I was once told I was secretive.

The statement came as a surprise to me…along with the physical slap to the face.

I have never seen myself as secretive. Quiet, yes, but secretive? If anything I’m a bit to honest, lack tact, and say exactly what I’m thinking. Ask me a question, and I won’t hesitate to give you the answer. Whether you want to hear it or not…and usually without stopping to think about the response. I say what I’m thinking, before I think what I’m saying. That’s where the lack of tact comes in. First thought, is first response.

I’ve always seen myself as very honest and open. It also depends on the people I’m surrounded by at the time, which brings me back to the statement and slap. The person who accused me of being secretive was far more secretive then I have ever been.

Answering the phone required them to rush to another room. Talking to someone within ear shot in whispered tones was far more indicative of secrecy then my quietness. Going through a persons room and removing ‘unacceptable’ items, secretly, would never make it to the top ten of “How to win friends and influence people.” It is also not a recommended way to win someones trust.

It did, however, encourage me to talk even less. I, unfortunately perhaps, have this strong desire to not cause harm. That means not causing harm by action, word, or deed. I knew then, as I still know now, that saying something would have caused harm.

Knowing someone was randomly going through my room and removing items they deemed evil, or just not acceptable, was disconcerting. Many of the items removed were gifts from my mother. Items which had memories tied to them. Memories which mattered at the time. The pain of their removal is something I have never talked about…until this moment.

I may have been a teenager at the time, but I was still struggling with the knowledge that my mother wanted a couch more than me. She chose baby pictures, and baby clothes, over my well-being and general existence. I was a pawn being used against the only person I trusted, my father.

I lost everything I knew, and continued to lose. Looking back, I know it was around this time depression really took over. I slept if I wasn’t working or in school. I isolated myself in hopes I could just forget. I hated being home. I wouldn’t go out with friends often, because I didn’t want to spend time at home introducing them. I kept talking on the phone to a minimum as well. I knew anything I said would be held against me by a court of one. It just wasn’t worth the hassle.

Closing down was easier. Silence was easier. Working as much as I could, was easier. Books were my friends and family. The part which really hurt was losing my father. The distance between us grew. We talked less. Spent less time together.

I know the fault lies on my shoulders. I was so afraid of telling him what was going on. Afraid he’d say, “I know, I told her to,” or accuse me of lying about it. If he did know, it meant I really had lost everything. If he didn’t know, I didn’t want to risk causing arguments, or possibly someone else leaving. I just couldn’t do that to him. Yet to this day I have never mentioned any of this to him.

Looking back, I see ways I could have approached the issue. At 16 though, those ways never crossed my mind. Am I angry about all of it? I was. I know now anger is just a symptom. A way of expressing feelings we’d rather not feel. And yes, I still have those feelings. Hurt mostly, because I never understood the how, or why of it all.

How do you break someones trust, act unapproachable, and behave secretively, then expect a person to be open with you? If I had been on drugs. I could have seen a just cause or, if I came home drunk on a regular basis, The thing was…I never did either.

And yes, I did come home drunk one time…it sucked and it was when I realized I had a Methyphobia – fear of becoming an alcoholic. I failed miserably at being a rebellious teenager; I attended parties to make sure people made it home safe. Real wild and crazy there!

A part of me does understand the person, and their actions, now. It doesn’t erase the hurt, but I do feel very sorry for them. You cannot attempt to control people, in any manner, and have it work in your favor. It will always cause a rift. A tear in the fabric of trust.

I do wish I had some of the items back. The t-shirts from Master Yoon and my mother. The other clothing items from my mother. The old football jersey I bought when Melbeta closed and used as pajamas/comfy clothes. The missed chance to go to the 1988 Olympics. Funny how these things still matter after all these years.

I can see how people could perceive me as being secretive. I am quiet, and I completely suck at small talk. But, a historical case could be made for the cause. My mind will never let me forget. I will always feel sorrow for the person. I know their heart is in the right place, and I am thankful they are so caring. Their need to control their environment stems from their history and I work to kept that in mind.

All of my bitching above is nothing more then a catharsis for me. I have needed to release those words for many years. Tonight, there was no holding them back. If you have read this far, please know, I by no means see myself as innocent in any of it.

We each have a picture of the world as we believe it should be. This means we believe people should behave a certain way, speak a certain way, dress a certain way. It is a picture of the expectations, and often limitations, we hold for ourselves. When others do not live up to our picture, we perceive them as wrong, un-trust worthy, lacking, lazy, ill kept, secretive, etc. The list goes on.

We are the ones who are lacking though. When we do not take the time to learn about the other persons picture. Our pasts, friends, family, experiences, all worked to create our picture. It is those things which make us wonderfully different. We need to spend less time judging each others pictures, and just enjoy the picture for all it is worth.

My picture is no Monet. It has blank spaces yet to be filled. It has tears and cuts yet to be repaired. But, it also has beauty, peace, history, love, and a sense of wonder. I cherish it as much as I cherish your picture; unique with never-ending possibilities.

So for today I say…marvel at your picture, take the time to learn about someone else’s picture…no judgements, no expectations, and no imposing your beliefs on to theirs. It is our actions, words and deeds which cause the most harm when we do not stop to enjoy the beauty of each others picture. While your vantage point on the world may be a meadow the other persons could be a cliff. I know mine was at one time…it is the biggest secret I have ever kept.

Goodnight my friends.


Lesson’s from Life

I actually learned something from life this month. Amazing, right?

I was once asked, at a job interview, if I handled stress well. I thought it was an odd question at the time. Once I was hired for the position I fully understood why they had asked. It was a highly stressful job, but I survived, thrived, and advanced. It was a valuable learning experience.

What I didn’t realize was, while the stress of the job lessened it never ended. It morphed into a different form of stress. It became a deepening depression and manageable anxiety.

Having been diagnosed with PTSD, Manic Depression, Anxiety/Panic disorder years ago. It never occurred to me to question the source of the deepening depression and flares of anxiety. I assumed it was all originating within me. An external, environmental factor never crossed my mind. Until this past weekend.

Last week I received, what would be devastating news to many. And perhaps, at another time in my life, it would have knocked me to my knees. This time though…it was a relief. A weight off my shoulders, full body, absolute relief.

And as the days have passed since that moment. The realization has deepened. I was miserable. Physically, mentally reaching the broken point. The only thing keeping me from breaking was the heroes in my life. They were the source of my perseverance. The only saving grace in a darkening world.

Since last week, and my sudden realization. I have re-found many of the joys of life I’d tucked away. I’ve created, read, written, and de-stressed. I have felt more relaxed and at peace then I have in years. Each day it grows, and expands, into new discoveries.

The next time I am at a job interview which asks if I can handle stress. My answer will be, “No!”. Not because I can’t handle it, but because I refuse to lose myself again. It is nowhere near worth the cost.

The saying, ‘Find a job you love, and you’ll never work a day in your life,’ is not true. I loved my job. I loved what I did. Instead of finding a job you love. Find a job which brings you peace and joy. Once you find that job, never let it go. And if you can’t find it…create it!

Your life is so much more valuable then the all mighty dollar. No business will ever pay you what you are worth. You have value beyond measure. Believe in it!

For today…never forget. Search for joy instead of happiness. Happiness is fleeting, joy goes straight to the heart and your soul. Right where it is needed most.


And I will Write…

Once upon a time I use to write.

I wrote letters to people my own age in foreign countries. I wrote letters to relatives in other states. I wrote journal entry after journal entry. I wrote, and wrote, and wrote.

I wrote to make the day better, or get through a day I thought would never end. I wrote because I was happy, or mad, or sad, or because I just didn’t understand. Writing made sense. Writing made the world make sense.

Then….I stopped writing. I lost my love of words, and books, and poetry, and…lost a piece of myself in the noise of the world. That never ending noise of be this, do this, act this way, talk this way, use this product, believe this belief, dress this way, do your hair this way, this matters but not this… the endless noise of mindlessness.

It hit me when I was young. I saw it first in speech class. The teacher telling me I’d never be a writer because I couldn’t stand before a crowd of rambunctious teenagers and speak. What writing had to do with public speaking I’ve yet to reconcile in logic. I still have a lot to learn about writing, and public speaking, but neither have ever stopped me from writing.

Depression. Now that has stopped me from writing. It has stopped me from so much. Enslaved my mind and body in endless darkness, while setting my imagination in flight with what could be…if only…and then crushing it deeper with fear and dread. You raise your head, gasp for air, only to find a depth of despair you never knew existed.

And still, I write…

Not often. Not like I use to. Maybe a note. Maybe a scribble. But I write. No matter the darkness within me. No matter how deep the hopelessness drags me. I fight, and write, and trudge on.

They have a name for what ails me. They always have a name. Bi-polar 2. What a name… Why name it such a boring thing? Bi-polar 2. All I can think is Polar Express, but I expect no Christmas train comes with this disastrous label. No bells and whistles, but maybe… demons and broken angel wings. I’m sure I’ve seen both in my darkest hours.

And still, I write….

There are nights…like tonight… I question the sanity of it all. Why do we all fight so hard for our labels? I am a certifiably eclectic, sometimes erratic, frayed walking catastrophe. I’ll proudly wear that label. It gets to the heart of who I am. No other sociologically acceptable label does. Yet so many will fight for the label society hands them. There in lies true madness.

And still, I write….

I am finding my missing link. The part of me who wrote for the love of writing. I see her in the distance. She waves now and then. I think she misses me as much as I miss her.

And so I will write…

I will write the story as the story reveals itself. I will write this moment, because this moment is precious. I will write my ups, and downs. Even when the downs out number the ups. I will write my hero’s, for they are many, and are worthy of being immortalized. I will write the truth within my soul, even at its darkest.

Because, I will write…

No matter where the words shall lead me. They are the one absolute I can trust in a world of ever changing rules, and labels. Even in silence there are words. Silence screams, and darkness listens. I find comfort and fear in both. Knowing this, I thank whatever gods may be…for my unconquerable soul. I AM the master of my fate…. and I will write!


By William Ernest Henley
Out of the night that covers me,
      Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
      For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
      I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
      My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
      Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
      Finds and shall find me unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
      How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate,
      I am the captain of my soul.

A Call to Arms

Re-blogging from Wicked Witch of the Midwest.

when hope diesPolitics and religion.

Two topics best skirted in mixed company. At least, that is what I’ve always been taught. Being who I am though; I find them hard to avoid. In the world of this new president, Trump, I am the enemy: Female, bi-sexual, Witch, married to a woman. In Trump’s desire to “Make America Great,” again. My world views, life style, and belief system do not fit the mold.

“Be who God meant you to be and you will set the world on fire.”
―Catherine of Siena

I am a pacifist by nature. I firmly believe each person deserves respect. That respect extends to their beliefs, lifestyle and world view. I can no more expect others to live up to my ‘picture’ of what they should be, then I can live up to theirs. This way of thinking is quickly verging on illegal with the new administration. There is an inherent sadness with this realization.

“We should try to leave the world a better place than when we entered it. As individuals, we can make a difference, whether it is to probe the secrets of Nature, to clean up the environment and work for peace and social justice, or to nurture the inquisitive, vibrant spirit of the young by being a mentor and a guide.”
― Michio Kaku

In a diverse and wonderful world, fear should never be a motivator. It is fear which guides those in power now. It is with fear I now view the future. My trepidation growing daily.

It is for this reason I ask the following…

A call has went out among the community to do two things.

  1. Light a vigil candle, nightly, to help light the way to true change, peace, and understanding.
  2. In the course of your practices, perform a binding to prevent the current administration from doing harm.

The world is in a state of flux. Minds which were once closed are now opening. The world view is changing. Guided more by love, inclusion, and peace. We cannot allow a few to derail all the good which has been accomplished.

We must believe one voice can make a difference. “We the People…,” need to speak louder. I started with the two steps above, and followed up by going to: https://impeachdonaldtrumpnow.org and signing.

I do not believe Trump means to harm. He is not evil, or bad, just archaic in his fundamental ideals. He is a small man, hungry with power and it is this hunger which must be tempered. For the good of all, harming none.

Blessed Be my friends!

And may the future hold more peace, and less fear.

thankyouI am not good with Thank You.

It is not that I have problems saying thank you. I can enunciate thank you effortlessly, and often. The words roll of the tongue like dew off a leaf. The ease in which we use these two words frightens me. I have an innate sense of the minuteness of the words. They lack the ability to convey the profound depth of emotion behind them. They cannot portray the surge of love, relief, gratitude, and overwhelming desire to express the deepest aspects of our soul.

Thank you.

You’re welcome.

We move on.

Never hearing, or comprehending, the endless depth of sincerity. Yes, we throw the words a round at times. The rush of meetings, ringing phones, honking horns, encroaching voices. A quick, “Thank you,” typed hastily at the close of an email. Nothing more then simple words. These are not the thank you’s I refer to.

I mean the thank you’s I cannot put into words. The ones surmised in unwritten cards. The unsaid. Blank. Lonely. Heartbreakingly meant more deeply than expressed. These are the Thank You’s I cannot verbalize. The words catch deep in my chest; to never leave my lips.

How does one say, “Thank You!,” when what is meant is, “You saved my life!”? “You mean the world to me!”, does not fit in two simple words.

“Your assistance was vital!”

“Having you here meant the world to me!”

“What would I do without you?”

Even the depth of gratitude in these phrases fails miserably to portray the truth.

To put pen to paper, to say Thank You, is my nemesis. It is a profound short coming in my character. I have yet to find a viable solution to rectify this matter. I’ve searched. I’ve written. I’ve tossed many great ideas. And still, I come up short.

In truth, I blame it solely on fear of failure. I’m terrified of not saying enough…or saying to much…or not saying the right thing…or saying the right thing…or…. the complexity of the fear stills my hand.

A psychologist, I’m sure, would say it is due to lack of social, and emotional, development throughout my formative years. I, however, would not trade my years of quiet contemplation, alone, surrounded by animals. Solitude in nature portends many lessons. Most importantly, a deeper understanding of our connection.

Still, Thank You is a weight I do not carry lightly. Although my actions may incur doubt when my silence persists. I will sit here, nightly, dumbfounded and struggling simply to say, Thank You. Those words carry with them my soul; a depth and breadth one cannot conceive, nor portray.

And I will hope, for today, you grasp my ‘Thank You,’ as one grasps a life raft. Clinging, pulling it closer, in the realization you are the reason for my thankfulness. Your existence, your very being, the miracle which is you, is the reason I go on. Always.

My heroes. My angels. My family. My friends. From my heart to yours, Thank you!

A Letter to My Parents on the Day of My Wedding.

Dear Parents,

As I prepare for my wedding day, and the nerve wracking walk down the aisle. I realize now, more than ever, your absence will have a profound effect on this day.

My dearest father, your absences is by far the most deeply felt. In all of my life it has always been you there beside me. You have wiped away my tears. Held my hand in the best, and worst of times. You were there when I was most scared. Comforted me when I faced my own mortality. Laughed with me in appropriate, and inappropriate times.

You taught me to love life, and not to fear death. You raised me to be just like you – free thinking, caring, out spoken, strong willed, and loving. You helped me see the miraculous in the mundane. You believed in me when I failed to believe in myself, and no one but you will ever understand how grateful I am for “D-Day.”

But today, I face the future without your calm assurance. You are not here to take my arm and walk me down the aisle. Your smile and glittering eyes will not be here to help me face what is to come. I feel your absence, in this moment, far more deeply then you will ever know. Today, I face the world alone.

I asked you to be beside me in the walk down the aisle. You answered, “No.” I sent save-the-dates and the wedding invitation. The lack of an RSVP was a harsh way for you to again say “No.”

We talked, and I understood. I am not angry you said no. The choice was yours, and I still understand. Life is a series of choices; the outcomes of which bring either happiness or regret. I truly hope you never regret your choice. History is not on your side though.

You chose not to attend, because I was marrying a person of the same sex. You do not believe two people of the same sex should marry. Who I am, believes you have an outdated view on same-sex relationships. Who I am, however, is not making the decision. It is your view, your belief and to change it would be to change you. I would not change a thing about you. I wonder….would you ask me to change?

You grew up in a time where sex was rarely discussed. Where same-sex relationships were greatly taboo. You joined the military – The Fighting Marines – in a time of unrest. You survived Vietnam but gained a darker view of same-sex relationships. I’ve read the stories, I know the side of the fence you stand on. It is part of who your are, who you were raised to be.

Belief systems, phobias, inherited behaviors; they all make up who you are. I cannot be angry at you for any of it. I understood, and I understand, because I love you. You will always be my hero. And I know, you will always love me.

But today,…

I could have used your strength, and your shoulder. I fell apart this morning because, for a moment, I felt so very alone. I could have used your calm voice, reminding me I’ve survived worse. I could have used your ability to laugh which, so often, accompanies your presence. The lost little girl in me could have really used her father.

I will make it through today. I will laugh. I will dance. I will be surrounded by amazing people, heroes and angels in their own right. I will marry the love of my life, best friend, and split-apart. But…

The absence of your presence will be profound, and have a lasting impact. I will never be angry at your choice, and I will ALWAYS love you.


My Not-So-Dearest Mother, they tell me little girls dream of their wedding day. They’re wrong in my case. Throughout planning my wedding I’ve never ‘seen it,’ as many girls would. I feel robbed of the anticipation I should have felt. In turn I robbed my girlfriend of hers. It should not be this way!

I have never pictured myself in fancy dresses. Lavish decorations, the perfect music, the wedding party to end all wedding parties. These things never found their way into my daydreams, or fantasies. It has made ‘The Wedding’ planning increasingly difficult. How do you say, “This is what I want!,” when what you want is empty.

The screen of my mind is blank. No picture perfect wedding day exists. No fanfare. No beautiful cake. No swishy, swirly, lacy dress with matching shoes. Just blank, black, endless nothing.

In a perfect world, you were supposed to be there for wedding planning. There were supposed to be conversations on makeup, hair, dating, clothes, etc. You should have met my first boyfriend, or girlfriend. I should have been excited to confide in you. Telling you my secrets. Seeking your opinion on everything, anything. You were meant to be there. You should have been there!

Instead, you disappeared into a fantasy world of your own design. You surrounded yourself with brick walls. Wrought iron bars locked the world out, and you in. You were more afraid of life than of living it. And in your disappearing act you took the world with you. The animosity I hold in relation to you is never ending.

My wedding day will not including you. No save the date, or invite, will ever be sent. You could barely be bothered to visit while I lay close to death. What point would there be in you attending my wedding?

Perhaps, one day, I will send you a wedding invite. You can add it to your filing cabinet, where possibilities have endlessly went to die. I’m sure you’ll find a way to blame my father for this as well.

The absence of your presence will be profound, but for all the wrong reasons. Your life must be so very cold and lonely.

To My Kids, I will never consider myself the greatest mom. I failed you in so many ways. I made mistakes throughout your lives. I failed to be there when I should have been. I pushed to much, or not enough. I yelled when I should have listened. I walked away when I should have fought. I was far from the perfect mother, but I loved you unconditionally with each breath.

It is with that love I tell you this now. I will listen to everything you have to say. I may not always hear, but I will listen. I will love you unconditionally, even when I don’t love your choices. You may be gay, straight, crooked, or cross eyed; and I will still love you indefinitely.

I am not perfect. I will always make mistakes. My first reaction to something you say, may not be the one you’re looking for…give me time to analyze and think things through. The reaction which follows will be worth the wait.

I want to share everything I can with you, but I don’t always know how. I will be awkward. I will embarrass you. I will make you angry. I will torment you. I will ask a million questions…or none at all. I will be annoying and send you “Are you still alive?” text messages. I will plot the demise of any and all who hurt you…until you tell me otherwise. I will drag out the baby pictures every chance I get. I will remind you that, while you may have 20+ birthdays under your belt, you are still my baby. I will welcome each and every hug; their value to me is immeasurable.

Each of you are my sunshine, and I will love you unconditionally and endlessly; until my dying day. Your absence from my life, even if just by distance, is more than profound. There are no words…

Learning to Lose

There is this great idea sweeping the nation. The reason the idea is so great is because… well… we’re all unhealthy. The idea? Oh, weight loss of course!

It is a great idea. If you can do something to work toward being healthier more power to you! Just don’t get stuck on the idea of looking like a movie star you see on TV, or a model, or someone you’ve seen in a magazine.

If you are plus size now, don’t disillusion yourself. Weight loss will not solve all of your problems. That is the biggest lie we’ve been sold. Working to be healthy is smart. Deciding to lose weight because, ‘it will solve everything!’, is a mistake to many make. It is usually what causes a person to gain back all the weight they lose.

Let me put it to you this way. I started a weight loss journey five months ago. It has been an eye opening journey. I started it out of frustration. I was tired. Tired of being uncomfortable in my own skin; tired of worrying about a dozen things every time I went somewhere. I worried about whether chairs would break if I sat on them. I worried about being around people, and walking through crowds. I worried about what people thought if I ate something in public. I could see the thoughts, and I was tired….

Being ‘plus size’ is exhausting! The looks, the stares, the comments, the comments when people think you are not within hearing range… you can learn to live with those. You even feel sorry for the people giving you the looks and making the comments. They live a sheltered life. They have been ‘protected’ from being larger. They have not had to experience the embarrassment, or true, deep, unending, disappointment.

There is only one way to fight anything that makes you uncomfortable – knowledge. So, after trying diets, fad diets, different doctors and their not so brilliant answers. I finally did what I should have done. I went for the science. I found a doctor who didn’t just shove pills at you, or hand you off to a dietician. She introduced me to the science behind weight gain. The science behind why so many of us are losing the battle of the bulge.

Our own bodies are our worst enemies. They are built to store fat. That is what their sole purpose is at times. When we lived in caves and food was scarce. Our bodies stored everything it could so we could survive. Now, with an abundance of food, it is still storing.

Don’t get me wrong. What we eat matters. Eating McDonald’s every night is not going to cause weight loss. Although those warm, golden fries are hard to resist! We have to learn a tasty but healthy alternative. As with most things, WE, is the keyword. We have to make a choice. And it won’t be an easy one.

I made that choice 5 months ago. I’m glad I did. I’m glad I know the science behind it. It is what my mind needed to change. The thing is though…

They show these weight loss shows on TV where people drop hundreds of pounds in a year, or less. The people on these shows are always smiling, happy; life is perfect, after the weight loss. They don’t show reality though. This is what I have been learning through my journey.

In the beginning it was easy. Nothing really changed. Drop twenty pounds; go down a pant size, no big deal. When you start dropping 40-50 pounds things change. The shoes you use to wear are now too large. You have to invest in a new wardrobe. Your face changes. Your body changes. Suddenly your skin is saggy. Along with all of your under garments. Let me tell you, that is not pleasant on either level.

Those fantastic weight loss shows don’t show how your daily showering routine changes. You’re suddenly using cotton balls and rubbing alcohol to clean the places the excess skin hangs. If that isn’t a sexy, appealing image for the fairy tale ending!

Your body has to relearn how to walk and move skinny. After years of being plus size, your body has adjusted to the extra weight. The same is true once you lose it. Your mind also has to adjust. You can suddenly fit into places you couldn’t before…and you have to remember this!

People also start looking at you differently, and treating you differently. Granted, this may have something to do with your growing confidence. I use to scoff at the idea that people treated you differently because of your size. It was finally driven home recently. I’m still having a hard time coming to terms with it. There is a big part of me that is angry at the injustice of it. Then…

I caught myself doing it. Walking to the break room at work – I noticed a plus size person filling a plate of food to the top. Before I could stop myself, the thought of, “Should they really be eating all of that?,” flew through my mind. I stopped midstride, and felt like a complete, and total as..terisk! It was as if everything I’ve been through didn’t matter. I was one of THOSE people. The judgmental, bullying, type of people who drive me nuts!

Through this journey I’ve learned many things about myself. I’ve learned I’m an emotional eater. No surprise there! What did surprise me though is I turn to food more when I’m sad than any other time. I also turn to it when I’m in pain. I’ve had to find new ways to handle those emotions. I’m still working on it, but at least now I know my triggers.

I’ve also learned I hate clothes shopping. I don’t care about fashion. I truly am a jeans and t-shirt kind of gal. My closet will never be filled with the latest and greatest fashion trends. I will always be years out of style. I’m okay with the basic black dress for the rare occasions that I wear one. I’m okay with a dressy shirt and comfortable dress pants when I need to dress business casual. Just don’t expect me to be fashion conscious. Clothes really are just another way we can judge people.

So, what have I really learned though it all? Hhhmmm… Well. No matter what we change on the outside. No matter how bad we may want the fairytale. The beauty, prince charming, the perfect body, the world! We’re always going to have the grandest thing of all – our individuality! We will always be uniquely ourselves. Our body will always be ours – not perfect, not always comfortable, not always what we picture, but ours. Beatifully, and uniquely ours. Once we realize that…the world is ours.

So…for today I wish your realizations that change your heart and your mind. Beauty that is solely yours, and a life created around your inspiration. Today is just a moment. Yesterday is just a second. Tomorrow is everything your make of it. Don’t let anything stand in the way of the best tomorrow ever!

Goodnight my friends!