the word Liebster is German for “beloved” and that a blog nominated for it is “worth watching”. So, I appreciate the kind compliment of her giving me the award.

Now here are the rules to the award:

1. If you are nominated for the award and accept it, then you have won!
2. Thank the person who nominated you by linking back to their blog.
3. Nominate 5 blogs with less than 200 followers.
4. Let the nominees know by leaving a comment on their blog.
5. Add the award image to your site (use an image widget to place at bottom/side of blog).

I don’t know if the blogs I am sharing have less than 200 followers.  I am taking a chance on this.

The first blog I want to share is Even A Girl Like Me–A Preacher’s Kid… Prodigal Daughter… Sinner Saved by Grace… Redeemed…Recovered…Renewed   This is a blog by Joy Cannis.   Joy writes from the heart.  She is honest, funny, and passionate.  Her spirit comes through in her blog posts.  She shows such compassion and caring in her writing.

The next blog is My Story to Tell.  I met Melissa at Critical Incident training and knew she was someone I would like to know better.  Her blog shares her life in emergency services, as a wife and mother, and the honest story of her spiritual journey.

Then we have my friend Sonia.  She had a long running blog but has ended that one and started a new one called She Be Fierce.  Sonia’s first blog was about the journey  with her husband Gary and their baby girl Lydia who was born far too early.  She lived in NNICU for several month before coming home.  The blog tracked detailed the ups and downs of having a premie.   Sonia said, “After 3 years, it’s finally time to leave the preemie trauma behind.  The old blog really helped me heal.  The further away from the NNICU we got, the less pain, less guilt, less worry there seemed to be.”  Lydia is now a “cheeky, sassy, animated, dramatic, stubborn, fun-loving” little girl.

Both of my children have blogs.  My daughter just started sharing her blog Lory’s Share-A-Thon  and my son has had a blog  Ted The Third for a while.   Lory has always been creative.  She won the “Most Dramatic Award” in her senior year in high school.  She also loves photography.  Ted isn’t as active with blog right because he is writing a novel.  He is in the editing process now.  You will find him on Amazon at his author page  along with his first published work.

Last, but not least, is simply jan-a simple look at a not so simply life.   Jan actually shared my blog in her post today.  She did not know I had planned to write this particular blog.   She recently took a huge step in sharing her blog publically.  She probably would not like me telling you this, but I met her at church.  You see, she is the pastor there.  She is also a single mom to three amazing kids.  She writes from the heart and isn’t afraid to tackle any subject.  Her blog will make your laugh, think, and leave you wanting more.  She has motivated me and encouraged me in my writing.  I love having her in my life and know that I have found a best friend for life.

If any of these blogs here have over 200 followers, I apologize for assuming you had less than that!