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Something Changed

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I was reading something this morning about connections between people that returned my thoughts back to an experience I had about 3 weeks ago. I was leaving my community—heading out towards the highway to head north. It was an absolute impromptu trip—so my normal strategy of getting on the highway at specific times to avoid the worst traffic patterns were thwarted. And it began raining—so these weren’t optimal conditions for me to drive in. But as I headed down the road I saw a man walking (it’s raining hard now) and his brown grocery bag soaked—fell apart. All of his items fell to the ground—a couple things may have burst open—at the least were damaged.  And I heard myself saying aloud, “Okay God. Am I doing this?” And in the same breath —I responded, “Yep I am.” I am further delaying my attempt to beat already dreadful traffic compounded by the rain. So, I turned my car around—pulled over on the shoulder. Got out the car—popped the truck and removed a recyclable Wegmans bag—the y...
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October: Domestic Violence Month—I Am A Voice 💜🕊️

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  October is Domestic Violence Awareness Month . 💜🕊️🌹 Honoring those that have survived—those that are still suffering through—and those that did not make it through If given a choice—this would not have been my ideal choice for mission, purpose and advocacy—I would not have been a voice.  LINK: https://youtu.be/GLOjeIu93YM #SupportNonProfits #DomesticViolenceAwareness #Healing #Trauma #Wellness #GenerationalConsequences
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Truths, Lies & A Confession: The Picture That Unearthed HER

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I wrote my first book in 1996: I told the truth. I exposed secrets. I was indeed ostracized.  My lived experiences were declared “lies.”  Because there’s no way (at that age), I could remember what happened.  My truths were “returned to sender.”  ✉️  Victimize—villainize  the victim. Because unbeknownst to them—trauma memories are stored in the brain’s regions differently than regular memories. Nevertheless, I lived in a state of fight and flight for a significant portion of my adult life. Survival. I heard threats of “wanting to kill me.”  I had my car vandalized—tire cut (bottles thrown in my driveway), by a family member.  My neighbor watched from his window—admittedly confused because he knew the relative very well.  Sometimes people are committed to generational dysfunction. But there was the one or two that came to me in confidence—private to share their stories—experiences. They validated me. They told me to “keep writing.” And I...
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How Are You Feeling?

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  R ecently, I asked someone on an elevator, “How are you doing?” And one hour-ten minutes, and several people on and off the elevator later—I was standing outside the elevators listening to this stranger tell me, literally, how they were doing… from buying a new home, finishing a degree program, still enjoying the honeymoon season of their very new marriage—all while caring for ailing parents. And I remember thinking, “Next time be sure that you really want to know the answer in the event someone actually decides to answer you.” Especially on an elevator. Better yet…say, “hello” and keep it moving.  I asked—they answered. However, I ask the same question of the people that I know, love, support, fellowship, even break-bread with and I get responses ranging from, “Good, great, okay, no complaints, and the platitudinous ,  blessed and favored!” Which seemingly coincides with the visible realities of their lives. So no need to pry any further. But, lately, in various insta...
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