I meet people every day that I like, then I come across a kindred spirit where we are supposed to meet and I am fortunate to like.

One of the signs to how I genuinely appreciate a huge tumor being found and removed from my neck, I stay consistently open to meeting the unique and interesting which roam around me. Recently as I gazed at my long nails in amazement and delight that I finally have my own long nails, I watched my old favorite sport in which I played every Saturday with my best friend from my youth, Tennis. 

An endearing woman, with kindness radiating from her soul and a thirst for a comrade, asked if I played. As our conversation continued, within minutes I was listening about her loss of husband to cancer. Even though I have experienced life stories being shared with me on the first meeting since a small child with strangers, this circumstance was as if a higher power wanted me to value a little more the second chance I was granted, and bring this person into my life.

My husband and daughter tell me I never want too much attention and work to avoid it, but I would not only never avoid someone needing a shoulder to lean on, it’s in my nature, I am also drawn to the needy and rare in life.

It could be the writer in me, the empath or the magnet I feel to help and heal. My mom always begged me to not let the world harden me, so I don’t dare allow it.

Cancer has changed me in many ways; my wild ways have tamed, my boundaries are built higher to avoid stress, I guide my body daily with as many healthy tactics I can discover, all the while using less of my mouth and more of my ears, for others.

This woman was full of fun loving antidotes, as she did so well with bravery and the loss of her first child at the tender age of 4. Meanwhile, we spoke to the other we discovered all of the things she felt she needed to share with me. While she hired me for a writing job, I wanted to do something in kind in return for her. 

As the world grows more violent and volatile, I am on an enjoyable yet tedious exploration for souls who live for human kindness and peace. Not the type that can take from you, but the ones that make yours and their day brighter by existing in their very own shell. 

That is what being here is all about.

Thank you Ms. America. 🙂

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From the phenomenal show… Big Little Lies

Can’t pick favorite music but when I have to, it’s the blues, and has been my entire life.. Namaste~

images   why-healthy-living

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Lifetime of Flying Monkeys~

b033a077bf149c19b860b0a92aa4b439--staying-away-from-toxic-people-quotes-about-moving-on-from-negative-people                                    fullsizeoutput_5aunnamed

*Only if an intimate, close, one on one relationship had transpired, be prepared for the smear campaign, (lies about you from them to others) your punishment, to follow your standing up to them. Also they live in fear of losing the fake facade they portray. * This is their problem not yours, nothing can be done. Best to simply ignore it. 

My mom always said, “In your 20’s you’ll be stupid and take chances, your 30’s will be your most gorgeous, and your 40’s you’ll find out who you are”. 

Once again she proved me right, without even being here to remind me of these life lessons. Her words and spirit gravitate through myself and my daughter while I awake to a new reminder every morning that floats throughout the course of my day. Yes, they’re that often. I was blessed with an amazing woman that was not only my mother but the best friend I ever had. 

My daughter is beginning to save my compassionate strong empath doubts just as my mom always did for me, and just as my daughter did when she was born. She recently said, “Mama, your cancer started at your trachea, wrapped around your vocal cords, and ran all the way up your thyroid and parathyroid glands. If it weren’t for your loyalty to nana you would walk away”. She’s right and actually very rarely not right.

I’ve always been honest to a fault but also highly empathetic with being an empath. I always followed my moms golden advice, ‘be the bigger person’.

My 40’s was my wake up call that literally saved my life. The lesson stood beside my oncologist as if I was being dragged to a new path, a new beginning, a fresh start. I had discovered I was surrounded by narcissists since childhood. I’m no doctor, although well read. I’ll be the first to say even this particular group isn’t all narcissists per se but they most certainly fall in the cluster category. I was in this huddle as I thought a mutual love was taking place. That’s the secret on narcissists though, they love no one but themselves, rather, consumed with themselves. They’re born to become actors because you will bet your own short life they genuinely love you. While a common person makes excuses for ‘loved ones’, they take the target as seriously as a high paying career. The pay? For them to have as much attention they can manipulate out of you; self love through your admiring eyes,  self positivity, affirmations, a busy schedule to place you in awe, a heartbreaking story to set them high of importance, all to fill that eternal emptiness that they keep buried deep inside. Believe me, that part made me feel empathy and compassion as well. If you are feeling sadness from reading that emptiness sentence, I’d love to hear from you. We are a dying breed. Although it’s nothing to have sympathy for, it’s something to run from. 

Narcissistic abuse is on the same shelf as cancer. If you haven’t lived it, you won’t get it, but you can educate yourself. Some of what I share may however ring a bell and you can go back to loving yourself again. 

Since early childhood I was subjected to abuse. My parents were wonderful but worked long hours for six children, I never blamed them. They did their best to keep us happy and healthy. However, I was abused from an early age by a family member that inevitably programmed me to believe I deserved this special abusive treatment. As all people know who have been in my shoes, the goal is for the abuser to gain a reaction in which would make the abuser feel better while they can be placed on a pedestal to look around for vindication, “See? the stupid doormat is crazy, I’m the normal one”. They want to believe, so someone has to be the stool pigeon to make that happen. Any type of reaction is what matters to them. Control freak is an understatement.

My work and careful steps to walking around my abusers eggshells would inflate the abusers self esteem while mine would be beat down. They are referred to energy vampires for a reason. Leaving early in my life for marriage blessed me with finding my soul mate, while also gave me the freedom I yearned for. As much as I hated being away from my mom, I was ready early to be on my own in the world. All to put me for sale to the long list of cluster B’s searching for a kind forgiving doormat, punching bag that already knew the protocol. Adore your abuser, praise your abuser, only allow your abuser to be validated, and if none of these things are accomplished you would be devalued, excluded, and punished to teach you a lesson. While the innocent develops fear, obligation and guilt. If any type of disagreement would occur or you forget to ask how high to jump, the abuser would run to all who would listen to offer favors, praise, or concern  for you in which was where their talent resides, with acting and blatant lying. This is all to fulfill the proud high of walking away adored and their target walks away quietly to lick the freshly gutted wounds.

The tough realization is once you experience one in youth, you will be a magnet to them in your adult years. SELF LOVE is the key to escape. Don’t be so forgiving and kind, make yourself a priority more often than not. 

The old saying is all too true, confidence is quiet while the toxic insecurities are loud.  Their abuse tactics are obviously obtrusive to the level of their true self esteem.

This condition isn’t about admiring their reflection.

All one has to do to discover any of this toxicity in your life is pay attention to detail. Are you particularly exhausted after spending time with someone? Do you feel yourself losing energy? Does your loved one have to have what you have? Steal your ideas while making them their own, even to your face? Must live and go through what you do? Sure to let you know they make that run a second quicker than you? Construct unnecessary drama? Highly judgmental? Talk incessantly about a minor annoyance while brushing off your life and death obstacle? Turn truths around in their favor while screaming they are remembering it correctly, in fact it can be quite different from what actually happened. All of a sudden become close to your arch enemy? Mirror your personality? Icy cold smirk when you are going through something difficult? Inability to show empathy and if so, only done so for an audience? Always finding fault in others? Inability to take genuine responsibility? Making a new relationship perfection while finding so much fault not soon after? Any and all negative thoughts and feelings are someone else to blame? Must they have perfection and control when dealing with people? Treated like gold at a time all to discover later they needed something? An absence of real compassion? If you know someone who is constantly passing judgment or criticizing others, this is also a sign of poor self-image and possibly narcissism.

You are driving them out of their minds. If you have nothing to offer you won’t suffer, you won’t be targeted. To wrap up all the long winded advice that is out there, your genuine confidence, calm demeanor and the natural desire to rebel against their wishes to do your own thing is making yourself one big bullseye. You will be accused of the worst thing imaginable while they will try to hurt you with what they learned will hurt you the most. Deep down these people are living in a constant state of fear of rejection, repression, or ridicule. They are the biggest cowards you will ever know as they stick with a lifetime of tactics that used to work and stare you down. As you feel worse and worse, the narcissist feels better. In fact he or she feels stronger and more superior as you feel your anxiety and depression grow.

Experts say the trick is to become boring around them, or disappear. No contact whatsoever. Speak the truth. Shut out who you have always spoke to that is affiliated with your abuser, start a new life and share it with only the ones who have been consistently trustworthy. I started with reading the book Playing Dead. I took it as a noble beginning with satireI won’t fake my death, but after an eye opening life time of the attempted beat downs, and realizing I like myself more than I ever have, I’m ready to face my reality and be the bigger person for myself






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Rock ‘n Roll Royalty~


The phone rang on that day of August 16, 1977. It was my beloved mom “pumpkin?” She knew I was probably doing what I really was doing which was crying my eyes out that my other idol, Elvis was announced to be dead. 

As I held the phone to my ear I dragged the 20 foot long telephone cord from the kitchen to my bedroom to tear off my posters in anger that they were implying him of dying from drugs. I was angry he left us.

It really is a shame the man never met me. I know many fans think the same way, but it really is a shame. I am positive he would have seen the true love I have for him not only as an entertainer, but as a person. Wishful thinking maybe?

All who know me say I would have passed out and missed it. Possibly.

I do know this.. True music fans will tell you they know what he did for music in 1954. In fact, it’s a big sign to me if someone disagrees. You don’t have to love him, like him or even listen to him. However if you don’t know what he did for music, the brunt of angst he endured for blues, rock n roll and the doors he pushed open for black musicians, then you don’t know music like you think you do. 

To again celebrate living through my illness, and the legacy of Elvis Presley, he will be on my mind as I take an upcoming trip to Nashville and the Tennessee mountains. Those hills sure can sing a story that will forever live in each and every one of us.


1957-the first moonwalk in dance

Every time I enjoy a new creation in blues or rock n roll, I think of him. I think of how my parents consistently made the comment, “We would never see something like him again.” What he did for all of us, others can attempt to emulate but all know, the originals can never be replaced. 

Just as the first with everything else in rock, Elvis did the first UNPLUGGED.


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Ashwagandha or Regulated Cannabis, Medicine All The Same~

“I think people need to be educated to the fact that marijuana is not a drug. Marijuana is an herb and a flower. God put it here. If He put it here and He wants it to grow, what gives the government the right to say that God is wrong?” – Willie Nelson / Musician, Writer, Actor, Activist

“The evidence is overwhelming that marijuana can relieve certain types of pain, nausea, vomiting and other symptoms caused by such illnesses as multiple sclerosis, cancer and AIDS — or by the harsh drugs sometimes used to treat them. And it can do so with remarkable safety. Indeed, marijuana is less toxic than many of the drugs that physicians prescribe every day.” – Joycelyn Elders, MD / Pediatrician, Public Health Administrator

“The American Nurses Association (ANA) recognizes that patients should have safe access to therapeutic marijuana/cannabis. Cannabis or marijuana has been used medicinally for centuries. It has been shown to be effective in treating a wide range of symptoms and conditions.” – American Nurses Association

I never get tired of this free healthy meditation. Namaste ~


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Sober of ’17~

I’m 17 again in the summer of 2017. 

When I was 17 I never had touched alcohol. I still hadn’t touched it, until I reached the age of 20. Then all hell broke loose. My genes held true and tried with the strong blood line of addiction and the ability to withstand high amounts of assorted liquors. Name it, I could stomach it, ride it, drive it and hold it while looking normal, depending on the night, with the best of the cowboys, CEO’s, along with those Harley Davidson riders too.

I was born with it in me. A wild streak feeling, a need for that euphoric high that carries me into a night to the unknown. Not living promiscuous or affecting the innocent, I only consistently hurt myself. I had a large variety of the most rebellious hoping to saddle up with me. Yet I was always drawn to and admired my mothers spirit in the ones I would cross paths with. It’s one of the things I look for in my closest most highly respected friends, and it was one of the reasons I fell in love with my husband. The type who don’t need to drink or drug themselves to have fun, or carry on that interesting conversation. The persona that finds innovative things to do with their day that doesn’t involve a vice at their side. The rare group who wake up sober while falling asleep just as alert as they were in the morning. I am drawn to them. I need them. I value those attributed beings.

If you don’t have one, I highly suggest it. 

They will make a mark in your life. You will want to do better with yourself by the company you keep, or if you walk around sick for over ten years, that will work just as effectively.

As I read diligently to the markers regarding a large black hole exactly where my prefrontal lobe / hypothalamus  (short term memory) is controlled, and seven inactive lesions in ones brain, I desired to obtain a higher grade to health. I learned alcohol was the sure fire way to lead myself in to Alzheimers or dementia earlier than most in life. While I mindfully was in tune to how my mom worked hard not allowing alcohol in our home, daily talks to the detriment of addictions, how our blood line could kick in at any age and leave us a slave to the bottle. As she was living without any crutch herself, she fought the hardest for us six kids to learn it, know it and live without experiencing it, as she had witnessed from a small child.

After I recovered from my long mysterious illness and convuluted misdiagnoses, I finally changed. Without methodically planning it that part naturally grew in me. What my mom always wanted arrived, living completely clean without that monkey on my shoulder. I have reached a plateau which I once carried as the excuse for a daily healthy heart wine, ‘an occasional drink’, a morning Bloody Mary, to becoming obstinate for the complete absence of a cocktail, cigarette, or anything else that contains toxicity from my past.

As my husband witnessed my healthy aspirations it encouraged him to join me in this clean productive mode. We have made plans to buy golfing clubs and join friends on the course, shopping for a fishing boat, while he finds himself needing to go for a daily run for his joints. Our cardio will pick up while our cardiovascular health will show us it’s gratitude. 

I have lived an entire person’s lifetime with every era in my life thus far. Since I made it alive this far I’m ready for the purest, most uncontaminated, skillfully, sharpest path of them all.

So, if anyone has ever told you ‘they are too old to change’ .. don’t believe it. Keep the faith. You too can live the life that always tugged at your mileage and pulled at your heartstrings.

~I revise obsessively. It’s important to me to have a clean page.~

UPDATE: Recent studies reveal moderate (1-2) drinks per day prevent dementia. Go figure, but 3-4 is is considered heavy drinking. 

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For Another~

Just as my Genesis blog shared with you, I found inspiration once again. I don’t know where this desire came from. It could be my dads creative artistic genes in me, my personality that screams aquarian, or the fact that I have been a writer for as long as I can recall. I always have lived for inspiration, originality, and unique deliveries to thoughts and learning, but I’m also a criminal justice junkie. I’m not the type to watch tv, although I do follow certain cases that leave us all with questions. I found myself at that moment once again as I cried my compassionate heart out.

I was watching the Dateline case of Laci Peterson. The story we all know. One of those in which we all witnessed cruelty, loss, and of those rare types where you can’t find an enemy. The kindest of kind being unfairly and selfishly taken too soon.

Now, I know every time I take part in reading or watching details on the case I am going to genuinely suffer with listening to Laci’s mom, Sharon Rocha. I can relate to how she feels; her devotion, and her love. I am a mother as well.

Like a solider walking off a battlefield without limbs telling of the details, Sharon is a warrior. Mrs. Rocha is that beaten lamb. I watched her nervous hands rub together, and her eyes dart around in fear to trust not even her own, she has endured, survived what all mothers fear the most. 

My intuition was telling me for years since my surgery and recovery, I am meant to take part in some sort of selflessness. I had to have survived what I did for a reason. No, I don’t think everything happens for a reason but when it comes to life and death, there is usually a pivotal moment for why it transpired. My dads exact words on his death bed in the hospital besides, “Please get me a weed Dondu” (a cigarette), was “People are supposed to become better from watching death and suffering”.

Anyway, it could not be writing I told myself, even with all the compliments I am truly touched to receive,  I am my own worst critic. We all carry some scar buried deep from childhood to form us into the adult we turn out to be. Even though my mom praised every one of us, I do carry a beaten bat that questions every piece of art I attempt.

I pondered the incontrovertible doubt with finishing my book or any book, I continued to make money writing in the most simple way I knew. Real estate, and tourism. The work provided some light to that literal black hole in my brain while my soul still filled with the desire to perpetuate, save, or assist someone who is in need. Sharon Rocha has done that for me. She woke me up so to speak, and I understood every single word as if I was inside her as a Siamese twin. Sharon was speaking of the hope she always carried in finding her Laci, “I brought her into this world, I should be able to feel when she left it” she shared. The day that beautiful young girl washed up with her son, Sharon said she was hiding in her house because she could feel it. That day was the day.

Motherhood is the most powerful I have personally ever witnessed in my lifetime thus far. I remember once when my younger sister was in California as a teenager, my mom fell to her knees knowing with every fiber of her being something was happening to her. An hour later, she said “It’s okay, she’s safe”. I was bewildered beyond comprehension. My mom always said “Someday when you are mature you will have that ability with your child too”, yet I still believed her witch blood line was where it originated.  Now when I question my daughters safety, I listen to myself. If I don’t feel that panic, I know she is safe. No, I’m not a witch and neither was my mom. I am now mindful as that adult she once couldn’t wait to see but missed out on, that my mom was an empath and a mother. As am I.

My daily wish until the day I pass will be to look in my moms eyes, talk with her. Now as I still travel this earth I will continue to cherish every moment I can hold my daughters hand and pray it will end the way it is supposed to end, with myself passing on to the next life first.

Even though I have always been a children’s rights advocate in marches and writing senators, I am now a proud volunteer and writer for Missing & Exploited Children Organization hoping to be of some help, all the while embracing allegiance in print and spirit Sharon Rocha and every mother who continues to find the strength to walk in her shoes. 

“Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.” – Matthew 5:4

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Peace to Memorial Day~

In gratitude; the stranger that fought for us all. As well as my great grandfather, pap, dad, dear friends and the inspirational writers and poets who bring peace to chaos.

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Today is a new day for me, in more ways than one. 

After we had a stop in our hometown for a handful of months, we restarted our lives back in the area where we feel our best. Going back to our work, our lifestyle and health regime. It wasn’t easy since I had such a good time with a couple friends and reigniting the closeness with a couple siblings. All rewarding, along with the additional feeling of experiencing what can’t be replaced, family. As well as  having family in a dear friends world.

After a 30 year marriage, we bought a home for the first time. At first thinking we were building a future of real estate and family nearby for our daughter in the event of our impending deaths, which had then spiraled into an investment. One that was way too extravagant and everything we found the expensive, vagabond way to be what we did not want. The most stressful part of living in the north was approaching getting rid of a highly competitive piece of property, as my younger sister prepared to get married.

There truly is a torturous tug of war to deal with a family of your own and moving very far, all the while wanting to be there for someone you have grown up with and is important to you. It gave an all new imperative meaning to the term ‘there’s a difference between wanting to and being able to’. Even though I warned her if her wedding date was changed, I wouldn’t be able to go, that is indeed what happened. It literally broke my heart. 

I haven’t seen my youngest sister since my dad’s funeral in 2001, as we each traveled our own beaten path, but I love her the same as I did when we ran by each others side as children. It was one of the hardest things I had to endure to not attend. I imagined my mom telling me on her death bed that I was to always be there for my sister since I never judged her decisions. My mom’s words are to this day my bible. As I reached out to her on the morning of her big day I was standing at my mom’s deathbed listening to those words while feeling joy for my sister’s excitement. While I floated in a dark cloud for days over the impossible chance to arrive, as she was understanding and loving about my not being able to make it, a dark monster from my past that blatantly admits to living in severe jealousy regarding my life, poked at this hurt bear. My sister was the only one who mattered and yet the toxicity of my past reared it’s ugly head all to achieve some sort of sick fulfillment since she lives an empty demented hole of a facade.

I have discovered with age, cancer at my trachea, wrapped around my vocal cords all the way to my thyroid, while enduring menopause we all find out who truly counts, what sincerely matters. Unfortunately for me, I have had a heavy load of outsiders that know nothing about me continually follow my trail. Don’t get me wrong, many from my past I welcome. The ones who beat me up to feel better about themselves or make assumptions about me without asking questions to get the truth are the ones I am fighting to rid myself free from.  What some of these old friends don’t realize is I was still speaking to them due to my loyalty from our past, my compassion for the unhappiness they lived. Nothing more. A couple of them came to me only because I was there for them. It wasn’t because they felt any loyalty, devotion, or respect. It was because I listened, I gave feedback. They had that one person to take their dysfunctional side. 

I have finally approached a side of myself my mom never wanted me to divulge. Bitterness for the selfish.

I actually asked a close friend recently “is it me that these people from my past are being extracted?”, She eloquently yet firmly shared with me that what was happening should have happened long ago. I am not accustomed to such treatment since I have grown past this group. It was an eye opening moment for me. I am not without friendships, I am without judgmental burden.

My sister and I will always love each other and be in touch. Although growing into adulthood, and approaching ones 50’s has been a series of adventures and celebrations while a rocky road of epiphanies. While also proudly walking away. 

(Thank you, cancer.)

The moment you feel like you have to prove your worth to someone is the moment to absolutely and utterly walk away.

We are stars wrapped in skin.  The light you are looking for has always been within.

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The Last Supper~

“Strength is born in the deep silence of long-suffering hearts; not amidst joy.” – Felicia Hemans

“Scars are tattoos with better stories.”

I went to NYC this week. Not only to have my neck and chest studied and prodded, but to stick that familiar tattoo in my soul and brain one additional time that my eyes are open to feeling thankful to be alive. To add a little mud to be sure I wouldn’t forget a second, I received food poisoning at my ‘last supper’, all to endure through the entire testing experience.

As I continue to relay it in my mind, hearing the words from my doctor that I am ‘in fact so well and in such great shape, I can be placed in the holistic survivorship program in which includes the end to annual cancer screenings’.

If I can come as close to winning the lottery in my lifetime, and to what that would in fact feel like, I believe I hit my numbers.

I wrote once long ago regarding cancer; that it does not mean the ones who come out on the other side of that monster while walking around with the rest of us, are any stronger. It’s the biggest gamble you will ever carry in your lifetime. If you’re given another chance to talk about it, see the new beginning before you, and to walk away with that monkey off your back while you fight a new day in less threatening battles, you have in fact beat the odds.

Still here or not, if you were ever told ‘you have cancer’, we are all survivors.


Posted in Trachea tumor, Uncategorized | Tagged

Mystic Simpatico~

Blogs are still for bitchin’right?
Pardon me, venting.

Since my mom died or getting married when I was 17, I have by far just gone through the most stressful thing in my life; building and buying a house in four months and then moving home to Oz.

I can assure you, Bobby will wholeheartedly agree.

I have no choice to share the truth first. It was a natural high, exciting time with my husband to plan all of this, envisioning growing old in a stunning home someday being our girls’ babies nana and pappy near our roots. It’s a comfortable restful feeling knowing my Uncle Mike is nearby, let alone all the others I love and respect.

There’s an unforced power to the term going home.

Although, coming home to not taking part in what we built down south simply could not be replaced. We made a healthy, active life there for a long time.
I read once long ago in this health battle, that every persons body responds to a climate and if you have the luxury to attempt them all, you will know where your vessel feels it’s best. As hot as literal hell the south can become, we both felt 30 years old easy. The south won’t allow a person to sit either. Ever. A perfect combination for us.

I longed for laughs with my siblings, Northerners demeanors, cozy rainy days, snow on Christmas morning and it felt like a blessing to experience just that. Meanwhile admitting to each other it’s just as enjoyable to relish in it all during a visit, while continuing the life we led for so long.

When we can, when the house sells, when it’s right. The future nana and pappy isn’t ready to hang up the surf boards.

I’ll say this, in case you don’t know what I mean, I will miss the smell of a creek in the air. I really will, it’s a scent that settles in your pores for the rest of your years. The crackling comfort to bonfires. Right along on the cold bitter days, I made it a mission to climb a steep hill or three, almost every day. Never fails to take me back to the farm, green grass in every view, sounds of dad’s piano. Every one of Grandma Morris’ family dinners, every ex boyfriend, friend, cousin comes to mind. It’s a filling feeling view of memories.

While our parents are not here anymore.

I know Bobby carries that in his heart as well. I told him I think we expected to come home to something that is gone.

If you haven’t lived it, you simply can not give an opinion on it. Losing your parents is one of those silent uncomfortable conversations where you will never find the right words. Around you will be ones who have walked in those shoes, their somber nod or downward glance will be your only validation to your tongue tied riddle.

I can easily be sincere in hearing about others parents. I am happy for them. I want to hear what they want to share. It does not hurt me as most of them compassionately think it does, I only ache for the loss of my own parents.

There is nowhere to look that I don’t see memories with my mom. Challenging to say the least while Melanie, from the New York neck cancer staff hilariously reminds me, ‘youz gotts to not get stressed so you can hit your fifth yeeeer’.

But I love Pennsylvania. It’s home. I love my niece enjoys my company and thinks I’m cool, I don’t want to be so far from her. I personally could live here if our business focused daughter didn’t care about going in debt to get her masters degree, if my three doctors from the south that only cared if I was getting my weekly massage and mimosa were here, if Bobby had every single favorite hobby at his disposal while tanning him, my writers opportunities were here, if my brother Doug moved in, my head and neck didn’t burn as much, my arthritic knee liked the cold and we saw my ole uplifting friend the sun much more, well then we’d never leave.

Home brings memories you can’t really relive until you live in them. Bobby and I laughed and talked for hours how we grew up on the same street in Waynesburg. As his parents divorced, he rode his bike and watched the mine out his window, I was four houses up to the left in my Grandma Barnhart (Belford) house, freshly bathed, in my pristine weekend bedroom she always prepared for me watching the mine lights, falling asleep to the thumping sounds in that same mine, on that shared street. It’s captivating to know we shared it as children to only marry as high school sweethearts.

I will always reminisce in seeing the Five and Dime running strong on Main Street in my hometown, pounding on the Moose door to have it opened just by seeing my face, riding in mom or dad’s car, singing a song with dad, telling my mom my secrets, eating Bobby’s mom’s noodles, but jobs and healthy choices must surround us. That is a motivator to a cancerous tumor in your trachea almost taking your life; to a Captains boat the crew must be in tip top shape.

I told ya it was a blessing and a curse to live wherever you choose but don’t forget what is going on in your inside will show on your outside.

Here’s to a Healthy and Happy 2017 to all. Enjoy every day!


Posted in Trachea tumor, Uncategorized | Tagged

Tell of the Time~

Trachea cancer 

As we all tend to do with forgetting our blessings, while I made a grumble about the things I deal with since the surgery from cancer my sweet daughter that is now becoming quite the replica of my mom, sternly told me, “Mama, the doctor said you were six months away from suffocating in your sleep from that tumor. I remember! I just don’t like to remember. That’s why you should be glad you did the surgery.”

It immediately shut me up, woke me up, slapped me while calling me silly.
Just like my mom, she made me think. I honestly had apparently blocked out of my mind that I was told of that close call, and it took me back where I should have never left.

Ever since I walked around sick for ten long years traveling to that first visit into Sloan Kettering, and especially after the surgery and recovery, I have worked hard daily to be healthy, positive, and happy for the small things. I’m right on schedule. Those two years they told me it would take to become accustomed did in fact take two years.

Doctors have told me I would most likely be overweight, and yet I lost 20 pounds, the right way in the last few months. I’m told I have lost the one thing a woman needs to control her moods, I feel content pretty much every day. My cancer team tells me I have only three years in before I’m considered a cancer survivor but I have the faith and hope to get me to the end. Even if it takes five more years.

So let me complain a little, will ya kid?

In all seriousness, while you may not hear me refer to my sickness as a gift, it did definitely reiterate what my mom taught me in how I would know myself better than ever in my 40’s.

We all can make a list on where we fall short when such tragedies drop into our laps since every single human being that have a conscience anyway, will inevitably dissect themselves. Mine was evidently the lack of memory from early menopause that the surgery put me into, (whoops!) Or it’s all the enlightenment I have gained in which made me a better person.

Luckily, I am here to have discovered each year should make us better, not bitter. That is the end result goal. It was most certainly what I was taught anyway.

The entire experience woke me up to the damage I used to permit into my life, thinking I was being loyal and loving, while in actuality sacrificing myself all to have the company I was accustomed to, or to avoid rocking the boat. Those last four words are exactly where my charming political side comes from, not because I am being someone I am not. I don’t fear discord or confrontation, I just have enough of a mixture of both of my parents in me where to me, life is more enjoyable with simply laughing, creating, exploring, being honest. I have no interest to repair a person’s conflict resolution skills. If someone in my life cannot bring themselves to accept responsibility for their end, I would rather let them go rather then convince them.  It’s not my place.

The entire experience woke me to stop being religiously appropriate withholding my love and belief for God. I’ve always believed. I’ve always prayed. Ever since I was a child, many prayers have been answered, when I was begging for answers to the need the answer always arrived. I’m a true Christian in which empowers me; I won’t judge your beliefs, race, sexuality, while shoving my own beliefs down your throat. I was not brainwashed. I don’t believe it’s a lack of intellect. I don’t consider being a Christian joining a cult. It’s my personal belief in that particular higher power that some others have, while some others don’t. The latter is one of the many reasons why I can appreciate diversity.

The entire experience awakened me to the act of over indulgence. Unfortunately, a fact my mom told me many years ago was once again proven to me to be true.
“Regardless of how many good things you do in life, people will never forget you for your mistakes.” Or as a good friend added, “regardless of how many good things you do, you will be remembered for that one mistake.”
Another favorite true quote of my moms; “You can be the most beautiful person in the world, but you will look ugly while drunk.”

Got the t-shirt to all of the above, many a dresser full, actually.

So this isn’t about my not letting go or looking for pity. Anyone who truly knows me can tell you I despise both. However, if I can be a friendly reminder to the ones who read this or the ones who ask questions, believe this about my journey:

I plant and care for beautiful flowers daily now where before I forgot to keep them alive. Approaching ones mortality will give you an innate sense in a need to keep all other living things in a thriving mode.

Regardless of my events in a day, I care about my bird houses being full of seed so they can eat.

I live being busy and productive, as opposed to only busy.

I won’t buy cigarettes, even though I did for 24 years.

I won’t eat anything with hydrogenated oils or aspartame.

I’m choosey with meats. (Grass fed only).

I won’t touch liquor where before, it was all I socialized with.

After withholding tears most of my life, I learned crying and mourning over any loss, would cleanse me. When I needed to let go, I did.

I found the answer to my 20’s, the gratitude in the quick era of my 30’s, while finding myself in my 40’s.

I now know who took advantage of me and whom truly care about me, while the same goes for my end of relationships.

I refuse to go backwards in life. I will not tolerate repeats of any kind.

I still suffer with Lyme symptoms, aftermath of having deadly cancer at my trachea, brutal insomnia, chronic pain, as I continue to walk, work, and thinking positive.

As I worked my writing job, took care of my family and my health, I happily tucked myself in to a recluse of desired quiet privacy, and studied everything and anything I ever questioned in my life.

I exercise, smile, and sing more than ever before.

I discovered your child can have more wisdom, and listening skills than yourself, and I am confident enough to admit to it.


Simplicity. I’ve finally arrived to where I live what I have always craved. No, cancer wasn’t a gift, it was soul searching therapy that brought me to the other side of light.

Writing while listening to music works the logical side of your brain, to give your emotional side a break.

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What I would write to my mom if she were here to read it since I know it would make her laugh and smile…

Mom.. I forgive you for always picking me up at the many Elks, and other Jamborees when I was relishing in my Urban Cowboy moment with Dad and Uncle Mike playing music, all because you said “it was dusk and I was too young.”

Mom.. I forgive you that you reminded me how you’d happily take Drew off my hands if I didn’t stop college and stop my car salesman job after giving birth to her because we were ‘blessed enough for me to be home with her.’

Mom.. I forgive you for telling dad he “should’ve killed the spider with his purse.”

Mom.. I forgive you for making me the first girl in shop class with the boys because you demanded it to the principal, after putting Ms. Goslin in her place for how she spoke to me.

Mom.. I forgive you for being appalled I didn’t have earrings and lipstick on when I checked into the hospital to give birth, as you held my hand.

Mom.. I forgive you that you didn’t want me in music because of the lonely lifestyle, so you suggested auditioning for SNL instead.

Mom.. I forgive you for calling me ‘your pumpkin’ my entire life because you pushed out this 10 pound baby naturally.

Mom.. I forgive you for being supportive, paying for a huge wedding, and giving me the option to marry the love of my life, even up to the point when I panicked in my wedding gown.

Mom.. I forgive you that as I relished in holding my newborn Drewbabe in the hospital you said “She’s absolutely beautiful, well..this is the first day. You’ll live in fear from this day on until the day you’re gone.”

Mom.. I forgive you that I have yet to find you wrong on anything and everything you taught me.

Mom .. thank you for always forgiving me.

Mom, thank you for allowing me to mimic you on how to be a wonderful mother, always speaking and living 100% honest. Most of all, for loving me unconditionally.

mom’s favorites, for mom❤️


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Mothers Day Wish~


As another year hits, I see many gifts I would love to take to my mom for Mothers Day. More importantly, how hugging her and talking with her would make me feel and fix any problem I have.

I miss my mom and my dad every day, always talk about funny stories of them, and say a prayer in a moment of silence. Although none of those things will ever change the fact I lost my best friend, my idol, my therapist, my mother. She will forever live in me.

Listening to Willie Nelson I think of how much mom admired him. The only country artist she enjoyed country music from. One year she was looking for a genuine Willie concert t-shirt of a particular year. The loopholes I jumped through, the bids I placed to find it was all worth the look on her face.
I wish I could have another chance to find something she wanted.

The inevitable loss of my mom was a dreaded lingering spirit hanging over my shoulder my entire life, and now I am living it. Any and all who know and love me always knew it was my greatest fear. I am here.

Time makes no difference when the person was that important.

I know her well enough that she would tell me I’m doing a good job. I am a good mother, and not a ball of depression for others. I relive the happy times, and when I need to cry or mourn I keep it to myself. Just the way she taught me how she did it.

At the end of her life I asked her, as I was overwhelmed with weakness, “Mom how will I get through you not being here?” I was sincere in needing to know what to do. Her green eyes looked into my green eyes to matter of factly state, “It’s a part of life. You lose me, Drew loses you. You have to get through it, pumpkin.” That was just like her thinking of others. I feel selfish now to think of that question, her being on her death bed, giving me coping advice. I’d give anything for her to know me as the adult woman I am now. Closer to 50, unselfish, private, just as she so eloquently lived and taught me to turn into someday.

If you are one of the blessed to be my age and still have your mom; get up early, let the sunshine hit your face, fill your car with whatever she would love, and go look into her eyes. I promise you, the day will come where the latter will be what you miss the most.

What’ll I do
With just a photograph
To tell my troubles to?
When I’m alone
With only dreams of you
That won’t come true
What’ll I do?

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The Empath Evolution~

As different as this will sound, I am at a heightened level of awareness. Not only am I fascinated, it is quite exciting.

One year ago, I discovered on my numerology numbers that I would naturally progress into a spiritual level that I had never been before. Then I would reach a new plateau. Some type of success I never thought possible.

I had no idea what this meant, but I considered Numerology entertainment, while feeling a tinge of truth to all I was absorbing.

When my mom was living, during one of our many late night conversations, she once really liked my comment, “we can pass up our destiny.” Without even thinking of a comment of my very own, or of the numerology reading, I recently delved into some deep reading in my holistic medicine class, regarding Chakra. I immediately liked it and began my usual journey of reading on the true meaning of karma, chakra healing practices, and deeper meditation. Along with starting a more advanced yoga class.

I have no idea if this was simply growth or a desire to learn more about others, but I came across something about myself. I was blown away. I had learned I was an Empath. A fellow friend, holistic practitioner I regularly speak with, wholeheartedly agreed as if he assumed I already knew this.

Most people will think that means Highly Sensitive Person, but it’s actually a big misunderstanding to automatically think that. I jumped that gun as well.

I joked for years that I was a good witch because my mom and her biological mother both told me our bloodline was from the witches of Wales. Learning as a little girl that my maternal ancestors consisted of good witches, who were hung for predicting the towns events. They both seemed proud of this fact and told me ‘I would learn my power with age.’ Spooky stuff.

It was a frightening moment when someone would hurt me in my youth, and if I was the underdog, my mom’s piercing green eyes would shimmer with magic to say, “oh you believe me, the day will come where they will pay.” Only said in a much more powerful, intimidating, witchy poo way.
It somehow never failed that the person she spoke of was five to ten years later in a disastrous life obstacle.

Naturally, I have looked up these witches and they did exist. Maybe that is in my blood, they would know.

However, I don’t think my mom realized she was an empath as well.

I know for a fact she experienced the following which I have my entire life. Sadly, I don’t think my mentor realized she was in the same boat. As usual, she was right. Turns out, Empaths are natural healers, clandestine and more powerful than they are even aware.

If you are an Empath, you should:

  1. Dislike and feel uncomfortable around clutter, you are intensely aware of the convoluted energy of disorganization around you.
  2. You are overwhelmed in large crowds. Needing space and to step aside or step outside for fresh air, due to feeling all the emotions of the surrounding large crowd at once. (Apparently, that’s where alcohol came in for my youth and the consistent crowds I took part in.)
  3. Feeling physically or emotionally ill form another persons pain or discontentment, without them even telling you. Feeling others emotions and taking them on as your own: This is a huge one for empaths. To some they will feel emotions off those near by and with others they will feel emotions from those a vast distance away, or both. The more adept empath will know if someone is having bad thoughts about them, even from great distance. The empath must learn distance to distinguish their own feelings apart from others.
  4. Having an innate ability to naturally know when someone is lying to you, telling you half truths, manipulating you, or suffering while denying it.
  5. Enjoy solitude. Welcome solo efforts. Desire to be self employed or for example, a freelance writer for a little realtor paper. 😉 Knowing working in crowds or a group will be overwhelming carrying their emotions with your own. Preferring one on one.
  6. People naturally gravitate to you to dump everything on you, completely trusting you. Strangers will tell you their life story or secrets, without any effort or questions from you.
  7. You have a natural ability to be artistic. Musical, a writer, a painter, a poet.
  8. Truth teller. Regardless of how brutal, you are boldly honest. Anything untruthful feels plain wrong.
  9. You crave peace. You will accommodate, codependent for others, or coddle, to keep all at peace.
  10. Watching or hearing of violence, cruelty or a tragedy is unbearable and will weigh on you for days with intrusive upsets.
  11. Intolerance to narcissism: Although kind and often tolerant of others, empaths do not like to be around overly egotistical people, who put themselves first, puts on a facade or brushes aside the feelings of others while pretending to care. (*Lord knows I run from these type of people.*)
  12. Maternal love for nature and animals, children and the elderly. Always looking out for the underdog.
  13. Finds routine, rules or control, imprisoning: Anything that takes away their freedom is debilitating to an empath even poisoning.
  14. Will not choose to buy antiques, vintage or second-hand: Anything that’s been pre-owned carries the energy of the previous owner. An empath will even prefer to have a brand new car or house (if they are in the financial situation to do so) with no residual energy.
  15. Sense the energy of food: Many empaths don’t like to eat meat or poultry because they can feel the vibrations of the animal (especially if the animal suffered), even if they like the taste.
  16. Can appear moody, shy, aloof, disconnected: Depending on how an empath is feeling will depend on what face they show to the world. They can be prone to mood swings and if they’ve taken on too much negative from another will appear quiet and unsociable. When in reality, they are relishing in their solitude. An empath detests having to pretend to be happy when they’re overwhelmed, this only adds to their load.
  17. Excellent listener: An empath won’t talk about themselves much unless it’s to someone they really trust. They love to learn and know about others and genuinely care.
  18. Always looking for the answers and knowledge: To have unanswered questions can be frustrating for an empath and they will endeavor to find an explanation. If they have a knowing about something they will look for confirmation. The downside to this is an information overload.
  19. Prefers adventure, exploring, freedom and travel: Empaths are free spirits.
  20. Drawn to healing, holistic therapies and all things metaphysical: Although many empaths would love to heal others they can end up turning away from being healers (even though they have a natural ability for it), after they’ve studied and qualified, because they take on too much from the one they are trying to heal. Especially if they are unaware of their empathy.  Anything of a supernatural nature is of interest to empaths and they don’t surprise or get shocked easily. Even at the revelation of what many others would consider unthinkable, for example, empaths would have known the world was round when others believed it was flat.

Any person who knows the true me agrees every one of these describe me to the T.

If you can say yes to all of the above then you are most definitely an empath, OR we are witches.



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Prison Break~

I hit my fifth year this month.

If you have read this blog from THE BEGINNING then you know, this an important time. From what I feared the most, the devastating effects from Multiple Sclerosis.

Odd, isn’t it? I feared MS more than any other health crisis. I had fear for my family more than myself when the jeopardy came to cancer forming as close as a third of an inch away from shutting off my trachea. I know that sounds ridiculous, but no two people are the same with MS. One can live with sensory symptoms only, the other can literally fall apart the first year. 


In my personal story, it was guessed to be brain cancer, then I was originally diagnosed as probable Relapsing Remitting Multiple Sclerosis. Yes, the following doctor stated I was a classic case of Lyme disease. Then Sloan Kettering stated the brain lesions could be from misdiagnosed cancer. My common sense knew what two neurologists endured with studying the brain, so I held on to the original neurologist’s quote, “If you don’t have any disability in the next five years, you never will.” I researched that fact and the Mayo Clinic confirmed. 

It’s felt that most people experience the severest disabilities of MS within five years of diagnosis. After that point, their disabilities don’t continue to worsen significantly. Therefore, if no additional disabilities appear within the first five years, then they are unlikely to occur in the future. But nobody can predict what will happen to any one person and so many things can have an influence on that. It’s been proven over these short years that doing all of the “right things” will increase your odds of a better outcome. http://my-ms.org/ms_prognosis.htm

Just as life famously throws roadblocks at us, I never did get a concrete answer. Although, I did have that cancer which was blocking my trachea and wrapped up around my thyroid, removed. I went on with life while everyone thought I lucked out, and in the back of my mind I counted the months to hit my fifth year mark for the parole board and probable RRMS.

I was lucky enough to meet people with MS. They were walking, talking, laughing, with eyesight, and that monkey hanging on their back, just like me. 

To this day when I look in the mirror I know how destructive I have been with my body in my short life. I marked those days off to five years as though I was on a maximum penalty prison sentence.

As my husband lived in denial, my very mature daughter is the only one who knew I lived with an inner countdown. While she doesn’t believe I carry MS, she is beyond compassionate, empathetic and positive as always.

During this time two publishers and an internist doctor have pushed me to finish my manuscript to tell my story, along with the vital things I have never even shared on this blog. I didn’t feel ready. I didn’t feel as though I would be fair to the many people who live with MS, cancer, and lyme without an ending. I want to help, not hurt.

What I have never shared with anyone is the fact I live with many symptoms of MS. Yes, MS and Lyme are almost identical. The symptoms I still carry could be the positive blood test from Lyme as well, but just as most in the medical struggles have learnt as they were cheated at this card game, you can be bitten by a lyme infected tick and it will ALWAYS show up in your blood. I grew up on a farm. There are a great deal of debates with Lyme in the medical community due to insurance regulations, as well as a lack of knowledge on how to treat chronic Lyme.

I have always listened to my instinct, and when I do, I am never steered wrong. I’ve paid close attention to my body this past five years. To be blunt, and more importantly with myself, I have some form of something. Whether that’s benign, sensory only, around the corner from destruction, or the aftereffects of cancer, I have something. And that’s exactly why I play it safe and continue taking LDN. Only people who live with me know I take that pill religiously. LDN – the low dose naltrexone I detailed in this blog. Not FDA approved but a common, effective tool in the fight against this mysterious disease. It’s a proven fight against Lyme as well. Some doctors believe in it’s ability, while some demand to know how I obtained it. I also know the LDN makes a difference since I have experienced what it feels like to run out of the pill.

Even though myself and my family enjoyed living in the south for many reasons; The school our daughter wanted, the beach, the consistent sunshine, (sun, a factor in fighting MS), and the doctor that found my cancer right away, my job, away from the stress, gossip, and falsehoods we were accustomed to from our hometown. I had one more personal reason; fall apart in private. I expected it to happen. I wasn’t so sure I would hit the five year mark free from disability. Due to that blessing, I have taken my gift seriously and taken care of myself.

This blog is about my acceptance and to not discourage the reader to not listen to your doctor. There are misdiagnoses in this world, my cancer was missed repeatedly, but not all doctors have to be discredited. The sensory symptoms, fatigue, double vision, memory issues, migraines among other things, that I may not have every day, but still carry, aren’t from the cancer they removed. Not from the early menopause my surgery put me into, just my luck of the draw in life. Possibly, I carry all three?

I will continue making plans with my family. Laughing so hard it hurts my ribs. Exercising to stay in shape. Relish in my hired writing assignments. Eating as mimimal as possible. Feel gratitude towards real relationships and those who are astonished by how healthy I’m told I look. 

Even though I live with continued trips to NYC for tests until I ironically hit my five years to be considered a cancer survivor, and my dear friends have empathy for the fact that I can’t ever be insured since I had cancer. As they say to me, “That’s awful, I am so sorry. It’s as though they know how you will die.” It’s ok, I still have no idea. There’s two other high possibilities.

I lost my mom on December 22nd. I think of her as I type this with my sensory symptoms,  knowing she was never wrong. She repeatedly warned me, begged me to be good to my body, to treat it like a growing plant. Now I not only know I screwed up in more ways than ten by not listening to her, I also know at one time I walked around with lyme, had the close call of life and death cancer ripped out, as I continue to wish the RRMS the best. Isn’t that what every obstacle in life boils down to anyway? 




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Hey all, as I let my domain expire and I have enrolled in holistic medicine classes, I see an exciting new journey ahead of me. This post is to let you all know I am thankful to all who followed this blog. It was the perfect outlet to express the long misdiagnosed illness I endured. Every single word was with the hope to not only vent but to help someone with similar mystery symptoms and mistakes in the medical community.
For the Lyme readers, remember to take your turmeric every day. It’s a healthy addition to herx.

For the thyroid sufferers, be sure to listen to your body and your intuition. What the preceding factors tell you will be more accurate than the endos who make all their money off of diabetic patients.

For my friends, as you know, as we age we find out where are friendships stand. Thank you for your devotion to caring enough to read this blog. Hopefully you know I love you all. You can leave a comment (unpublished) to get my email and phone if you don’t have it.

With gratitude. Be well.

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Thank you very much ;)

image imageThank you to all who reacted to the Jesse blog with such excitement and enthusiasm. The southern flood had me release a secret of mine, and your feedback was enjoyable. I’m also quite honored to have been asked where I think Jesse/Elvis is, but you’ve gotta know I wouldn’t rat him out even if I did know. 

Here’s the bad news; the book sucks. Well, I’ll give the doctor the credit for sharing letters with Elvis’ identical handwriting. I can copy my parents handwriting but I highly doubt I could pull letters off that even fool a former FBI analyst. That’s the only thing that throws me.

The doc also shared pictures of gifts that I believe from my lifelong study of Elvis to be matches for Elvis items. I recognized a watch he wore immediately. However, something is fishy about this book. I don’t know if it’s my powerful ability to be in a supreme reality, or the fact the doctor is a crap writer, but I always follow my gut and it feels wrong to me.

It’s no surprise another person made money off of Elvis’ persona, talent and name. Well played doctor, maybe you could use your own skills and conjure up something original? Just a thought. 

This doesn’t take away the fact that the rest of the evidence to Elvis’ death is highly suspicious. Just don’t waste your money and look for the book I described. (I’ll pass on giving him more promotion to post the title.)

We won’t ever get the whole truth, but my true love is evident in my walking away. 

“..of all the ways to lose a person, death is the kindest…”

*Once again, comments are not published to protect privacy.*

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Okay, I am completely aware that the people who follow this blog and especially the ones who personally know me will spit on their computer screen with laughter when they read this, but you may just reconsider the possibility of what I am about to share.

The common person may not know this, but in the Rock n’ Roll world, it is an inside passing comment on how to escape the industry and make yourself more money is ‘to do what Elvis did; fake your death.’ Yeah, yeah you’re thinking, ‘Oh my god she is so obsessed with that man she thinks he’s alive!’ I wouldn’t go that far. I don’t necessarily think Elvis is living, but I do question, when up late at night and tired of writing jobs, to delve deeper into the research that he more than likely finally escaped, and since I’m an Elvis connoisseur I pray to god he had done just that.

Let’s be honest. People from the 1950’s will tell you there was an enormous amount of pressure on Elvis Presley, which was expected from him until his ah hem, cough, death.

When he first came out, Perry Como and Frank Sinatra ruled the charts. Yes, black musicians were doing the blues, and Elvis loved the blues along with choir music, but actual rock didn’t get started until the ‘white guy that sounded black’ hit the scene. Elvis was never a songwriter, but all of his songs were chosen and performed in the way they were by his suggestion.

Eventually the Elvis hysteria was so out of hand, he was banned, accused of being satanic, beating his mother, a sexual deviant, a bad influence to the rise in juvenile delinquency. In those clean years one can imagine how shocking his performing, and sexual suggestions portrayed him to others. The controversy grew to where his records were being smashed, the parents wanted him away from the eyes of the youth. He was being filmed from the waist up, his concerts were lined with police officers, ready to arrest him for simply dancing. All the while, his influence caused John Lennon to start a band with his buddies so “they could meet Elvis someday.” One influential example of far too many to list.

Finally in 1977, times were bad for him. This is all verified by close friends, his nurse, and family. Don’t worry, I don’t give a shit what the Memphis Mafia has to say since they sold him out for a book deal back then, and one of the things that inevitably led to his depression. Elvis was addicted to uppers and downers to meet his 350 day year concert schedule, his loser manager had a gambling problem, and took 50% of Elvis’ earnings for his addiction. Elvis kept him from his legacy of old school loyalty. Same goes for his bodyguards, staff of men Elvis ran with, known as Memphis Mafia. Elvis saw them as family, best friends, karate comrades. After Elvis gave them not only a job, a house, many cars and security for themselves and their families, once the so called friends were offered a book deal to sell Elvis out, they took it.

The book was released after Priscilla left Elvis for his karate companion, Mike Stone. It was a crushing, life changing time for him.

As for Priscilla, I won’t defend Elvis because I have immense respect for her. That woman has always shown the highest form of love, respect and class regarding Elvis, even though he publicly cheated on her through their entire marriage. Nevertheless, Elvis grew into a deep depression.

As Elvis grew more quiet, it is reported he repeatedly made the comment, “I am so sick of being Elvis Presley”, as he became more fascinated with his love of Numerology. The compulsion with numerology can in fact make one become reliant on it. I have done it myself. I wouldn’t say I am at the level he was with it, but I do take to heart what my numbers tell me. Numerology will in fact teach you a great deal about yourself. Everything will ring eerily true. It’s not hocus pocus, it’s not a cult. It’s a science with numbers of your life. Here’s the spooky part, when I learned Elvis’ numbers had his numerology advising him to give up selfish possessions and live his life for another in August of ’77 some of the compelling evidence made much more sense.

*Elvis lived in torment with survivors guilt from losing his twin brother, Jesse Garon. It was a lifetime spiritual quest for him to understand why his twin died, and he was given such an extreme life to uphold.
*Elvis had a grueling time with surviving the loss of his mother. All who knew him said he never recovered or came to any peace with it.
*Elvis canceled a tour, for the first time in his career, a week before his ‘death’.
*Elvis Presley is the only known autopsy with missing pictures, tissue, and organs. (The recent AUTOPSY program regarding Elvis used medical records from his history.)
*The blood type listed on the short two page autopsy papers is different from the blood type Baptist Memorial listed as Elvis’ blood type for a liver test from 1974.
*Elvis’ favorite books, jewelry, and pictures of his mother disappeared.
*Life insurance policies on Elvis were never cashed.
*Elvis Aron Presley, his middle name is misspelled on his gravestone. (AARON is not how it was spelled on his birth certificate, marriage certificate, RCA contract, ARMY records, drivers license.) Legally, that’s not his gravestone.
*The picture of Elvis in his casket was a replica of him at the age of 25, while his death certificate read 170 pounds. Elvis was an obese 250 pounds in the end from depression, and 42 years old, not his youthful 170 pound 25 year old self, as displayed in that casket.FullSizeRender-11
*Every passing person in his quickly handled funeral made the comment his corpse looked like a wax dummy of him with a pudge nose, arched brows and smooth hands, which he had none of the latter.
*Fifteen men struggled to carry this supposed 170 pound shell while there was mention of the cool air coming from the coffin. (Air conditioning keeps wax in place.) Linda Thompson, the only other woman he lived with even made the quote, “It’s amazing what they can do with wax nowadays.”

It is well known that Elvis left everything, including Graceland, to his divorced wife Priscilla, in his will. His pig greedy manager Tom Parker and best friend, Joe Esposito, and Priscilla who would have her daughters security in place, helped him escape the curse of fame. The disloyalty of who traveled with him, depression, drug addiction, and being imprisoned in his own home.

Think about it? Colonel Parker, his manager, continued raking in the money off of Elvis until that trash carnie croaked. He was all for it. RCA recently made the statement, “Elvis has yet to be beat in record sales”. The man stopped recording in 1977! Priscilla never said a bad word about him while she and Lisa Marie prepared Graceland for the fans. It is the number one visited rock n roll destination while Elvis Presley Enterprises make a mint to this day. (One of the reasons I’m against buying all of the Elvis junk. I admire you Priscilla, but you’re rich enough.) Joe loved Elvis for who Elvis was, not what he could do for him.

SO… there’s one picture that is supposed to be Elvis from 2001. It came from a doctor that prescribed him pain meds for arthritis. This working physician, wants no interviews or money, and doesn’t want to sue anyone. However, he owns jewelry that the log listed as missing in 1977. And in a book he wrote, supposedly with Elvis’ blessing, which took me very long to obtain, holds letters “Elvis” wrote the doctor about living with guilt to leave his fans or anyone who loved him for him, heartbroken. As insane as all of this was to me, I have studied Elvis’ handwriting since I was a little girl. The letters are identical to his handwriting, and when tested by three handwriting specialists, one formerly with the FBI, all three agree they consider it an identical match. I also know Elvis had a peculiar collar bone that stood out, a broken pinky finger, many details that match this elderly gentleman WHO IS HOLDING LISA MARIE PRESLEY’S SON??!!!

Come on, does this add up?

If this were a scam wouldn’t there be pictures of the elderly man looking at a guitar, staring off into the sunset pondering life, sitting by a lit fire with a numerology novel? Nope. Just this one picture. Now the doctor won’t talk about it. The book is off the shelves, (I found mine in a Goodwill in Colorado Springs.) And the only person who can prove us wrong with her DNA? Lisa Marie. She tells every asking person to ‘fuck off.’

If it’s a facade, I agree with her. My apologies, Lisa. If she and Priscilla don’t want to mess up the payroll, I say alive or dead, he earned the right to rest in peace.

Long live Rock n’ Roll.




“Elvis is the best ever, the most original. He started the ball rolling for us all. He
deserves the recognition.”~ Jim Morrison

“Describe Elvis Presley? He was the greatest who ever was, is or ever will be.”
~ Chuck Berry

“Without Elvis none of us could have made it.” ~Buddy Holly

**As always, comments are not published to protect privacy.**


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I had a friend tell me recently he admired how I don’t sweat aging or what my age actually is because I had already been through so much with my health.

If you haven’t been there, it’s hard to make it understood how it feels to face death. All to realize the small things or what we used to worry about doesn’t matter anymore. I know how difficult it is to sincerely feel indifference to the many concerns that once dwelled in ones mind. Thanks to my trachea, I can honestly say I am there.

One thing how venting on this blog helped me was learning that some of my ruminations and venting weren’t actually helping my situation but were actually making me more stuck. We all can do that in real life, don’t we?

I had assumed it was quite the opposite. But it does delay the healing.

Knowledge is power, sharing is charitable, but any ruminating on pain only keeps things fresh, and in the mind where our mind should be healing our future and getting well so that any toxicity of your past will have no more grip, or CONTROL.

It’s normal to remenisce, but to hold on to what wasn’t real, or to what was toxic to your health is detrimental to any moving forward.

If you are an adult reading this, you know what is holding you back, what you have to release from. You know as well as I do, facing what you have to is what will lead a person to healing.

There’s an old adage; ‘Whatever or whoever has made you feel happy in your mind, even without it or them being around, for more than seven years, are meant to be in your life.’

I have a circle of people and a few things that have done just that for me.

Everyone enjoys music, but since I could walk, I have always found music to be healing and give me nothing but happiness. I always say, music is medicine.

Choose wisely what you ruminate over on, and most definitely, be sure it’s honest. Happy helps as well. If not, it can hinder who you are intended to be.


Some things from my past I desire to relive over, and over again. Fleetwood Mac is one of them. I’ve been to many concerts and met many musicians, but saw Fleetwood Mac in concert more than any other. 2015 was actually better than 1982, and if you have enjoyed them as well, you get why this is a happy occasion to rehash over, and over again. 

Brevity is the key to clarity.

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Little Blue Corvette~


As I drove my Jeep to the beach today, and noticed as Bobby and I always do, fellow Jeep drivers never fail to wave as though we are in a club together, just as Harley bikers do for each other. It made me think of how very easy it is to fall prey to the seduction of a vehicle.

To each it’s own is what I always say.
I’m not one to judge, never have been the type to gossip, sit around to make decisions on another persons life choices, to say what is good for them, isn’t good for me. Who cares? I see no point in wasting my breath to make such bold statements. I just know what is good for me and what I like.

So, if a person thinks hitting the gym for vanity sake only, to grab a young date, buying a sports car will reduce the true number of their age, have at it! I for one, like aging. I don’t plan on hitting bingo any time soon but when Bobby called me one day to say, “Hey I wanted to get you a present at the car lot, but it didn’t work out.” My response to him was “Oh I’m sorry sweeetheart..” while in my mind, my response was, “Oh thank the sweet merciful Lord..”

As sweet as it was when I walked in to find the wonderful love of my life kissing me to put keys in my hand, I walked around the corner to find it. He was grinning from ear to ear. It was beautiful. It also literally was such a low rider, it layed on the ground, literally. I would’ve torn the hell out of it when I was 22, I thought. She isn’t here anymore though.

I gotta tell ya, the longer I drove it, the more that people in their 20’s were staring at it, the many times I cracked my neck to see the stop light, I was having guilty thoughts that it may be time to make a break.

One morning while I looked at the deal in print, and once working as a car salesman, while being good at it, until my mom made me quit because my girl was a baby, I had to sit my Bobby down to break the news. It was time to let go of who we once were. That young girl wasn’t here anymore, he had his truck, and the little blue sports car was not only overpriced, but it would keep me in a time warp.

As much as I followed a marriage rule of my mom’s, ‘don’t ever mother your husband.’ Mama bear had to speak up.

It inevitably was one of those times that I took the initiative to sell it, make a profit of thousands, and go buy some great collagen cream for under my eyes.

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Spin on Perimenopause~






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I’m begging, pleading, if you are using the phrase ‘if you can’t handle me at my worst..you don’t deserve me at ..’

You know. We all know it.


Please if you are using that. Save everyone the unnecessary retina exercise of the eye roll and stop torturing every human being around you. With the abuse of banners and social media sites a great many of short span readers are moved by some predictable commentary that come from another person then it is used, and overused again.

I value the people in my life who actually still pick up a book and make their own quotes. Those original quotes are what stand out to me and everyone else in my circle.

As fantastic and stunning as she was, what Marilyn Monroe said after her third divorce due to her mental issues, does not open my eyes to your supposed strength. I can assure you when a person with a working brain reads your comment they are thinking of what they saw on the newsfeed right before that famous predictable Marilyn quote, or the apparent fact you are in dire need of some validation, and it is most certainly clear that you don’t ever pick up a book.

While we’re at it, let’s look at the meaning of the quote; Marilyn’s telling you ‘listen if you don’t take my abusive garbage when I’m in a bad, empty, evasive mood, I’m not going to be sexy and happy for you when I’m in a good mood.’

Is that your message to the world?

One of my cherished memories of my beloved mom is the many times of her having me enjoy Marilyn Monroe movies with her, and the books she would share with me on Marilyn. I could tell you every thing there is to know about Norma Jeane due to my mom being such a huge fan; how Marilyn was abandoned by her mother in front of a movie theatre, how she was raised and abused in children wards, how she married for the first time to escape her abuse in an orphanage, how women in her day were treated like prostitutes to make it in Hollywood films, how she worked to prefect her craft to be taken seriously of more meaty roles all to be a continued trademark of the dumb blonde for dollar signs, how she wanted nothing more than to be loved but continually sabotaged and ran from the very thing she craved the most. Love and stability.

The reminders of Marilyn Monroe make me smile due to my mom. Although true Marilyn fans know that quote meant a great deal of sadness and suffering.

This is some brutal advice, but it’s the new approach to my blog. And, you’ll privately be grateful when you say something of your own and get that reaction you are looking for.

“When you’re not nervous anymore, give up, because nervousness indicates sensitivity.”~Marilyn Monroe

“It takes a smart brunette to play a dumb blonde.” ~Marilyn Monroe

“It’s all make believe, isn’t it?”~Marilyn Monroe

“Sometimes I see I’m fooling myself and others.”~Marilyn Monroe

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August is a big month, filled with a smorgasbord of emotions. As I approach our 29th wedding anniversary tomorrow, my mother’s birthday and my parents anniversary is upon on me once again. I find I may not be the basket case having a nervous breakdown at the Morris cemetery I once was, but the pain is still never ending.

Time can only heal so much.

I mourn their company, words of wisdom, unique sense of humors, elegance and tactful approach to all walks of life. The talent and cool that radiated off my dad, as he wrote, sang, played instruments and drew art caricatures as easily as getting dressed.

The beauty that beamed from my mom, inner and outer. It wasn’t only her striking features and originality, it was the fact that you had never experienced anyone like her before. How she thought, how she spoke, how she took care of herself. She genuinely cared enough to help you, even if she barely knew you. When you walked away you were not only inspired, you gained a new insightful knowledge.

Most of all, how they should both be here.

My parents should be enjoying their older years. They are forever the age they passed away at, and it all seems so unfair. Not only my tremendous loss. Most certainly, theirs.

I’m not bitter anymore, I just have so much to tell them.

What brought me to the destination they always worked hard to deliver me to, is maturity and the lessons I learned from surviving cancer, while enduring it all without them. I’m proud of that unfortunate fact. I am the woman they always hoped me to be, because they saw it inside me before I even reached anywhere near that peak. My mom was known to parent all six of us due to my dads alcoholism and struggles with himself, she wasn’t rewarded enough in this life, while my fathers self doubt and alcoholism battled the immense love he wanted to be able to give her. They each paid heavily for six lives and the loyalty to their marriage.

If I could have one more day I would hold their hands, just like when I was the sensitive little girl who they worried the world would eat alive, and look in their beautiful familiar eyes, to tell them, “Thank you for giving me life, forfeiting your own plans to make us first, teaching me about people, instilling fine arts, music, and words in my mind, while holding my heart with protection until your last day, and the world didn’t eat me up.”

In memoriam, to two of the finest.IMG_0701

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My Mother’s Day is extra special with the news of my trip being a successful one. I am cancer free! In fact, Sloan Kettering said I am doing so well I don’t have to return for 18 months.  Granted, I wasn’t all too thrilled to be reminded of what they are watching on the right side of my neck, but thankfully it did not grow. That’s the telltale sign it is not aggressive.
Also the efforts with my medication have me level.
For ten years I have felt as though my entire life is only about staying alive. I have finally reached a plateau that I can stop thinking about health nonstop.
I hope you all can have a moment of peace that brings you clarity. Day to day duties don’t bring it to the forefront quite enough.
I recognize that fleeting moment now more than ever.
Besides having children, it is by far the greatest gift of all.
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I’m ready. Almost. 

As I reorganize my closet, and pack for a much deserved getaway weekend. I have a plan on my face knowing this will be the last hurrah before my impending cancer screenings trip to New York. The results will determine the final step for my next destination with Bobby to Turks and Caicos, a trip I’ve wanted to take for a very long time. Then last, to home to where I grew up.

I’m determined to make the most of these trips, regardless of my results. Timing if they’ll  have to treat me again will be the only denominator, and or obstacle. Once all of the upcoming traveling is finished I will begin a new career. One that is intertwined with the writers job I have now. These fingers are packing as though I already received a clean bill of health. This is my only second of five years of tests, and yet each visit awakens me to something new I want to accomplish, see, renew. While accepting what I can not change as well.

If only we all thought like that with every morning, without the cloud of the unknown hanging out in the back of our minds to motivate us to better things.    

That makes me think. Recently I signed a guest book for a high school friend that passed away. As I wrote, I thought to myself what I think every single time, how we have pleasant beautiful thoughts on a person, after they’re dead. Ever since the doctors told me that cancer was so close to my trachea, I have wholeheartedly tried to live, travel, and talk as though I croaked and got to come back. 

So my heart just feels grateful to be here. I did think it was as funny as you will find it, that the cancer team all suggested to avoid stress. Even with a thyroid removed the cancer can return, but they are worried about my trachea. I see it in their trained eyes, and feel it in their grip as they routinely thoroughly inspect the area and take pictures of my voice box.

Yes. I’m a little concerned because I had a highly eventful, stressful last year. Every time my perimenopause gave me a migraine I assumed like morning toast popping up, a new brain lesion was forming. The positive? When something happens to a sane person over and over again, it has little to zero effect of pain or worry on you. 

Nevertheless, speechless or talkative, I will once again be traveling with new eyes. After all, that is the ultimate voyage.

**To the email followers: Sorry about the mishap with duplicate videos last time!**

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silhouette6Two years out and getting better all the time!

“Donda was partying before they called it partying.” – My older sister telling me what our mom said. Gave me a great laugh, and reminded me to get a glass of water.

If I had a dollar every time someone said to me, “You’re so smart with health, but you don’t drink water. I don’t get it”.


I don’t get it either. Pathetic. 

I forget to do it. 

Vino at the end of the day comes along with meetings and dinners. 

There’s a great deal of free Starbucks in my life.

Water bores me. 

People close to me think it’s because I consider it a rule, and I’m a rebel. As funny as that sounds, maybe that’s true?

I do get that very large glass of water in me every morning with my thyroid replacement med.  I have two profound examples on the value of consuming water. 

Years ago, my older sister was getting married, and I was in the wedding. My mom knew how I was with water, so she made me promise her I would drink eight glasses of water a day until the wedding. At the time I lived hard with partying, smoking, not sleeping, and she knew it. All she had to do was add, “For me?” So I did. Regardless of what I was doing I would interrupt it to say, “Oh wait, let me get this water in me.”, while I grabbed a straw and went to work at it.  As friend’s mouths were hanging open from shock.  Week by week, my mom would squeal with the delight and pride of how my skin looked. It did truly take years off my face. Well, I’m definitely not narcissistic, I didn’t stick with it. 

Second proven example: 

While unknowingly carrying overlooked, misdiagnosed, and mistreated cancer I was spending one of my many nights educating myself on the mystery of one of the symptoms I despised the most. My anxiety.  Now, Sloan Kettering tells me that was a symptom of cancer, but at the time it was a debate with two doctors between MS and Lyme for me. I didn’t trust either doctor but I trust myself. During my research, I read over and over how purified water is a life saver to anxiety. I thought “Bullshit. It can’t be that simple”. I still couldn’t get that damn amount of water in me.  After my surgery I was told the importance of a thyroid in a woman is so paramount it can cause problems such as anxiety. The meds to replace your thyroid also have a side effect of anxiety. I thought, “What else is new?”. But I started the water. Astonishingly enough, if I get the proper amount in equal to my weight, I feel zero anxiety! It works! Just make sure it’s purified, and do your research to be sure your purified water choice is free of fluoride.

So, I’m told our bodies are 60% water. Blood is 92%, and the brain and muscles are 75%. Oh yeah, and these bones that are aging by the second, 22%. I’ll come back with more of my health advice when you can count on this Aquarian to be a consistent water bearer.


You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may tread me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I’ll rise.
~Maya Angelou


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Me, Myself, and I~

My mom used to always say, “Donda could fall in shit and come out smelling like roses”.

I never gave that comment much thought, only enjoyed the humor in it. But as usual, she’s right as ever.

If you are a mentally healthy individual, we all are aware we want to do our very best with anything we take on in life.

When you carry others issues on your shoulders, along with your own. If you find long overdue respect and communication is not reciprocated, that’s when your health is at risk. And I’ve got four more years of those damn cancer tests in NYC.

Anyway, this is something I struggle with regarding my loyalties to my past. I have since I was a young child. We all travel that pathway of growth with age, chipping away at what will bring happiness. While tastefully tossing out what brings unresolved pain.

If you’re told “you’re stress tactics are causing you to die young”, as my oncologist said to me, then it’s time to make a new plan.
I have definitely become stronger for my diagnosis of developing cancer from stress. Now more confident, a higher level of independence than ever, all due to an oncologist making that statement. Every single person in my life who cares about this comment shows it. It’s fascinating what one will learn in this particular position.

However, even though I am blessed in many ways so I tend to want to share it, I can still be too trusting. That’s where I am reminded I walk my talk.
I take action in who I say I am.
What goes around comes around.
Just the way it is, and that’s a good thing, for me.

Any time I make allowances for the ones who claim to have empathy, but show none. Or the ones who leave a trail of scattered promises, my eyes gain a new reflection of healthy insight.

The fact is, the actions – all of them – are your truth. 

That’s all one can do. Wake up in the morning, dust off the inconsiderate soot, and move on.

What I like best is I will continue to genuinely care about others struggles, regardless of the time invested, but I will also carry on while making myself first. That will continue to be my reward.

If you take action in showing kindness in this self absorbed world, pat yourself on the back. Nobody else will. 😉

While doing so, do the things that make you feel good about yourself. Look around, enjoy the view. At that point, the lack of strength from others then won’t be obstructing your view.

What once formerly hurt me, now strengthens me.

Self respect is the unconditional love we all need to keep in place.

“Confidence .. Thrives on honesty, on honor, on the sacredness of obligations, on faithful protection and unselfish performance. Without them confidence cannot live”.
~Franklin Roosevelt

The only good is knowledge and the only evil is ignorance.

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The Five Stages of Facebook~

Since I was infamous for taking many breaks, I made a bet with someone in my life that I could stay off Facebook for one year.

I broke the universal rule.

I’m doing it well.

And happier while accomplishing it.

After being coerced by a friend years ago to join FB, I reluctantly did so. Then pouring myself into the process. As it became amongst many things to a writer, a platform to my sounding board of pain regarding my parents deaths. As time went on I hit these stages of FB that I noticed most people live while living on the networking site.

Five stages of Facebook:






*Excitement-Finding a friend you hadn’t heard from in twenty years is a happy, natural serotonin lift. Even though the site was created for a much younger generation, we mid lifers get that, for the time being anyway.

*Sincerity-We all do it. Sincerely posting about our families, jobs, losses, and happy birthdays. Then it turns competitive, and our high school guy friends want to date us. Which is why if Bobby wanted a FB, I’d divorce him because we both would just piss each other off with each sign in.

*Denial-All good things have the bad. To all the highs, we have lows. What comes up must come down. I discovered I never aged so fast in my life as I did on FB. Even with misdiagnoses, PTSD, life scars, and cancer. Our birthday’s rolled around as quickly as a Sunday pot roast.

*Anger-When that friend you at one time adored is really a bigot, racist, or pushes anything, something, on you like a crack dealer. You just lose interest in people you once thought so highly of. There’s some truth in maintaining mystery.

*Detachment-Okay yes, if you turn me off, I disappear. But I’m really not that difficult. I bring nurses to their stat buttons with my low blood pressure. It’s very hard to make me angry. I’m wholeheartedly nonjudgmental. This coincides with the anger stage. I don’t need FB to hear from my real friends.

So when my year is up I’ll probably return. Oxymoron? Maybe. However, I cared for many people I interacted with on FB. It was nice to see their happy shiny smiles, until my birthday rolls around anyway.

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Protected: The Circle~

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What Happy (and Healthy) People Know~

“For the most part, hate is fear. We only hate things we’re afraid of. When someone hurts us terribly, we often hate him for it. But we hate him mostly because we’re afraid he’ll hurt us again-either literally or in our minds which replay the scene of hurt again and again. If we had the power to stop him from hurting us ever again-even in our memories- our fear would fade, and our hate would again become just hurt, which can always heal. We do have a way to stop people from hurting us again and again, even in our memories. It is forgiveness. Forgiveness is the blessing we bestow on not just those who have hurt us, but upon ourselves. Forgiveness knocks down the walls around love that hate can build.
Forgiveness doesn’t alter what has happened. The memory remains; the hurt is unchanged. But forgiveness grants us new eyes, through the grace of love, that see the hurt in a different way.
Forgiveness isn’t forgetting. It’s just leaving behind your own hate and rising to the next level of life. It’s not about letting the other guy off the hook- it’s about letting yourself off the hook.

From a medical perspective, hate is a heavy burden, creating chronic overstimulation of the sympathetic nervous system, which contributes strongly to depressed immunity, insomnia, hypertension, muscle pain, colitis, ulcers, heart attack, cancer, stroke, memory loss, migraines and impaired cognitive function. But the worst damage is to peace of mind. It is impossible to hate and be happy at the same time. You don’t even need to tell someone you’ve forgiven him. You can forgive someone who’s dead. The important thing is just to get the hate out of your heart.”
~Dan Baker Ph.D.,



This above all, To thine own self be true. ~ William Shakespeare

@TheWritersCave – Twitter

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The Long Way~

I don’t want to write the book. I get there. I have chapters and then I think, this is regarding the health industry. I may be private, but I don’t know how to be dishonest or withdrawn. I’ve had others tell me I would be good at any writing, not true. I would be a lousy fiction writer. I am as honest in writing as I am in knowing me. The book will be criticized. Last certainly not least, it will shock you.

Then, I think maybe I will reach someone in despair that hasn’t read this blog. Maybe I can bring some awareness to misdiagnoses and negligence in healthcare. And then my natural calmness has myself thinking I should let go.

So I’m conflicted. There are many true stories I haven’t shared regarding the long guinea pig travesty. Even though I will be watched in NY the next three years, err..shit four years, I’m confident in how I take care of myself. There just might be some truth to the ole notion, we are here for a reason.

As I was speaking to my oncologist recently about an impending visit, he mentioned he didn’t like to refer to my cancer as ‘Thyroid cancer’, he said, “your cancer was technically at your trachea, wrapped around your thyroid.” As crazy as this sounds, it was a Christmas gift. It reminded me of where I have been, what I did for myself to find my answers, and how precious life really is.

So, along with a consistent career in freelance writing, I’m going to give my story time, that is one of the things I learned in this ordeal. I’m lucky to have it.


“To be yourself in a world that is constantly trying to make you something else is the greatest, more admirable accomplishment.”


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“In every field of human endeavor, he that is first must perpetually live in the white light of publicity. Whether the leadership be vested in a man or in a manufactured product, emulation and envy are ever at work. In art, in literature, in music, in industry, the reward and the punishment are always the same. The reward is widespread recognition; the punishment, fierce denial and detraction.

When a man’s work becomes a standard for the whole world, it also becomes a target for the shafts of the envious few. If his work be mediocre, he will be left severely alone – if he achieves a masterpiece, it will set a million tongues a-wagging. Jealousy does not protrude its forked tongue at the artist who produces a commonplace painting. Whatsoever you write, or paint, or play, or sing, or build, no one will strive to surpass or to slander you unless your work be stamped with the seal of genius.

Long, long after a great work or a good work has been done, those who are disappointed or envious, continue to cry out that it cannot be done. Spiteful little voices in the domain of art were raised against our own Whistler as a mountback, long after the big world had acclaimed him its greatest artistic genius. Multitudes flocked to Bayreuth to worship at the musical shrine of Wagner, while the little group of those whom he had dethroned and displaced argued angrily that he was no musician at all. The little world continued to protest that Fulton could never build a steamboat, while the big world flocked to the river banks to see his boat steam by.

The leader is assailed because he is a leader, and the effort to equal him is merely added proof of that leadership. Failing to equal or to excel, the follower seeks to deprecate and to destroy – but only confirms once more the superiority of that which he strives to supplant. There is nothing new in this. It is as old as the world and as old as human passions – envy, fear, greed, ambition, and the desire to surpass. And it all avails nothing. If the leader truly leads, he remains – the leader.

Master-poet, master-painter, master-workman, each in his turn is assailed, and each holds his laurels through the ages. That which is good or great makes itself known, no matter how loud the clamor of denial. That which deserves to live–lives.”
~Theodore MacManus

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