I Think We’re Gonna Make It

For those who are new or fairly new to my blog, this past winter, my 13 yr. old son, Little Man had a grade A, first-rate, complete and total anxiety fueled melt down. His anxiety reached such epic proportions that he became locked in a perpetual panic attack and he shut down. I had lost my son to his brain.

For several weeks I thought he was sick with a mystery bug. Finally, after almost a month, he was able to tell me what was going on; that he was experiencing severe panic attacks. The day he fessed up, I realized that as much as I’d tried to push him to figure out how to deal with his anxiety around school, taking him to a few different therapists, I now had to do what I’d dreaded for the past three plus years: pull him out of school and homeschool him. Just over half way through seventh grade.

Things had become too intolerable. It was as plain as day to me that if I didn’t pull him out of school, there was a very good possibility that I would completely lose him; to where he would never come back. Whether that would look like his taking his life, or merely becoming catatonic, I don’t know. But I knew he would leave.

At that point, I thought that within days of pulling him out of our local public school system, his anxiety would magically disappear, and I would be able to either enroll him in an online public school, or begin a homeschooling curriculum.

Well, the anxiety didn’t go away, and hung on just as tenaciously as when he was still enrolled in public school. What I ended up finding is a local independent learning situation, technically a private school, where we meet with a teacher once a week, and talk about what was done at home during the week. We would decide about curriculum when Little Man was able to handle it. At first, I could barely get Little Man to even talk at these meetings. He was still experiencing severe anxiety and panic attacks.

All this while, we were working with a new doctor (a naturopathic doctor, chiropractor and intuitive healer), who determined that Little Man had some physical health challenges, as well as the emotional challenge of severe anxiety. We had to make dietary changes, including eliminating gluten, dairy, and a few other foods. And, vitamins and supplements were added. After about four months, his physical issues were almost all back to “normal,” and his emotional health was much improved. Little Man is no longer a prisoner in his room, and if he experiences anxiety, it usually doesn’t go on for hours and doesn’t often roll into a panic attack. Yes, there are some tough days, but overall, things are a lot better.

During the first few months when I lost him, it was some of the scariest times of my life as a mother. Every day I white knuckled it. I put my faith in Little Man’s new doctor, and we are seeing progress. What I particularly appreciate about this doctor, other than his intuitive skills and medical training, is that when I spoke up and said that we needed more help with Little Man’s anxiety, he came up with a supplement that made a difference. And as we go along, I know that if Little Man needs even more help, there will be options to explore.

All of this time, Little Man has been learning about his own mental health and how his physical health affects his mental health. Low blood sugar can bring on anxiety while his body is healing. And he’s been learning all about eating for his health (eliminating foods that have damaged his body over time). He’s gone through some very tough and some very dark times, with the worst of it behind us (I sincerely hope).

As time goes on, Little Man will learn more skills to help him live with a brain that tends to experience anxiety, and will learn how food affects his body and brain. He’s already had quite the crash course.

As for “school,” he’s been deschooling: the process of adjusting to the non-school environment of everyday life after leaving the education system. Because Little Man associated so much trauma with being in school, we’ve spent the past few months just living and waiting for my son to come back. Yes, we’ve been meeting with his teacher weekly, but he hasn’t been forced to do traditional book work.

With the pressure of “school” off our backs, we have the luxury of time. Time to allow Little Man’s body to heal, and happen as it needs to happen. For so many people, in our fast-paced world, with mandatory attendance of public school, they feel their only option is to find “the right” medication that takes the edge off their child’s mental-emotional problems, so they can go to school every day. And that helps some people. But I didn’t feel that was the best course of action for Little Man, because of his extreme sensitivity. (When he was in fourth grade, we did a medication trial with ADHD drugs, with horrible side effects).

Too often, taking a medication that masks things like anxiety, does just that: masks. They allow a person to feel better and to function in our world. But they do not address why the anxiety was there in the first place. Because of that, I wanted to leave medication as a last resort. I have not ruled it out, but I haven’t felt the need to explore pharmaceuticals yet.

Having a mother who was bi-polar and who depended on medication for her sanity, I very much appreciate what pharmaceutical drugs can do for a brain. And watching my mother’s battle with medications and her sanity, and watching her lose her life to her mental illness, despite several medication changes, I know that there is only so much a medication can do for a person’s brain. I have come to believe that mental illness is as much an illness of the spirit, as it is one of the physical body.

With all of the changes Little Man has made over the past few months, he is doing better and better.

The other week, at our weekly meeting with Little Man’s teacher, I brought up the question of how a person moves from deschooling into something that looks more like schooling, without sending my kiddo back over the edge. With our local public schools starting up again in about a month, I could anticipate Little Man’s anxiety starting to ramp up over the next few weeks, in fear of what he would have to do this fall to be considered in a “learning” situation.

We’ve been telling him all along that he’s been learning; learning a lot about his body and how to take care of himself. That in and of itself has been huge. But allowing Little Man’s education to be 100% child-led isn’t something I feel comfortable with right now because of his historically wanting to avoid subjects that are a challenge for him (reading, writing, math), with his learning disabilities.

After chatting with his teacher, she brought up the idea of having him create a project around something he’s very interested in. He will choose the topic and what the project will be. He will decide how he’ll present the topic at the end of the month, and what the presentation will entail. Because he’s been obsessed with flying his drone for the past few months, he decided that his project will have something to do with the drone. Part of the presentation will be written (because he needs to practice writing), part will likely include a video he will create, and it will be orally presented as well.


Having several weeks to get this all put together (maintaining our weekly meeting with his teacher) will get Little Man back in the game of “school” and it will get his mind wrapped around a new way of what school and learning can look like.

The beauty of it all, is Little Man is on a new path. His body is getting healthier every day. His mental health is improving. And with his teacher being our guide, we’re both learning what “an education” can look like. One thing it will not look like is sitting down for six hours a day doing book work, being quiet, and living in fear of breaking a rule.

Over the past few months, with so many kids around us receiving certificates, plaques, and awards for end of year academic achievement, others graduating and going off to four year universities, and several going to proms, I started thinking about how my son will never stand up in front of his class and be recognized for academic achievement, and he’ll never have the prom experience, and from where I sit right now, he might never go to a four year university. I started to get pretty bummed out and a bit jealous. I kept comparing Little Man’s life to the experiences I had when I grew up (traditional public school and academic success), and comparing him to other people around us.

I kept thinking how unfair it is that my son has to deal with a brain that thinks and learns so differently from most. I was sad that he doesn’t get the same pleasure from reading that I do, and that he doesn’t enjoy the process of putting word to paper. And I was sad that my son’s brain puts him into states of anxiety and panic when his life isn’t actually being threatened; that his brain can hold him hostage. I was sad that he’s had so many challenges in his young life that many of his peers will never have to deal with.

Then I saw a spark in my son that I didn’t know I’d ever see. He got excited about doing his project for school. He was actually enthusiastic about school looking like projects, and holy crap! he became interested to learn.

I have to remember that despite my son’s challenges in life, he has some amazing gifts as well. And the gifts that he possesses are not things that can be taught through any type of therapy or school. His boundless creativity, out-of-the-box way of problem solving, and his amazing intuition and empathy are part of who he is, part of how he’s wired. The areas where he struggles in academia are things that can be improved upon, and assisted with technology. But his gifts will carry him far in life. He might not grow up to become a writer or a college professor, but I know that’s he’s going to do something amazing, most likely in the realm of transportation.

I’m now excited to see where he’ll end up, no longer confined by rigid education standards set by someone who clearly didn’t design them for my son and the way he learns and thinks. I see that my passion for learning, collecting and analyzing information, and reassembling it into something useful for me, is similar in its intensity to my son’s passion to create. When his attention is grabbed, there is no stopping him. I love to see the spark of creation in my son, explode into an inferno.

I fully expect there will be more bumps in the road, but at least from where I sit right now, I think we’re gonna make it.


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A Pre-Birth Plan With a Manic-Depressive Mother?

Children are not innocent and are never victims. We tend to see children who suffer through terrible hardships as victims. The paradox is, they, as a soul, have lived many lives and specifically chose these experiences for the purpose of soul growth. Growth is often painful. Helping me to heal my own childhood, I wrote a question to The Council (a group of wise non-physical beings who dispenses counsel) and here is their reply. The audio provides The Council’s advice as it was given, channeled by Cynthia.

Ask The Council

This post is inspired by questions from a reader named Susan about her and her mother’s pre-birth spiritual plan for this lifetime. Susan says her relationship with her mother was often painful, especially when she was younger, because her mother was a bi-polar manic-depressive. And she asks why didn’t family members step in to protect her.

The Council says Susan planned it this way. And her planning comes from another life she and her mother shared as orphan boys living on the streets and stealing to survive, maybe around the early 1800s. They both experienced a lot of violence and hate in that lifetime with no understanding and no love, just a will to survive.

When they both left that reality, as spirits they thought it would’ve been good if they learned how to forgive and understand. And so they decided to create this life together where her mother would be harsh and she would experience a desire to care for her and…

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How Do You Handle Life’s “Holy Shit!” Moments?

Lately, I’ve been thinking about how people handle moments in life that you don’t expect; the ones that sneak up from behind and whack you over the head with a two-by-four. Or moments that you see coming, fiercely denying their eventual arrival.

I’ve had a handful of those moments; some I knew would hit me one day, and I totally dreaded them, and some I never saw coming.

How were they handled? Well, when I was young, I basically took a back seat and let life drive right over me, squashing me along the way.

I see some adults handle things this way, taking a victim stance. Giving up any and every bit of power they have, believing they have no option other than to roll over and let life do to them.

These days, I’m in the driver’s seat. Sure, I might have a few days of panic and freak-out, but I have a new trust in the Universe. A trust that I can find answers and solutions, and that things will eventually work out. Where does this trust come from? It came from learning to trust my intuition.

We all have it, intuition, but just what is it?

It’s the connection to information that is beyond your five senses. It’s when you allow your spirit guides, guardian angels, and other protective and guiding beings in spirit, and God communicate to you. Well, truth be told, they communicate with us all the time, but we often don’t listen or trust what we get.

How do you recognize intuition?

It’s that gut feeling. It’s the synchronistic events in your life. It’s the impulse to take a different route home, that ends up keeping you safe. It’s the whisper in the back of your head that tells you to go right, when logic tells you to go left. It’s the messages you get from your heart.

As well as trusting my intuition, I trust that when I need information, it will come to me (or I’ll find it). Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you.

As I’ve asked, answers have come. And I ask a lot of questions. As I’ve looked for guidance, it has arrived. Information comes to me. I sift through what comes, and use a combination of my rational and reasoning mind, with my feeling heart, to see what’s right for me.

And finally, I trust in grace. For me, grace is taking a step back so that the highest good can drop in. It’s about knowing that I’m not ultimately in control. Sure, I’m a very powerful being, but there is only so much I can control, and only so much I should control. I am, however, still working on having patience for grace to show up sometimes; but we’re all a work in progress, aren’t we?

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My Guardian Angel

Last month I spent several weeks away from home, visiting with a dear friend. One of the special things about my friend is that she and I have been sisters in several lifetimes. During a past life regression hypnosis session, I saw part of one of those lifetimes. We share a connection that transcends this lifetime, as soul sisters.

Another special thing about my friend is that she was born with a defect of sorts. The veil that prevents most people from being able to see energy and allows people to live in the 3D world, unable to see beyond it to the world of spirit, didn’t fall for her as she was born. She remains connected to spirit, able to see and hear beings and entities that most people can’t. When she looks at a person, she sees their spirit, their soul energy. She can hear, see, and feel energy and spirit.

One evening, when we were sitting, chatting, she turned to me and mentioned that she had seen a dead person following me around lately, and she wondered who it was. As far as I know, I have never seen spirits or dead people (except for capturing them with a camera), and I told her I had no idea who it was, and asked her to describe them.

She tuned into a boy and asked me if I had lost a friend when I was young. I thought for a minute, and the only person I could think of who died when I was young, was a classmate when I was in eighth grade.

During the Storm of ’78 in New England, the Boston area had a record snowfall of over 27″ in two days of early February. We missed a week of school, and I remember sledding down our street and cross-country skiing uptown to the little grocery store, bringing home bags of groceries in a red plastic sled. I also remember the towering snow banks that were created as the streets were finally plowed.

The story I was told was that my classmate was standing on a snow bank and slipped off into the path of an oncoming car. Danny was run over and died two days later. We all went to his viewing, and it was the first time I’d ever seen someone who was dead.

What I didn’t know was that on a spiritual level, I witnessed his death. No, I didn’t see him die with my eyes, but my spirit acknowledged his death. In doing this, he became a guardian angel for me, keeping me safe from people who wanted to harm me, with whom I did not have a soul contract. Apparently, Danny’s and my soul made an agreement for this before we both were born.

As we tried to figure out times that Danny had helped me, my girlfriend tuned into a time when I had been working on a ship. She asked me if I’d ever had a guy interested in me. When you’re either the only civilian female on a ship, or nearly the only civilian female on a ship, there is a likelihood of someone being interested. I racked my brain, and couldn’t narrow things down.

I asked my girlfriend if it was on a ship in the Mediterranean, or elsewhere in the world. Other than being on my school ship, I was only on one ship in the Mediterranean, so this could narrow things down considerably. Yes. She saw that the ship was in the Med. Then she asked me if there was someone who was interested in me who was weird. I racked my brain a bit more and then it hit me. Yes!

When I was a cadet on a ship that worked in the Mediterranean, there was a guy who worked in the Steward Department who had a thing for me. I was cordial to him, but never led him on, as he was most definitely not my type, and I wasn’t even looking for companionship at that point in my life. I was doing an internship to earn sea days. All I wanted was to do my time, work on my project for school, and get home.

For some reason, when I was given my room assignment on the ship (a private room, with a private bathroom – officer’s quarters), I was not given a room key. Because of my ignorance and a lack of organization on the ship’s part, I didn’t know I should have been given one, so my room was never locked.

One night, I didn’t make it back to my room, and when I went in the next morning, I could see that someone had been in my bed, and it wasn’t me. Apparently, Danny intervened, keeping me out of my room that night. Keeping me safe.

My girlfriend told me that yes, the weird guy was in my room, and there was a strong likelihood that he would have harmed me. I told my watch officer about the weird guy, and that I thought he’d been in my bed. My watch officer spoke with the head of the Steward Department, and the next thing I knew, the weird guy literally turned and ran away from me any time he saw me. Apparently, whatever he was told, sufficiently scared him and kept him away from me for the rest of my 2 months on that ship. And I finally got a room key.

One other time I could think of, when someone intervened to keep me safe was when my ship was tied up in downtown Seattle. I recounted the story to my girlfriend and she saw that yes, once again, Danny had been looking out for me.

I was about to be relieved of duty from my ship, after more than six months on it (with no days off!). So my last night on board, I joined a group of shipmates who walked to a waterfront establishment to celebrate a birthday. We were all drinking and partying it up. Eventually, I realized that I’d had more than enough to drink, and it would be prudent for me to get back to the ship and get to bed. As I walked alone, back towards the cruise ship docks and my ship, all of a sudden a police car pulled up right beside me, stopping quickly.

A Seattle police officer jumped out of his cruiser, apologizing for startling me. He then pointed to a man about fifteen feet away, saying that he’d seen the guy looking at me and walking towards me, and was concerned for my safety. The officer had driven his cruiser between the man and me. I was completely oblivious and quite stunned (and very grateful). The officer offered me a ride back to my ship (when I explained that I was walking back to my ship), which I stupidly declined. Yes, I was stupid drunk. I was embarrassed at being drunk and didn’t want to show up to the gangway in a police car.

Fortunately, Danny kept me safe then and on the rest of the walk back to the ship. Yes, spirit can orchestrate enlisting people to help when they need it.

Now that I’m an old married woman, Danny’s duties around keeping me safe in situations like these aren’t really needed any longer. But my friend said he comes now and then to send me love.

We each have at least one guardian angel who is indeed an angel, who has never incarnated as human, and who stays us during our lives. But this was the first time I’d been aware of my having a guardian who helps look out for me with more “human” endeavors. Having recently experienced life as human, these special guardians can relate to us, and help us out, especially if we make less than stellar decisions that might get us into trouble.

Thank you Danny for looking out for me and for loving me.




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I Am A Privileged White Woman

With all of the killing going on lately in the US, and abroad, I realize that I am a privileged white woman. Despite the fact that I experienced abuse by my family growing up, my heritage is from the UK and Europe, and my skin is the color of privilege in my country.

I did not grow up poor. We lived in a middle class neighborhood with single family houses on almost an acre apiece. The public school system I attended was very highly rated. And we went on vacations every summer. Playing in my neighborhood as a child, I felt generally safe.

The very few times I’ve been pulled over by police, I haven’t worried about my personal safety. When I walk around in stores that sell expensive items, I don’t feel eyes following me, or worry about being profiled as a shoplifter. I don’t worry about people being afraid of me because of the clothes I wear.

When people see me in public, I tend to be pretty much invisible because I look very generic, dressed in my mom-jeans and colored t-shirts, with my uncolored gray hair usually pulled back into a pony tail. My middle aged appearance and uncovered head does not inspire fear.

I am a privileged white woman.

Was I bullied as a kid? Yes. Have I ever been homeless? Yes. Have I experienced sexism? Sure. Have I experienced racism? Yes. But is that my every day normal? No. Is it what I focus on or expect to experience day-to-day? No.

Do I worry when I walk down the street that someone might be gunning for me? No.

I can only imagine what it’s like to be a young, non-white man living in the inner city in this country. From my few experiences of being looked down on and being dismissed because of the color of my skin and my sex, I can only imagine what it’s like to be judged solely on how I look, what I wear, or how I walk, every single day. What does it do to a person’s psyche when they are constantly judged wrongly? What does it do to a person when they are constantly living on the defense? When they are not seen as the true person that they are inside? (I ask these questions for any group who is misperceived).

With everything that’s been going on lately, what’s a person to do when the country around them is exploding in hate and divisiveness? Will it help if I feel badly for everyone who is suffering? Will it help if I get down into the muck and mire, or climb up on a cross? Will it help to focus on the hurt, pain, and death?

One thing I know for sure is that rising up in protest is NOT the answer. Rising up against anything is NOT the answer.

What will make a difference is to remember our common unity (community): our shared humanity. We all hurt and we all bleed red.  But more than anything, we each want to be seen and heard for who we are. We all want to matter. We need heart-felt connection. We need to rise up, arm in arm in solidarity and remember our humanity.

As individuals, we each want to have good lives. Those of us with families want our children to grow up to be helpful, productive members of society. At least most of us. I don’t personally know anyone who doesn’t want their children to have a life as least as good as, if not better than their own.

Obviously there are a few select groups that live to destabilize our society. They want nothing more than to see us all live in fear. Fear of death. Fear of losing our loved ones. Fearing for our safety and security. They want us to strike out at each other. They want our economy and society to be as unstable and disconnected as their hearts are.

I, for one, am not going to let that happen. At least not in my life.

From the 30,000 ft. view, I see all of this instability as a huge opportunity for people to make a decision: will you choose to live in anger and fear, or will you make decisions through your heart? This is going on throughout the entire planet. Eons of energies that have been trapped in Mother Earth are rising up, being acted out by individuals and groups, so that we have an opportunity to transmute them with love. It’s as complicated and as simple as that. As within, so without. As above, so below.

I have been doing this work on an individual level for the past few years, and now it’s the collective’s turn to follow suit.

It’s time for everyone to remember that we all spring forth from the same singular energy. It is this energy that beats each of our hearts. It’s this energy that creates miracles. It’s with this energy that we create our lives, each one a miracle. As much as we feel separate and different from each other, at our core we are unified. We are individual facets, unique expressions of the One.

In case you don’t fully understand, we are more than symbolically One. If the left side of your brain shuts down, you will be able to perceive this Oneness, where you literally won’t be able to see where you end and a wall begins. It’s only through our having a left brain that we perceive ourselves as separate from each other, when in fact, we are not.

I call this singular energy of creation, love. That word doesn’t do the feeling justice, but it’s the closest I have. I tell you about the power of love, not because it’s some fluffy, woo woo, New Age, trite, au courant thing to say, but because this is part of my truth. I have seen the energy of love in action in my own life. I know the incredible power we all hold in our hearts. Love is the one energy that can transmute hate, fear, anger, sadness, judgment, apathy, and disease. It heals like no other energy I know.

It’s time for everyone to remember the awesome power you each have.

When a tragedy happens and your heart breaks, cry. Wail. Let the sadness flow through. And when you can, get back up on your horse and ride. Open your heart again and let compassion rain down on the world. It’s critical to crank that heart open again. It’s actually designed to break and then open. Break again, and then open again. Our hearts are like parachutes: they function best when open.

A metaphysical fact to help you get through our recent tough times: people make soul agreements before they incarnate into physical bodies. They make plans with other souls. And sometimes these plans include becoming victims of murder and terrorist bombings. Other times these plans include being murders or terrorists. These are not random acts.

Something else to keep in mind is that mass media focuses only on a very tiny slice of what’s going on in the world and in our country. And the more sensational the story, the more inflammatory, divisive, and outrageous the reporting, the more attention and thus money, the media outlet will get. Do not fall for the idea that violence is random, is commonplace, and is going happen to you.

I am a not only a privileged white woman, but I’m a woman who has been on the planet for over five decades, and has experienced more than her fair share of shit raining down on her. I could very easily decide to sit in the victim chair, be a martyr, and demand that the world feel sorry for me. But I had help in remembering the extraordinary and powerful being that I am. And I ask each of you to do the same. Remember that you each hold a very special and life changing super power in your heart: LOVE.

Keep your hearts open and use them.

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What Is Faith?

I was inspired to write this because of a comment that Eli, Coach Daddy, wrote to me about how crucial it is to have faith.

Just what is faith?

Faith is believing that even when life looks very bleak and hard, and it’s doing its best to squash me, things will work out.

Faith is believing that when things fall apart, it’s because something better wants to come into my life, and room has to be made for it.

have faith break eggs

Faith is believing that pain is temporary. It won’t last forever.

Faith is believing that emotions like anger, fear, and sadness are temporary. They too, shall pass.

Faith is believing that I can change my situation if I want to.

Faith is believing that I am not a victim of circumstances or of life.

Faith is believing that I can handle whatever comes along.

Faith is holding a vision with extreme conviction until it manifests.

Faith is believing that even in death, we continue on.

The difference between faith and what I call knowing, is having an experience that rings in all of my cells. I might believe something with all of my heart, but not know for certain that it’s true. But after having certain experiences, I know some things are true (for me).

I know that life is often a paradox.

I know that chronic, incurable disease can be healed.

I know that all physical pain can disappear in a moment.

I know what it’s like to connect with my higher self.

I know that I planned to experience certain challenges in my life.

I know that I’ve had several lives before this one (at least, to my brain they appear to be prior in time).

I know what it’s like to connect directly with God.

I know that my essence is the energy of light.

And I know that my essence is pure, unconditional, nonjudgmental, love.

In the absence of knowing, ya gotta have faith. It sure makes life easier to swallow sometimes.


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Happy Independence Day

Here in the US, we are celebrating our independence today. Here are a few fireworks shots I captured about a week ago when I was still on vacation.


Here is one more for your enjoyment.


I hope those who are celebrating today have a safe and happy holiday.

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Choose Love

A person I know asked me yesterday what I thought of the recent shooting in Orlando. Although I answered him in one sentence, there was so much more to say, so here it is.

Remembering My Divinity

I haven’t posted in a while because I’m away from home. I’ve travelled with my son to spend time with a dear friend and also to have a handful of healing sessions (both my son and I) with a gifted healer in this area. As it turns out, I’m about an hour outside of Orlando, where 2 days ago a horrific shooting happened.

After the healing session I had yesterday, the healer mentioned the recent shooting to me and asked me what I thought about it.

When I hear about mass tragedies, my mind jumps around to many levels of seeing what happened and why. I inevitably initially think of the perpetrator: what made them do such a heinous act? Maybe they are mentally ill and didn’t get the help they need because our mental health care system is so broken. Plus, we don’t understand mental health and so easily damage certain people.

Maybe they…

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Sunset At The Overlook

Several days ago, Little Man and I headed out to a local view spot, Samish Overlook. My dude had been practicing flying a camera equipped drone that he recently got, and was jonesing to fly it at the overlook. The day had been very cloudy, like the previous ones, so I wasn’t expecting to be able to see the sky when we got there. I anticipated a thick blanket of clouds, but was met with a pleasant surprise. Sky was peaking through.

We arrived about an hour before sunset and enjoyed the views of farmland and ocean dotted with islands. The predominant wild flower, foxglove stood tall, proudly showing off its deep pink blossoms.

As the sun dipped, its golden reflection on the water was irresistible.


Little Man was concentrating on flying, as I snapped away, at one point requesting he turn slightly; only to be met with, “Not now Mom! I’m flying!”

The sun finally dipped just below the cloud cover, bathing us with its final rays before hiding below the horizon for the night.


What an unexpectedly beautiful end to the day.

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Just Breathe

copyright mariner2mother

copyright mariner2mother

How to get through it all?

Just breathe.

I don’t know if I can do it.

Just breathe.

I don’t know if I can make it.

Just breathe.

The sadness won’t stop.

The anger won’t stop.

The frustration won’t stop.

The fear won’t stop.

It’s all never-ending.

Keep breathing.

Why? Why should I?

Who cares anyway?

God cares.

Even when you think no one gives a fuck.

God cares.

I’m so tired of being strong.

So tired of trying.

I just want to lay down and be done.

Can I be done now?


So tired. So done.

Just breathe.


Some days just plain get hard. Thankfully they are the minority. But when the weight of the world gets too heavy, writing helps to lighten the load. Feeling lighter already.


Posted in Mental Health, The Voyage | Tagged , , , | 7 Comments