All posts by ann888

Women In Real Life

In-home healthcare, blessings, nightmares, rehab and other things…

I have never before been dependant on others like I am now because of this accident.

Okay sure, friends help out when they can, like during and right after surgery, but they have their lives and when you can’t go up and down your stairs, shower, cook meals, shop or drive, you need to get some in-home healthcare. I have always been someone that others lean on and even when I am in this state ‘certain’ friends emote, even cry, while they were here to assist me. I found myself comforting one concerning her issues on the night after my surgery. UGH!!!

And I will tell you, it is beyond bizarre to have a stranger enter your house and ‘try’ to take over what you are used to doing, and the way that you like to have things done.

The first service I went with ‘appeared’ competent. The woman who came to ‘sell’ me was friendly, helped me and ‘sold’ me on how good they would be. I had never entered this realm before, sooo here goes. The young girl they sent was sweet. She was with me the first day after surgery, after a friend left, and when I was in pain. She did everything for me including dealing with the cable TV that was out and the people refinishing my front door. Funny how things fall.. huh? No TV, just when all there is to do is to watch TV. And from downstairs, I hear loud machine noises and sanding as they work on my front door…while I am lying in bed taking pain pills regularly. That day, my arm HURT!!!! It was a surreal day!

That is pretty much all l recall of that day. This young girl came back for most the week for about four hours a day… friends took over on the days she was not here.

I soon got off the pain pills and this girl and I talked…

She dried my hair, changed my sheets, brought me my oats and berries, vitamins, etc. She learned my habits, likes and shared about ‘her life’,  which hearing about made me depressed. She has some genetic illness. She is not supposed to live long and she has a toddler who broke her foot. She and her husband were living in an econo-hotel that they cannot afford and are looking for a cheaper place to live. He would bring her to my house from clear across town. So, being a soft heart, I gave her some extra cash for which she thanked me for sincerely, informing that the money allowed her daughter to have things that she needed.
 
She told me that the agency instructed her not to eat or drink anything while at client’s houses. I told her, while at my house, eat and have something to drink whenever she desires.

Her goal was to go to Cordon Blu to learn to be a chef. She was starting night classes in a couple of weeks. She appeared an eager, sweet girl.

We got filets and she was eager to show me her cooking skills.(I am craving meat. I guess the protein factor in my healing process. She overcooked the meat and potatoes and the seasoning she put on the green beans…well… yuck! ( A chef…. ummm, I think not!) She had never used a disposal or a dishwasher.  I took her out to lunch and did kind things for her as she was helping me, then one day she was acting strange, more down and sad than usual and she would not look me in the eyes. I found I was worrying about her and it was too much when she she was hired to lift my burdens.

Before she left. she told me she would see me the next morning at 10:30. I called the scheduling people to confirm because I sensed something was off and am told that she was moving to a different town and would not be back. That they had just found out and were ‘trying’ to find me someone else for the next day. So, what if, I had not called, would no one have showed up? And why didn’t she have the guts and responsibility to tell me herself and to say our goodbyes?
 
I couldn’t fully do for myself yet and I had become use to this girl and she to my ways even though she was depressing. The original woman who sold me on the their service was not there any longer. Each time, I called there was a new person who informed me that they were new and didn’t know who all the girls were yet. It was an unorganized mess and it added stress to my stress…

So, I called a new service preparing to make a change. I don’t like being left in the lurch and certainly not now in my time of need. 

Finally, late that night, the service calls to tell me, a woman will be at my house the next day. The people from this service came from clear across town, from another world, but when I engaged them, was told they had people close to where I live. Well, they didn’t. So okay, another new person in my house. This woman was older, a country woman, rough around the edges, quiet, helpful.. but no caring connection. She did what I asked, but, I am, oh, so pleased when she leaves.

I hire a new service. The owner comes to my house late that afternoon. She is professional, and lives in the same area as I do. She feels like she has heard my name, or heard of me and we think we know people in common. Plans are made for a girl from her service to come the day after next. I fire the old service.

The next day, my hair stylist comes to do my hair. Sweet relief!  I am a girlie-girl and lying in bed for almost a week, perspiring at night as the anesthesia exits my body, only able to shower, but not wash my hair everyday, had made my hair a stinky mess.  And my hair dresser was forthcoming in telling me so. Clearly, we are way more than client and service here. She stayed with me for nine hours, doing my hair, helping me, and we order Italian for dinner and had a nice evening. I felt renewed.

After doing my hair, she vacuums the bathroom floor with my new vacuum and loves it. So, I promptly call my vacuum man and have one brought over to give to her as a ‘thank you’ for her extra care and consideration.

The vacuum man, I’d just met a few weeks previously, when I took in my old one for repair,  my hairdresser and myself hold hands in a prayer for my fast healing. It brings me to tears as the power of prayer creates a tingling and warmth radiating through my left arm and elbow. This is a blessing!

That night, completely relaxed,  I dreamed of the movie, OUT OF AFRICA… “Once I had a home in Africa.” One of my all time fav movies and one of my long time friends has commented that I remind them of Isak Dinesen, the author, and woman who lived this story. I have never even been to Africa, but she and I certainly think alike…

“All sorrows can be born if you put them in a story or tell a story about them.”  ― Isak Dinesen

“To be a person is to have a story to tell.”  ― Isak Dinesen

The next day, the new girl arrives and she is an African from Kenya, only been in the US for five years. We connect immediately. She is caring, intelligent and anticipates my needs. While she is changing my sheets. I mention how I like the movie, OUT OF AFRICA…to which she smiles. “My people are of the Kikuyu tribe. The tribe used in that movie. I speak Swahili.” I ask her to teach me Swahili and we laugh as she teaches me the worlds for good, crazy… etc. We have a spiritual connection. She comforts me and I feel safe with her. My healing accelerates. I can move around more and she encourages me to walk and to do for myself. She is kind and with great energy. We hug warmly when she arrives and when she leaves.

‘I’ cook filets, wild rice and green beans for us, and we have a bit of wine, talk and laugh, so different, but so similar in spirit. She is cute and dresses darling and I give her some purses and things.
 
She told me that I will heal quickly and well and that I am a very strong woman. She takes me to my post-op appointment.

Sure enough, the report is that I am healing great. We go out for lunch to celebrate. It feels so strange to have my left arm free, out of the bondage of the splint and wrap. And now, my orders, are to move my left arm, instead of to keep it still. I feel vulnerable having my wound unwrapped, but am beginning to feel more like myself and to recover my strength. She comes to me for one more day then is assigned another case. I only need a few hours of help a day.. so it is time for her to move onto another who needs her healing ways more.

Her last day… in a kind tone. “Ann, move your arm, work it! You will heal completely!” We hug warmly. This girl was a true blessing and will be so to anyone whom she assists.

I am downstairs eating potato chips and my famous Italian English Muffin sandwich. Hooray! I am able to do more for myself. When I hear the door open,  “Hello, come in! I am in the kitchen!” And in walks a fat-assed with attitude black woman.

I just stare at this obnoxious woman, who clearly is here to take instead of to give. “I hold my hand out. “Hi, I am Ann.”

“Hey this place is beautiful.” as her eyes scope out my house. “You can help me with decorating ideas.They told me I would like you and that you are fun, but they didn’t tell me how pretty you are!” She goes around my house looking at photos, picking them up then asks. “Where you a model or something?”

“Thank you. I had a decorating business for ten years.”

“Well, this place is really nice. I have a brown sofa this color and walls this color. She yaks on as she points. “So, what color drapes would work?”

“So you need contrast, but I don’t do drapes and I charge $300 an hour for a consultation.”

“Her eyes bug out. “Yeah, that’s the word. You know the big words. Hey, I ain’t payin’ just askin’.”

I think to myself as I get up to go upstairs. This woman is an Obama low-information, opportunist and I want her out of my house, but say, “I am going to take a shower and I need some help:”

I view the ‘contrast’ of this large with attitude woman with my small, weakened-self in my bathroom mirror. She’s fat and lazy, all she wants is to do is less and to sit…and all I want to do is more, to move and recover.

I get through my shower fine, then get into bed. 

Everytime, I ask her to do something, she sighs then huffs and puffs. She can barely make it up and down my stairs, she is so fat and out of shape. 

“I don’t know your circumstances, but this place is beauitiful and you have a Jaguar in the garage. I bet you can have any man you want.”

I stare stunned because of her comment. “Well, I am picky.”

She continues on. “I was married twice, but am into women now. You look like an angel sitting in that bed. You know I could come out and be your friend anytime. You wouldn’t have to pay.”

I think to myself, ‘And you look like a demon from hell.’

Her phone rings and this pig woman blabs on loudly to someone as she walks into the hallway. I say, “Hey! You can go on now. I don’t have anything more for you to do.” 

As she exits, I call the service and tell them about her attitude and that I need to wash my hair tomorrow, or I would not have her back in my house. These services have trouble getting people for a few hours like I need…so, I am at their mercy.

The next day, she is a bit more subdued, (The head of the service must’ve talked to her)  I get my hair washed and am in the shower with fat-ass sitting on the bench at the foot of my bed watching Lifetime. She can barely stay on her feet, or even fit her ass on a seat.

I ask her to wrap my hair up in a towel and she tells me that she doesn’t know how. I ask her to get some clips out of the ‘jar’ on the counter. She opens a ‘drawer’. I shout over the bathroom exhaust fan, “No! Jar!”  (It is disgusting to have strangers rummaging through your drawers.) She hands me the clips with her ‘usual attitude’ and I wrap my hair in the towel securing it with the clips then wrap myself in a towel and get out of the shower.

To which this rude pig says. “Don’t shout at me with that attitude.”

“Excuse me?”

“You are shouting and giving me orders.”

“I was talking over the exhaust fan. I was not shouting. You are here to assist me, right?”

“Yes, that’s why I am here.”

“You are being paid to do a job and it’s ‘your attitude’ that’s the issue.”

“If you talk to me that way I am going to leave.”

Here I am dripping wet, can’t fully move my left arm, using a crutch, and I have this vile woman threatening to leave. So, I say, “Go on, leave!”

This woman told me that she had been in the in-home healthcare business for 26 years. I can only imagine the horrors that she has inflicted upon those in her care. She was sizing me up the moment she entered my house to see how she could  over power me and take advantage.

I chuckle, as I ponder, should I call 911…? “Help me! Help me! I need someone to dry my hair!” Then I picture my 911 taped-call being played on all media outlets. HA!… Hysterical!!! Like those fools who call 911 when they get the wrong order at a drive-thru…

I call the head of the service and tell her what occurred and that I am sitting here with wet hair. She tells me that she will be right over.

Determined, I begin sectioning off my hair as best I can to start the process of drying my hair on my own. I am surprised at how well I am doing as I get more pissed. I dare that fat-assed woman treat me in the manner she did and in my own house. The blessing in this nightmare is this nasty woman made me even more determined to do things on my own.

The head of the service came over and helped me finish-up my hair and did a few things around my house.  She apologized profusely and told me she would get a very sweet woman to help me the next day…which was to be my first day at rehab…

The next day, I get up, shower on my own, make my breakfast, empty the dishwasher, write, get dressed and put on make up and find I have more range of motion in my left arm.
 
The goal to do my own hair is going to be what gets the full range of motion back in my arm. “Vanity, thy name is woman.” Right?!

The next woman arrives and I was told by the manager that she is 15 years younger than me, but she looks and moves like she is 50 years older. (I find out later this woman is 70 and she is frail with a fragile broken wrist, Hardly someone I need to depend on for care. So, the manager lied to me about the capabilites of this woman.)  I move better than she does even using a crutch. I send her to pick up some groceries then we head out for rehab. She drives my car, because I am not sure that I am ready yet. But I can’t stand her driving my car. She appears weak and not like someone to depend on. I feel disoriented being out and about after so much time spent in my house and being in traffic is scary, but the rehab place is only five minutes from my house.

And it is great!

I am there for two hours. They say I am doing fab! I got past a 90 angle on my left arm and was told by next Monday that I will probably have full range of motion. HOORAY! I am on my way back. I am going to rehab three days a week for six weeks. 

I am in, as good as, or in even better shape, than many of the trainers and everyone asks me what in the world happened to you? 

Later that day, I drive around my neighborhood then a bit into traffic. I will be driving myself to rehab the next time.
 
I am going at it hard. I want these in-home ‘healthcare’ people out of my house and life. I want my independence back!

In a few months, I will be fit as a fiddle and will take a bikini-clad photo and Bamboo Bob will wish I was a liberal, so he can ‘spank’ me… HA!

Thank you all for your continued prayers and kind wishes. This has been rough… but I will prevail.

To be continued…

Women In Real Life

Slip and fall…

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Hospital1When I walked into the wine bar, I was happy and healthy. When I left, I was physically broken in extreme pain and shock. Had I never entered that establishment on that night, I would be the same healthlyHospital2 vigorous me, instead of the post surgery, lying in bed, can’t drive or care for myself, me, that I am right now.

I used to run up and down my staircase many times a day, but now, I manage them very carefully with a crutch under one arm and a cast on the other. I need help to do the simplest things that I used to do with ease. I can’t even put my hair up in a ponytail by myself.

You see, I slipped on an unmarked soppy wet floor in a darkened wine bar that I frequented occasionally. I drink little, one glass, or two at most. On this night, I was with a friend visiting from San Diego???????????????????????????????I had just picked him up from the airport. He checked into his hotel then we headed out for a late night bite to eat. We ordered a split of Champagne for the both of us which actually is a serving for one. I had two sips of Champagne and a bite of cheese, then got up and headed for the ladies’ room. I made my way through the tables and turned left at the end of the bar to head down the hallway to the restrooms. The floor was soppy wet and even wearing rubber-soled casual shoes, I fell slamming hard into the concrete floor on my left side, breaking my elbow and fracturing my hip in two places.
( I fell right behind where the man in the white tee shirt, in the photo to the left, is standing. In that small, dark space just before the hallway to the restrooms and there was no wet floor sign anywhere in site.)

When my friend came to lift me up, the floor was so wet that he almost slipped himself. No one from the restaurant helped me. My friend lifted me up and sat me in a chair. I was in shock and severe pain, but couldn’t tell, at that point, to what extent my injuries were.

The bartender called the manager and told him what had occurred, then he told me to go to the emergency room and to do whatever was needed to take care of myself and the restaurant would take care of it all. He apologized profusely.

My friend went to get the car to bring it out front. I had to lean on him completely to walk, I was in such severe pain. The bartender followed us to the car assuring all the while that I  should take care of my physical needs and the restaurant would take care of everything else.

Hospital1We spent the rest of the night in the emergency room…
X-rays, cat scan, tetanus shot. I was shaking in pain and shock. I had never broken anything in my life and workout every other day for two hours, was a ballet dancer, a large portion of my life, and the grace and flow of my arms was one of my signatures.

This was a disaster. I couldn’t control the pain in my left side and it was vague as to where it was coming from.

We left the emergency room at 6 am… me, with a splint on my arm and on crutches. I didn’t want to stay in the hospital. I wanted to be in my own bed. Years back, I had a terrifying surgery where the surgeon cut an artery and I almost died and this experience had made me ‘deathly’ afraid of hospitals and surgery.???????????????????????????????

My friend came home with me, where I threw up, needed help walking to the restroom and to get out of my clothing and into a nightgown. Talk about humiliating. Of course I wanted to feel pretty and mysterious and this was as raw as it could get.

We slept a few hours the he began the search for a surgeon to operate on my elbow. We found one and made an appointment for the coming Tuesday, the first day they had open for appointments.

That afternoon, my friend, took my X-rays to the wine bar to show the manager the seriousness of my injuries and to get their insurance information. The manager came out to the car, where I was waiting and apologized repeatedly, stating that they would take care of everything and that I was one of their ‘valued’ patrons and to just take care of myself. He even offered to be of personal assistance in anything that I would need.

The rest of the weekend was spent in pain with my friend taking care of me, getting me a chair for my shower and a long plastic sleeve thingy, so that,  I was able to shower without getting my splinted and wrapped arm wet. I was taking pain pills, which I hate. I detest all drugs as most of you know… but I had to use them in this instance.
accident2
We did manage to go out to dinner one night to have a few hours of comfort and pleasure.

But soon, I was home in bed and in pain again. I couldn’t lay any way that would alleviate my pain.

My friend left on Sunday, to go back to San Diego. So, I was left alone, devastated, scared and helpless…

Friends came to assist… ( You sure learn who your ‘real’ friends are fast, and the nature of their character.)

I had my doctor’s appointment and he scheduled surgery on my elbow for the next morning. I was scared, but just sucked it up, and prayed to God to protect me and to put skill  and caring into the surgeon’s hands.

The surgeon said that it went well. But, now I have a pin and wire in my left elbow….Crufall2

The wine bar’s insurance company called and took my description of what occurred that  night, while I was on pain pills. They told me they would get back to me once their ‘investigation’ was complete. When they did, they informed me that they will accept ‘no liability’ for my fall. That the floors were marked as wet… to which they offered me 1000K and the restaurant sent me some cheap flowers along with a ‘feel better quick’ note.

Let’s see now???????????????????????????????the restaurant was open and serving wine. It is a darkened in their environment. I saw no wet floor signs and neither did my friend. And had there been one where I slipped, I would have had to jump over it since the space is so small.

I will need rehab and who knows what else? My life as I knew it before entering the wine bar on that night has changed completely. And ‘they claim no liability.’ As long as I was a paying client, I was ‘valued,’ but once damaged by their error and negligence… they just want me to go away.

I have never spent so much time in bed. I can’t wash my own hair. I can’t drive my car. I can’t run errands. I have not left my house, but once, in a week and a half. My life has changed and all because of unmarked wet floors in an establishment where I went to have a nice time.

Will I ever walk at my fast pace, run up my stairs, workout hard and long, and be without pain????????????????????????????????

I have always been nimble on my feet with excellent balance. The only reason I fell is because of this wine bar’s unmarked, overly wet floors.

I have marble floors in my home and am vigilant about keeping them dry and safe. My father was a war veteran with a back injury and his house had slate floors… all my life, I have been concerned and vigilant concerning the perils of a wet floor…

As all ballet dancers know a well-rosinned floor and toe shoes are a must… to a dancer, the floor is either your friend or your enemy.

And a soppy, unmarked wet floor is an enemy to everyone….

To be continued…..

 

Inspirational/Spiritual, Women In Real Life

Aging. Does being called ‘old’ bother you?

I might say to the young girl in the photo on the left, “You are a pretty little girl.” And she might very well snap back,. “I not little. I big!” When we are young, we want to be older. But it seems that many when they are older want to be young.

When you comment to a child or teenager that they are too young to do anything. They will quickly remind you, “I am not that young! I can handle it.” They have an intense desire to be older, so that they can drive, buy beer or whatever?!

But apparently, when one becomes older, it is an insult to state that they are older or ‘heaven forbid’, to state that they are ‘old’. To some this is apparently a grave insult. I ask why?

I nabbed a poem from a friend on FB because it touched me so….

When an old man died in the geriatric ward of a nursing home in an Australian country town, it was believed that he had nothing left of any value. Later, when the nurses were going through his meager possessions, They found this poem. Its quality and content so impressed that copies were made and distributed to every nurse in the hospital.One nurse took her copy to Melbourne. The old man’s sole bequest to posterity has since appeared in the Christmas editions of magazines around the country and is appearing in magazines for ‘mental
health’. A slide presentation has also been made based on his simple, but eloquent, poem.

So an old man, with nothing left to give to the world, is now the author of this ‘anonymous’ poem winging across the Internet.

Cranky Old Man

What do you see nurses? . . .. . .What do you see?
What are you thinking .. . when you’re looking at me?
A cranky old man, . . . . . .not very wise,
Uncertain of habit .. . . . . . . .. with faraway eyes?
Who dribbles his food .. . … . . and makes no reply.
When you say in a loud voice . .’I do wish you’d try!’
Who seems not to notice . . .the things that you do.
And forever is losing . . . . . .. . . A sock or shoe?
Who, resisting or not . . . … lets you do as you will,
With bathing and feeding . . . .The long day to fill?
Is that what you’re thinking?. .Is that what you see?
Then open your eyes, nurse .you’re not looking at me.
I’ll tell you who I am . . . . .. As I sit here so still,
As I do at your bidding, .. . . . as I eat at your will.
I’m a small child of Ten . .with a father and mother,
Brothers and sisters .. . . .. . who love one another
A young boy of Sixteen . . . .. with wings on his feet
Dreaming that soon now . . .. . . a lover he’ll meet.
A groom soon at Twenty . . . ..my heart gives a leap.
Remembering, the vows .. .. .that I promised to keep.
At Twenty-Five, now . . . . .I have young of my own.
Who need me to guide . . . And a secure happy home.
A man of Thirty . .. . . . . My young now grown fast,
Bound to each other . . .. With ties that should last.
At Forty, my young sons .. .have grown and are gone,
But my woman is beside me . . to see I don’t mourn.
At Fifty, once more, .. …Babies play ’round my knee,
Again, we know children . . . . My loved one and me.
Dark days are upon me . . . . My wife is now dead.
I look at the future … . . . . I shudder with dread.

For my young are all rearing .. . . young of their own.
And I think of the years . . . And the love that I’ve known.
I’m now an old man . . . . . . .. and nature is cruel.
It’s jest to make old age . . . . . . . look like a fool.
The body, it crumbles .. .. . grace and vigor, depart.
There is now a stone . . . where I once had a heart.
But inside this old carcass . A young man still dwells,
And now and again . . . . . my battered heart swells
I remember the joys . . . . .. . I remember the pain.
And I’m loving and living . . . . . . . life over again.
I think of the years, all too few . . .. gone too fast.
And accept the stark fact . . . that nothing can last.
So open your eyes, people .. . . . .. . . open and see.
Not a cranky old man .
Look closer . . . . see .. .. . .. …. . ME!!Remember this poem when you next meet an older person that you might brush aside without looking at the young soul within. We will all, if we  continue living, one day, be there, too. The best and most beautiful things in this world can’t be seen or touched. They must be felt by the heart.

All ages have their place, their blessings, their importance. 
Birth is not more important than death. Youth is not more important than old age. When you are young, you can’t imagine that you will ever be old, but if fortunate, you will be someday. And being older, aging and then onto ‘old age’, you can well remember being young and still may feel internally like the child that you once were.

What does being old mean to you?  What does old-mean? What is it to be old? Why has the word ‘old’ become vilification?AJulybed2c5Hey baby! I’m not getting older. I’m getting better!

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Inspirational/Spiritual

It’s all in the energy…

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???????????????????????????????Everything is energy…  

Energy – the strength and vitality required for sustained physical or mental activity.

The energy of the soul is what keeps a body moving, functioning and living. It’s the life force of the physical body and the world. We all have a unique and individual energy.Energy is what draws people together or keeps them apart.
Energy can be recognized without it being seen. We can feel someone approaching without turning around. We can sense a phone call  about to occur. Some are more sensitive and in-tune with the energy than others. Some can sense the energy of approaching events. Energy precedes every happening.

Energy is what you experience when you walk into a room and feel welcomed. Energy is what you experience when you walk into a room and feel unwelcome.

Why is one person attracted to one and not the other? It’s the energy. It’s the energy between people that compels them to be together… the energy of the attraction. And it’s the energy that repels or creates an instant dislike.

It’s soul energy, sexual energy, creative energy, flowing energy, erratic energy, negative energy, positive energy, joyful energy, sad energy, kinetic energy, psychic energy, slow, sluggish energy…

Energy is responsible for that urge, that feeling in your gut, that knowing, that warning, that anticipation, that excitement…

It’s energy that creates sexual attraction and when energies combine can create a human being.

Whatever RPM a person rolls at…it’s the energy that makes one person workout, take care of themselves, feel vital and inspired… while another energy has a person sluggish, uninspired, negative and droll.

The same clothing can be worn on one energy type, but when on another, it appears completely different.

Evil is one kind of energy… good another…

Like kind seeks like kind and opposites attract and they can oftentimes merge together. It’s all in the energy…

One person can walk into a room and lift the energy, another can bring it down without speaking a word. Their energy is transmitted for what it is…

A body is made up of energy… it’s shape, it’s level of activity, how it moves, processes food and the environment.

Movement is energy and the more movement the more energy is created. Thinking is energy. You know that saying? ‘Use it or lose it.’

Everything on earth is energy on some level and form…
Colors are energy, food is energy, light is energy, storms are energy, weather is energy, music is energy…

Prayers are energy. Words carry energy. Love is energy. Affection is energy. Attention is energy. Anger is energy. All emotions are energy and vibrate at a different rate of energy.

Ever think about what you are doing with your energy. Where you are placing it, directing it and doing with it, to yourself and others?

Some energy can be controlled, some not. Some energy is stagnant, other moving and changes rapidly. Some energy has a force of its own and you can either roll with it, adapt, or not.

Some energy can be shifted, transformed, transmuted and changed by thought, action, feelings, emotions, movement, belief, prayer, word and deed…

Creation is energy. God is energy.

Become aware, learn to feel, and read the energy. It may warn, protect, even save your life and that of others…

It’s all about the energy…

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Friendship, Inspirational/Spiritual, Love

Vulnerablity…what we all want is to be…

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???????????????????????????????accepted and loved for who we are, all that we are, and to be fully seen and understood for being a ‘unique individual’. That someone will see us in our good, our strengths, our bad and our weaknesses, in the fullness of our vulnerability, the wholeness of who we are and love us. 

To experience this is what love and acceptance are… and what most all of us desire, want and even crave. To be seen physically, emotionally, intellectually and spiritually naked, open and raw, and to still be loved…

We have the desire to feel and to know that the real us, the whole of us, is indeed lovable and acceptable..

In an intimate relationship when you reveal your weaknesses, fragility, holes and wounds to another, or get close enough, so that they are obvious, is when you are at your most vulnerable. When your vulnerability is revealed, a person with the ability to love and who loves you, will support and protect you and your wounds.

The ability to be vulnerable and to love and be loved are one… There will not be one without the other… to love you must become vulnerable… love and vulnerability go hand in hand…

In the romantic love relationship, when, and if, we are accepted, protected and honored for who we are, all of who we are, in both our weaknesses and strengths is when we have the opportunity to heal our wounds to become more of who we are and are meant to be. This is what relationship is about and for… and sure, it can be in friendship, but the most powerful and intense is the romantic love relationship. And if your love is also your friend … there lies the best of both worlds…

But, if we reveal our inner selves, our soft core and show our vulnerability to the ‘wrong’ kind of person and we are exploited, made fun of, or diminished for being who we are…more wounds can be created and old wounds made deeper. So it’s a risk to reveal your vulnerabilities and it is the predators, the evil, the emotionally unhealthy of this world who will seek to harm others through their vulnerabilities.

Predators  and cons will do everything they can and think of to get a person to reveal their vulnerabilities, so that they can come in for the kill.

People who really love you, will support you when you need it, have your back, protect you and will accept and nurture you through your vulnerabilities. Anything else is not love and should be walked away from… and deemed as fraudulent.

Some people can’t love because they are fearful of becoming vulnerable to another… but love can only be fully experienced once vulnerability occurs…

To truly love and be loved, you must become vulnerable. Love is not for the weak or insecure… it is for those brave enough, mature enough, aware enough to allow vulnerability.

At the first sign, when you feel tweaked internally, if someone disrespects you, makes fun of your most vulnerable self, exploits you, abuses you, taunts you, etc., they are not caring of your highest interests and are not good for you. They don’t care about you and certainly don’t or can’t love…

So feel and listen to how you feel internally and be very aware how those who ‘claim’ to care and love treat you.

The most revealing aspect is how someone treats you when you are at your weakest, most needy, or wounded and vulnerable. This will tell you volumes about who they really are and their ability, or inability to love…

It is easy to love when everything is happy, sexy, fun, new and adventuresome… but real love is based on the whole of the person… and the whole of the life experiences revealed through another.

To be truly seen, understood and accepted… is to be loved.

“When over the years someone has seen you at your worst, and knows you with all your strengths and flaws, yet commits him – or herself to you wholly, it is a consummate experience. To be loved but not known is comforting but superficial. To be known and not loved is our greatest fear. But to be fully known and truly loved is a lot like being loved by God. It is what we need more than anything. It liberates us from pretense, humbles us out of our self-righteousness, and fortifies us for any difficulty life can throw at us.” – Tim Keller

Take care of you, protect your holes and wounds, protect your soul…
You are a precious child of God. After all, he knows all your vulnerabilities and loves you still and fully, the all of you, the whole of you. God knows and accepts you…

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Romance, Self-help, Sex, Women, Women In Real Life

I am a juicy, sensual, feeling, sexy…

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AJulybed2c4romantic creature. I am a woman… 

I am soft, alluring on the outside, but strong and resilient on the inside just enough to be able to protect myself.

A woman’s body is softness and curves… she is about feelings, emotions, nurturing, caring and love…

Show a feminine magnificence the highest of your manly traits and she ‘might’ bestow her feminine gifts on you…

A woman needs a man to be a man and that is strong on the outside with just enough softness on the inside to know compassion, caring and love.

“I am intrigued by glamorous women . . . A vain woman is continually taking out a compact to repair her makeup. A glamorous woman knows she doesn’t need to.” Clark Gable

Hey! And by Gable’s quote, I am glamorous, too. I don’t wear face make-up, so certainly don’t need a compact. Ha!

I am a woman… a glorious woman! And I am capable of an intimate, passionate relationship… Are you?

Abusive men, Muslim men and other oppressive, insecure, immature, hateful and so disposed characters… don’t know what they are missing until and unless they learn how to treat a real w-o-m-a-n… I’ll say it again… Woman!

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Inspirational/Spiritual

Warning! Contains graphic images. Why are human beings so cruel to one another?

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Watching Christ be crucified on Sunday night in the presentation of the Bible on the history channel, broke my heart and I cried hard. How did someone even come up with the idea of flogging  then nailing someone to a cross until they die?

What kind of a human being stones another, hits another, stabs another, shoots another, rapes another, beheads another? Where does the mindset, thoughts and ability to do this even come from?

What kind of a mind even thinks to torture a human being?

This must come from a place of such evil, of a demented mind and soul, of a rotted soul incased in a human being who can’t love, has no compassion, tolerance and is full of demented
hate for their fellowman.

This is something that I cannot comprehend.

When I read and hear about how Muslims treat people, cutting off hands, noses, maiming, throwing acid on people, hanging people, stoning people, (it’s people who throw the stones. the stones don’t do this, just like it’s a person who shoots a gun.) raping women, having sex with little children and animals. It is like hearing about some foreign Hell on earth …

ISLAMIC LOGIC: Allowing men to look at woman is the same as letting a stranger see a naked picture of your wife. Muslims move into a country that doesn’t believe or think as they do and do what they did to a non-Muslim woman in the photo at right. Muslims have no tolerance for anything other than their beliefs. They torture, rape, maim and kill anyone who thinks or believes differently than they do.

Why do some create Hell on earth for themselves and others? Why do some seek to hurt, harm, rape, kill, maim, torment, etc.? What is it for? What do they ‘think’ they are accomplishing or gaining?

Do they not realize that they gain absolutely nothing, but the diminishing of their soul and the destruction of humanity? Or is it that they do not have a soul and they can’t feel or comprehend compassion? Are they the spawn of evil… demons from Hell sent to torment God’s creation… the blessed human being?

Why is so little value placed on human life by some…that they can be so cruel just out of their ability to do so? Are they un-evolved savages?

Jesus commands love, kindness, tolerance, compassion and he was crucified…

Mohammed commands to do harm, maim. rape, that women are less than cattle, to kill all those who do not, will not convert to Islam. Why? What is this about, but rule, dominate and control?

Women are killed for being raped, but then Muslim men are told to rape women who are not Muslim. This has got to be the sickest most twisted evil practice ever thought up on earth. They cut off noses, cut out tongues and gauge out eyes as punishments. Who are they to do this to another human being for any reason?

What is in this world exactly that some people have no regard for human life and that includes their own?

People of this ilk gain nothing and lose everything including their soul. They destroy beauty, joy, love, happiness, and physical bodies as they torture and kill in the name of their ‘god’… Allah. It’s absurd!

When you lose or diminish your soul by harming another you lose yourself and everything you are…

Is that what evil wants? To entice some to do harm to others, therefore everyone involved is diminished and destroyed? I think so…

Muslims beheaded a nine year old boy…

More than than 4000 people from police and teachers to monks and children have been killed in the past 7 years by Muslims in southern Thailand, but hardly a word in the mainstream media. In Southern Thailand Muslim gunmen continue killing and threatening innocent citizens. The Muslim insurgents have threatened to kill 20 teachers and have distributed fliers that said, “WANTED: 20 Deaths of Buddhist teachers.” Muslim terrorists object to the education system which teaches Buddhist culture that is not acceptable in Islam. The attacks are intended to force Buddhists to leave the region because Muslims want to create an independent Muslim nation in the three southern provinces.

All evil in these photos was done by Muslims except for the crucifixion of Christ, but the reasoning for this hideous act was the same. They were threatened by freedom of thought, goodness, kindness, tolerance and love. And we are letting this practice of Islam (Sharia Law) into America… Why?

Islam ‘Sharia Law’ moves in and takes over, first by lying, infiltrating and then by violence. They torture, rape, maim and kill anyone who won’t convert and who is not a Muslim.  They think that they are above the law anywhere they are. All Muslim women you see with their hair covered are under Sharia Law… it’s the practice that women should not be seen, that they are property, that men can do as they like with them… and this fits in with our Constitution and America, how?

Obama is allowing people who believe in this practice to serve and infiltrate into our country. Obama appoints them to high offices. Muslims are entering into local politics at rapid rate.

How does this as an American make you feel? This is not about freedom of religion. The practice of Islam is political laws… Sharia Law and under it, women have no rights.