A Part of My Story

**Potential Trigger Warning: I debated posting this and held the post for several days going back and forth about whether I wanted to share this piece of my story. This morning I concluded that nothing will ever change if no one knows any of our stories. So I’m posting it. What’s done is done and there’s no going back, but there are lessons to be learned. I invite and encourage others to share their stories as well. This post is being filed under “Mental Health,” because I don’t know where else it really fit and because our life experiences certainly

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I hate the world today

I really think I do. It’s not the world’s fault specifically and admittedly, I’m sitting here with a narrower view than I wish I had. That’s generally par for the course for Americans so far as I can tell. I took a bit of a break from the news cycles because I had so much going on in my personal life and needed to focus on getting myself and my immediate family a home in which to live. We’re settling in, still struggling but at least we have a home again. This week’s news cycles have been pretty brutal from

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Breaking Free

Breaking free is hard. I’ve looked back on my blog posts over the years, which are all over the place of course, and I’ve visited my old writing accounts on various forums. Stopping short of digging out the plastic bins in storage filled with notebooks and journals, little scraps of paper, article and magazine clippings dating back as far as the 1980s — I just wanted to refresh myself on where I’ve been and where I may be going. Countless times I’ve proclaimed to be washed anew. Fresh-eyed. Open-hearted. Ready to forge ahead at my goals full steam only to

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