All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players: they have their exits and their entrances; and one man in his time plays many parts, his acts being seven ages
- Shakespeare
When I was little I had the idea that everybody's lives were plays that God had scripted before we were born or that the universe was just one big movie in which everybody that had ever lived or was ever going to live were characters. There are many characters in my life, some feature more than others and in turn I play a part in their lives however big or small. It is difficult talking about them on this blog because I write anonymously and I owe it to them to protect their privacy as well, especially since some of these characters are children. Therefore I have created aliases for them and before I continue with this blog I should probably introduce you to them all so you will know who I am talking about. Some of them are pretty simple like:
Mom- she's my Mom
Dad- he's my Dad
Sister- she is my younger sister
Go figure. I have a feeling somewhere on this blog I have mentioned my mothers name and she may have commented on some blogs as my mother with her real name but I have decided not to use her name in anyway from now on. Here the list of characters in my life:
Little B- those who have been reading my blog for a long time know that Little B is my second cousin and my Goddaughter. She is now eight years old.
Miss Muffet- this is Little B's youngest sister she is five years old and also my Goddaughter. She and Little B are extremely close.
Brown Eyed Girl- This is Little B's oldest sister. She will be fourteen in a few weeks
Mel- She is the mother of Little B, Miss Muffet and Brown Eyed Girl and my first cousin. My parents fostered her until she was about sixteen. She and I were very close growing up.
Karen- She is my best friend and lives in America. This girl saved my life and I miss her more than anything.
Big Sis- She sixteen years older than me and is my half sister from my Dad's second marriage. She and I were estranged for many years but now maintain a very distant relationship. I have been meaning to write a post about her for the longest time since I saw her for the first time in nine years last year.
Big Bro- He is thirteen years older than me and also from my Dad's second marriage. Big Bro was my hero growing up and is quite a character. Unfortunately he is very distant but he and I generally get on well whenever he decides to pop up in my life.
Surfer Girl- I had to decide between that and Skater Girl since she is both a surfer and a skateboarder but in the end went with the former because Skater Girl reminds me to much of Avril Lavgine. Ugh. Surfer Girl is the daughter of my mother's best friend of 40 years. She and I grew up literally as sisters. She is several years younger than me but is one of my best friends despite the fact that we have nothing in common and can bug the hell out of one another.
The Cat- A pretty tortoise shell cat that the previous owner also left and is currently residing in the dilapidated pool house. I am in the process of trying to make friends with her but given my track record with pets in recent years maybe she'd be better off in the pool house :/
F- Yep I wish I could add three more little letters after that first one, that way I will be able to describe how I feel about her. I will use this blog to work through a lot of issues that I have as the result of F and her minions in the past
Probably more characters will be added and taken off this list as time goes on. Let the show begin!.
I follow many blogs. Some are informational, some are funny, some fascinating, some are downright controversial...I like those the best :) As a result I come across many amazing and unbelievable stories. I am so thankful that I live in a world where technology allows me discover things about people and the world that I might have not known had I lived in another time.
Once in a while I come across a story so incredible that I spend days thinking about it. I have been spending a tranquil day at my sister's flat with her, my Mom and her house mate. During the course of the afternoon, my sister read us a post from a blog written by a twenty- six year old South African girl who has just been re-diagnosed with leukaemia for the third time. It doesn't take a smart person to figure out signs of battling this disease for a third time are not good. What makes this story all the more tragic is that she is the last surviving child of her parents. Her brother went missing a few years ago and her sister died during operation.
I admire this girl- her name is Lucille- not just for her bravery but because of her honesty. Having been a victim of a rather serious physical illness myself I remember the enormous pressure I felt to always be optimistic. To never show I was in pain or afraid because I feared hurting the people I loved. Lucille is full of hope, Lucille is brave and a beautiful person. But she knows that things are not okay, she is afraid and angry that life has dealt her and family this brutal card. She uses her blog write all of these feelings down and to express her love for her loved ones. She is not afraid to talk about what everyone is trying not talk about: the inevitable. There is a good chance she will die.
I encourage to read the blog of this beautiful girl, who's wisdom, bravery and honesty amaze. We all have problems both big and small, but once in a while I believe that we all need to be reminded to be thankful for what we've got and it is not the end of the world. I am including a post that was written straight from her heart to a friend she meet on Twitter.
Once upon a time in land far, far away..
Okay no, this is the tale of a story that happened, is happening right under
my nose every single day.
I used to think that friendship starts with a smile…
Reaching for the same
crayon…
Being on the same sports team…
Listening to the same
music…
Lifting as heavy as the other guy…
But this friendship started in an odd way, by a follow:
I followed right back, of course, he’s a CT Runner… ((again, 2 of my
favourite things))
We never said anything to each other, other than a few
random retweets and “Good Luck”‘s and of course I read every tweet of his about
his running journeys in the beautiful city of Cape Town. It wasn’t until
December last year when we both expressed our absolute dislike of broadcast
messages on bbm and how that guarantees a straight delete that I decided that I
could sure as pie get along with someone like that… This is the beginning, after
the beginning of this tale…
Matty,
It was right before Christmas 2011, while out at an end of year function
where you were drinking too much, uhm, let’s call it awesome juice… and your
typing absolutely sucked (keeping it real), but even though it looked something
like this “candrjoja ojdjroejodkj kdj” I still made out every word and answered
you like it was no big deal. I’m an expert in slurred typing :/ lol. It got to
a point where you could see you made no sense, and you quoted me this:
“Me Tarzan, You Jane”
and that was it – that moment right there, that was
the moment this friendship began.
I just remember us getting along really great,
talking about running and awesome things like the beach and Cape Town and I
thought you were absolutely great, and weird and a little bit insane – but you
laughed at my lame jokes and that has been absolutely priceless to me.
Me Tarzan, You Jane
You were even goofy, yep said it, enough to watch Tarzan “with” me, although
we’re 1405,3 km’s apart – made my soul happy that you’d do something so silly
for me.
On Thursday, 19 January I was rediagnosed with
Leukemia.
On that day I felt like my entire world fell apart, that everything
I was trying to achieve and build up to was never going to happen.
Matt, you
were one of the first people who I told the news to – which is insane, because I
have obvious trouble dealing with real things. I would much rather make jokes
and be lighthearted than admit I’m falling apart, but with you it was okay to
have this severe experience of being human…
I remember the first words you said to me after I
gave you the news was this: “It’s ok Lu, it’s ok” and then you sent me
the link to this song
The words in this song that struck me the most was
It’s okay. It’s
okay. It’s okay.Seasons are
changingAnd waves are
crashingAnd stars are falling all for
usDays grow longer and nights grow
shorterI can show you I’ll be the
one
I will never let you fall (let you fall)
I’ll
stand up with you forever
I’ll be there for you through it all (through it
all)
Even if saving you sends me to heaven
Matty, you haven’t let me fall. Not once. No
matter how tough treatment got, no matter what news I shared with you, you
always responded with the same “It’s ok Lu, it’s ok”. Somehow we have
this insane connection – I remember a few days after treatment started, as I was
having one of my just past 1am nausea attacks, without saying anything to you ~
you sent me a message telling me that everything will be okay. Ha! Coincidence?
Maybe. But this wasn’t the only time it happened, it has happened throughout.
When the rest of the world was telling me to get up, be strong and fight, you
told me that it was okay to be weak for a bit.
Never leaves my side
Matty, today was one of those hard days – one of those not so strong days.
Today I felt my body start to give in, piece by piece. Gosh a few times during
the night I wished, hoped to just be rid of the feeling. I’m ashamed to say, I
wanted it all to be over. I was ready to let go of life, but I kept strong, I
held on, because “It’s ok Lu, it’s ok”. Earlier when I woke up and
read your messages, I got these flashbacks from the day we met… I never told
you, but hugging you for the first time wasn’t weird or awkward at all – it felt
like hugging an old friend again. You made me laugh and smile and even that
night when I wasn’t feeling well you told me “It’s ok Lu, it’s ok” and
you took my hand and just held me. Magical moments, memories that keep me
strong. You went running for us tonight Matt, for your legs and my heart and
you took me beautiful pictures of the scenery of my, our Cape Town. I’m good
with words, but the feelings spilling over my cheeks as the tears leave my eyes
is the best way to describe how I feel about this gesture. It felt like I was
right there with you, only in my mind we’re running that route but sweating
heavily and smiling, not crying.
There are no guarantees in life, but Matty, you’ve made me see that it
doesn’t matter how many times my stupid pride tries to push you away – you’ll
stay.
Thank you for being a shoulder I can soak with my tears, thank you for
fighting away my fears. Thank you for making me smile, no matter how much life
gets me down. Thank you for making me live this magical friendship fairy tale
every day!!
Sometimes a hero isn’t the person who will run into burning buildings or
shield you from danger – sometimes a hero is the person who will stand beside
you, hold your hand and whisper quietly“It’s ok Lu, it’s ok” . Matty,
you’re my hero.
If I can’t hold on long enough to be your friend always, I need to say to
you: It’s okay Matty, it’s okay… You know…
Whatever patient, perseverant soul(s) are still reading this blog I salute you! This period of my life has not been the best for blogging. I started a full time job three months ago that just happened to be in a performance orientated company that I soon found out was very “trigger” happy. I hadn’t been there long before I starting hearing tales of our “fallen comrades” i.e. employees that were fired for something as simple as not sending enough e-mails OR (and this really takes the cake) supervisors/ managers that were given the chop because “they hadn’t fired enough people themselves”. Hmmmm…did I mention that this company is American? So I had been given the subtle message that- even though I was temp covering maternity leave- if I didn’t give 110% I would be given my walking papers. What was worse, and this really scared the shit out of me, if I messed up this woman’s job…she could get fired, even though she did nothing wrong! Did I mention she has six kids? Yep there was A LOT at stake. I’m pretty sure some laws are being broken here…but who ever dares to take on a monstrous American corporation?
So this coupled with the fact that I am still studying full time and have been writing exams ( two of which I am pretty sure I failed) I have not had much time for anything except eating and sleeping…and a spot of T.V if I am lucky!!. I hate to say this…but red wine and chocolate have become my best friends. I can’t exactly say it’s been a social pleasure working for this company.
I have lost two big features in my life these past three months, the first was my relationship with my sister (or rather the final realization on my part that the only way we would not kill each other is if we lived several hundred kilometers apart and didn’t speak at all…except on Christmas and birthdays…or if someone died) and the second, has hit me hard. My church counselor finally realized that she can no longer help me.
Years ago, I was talking with my friend’s husband about getting her to see a counselor. I suggested going to see a church counselor, since it was free and the husband said something that really rang true. Church counselors can only help you if you meet a certain criteria. At the very least you should be a believer…you don’t have to be a very good one…but you must believe in God. Second you need to be able to forgive…a lot of people will struggle for years with this but a GOOD counselor like mine, will be willing to stick with you….so long as you believe. Third, you need to agree with and do pretty much everything they tell you to. As I struggled with all three of the above, I knew that my counseling was doomed with these people from the very start. But I hoped that “maybe this time” it would work. I was at the edge with a knife in my hand, planning on ending it all, so I would have taken any helping hand that had been offered to me.
During my twenty –eight years on this earth I have been to so many psychologists, psychiatrists and counselors that I can’t remember them all. The one that helped me the most was a black psychologist ( pretty amazing as apartheid was still rife in South Africa) named Mandisa who saw me from when I was eight until I was ten. I also had reasons to believe that the church counselor I had now would be different: She has known my family and I since I was seven years old. She has done that most amazing work with people from Rape Crisis and victims of child abuse. The list of lives she has changed is endless. She told me when I first started that she had been waiting for me for years and that she wanted to make me her project. When I tried to run away she would come and find me. Who wouldn’t have been given a little bit of hope?
It started out with me, her and an elderly gentleman. Every Saturday at 3pm, I would arrive on her doorstep. She would give me a big mother hen huge followed by tea and biscuits and I would sit on her couch, her cat Joey purring in my lap and recount the horrors of my life. Then they would pray for me. Sometimes they tried to do deliverance – I’m not sure this ever worked (seriously, imagine someone yelling out you: “Spirit of illness, I COMMAND you to come out!!!!. And then feeling really guilty because nothing was er, “coming out”). No matter what they did the issue was that I didn’t completely believe in God. I remember them asking me each week, “Do you still not believe in God”. They didn’t seem to realize it wasn’t like a dress that I could change, it was more like a cancer invading my system that I couldn’t rid of.
When I came in one day the elderly gentleman was not there and I was told it was just going to be me and her. So for the rest of the year I spread myself at her feet like strawberry jam, she was the first person that I fully told about my abuse and my binge eating. I told her things that I had never told anyone before and she listened and prayed. Some major hurdles where accomplished with her- she confronted my mother head on about my abuse and her part in it. Because of that my mother started to understand me in a way that she never had before.
About three month ago I began to feel guilty…I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being selfish and was wasting her time. The revelations that I had made were now sounding like nothing but repeated complaints and whining. I hate to admit it but we had stopped making progress. Here was a woman who worked 80 hours a week and had women- most of whom had suffered the mostly dreadful atrocities- lining up at her door desperate for help…and I was just sitting on her couch complaining?!. Several times I was tempted to e-mail her and just tell her it was over but didn’t because I wanted to stay with her…sometimes I felt like she was my only friend in the world and I would miss her terribly.
The deal breaker was that no matter how hard I tried, I could never believe in God the way she did and it will take years to forgive my Dad for what he did to me. Not only that, she was way over her head with my binge- eating. It’s an addiction that I have lived with for most of my life that I actually don’t know how to live without it. It seems to make up so much of who I am that I don’t even want to get rid of it.
I fessed up to all of this on her couch last Saturday. Our meetings had become almost awkward because my guilt was always hanging in the air. She didn’t agree with me at first. But upon further retrospect she finally agreed. She e-mailed me last Monday morning to say that we had reached a stalemate and we needed to take a break. For me it was so heartbreaking but I realized that I had reached the limit with her and that she could no longer help me.
The unfortunate part of this is that my mother has been so devastated that yet another helping hand is going to disappear in the Stephi- void that she reacted with anger. This sadly has made the situation very tense with my counselor and it will probably be a while before we will be able to speak again.
I am trying to see this differently…my latest counselor is not someone who has bitten the dust but rather someone, like the rest of the people I have met on my path, has helped me and carried me closer to recovery.
At the same time I can’t get rid of the awful sense of failure…why is it that after SO many counselors, psychologists and psychiatrists that I can’t seem to get well? What is wrong with me that I can’t let my past go, forgive and live the life I was meant to live. For me failure also brings loneliness, the old enemy of rejection has reared its head again and I do feel so alone right now.
I will never be going back to her. From now on whenever we meet it will be as friends, I hope. I am thankful for everything she has given and for everything I have learnt. Writing this post has really helped. I haven’t spoken to her since she sent that e-mail but I now know what I want to say to her.
With the happenings of last week, I really didn't think it was appropriate to continue my post on the hereafter, not to mention the actual movie Hereafter had a scene of a tsunami engulfing a coastline- I read somewhere that they actually stopped showing the movie in Japan because of this. I will continue this post in a few days.
And I felt, and have been feeling all this week that in the grander scheme of things my musings really didn't matter. It's the same feeling you get when you gaze up at the stars at night, realise how unimaginably big the universe is and how insignificant you are...not even a grain sand. I read somewhere that there are more stars in the universe than there are grains of sand on this earth.
I have been truly devastated by the events happening in Japan. I actually haven't felt this way since 9/11. All week I have seen pictures of carnage, bewildered people, bodies covered and landscapes forever changed. I wish there was something I could do but I know that's impossible Those of you who have been reading this blog for a while will remember that one of my dreams was to go and teach English in Japan after I graduate. My fascination with Japan started when I was the only girl in my class that would watch Dragonball Z with the boys. Forget I said that.
It's also been a week of "one-thing-after-another". On Monday I had my last session with my psychologist. My godfather is unable to pay for my sessions anymore. Obviously this is a huge loss but I am so grateful to him for his kindness, it saved me. Last Friday, I refused to go to therapy because I found out my Dad was e-mailing my therapist in what I think was an attempt to influence her. As far as I know you have to get the patient's consent to e-mail their therapist. It was the worst breach of privacy and although it may seem childish I decided not go to make statement that this was one area he would never be able to control
I ended a friendship last week before the earthquake. Believe me this was not something that do often and I didn't take it very lightly. I am still wondering if I did the right thing. Basically it boiled down to: "How long am I going to let this girl hurt me?" "Do I really have time for a flake?. The answer to both questions was in the negative. You see I have been really blessed when it comes to friends. I don't have a truckload of friends like my sister, but the friends I do have,have walked through fire with me, loved me unconditionally are constant sources of hope. I would do anything for them. Once you have had a friendship like that you really don't have time for the social butterflies who are here today and gone tomorrow but still depend heavily on you. That's what this girl was.
I was in hospital on Wednesday. What was meant to be a check up with the combined services of neurology and psychiatry turned into my having lumbar puncture/ spinal tap number 6. The actual procedure went well but it is now Friday and I STILL have a headache from the LP and body aches. I feel like I am 80. My one daily focus right now is painkillers.
For the last two days the surrounding area where I live has been engulfed in flames. The result of some fog throwing a cigarette butt out of a car window. At night the symphony of flames dancing with the moon can be very beautiful but once a new day dawns reality hits. Magical forests are now piles of ash, wild animals have burnt to death, the once beautiful landscape blackened. This morning I wondered where Basil and Buttercup were. Along the main road there is a mass exodus of fire trucks carry filthy, exhausted firemen. While new shiny ones go in the opposite direction, ready for battle.
Everything seems so big at the moment and I feel so little! So I am going to lay this very achy little head of mine down and try and get some sleep...
You are very much on my heart today as you deal with this terrible tragedy. The overwhelming beauty of your country and my love of the people as always inspired me, it's a place that I have long wanted to visit. A few weeks ago I checked my general stats and was surprised when I saw that an enormous part of my readership are actually in New Zealand so I just wanted to join others from around the world and let you know that I am so very sorry and I am thinking of you. I have met many kiwi's in my life and they were strong and proud people, I have not doubt that you will take on this challenge will all your might.
There is not much I can do from where I sit now. We have family in Wellington and I have a few friends in Auckland and Dunedin. We knew a couple who lived an hour outside of Christchurch who we haven't been able to get hold of. We are praying that they are safe and well.
I will be keeping very close watch on this story. I truly wish all of you the best...
My dear friend, Wendy and her girls over at Year of the Cats have awarded me with a "Stylish Blog Award"! *blink* blink* blush*. Now it may only be January but this has made my YEAR!. It had me grinning from ear to ear and I actually went to get my Mom (who had just gone to bed) to show her. Thank- you so much Wendy! This was so special and I'm touched that you have honored my blog:).
I found Wendy over at Takashi's blog and her sincere and compassionate advice- never being afraid to go against the tide- made my want to be her friend. She blogs about her two beautiful kitties, Sele and Bella, her life as a Wiccan and being Bipolar. For me visiting her blog is like visiting a gift shop everything is so colourful and diverse and I always feel like I come away with something special. Her writing so beautiful and has had me both laughing my head off and in tears.
I'm going to copy Wendy's tradition as a recipient of a blog award and tell you seven interesting things about myself:
1. Despite being incredibly SHY I have won several awards and competitions for public- speaking
3. I have lived in three countries: I was born in Texas, USA, my parents emigrated to South Africa when I was 18 months old (my Mom is South African). I went to live in London, UK when I was 20 for 2 years and then spent 18 months in America. I am now back in South Africa. Phew.
4. I speak two languages, English and Afrikaans and am currently learning Japanese. I plan to learn Spanish in the future.
5. I am a redhead- a bit strange because both my parents had black hair. My sister is blonde.
6. I am doing a degree in Industrial Psychology and Communication Science.
7. I think snakes are cute ( I don't own any though!).
And that's it. For now I am going to hold on passing this award to anyone else- this is because I only follow a few blogs and love them all so I honestly don't know which one to choose and choosing them all would feel a bit insincere.
The topic of this blog is Mental illness- particularly depression. I am aware that it's a topic that makes a lot of people feel uncomfortable. I write on two ends of the scale. I'll write posts like the one before this that is dark and then I will write posts that are funny too. And I don't always write about Mental illness either.
Anyway thanks again Wendy and thanks for reading!.
My last post was very negative, but I stand by it. This is an incredibly difficult time for me personally and for my family. Debt, death and illness are our constant companions this Christmas and I needed to rant, to get all my frustrations out.
We keep telling each other and whispering to ourselves that this too will pass. And it will... what we are experiencing right now is a massive shift and change. Our old lives as we know are coming to an end an a new life is beginning and unless each of us embraces it we will be left behind.
I am destitute right now, I have lost everything. But this morning I began to think of my best friend and my break down when I was in America- how very close I was to ending it. And I realised that right now even though it appears I have nothing I have already been given something that many people can only wish for.
I have been meaning to write this post for a while but quite frankly I just didn't have the words.I am going to write about the people that have kept me alive, pulled me back from the brink when mental illness threatened to engulf me. They are the light at the end of a very dark tunnel. Please bear with me because I don't think I could continue this blog without mentioning them- they are all the reason why I am here.
My Aunt: A great sadness and guilt still fulls me when I think about this. I was staying with my Aunt in California when things started to happen that would eventually lead to my breakdown. I don't know, but I have a feeling that my Aunt blamed herself for what happened. What my Aunt didn't know is that a lifetime of trauma, abuse, depression and anxiety was closing in on me. Why it happened while I was staying with her I will never know. I had only met my Aunt a few months before and was so embarrassed about what was happening to me that I did all I could to hide it, instead of confiding in her. Eventually I got to the point where I could no longer hide anything from her as I was slowly falling to pieces. Still, I refused to talk to her. She knew something was wrong and didn't know what to do. Her life was already stressful when I arrived- she was caring, full time for her husband who had suffered a heart attack nine years earlier and had been severely brain damaged as a result. It is only now, having to care full time for my grandmother that I really have gotten a sense of what it must be like. Her husband was ( and still is) a wonderful man and love of her life. What happened to him devastated her.
This woman bore the brunt of my breakdown. Despite that she allowed me to stay with her, rent free, paid the MASSIVE phone bills I rung up (I'm talking like a $1000 people), supported me for three months while I waited for my social security number (someone forgot to do that when I was born) bought me a laptop for university and a camcorder and a camera to document my time in America. She was a lady of few words but through everything she did for me I knew that she loved for me. I am just so sorry she had to see me like that.
My Mom: I can honesty say my Mom is the sole reason why I haven't landed up in an asylum. If you are a mother you can particularly empathize with what my mother has had to go through. Like I said I was overseas when I had my breakdown and my mother was in South Africa. She had to sit through my hysterical phone calls where I was to terrified to form coherent sentences or I was drugged up on sedatives and slurring. She never knew if would be the last time she would speak to me. The hardest most sickening thing is that there wasn't much she could do...except pray. And everyday she was down on her knees having her faith- which is something she has been blessed with in abundance- tested to the limit.
The person that got off the plane when I came home was not the person that she had said goodbye to nearly four years before, just a shadow of her former self. My Mom has had to suffer through my mood swings, she is the sole receiver of my sudden rage attacks, she continually looks in on me when I sleep 18 hours a day. She has had to have almost soul- destroying conversations where I actually tried to convince her to let me commit suicide, that she would be better off without me, that she would move on. And she would say, she'd be lost without me and ask me to please stay. Yep, I've done some pretty heartless things.
My mom is not perfect, she has made some huge mistakes, especially where my Dad is concerned. But she has stayed in hospital with me, held me through all my lumbar- punctures (spinal taps) and endless panic attacks. She organises my meds- that she hates- into pill boxes each week and reminds me to take them. She has dragged me out into the sunlight when I wanted to stay in the darkness. She prays for me unheeded and believes against all the odds that one day I will be healed.
Karen: Karen is my best friend, who lives in America. We met when I was sent as a temp to the company she worked for. I often joke that she must have her house hooked up to the fountain of youth somewhere- she was in her late thirties when I met her but she looked no older than me in my early twenties. Our friendship was still in the beginning stages when I had my break down. I didn't talk to her at first but she knew something was wrong. She had every reason to walk away- I mean I was acting like a freak not mention that mental illness scares the hell out of most people. But she stayed and took care of me. She nearly lost her job because of me. She saved my life. I honestly would not be here if it weren't for everything she did for me. Not just her, but her husband too. He could have told her to stop seeing that psycho South African girl but instead he tried include me in everything they did. Since I didn't have a car he would come to pick me up and then drive back to drop me off- they lived in the next town so this was no small journey.
Many things have gone wrong in my life but I really can say that God has blessed me with true lifelong friends- even if they all live in different countries!. I had lost all my faith in God and even in the existence of God after my breakdown and I wondered why I could hear nothing from Him, why had he abandoned me. I now know that I was never alone and I do believe he used Karen to make a difference. She changed my life and I now treat people differently because of her.
The picture up top is of a Willow Tree ornament that I gave Karen on her birthday. The picture below is of the one she gave me before I left (That's my precious Basil in the background). It's called "Angel of Remembrance"
This has been a difficult year for many people all over the world and this Christmas will be sad for very many. I'm going to reveal the materialistic side of me and say that I LOVE presents and the fact that I most likely won't be getting any is a real downer. But in the grander scheme of things I have already received one of the greatest gifts anybody can get: I have been loved unconditionally and even better....I have been able to love in return :).
These ads come out while I was recovering from my breakdown and every time I see them now it puts things into perspective.
