I’m over at Hopeful Parents today. Hoping to be a better mother to my son.
*It’s come to my attention that the HP site is not loading this piece properly. It takes a minute or two but it eventually comes up.
This video was brought to my attention by Laura E. Goodin, Cafe Poet at Yours and Owls a hip little coffee shop in Wollongong. Laura is the coolest. She does cool stuff. She’s a great writer and a great teacher. She rides horses. She’s a martial artist. She’s a smarty mc smarty pants. She’s a mom and a wife. She fences. God only knows what else she does when she’s not doing all those things. Yours and Owls is lucky to have her.
And Mark Grist? The poet in the video above? Well. His dance card is full, for sure.
‘Cause girls who read like guys who like girls who read.
I was listening to a podcast
recently of Rev. Michael Bernard Beckwith’s radio show. He was interviewing Alanis Morissette. I wasn’t really into her when she hit it big in the 90’s. I think the full force of her anger in songs like You Oughta Know scared me. I had plenty of my own anger at the time, (so of course I was repulsed by her’s).
Listening to the podcast, it was evident that Alanis Morissette is a deeply spiritual person. She’s not pretending to be perfect. She’s tapped into all of her emotions and learning from all of them. They shared several songs during the interview. The one above is not new, but it was new to me. I thought it was moving and wanted to share it with you. To me it speaks of Divine love, which is never based on conditions. We never have to be “good enough” for God. The song sounds like a prayer.
“That I Would Be Good”
that I would be good even if I did nothing
that I would be good even if I got the thumbs down
that I would be good if I got and stayed sick
that I would be good even if I gained ten pounds
that I would be fine even if I went bankrupt
that I would be good if I lost my hair and my youth
that I would be great if I was no longer queen
that I would be grand if I was not all knowing
that I would be loved even when I numb myself
that I would be good even when I am overwhelmed
that I would be loved even when I was fuming
that I would be good even if I was clingy
that I would be good even if I lost sanity
that I would be good
whether with or without you
*For more of Rev. Michael Bernard Beckwith’s archived Sound of Transformation radio shows on KPFK 90.7 FM click here. To Live Stream one of his services at the Agape International Spiritual Center click here. For more on Alanis Morissette, click here.
LE ROY, NY TEENS: UPDATE FROM DR. TRIFILETTI
Ramsey, NJ — February 22, 2012 — Rosario Trifiletti, MD issued the following statement today regarding the teens he is treating in Le Roy, NY. National attention was drawn to the plight of the teens when they were suddenly afflicted with uncontrollable bodily movements sometimes described as tics.
“I continue to work with a PANDAS-like diagnosis. The lab work is now complete on all nine of the patients I examined on January 29, 2012 and has shown evidence of infection by
either Streptococcus Pyogenes (the common strep throat bacterium, found in five of nine
patients) or Mycoplasma Pneumonia (a bacteria-like agent that is a common cause of a mild pneumonia-like illness, found in eight of nine patients). Two patients also meet CDC diagnostic criteria for Lyme disease. They are being treated appropriately according to the infectious agents found and are responding to treatment. In my opinion, these objective findings, which would be exceedingly unlikely to occur by chance alone, support my diagnosis of a PANDAS-like illness.
I must remain open to another possibility such as mass psychogenic illness, which can never be supported or refuted by objective findings. However, given the clinical and laboratory data, I find a PANDAS-like illness a very likely medical diagnosis in these children. I hope to see the teenagers again soon, but given that I am doing house calls from some two hundred miles away, it requires extraordinary planning. In the meantime, I remain in close contact with their parents.
To reach Dr. Trifiletti contact:
Telephone: 201-962-7284 Email: email@example.comWebsite: http://www.site.neurokidsr.us
For additional Information about PANDAS:
http://www.nimh.nih.gov/health/publications/pandas/pandas-frequently-asked-questions- about-pediatric-autoimmune-neuropsychiatric-disorders-associated-with-streptococcal- infections.shtml
http://ocfoundation.org/PANDAS http://www.askdrsears.com/topics/childhood-illnesses/ocd http://www.pandasnetwork.org
When Riley was about eight months old, I signed up for a 12 week session of yoga. We were living in Illinois, I knew no one. I needed to get out of the house. I wanted to get back in shape. I had not taken yoga in a couple of years.
One night, a guy named Paul was teaching. He had very gentle energy. The class went well. It was just challenging enough. I was pushed, but not too far. The last several moments of yoga class are usually spent in Savasana, lying flat on your back, arms to your sides, palms up, eyes closed. Total relaxation and surrender. Paul played some music during that night’s Savasana and I’ve been trying to find it ever since. It was acoustic guitar. It sounded almost Native American, but maybe not. The voice was that of a gentle father, filled with love for his child. It was like balm on my soul. Maybe my father never loved me like that, but some fathers do. Fathers can treat their babies as precious. In that moment, I felt paternally loved. I wish I could find that music. I don’t even know what the name of the yoga place was to track Paul down and ask him.
Another night, I was in class. The teacher was a woman, who was very no nonsense. She wasn’t gentle like Paul. She was good though. Just different. During the class as I went into downward dog pose, I was surprised as emotions came bubbling up. I held the pose in silence as tears started to hit my mat. I gulped and managed to keep going. During Savasana this “all business” instructor knelt at my head and with strong gentle hands rubbed China Gel (kind of like Ben-Gay) into the back of my neck. I hadn’t asked her to do so, and did not expect it, but it felt okay.
While driving home that night, I had a complete emotional meltdown. Tears just ripped their way out of me and I had to pull over the car on a dark rural road because I could not drive. When I finally could move, I got back onto the road and crept home, sobbing as I clutched the steering wheel. Letting myself into the apartment, Todd was there on the couch, watching TV. Our eyes met and the tears came again. I could not talk. He feared I’d been in an accident. He didn’t know what was wrong. I climbed onto his lap on the couch and began to sob. Began to wail. It wasn’t even my voice anymore. It was young. It was tiny. I cried harder than I have ever cried before or since. He held me and he let me, and he didn’t even know what was wrong. I didn’t know what was wrong either. I still am not sure what it was all about.
I’d suffered incredible trauma just eight months prior during Riley’s arrival, and was sent home 24 hours later to care for a baby with no follow up, after enduring what anyone would consider torture(epidural didn’t take on one side, felt the surgery). Or maybe it was a lifetime of being Daughter of the Drunk at the Bar.
All I know is I released something huge that night. And maybe that’s why I have only taken yoga sporadically over the years. Maybe I’ve been afraid of emotions that big.
Maybe it’s finally time.
Maybe it’s finally safe.
I’ve had a couple of teary moments at yoga lately. I just keep moving through it. It’s okay. I’m just crying. I can cry and do yoga at the same time. And it’s not always like that. Sometimes yoga is pure joy.
The other night, during our final child’s pose, I heard someone a couple of mats over, quietly weeping.
I said a prayer for her, that she be healed.
May we all be healed.
I took my first yoga class in 1998 as an elective when I was in nursing school. Twice a week, I was mandated to be on a mat, for 1.5 hours. Pure heaven for a stressed out student. I have a chronic shoulder problem. All my stress goes to my right shoulder and it gets all tight and contracted and very painful. I’d tried lots of different things to fix it over the years and nothing helped, but yoga did. I was amazed. If I stop yoga, it comes back, but if I am doing it regularly it keeps the shoulder in check. Since then, I have taken a six week session here, a ten week session there. With months and usually years in between them. I tried doing it at home, but found the distractions of little kids and animals almost impossible to contend with.
Last year I bought a limited pass at the yoga studio I currently go to. The first class I went to was a power yoga class and I made the mistake of thinking I’d just modify the poses and I’d be fine. I wasn’t fine. I was killed. It was hard. This was the teacher. I was so not ready for Parker.
And it’s no wonder I had a hard time motivating myself to get back to the studio after that. It wasn’t until the pass was about to expire that I got my butt to the studio. And in order to use it up, I had to go every other day for a month.
If you have not done yoga in a long time or if you are going to start yoga for the first time, take a beginner class. Take a slow flow class. Take a restorative class. Do yourself a favor and don’t take power yoga, hot. You’re just setting yourself up for failure. You have to build up to the likes of Parker!
But that’s the good thing about this studio. There are classes for every level.
And going every other day! Wow. If you go once a week, it’s like starting over every time. It’s hard. You won’t want to go. Going every other day as much as possible has made a huge difference for me. It’s amazing how quickly the body develops strength and balance when used often. In this 40 Days program, I am doing yoga every day for six days, then off on the 7th. Sometimes it’s only a 1/2 hour at home, but I try to get to the studio as often as possible.
You know what I love about yoga? It’s collective, but it’s also so personal. You are there with a group, and it’s great when the room is breathing in sync, really flowing, but no one gives a rip about where anyone else is at. There are going to be people who are really fit, and there are going to be people who are really not. No one cares. There are people with no flexibility. People who are very flexible. There are athletes. There are pregnant people modifying the poses to fit their needs. There are sexy twenty year-olds. There are ladies who lunch. There are overweight people. There are elderly people,(some fit as fiddles). I am always amazed by the splash of humanity that shows up for any given class. Where else would all of us come together? Nowhere.
To me, it is a victory if I just get there. If I get out the door of my house and make it to the studio, and roll out my mat. I’ve already won. Whatever happens after that is gravy.
Cleveland Yoga has amazing teachers. If you want to be inspired, click here and watch some of their videos. Marni’s and Candy’s videos are really cute. And I love Joanne’s. All of them are great,really.
And guess what folks? One day recently Parker’s was the only class I could fit into my schedule. Fearful, I seriously considered staying home. Like, I could hardly walk for a few days last time! But I went. It was challenging, but I kept up. I could do it! And I’ve only been at it seriously for a few months. (Note: we’re not doing in class what she’s doing in the video).
Yoga. With my sporadic history I hardly feel qualified to be giving advice, but I will anyway.
1) Start slow.
2) Go often.
3) Remember to breathe.
There is a spiritual aspect of yoga. Connecting your body and your breath, you can often find glimpses of God while on your mat. You might even beg for God while holding certain poses!
You might also, after a couple of months, walk up to your husband, flex your butt, and say, “Feel my butt!”
And then bask in his being impressed with it’s new firmness.
Hey, it’s not all about enlightenment.
I got my hair cut yesterday. I got it chopped. Like, it was down mid-back and now it’s not even past my shoulders. I went in, thinking I was getting a trim. And then, right as she was starting to cut, I was all….no, I want something different.
Tonight we had a yoga meal. What’s a yoga meal you say? It’s part of the 40Days workshop. You have to stay in your seat. Whatever you need must be on the table already or you don’t need it. No conversation while chewing. You can have conversation, just not with any food in your mouth. Swallow completely before talking. It’s more challenging than you think. Wait until your food is completely chewed and swallowed before picking up your next bite. No more than two handfuls of food on your plate. Finish those and then wait five minutes before taking any more food. Wait until food is completely digested before eating again.
I have been super wigged out and sad the last several days. I do believe it is because I am not emotionally eating. Great incentive to do a program like this right? You’ll be wigged out and sad! Hurray! But I do feel the sadness lifting. I feel things happening. I cut my hair, a sure indicator of an energy shift! I’m doing yoga everyday (resting on the 7th) and I am noticing my range of motion is greatly improving. I didn’t know I was getting all old and contracted, but I’m feeling very open in my shoulders, noticed particularly when I back the car out of our skinny driveway. Some days I can’t make it to the yoga studio but I practice at home, and shoot for at least twenty minutes. Once I get going, my body tends to ask for more. I wind up doing it for 35-60 minutes. The hardest part is starting.
In class, we start out in child’s pose, and it’s supposed to be restful but that first child’s pose is never restful for me. My hips are so tight. It hurts to “rest” that way. By the end of the class I’m limber, I can melt right into child’s pose. It feels good. I breathe.
I love the rejuvenation classes. I love the slow flow classes. I love the basic classes. I love the “hot” classes. I love having a variety of times and classes to choose from. I love seeing progress. One day I can’t do something and then the next day I can. I love coming home with damp clothes and throwing them down the laundry shoot and taking a wicked hot shower.
The program isn’t about eliminating anything per se. I thought it was going to be like that but it’s not. It’s about being conscious. Knowing yourself better. Making time for yourself. Being more present in the world. Not neglecting yourself.
I think a lot of the sadness, and anger I’ve been feeling is about that. About the neglect. It’s sad when a woman can only muster up enough time to get her hair cut twice a year. It’s sad when she can’t find time to trim, let alone paint her toenails. It’s sad when she’s only had two overnights with her husband in ten years. When she can’t take a shower without a kid coming in to talk her ear off through the curtain. It’s sad when she can’t have an uninterrupted meal or cup of coffee. And sometimes it makes me mad. And then I resist my feelings and pile on the guilt for feeling angry and sad. I have so much! How dare I feel sad or mad.
No clear solutions on how to alleviate my overhwhelm. For now I’ll just keep hitting the mat and see where it takes me.
What is something in your life that you have an attachment to that is somewhat limiting your vitality?
This was our question to ponder at last night’s 40 Days weekly meeting.
Mine is that I am the only person in the world who can give my children what they need at this time, even if it is
killing me somewhat limiting my vitality. I don’t see a clear way out of doing what we are doing presently, but I’m actively considering there might be other ways to live and learn which can work for all of us, including me.
During the twenty-fifth and final season of her epic talk show, Oprah interviewed Whitney Houston. For Whitney, it was a “comeback” type of thing. For the Oprah show, it was a “big get.”
During the interview, Whitney sat there, pretending to be “clean.” And she was so obviously not. I could smell it all the way through my TV screen. Whitney’s ego was running the show. She made fun of Oprah for not knowing “drug-lingo” and as she explained all about “drugs” to Oprah, she almost appeared wistful. Oprah held Whitney’s hand and told her how sad she was that Whitney’d been mistreated by her ex-husband Bobby Brown. They had a moment, and got all teary together.
And then Whitney mentioned that while she was off “drugs” she still has a few drinks at the hotel bar.
There it was.
That was the moment.
And Oprah, expert at calling people out on their shit, said nothing.
Oprah, who does not need Whitney’s approval, or money, or connections or anything but the “big get,” did not need to coddle the addict Whitney Houston. It made me sick. I thought, Oprah, …why are you letting her get away with that? So, Whitney might storm out of the room. The interview might be lost. So what? I could not believe Oprah Winfrey was afraid of confronting her. An addict cannot just casually go have a few drinks.
They continued, and they had Whitney’s teenage daughter stand up and talk about how proud she was of her mom. Puh-lease. That girl had to know her mom was still a mess.
And yes, I don’t know what goes into making an Oprah Winfery show. I don’t know if there was a clause or something where Oprah wasn’t allowed to ask certain questions or go certain places. And I know Oprah didn’t have a thing to do with causing Whitney’s addiction. Knowing Oprah’s benevolence, she’d probably done plenty behind the scenes to try and help her. I have no idea. I love Oprah and think what she has done to uplift the planet is beyond what can be measured.
But from my limited view, she dropped the ball here.
Because when no one calls an addict on their shit, they die.
If everyone, including someone as powerful as Oprah Winfrey was afraid of speaking up to Whitney Houston, what prayer did she have, really? Whitney needed a Gayle.
At a young age, I estranged myself from my father. I said no. I will not have you in my life with your dysfunction. Knowing addiction is an illness, I have often felt guilty for putting up such a severe wall. I had to make a choice, him or me, and I picked me. I’ve often felt like if I were more spiritual, more loving, more forgiving, better somehow, I could swing it…but I couldn’t.
No more thinking like that. Enabling an addict is an act of cowardice, not an act of love. You can forgive someone and understand someone and even love them and tell them NO. I’ll have no part of this.
For every addict out there, there are people enabling them. Perhaps if more people stood up to the addicts in their lives, called them out on their unacceptable behavior, they’d be forced to look at themselves.
So a million reasons went into Whitney Houston’s death. I don’t really blame Oprah, (the person) for what happened to Whitney. But that interview represents for me, all the other times when someone was afraid to speak the truth to an addict. That interview to me, represents how addicts get away with continuing to use, and why they die.
Seth had his third IVIG infusion today and it went well. Todd made sure to get the morning off so he was there for moral support. We went at a slower rate, and even had to slow that down when I noted Seth getting antsy (which was the first sign he was having a problem last time). As soon as they lowered the rate, he was fine. He’s a little trooper and so is his sister who sat there in the tiny room for the four hours it took. (She has her iPod and snacks so it isn’t exactly torture, but it’s a long time to sit).
I am exhausted and didn’t realize how much I was “holding” as in energy, as in worry, as in the weight of the world, until after it was over and I knew he was safe. Presently, I feel like I could nap for a week. Thank you for keeping him in your thoughts and prayers.
My 40 Days program. Let’s see. They want you to keep a food diary and what I’ve discovered is I mostly eat scraps. I make the kids a meal and eat what they don’t. I rarely have a nice, present, sit down, calm meal. I am so burned out from cooking. For so many years I had to make every little morsel from scratch. And as the mom, I sit down at the table and someone needs this, and someone needs that, and someone needs to be told to chew with their mouth shut, again, and someone spills something and it is never really relaxing for me. I hate being interrupted a bunch of times while I’m eating. And HT’s schedule is so all over the place, he’s not home for dinner half the time, and Seth doesn’t like anything and dinner has become this thankless, stressful obligation, so I slap it on the table like a short order cook and eat “what’s left.”
Kind of horrid if I really think about it. I want to teach my kids to be present when they eat. I want to have lovely conversations at dinner. Is that just a Norman Rockwell pipe dream? Does anyone really do that? What I often am at dinner is annoyed. And whooped. And so I’d rather just not bother. I don’t like eating when I’m irritated (unless it’s chocolate ice cream…then full throttle baby). Or I eat late with Todd, right before bed, nachos, buttered popcorn, etc.) and there’s a bad idea for you.
So I’m thinking I have to be the grown up here, and set the tone. Involve the kids more in dinner prep. Make a prettier presentation. Let them “get” for themselves so I’m not up and down during meals. And most definitely not wait for the man of the house to be home to feed myself. I need to treat myself with as much care as I would dear friend.
Would I ever have Amy or Melinda over and offer them the scraps of leftover mac & cheese from the kids’ dinner plates? Or maybe give em’ a spoon and let them have at it right out of the pan, standing in the kitchen? Or serve them the crusts off a kid’s sandwich? Or give them a half eaten yogurt? Or a half eaten bowl of cereal?
I would not.
You know why?
Scraps are for hogs. And compost heaps. Not friends. I need to be more of a friend to myself.
I am not a hog or a compost heap.
That might be my new mantra.
Say it with me.
This is how it happens to me. I have an inkling. Some little voice, tapping at me. Do it. I try to talk myself out of it. A million reasons why it isn’t “the time.” Then I find myself on a mountain in Colorado taking a writing workshop for a week, no electricity, no phone. That was almost nine years ago and I have not stopped writing since.
So… I’ve been courting the idea of taking the 40 Days to Personal Revolution program at the yoga studio I attend. I know hardly anything about it. I think you’re supposed to cut out caffeine and sugar (shoot me now) and some other things. You are supposed to be more mindful. Yoga and meditation are involved. I bought the book a couple of months back. Skimmed it lightly. Set it down. It sat there on the night stand, under a pile of other books.
The thought would come to me, and I’d dismiss it. I could not justify the cost of the program, on top of the payment I am making for monthly unlimited yoga. (Back in November, I decided I was really ready to commit after taking yoga sporadically for years).
Then, last night, just a couple of hours before the 40 Days program was to start, I got an email, and it said, with monthly unlimited membership, the workshop is free.
So there I was last night sitting in a group of roughly 30-40 people, about to begin my “personal revolution.”
This should be interesting.
There is still time to get the woman in your life beautiful affordable jewelry from artist/designer Zoey March before Valentine’s Day. Zoey is a dear friend of mine from my DC days.
But you should only order her jewelry if your true-love likes words. Or music. Or both. Only if she cares deeply about her world. Only if she’s kind of cool, in a nerdy/artsy sort of way. Or if she’s a “brainy blonde.” Or if she’s an “evil genius” or a “story teller.” Or if she has a thing for owls.
The courageous, the wild, the free…there will definitely be something for them to love at Zoey’s Etsy shop.
She’s even got a few pieces for dudes.
Zoey March. Meaningful Jewelry.
You can order all the way through next week.
Even if, especially if, your Valentine is yourself.
Since Seth’s bad reaction to his IVIG I have tried to get in contact with the doctor who ordered it. He was not there the day of the reaction. Another doctor was on call. I wanted to make sure he knew about it, and I wanted some reassurance about running the IV at a slower rate next time, and of course, I wanted to ask him about the Phenergan IV push in case, God forbid, his nurses were running it in like that without his knowledge. He didn’t return my phone message. He didn’t acknowledge my email. We have another infusion scheduled for next week, so I called again yesterday. The nurse said he’d probably want us to come in to talk to him. He doesn’t talk on the phone.
“My child doesn’t need to be examined. I need to talk to the doctor,” I said, incredulously. For God’s sake. Riley’s orthodontist called the night she got her braces to see how she was doing. Seth has a severe reaction to an infusion and this guy doesn’t even bother to follow up? And wants us to pay for an office visit to talk to him about it? Hell no.
Somehow the nurse convinced him to come to the phone. The following is my remembrance of the conversation:
Me: I’m very disappointed that you never got back to me after Seth’s last infusion.
Him: I’m very busy. I get hundreds of calls per day. I can’t get back to everyone. I’ve got people coming from all over the country. We’re the only ones doing this for miles. I’ve got people coming all the way from Kentucky to see me. I try to get back to as many as a I can, but I can’t get back to everyone. In twenty years of doing IVIG, I’ve never seen a reaction like this. Never the vomiting and explosive (paraphrased, he said some medical term for explosive liquid) diarrhea.
Me: All the more reason to follow up with the parents, if his reaction was so rare.
Him: I think we have to consider the possibility it was the flu.
Me: He was fine before the infusion. He was back to his old self within an hour of being home. He was fine until the rate of his IV was increased. He got better as soon as it was decreased. He did not have the flu.
Him: It’s just that we’ve never seen this kind of reaction. He may not be able to continue with the infusions.
I got the distinct feeling he didn’t want to continue with me.
Me: But we were able to finish the infusion. Once the rate was reduced, we finished it and he did fine. I want to make sure that his next infusion is run at the slowest rate.
Him: Yes, we can keep it at a slow rate. And I can order Zofran (the anti-nausea med I requested last time, but didn’t get, and instead Seth got Phenergan IV push).
Me: So let’s address the Phenergan issue.
Did he really order it IV push, or is his nurse giving it the wrong way?
Him: We’ve always given Phenergan IV push. We’ve been doing it that way for twenty years.
Me: But it’s no longer standard practice. A quick Google search will show you a bunch of class action lawsuits. They don’t do it like that in the hospitals anymore. My husband is a hospital pharmacist and he says it’s not been given that route in at least ten years.
Has he really done no continuing education?
Him: We’ve always done it that way and have never had any problems.
Me: If you have never had any problems with giving Phenergan IV push, then you’ve been lucky, and you are playing Russian Roulette.
Him: We’ve always done it that way and have never had a problem.
He apparently has no intention of doing it any differently.
Him: If you don’t feel comfortable with our practice, then maybe you need to go somewhere else.
Me: But you just told me you are the only game in town. Where else would you suggest we go?
Him: I’m just saying, if you aren’t comfortable with us, maybe it isn’t the right fit.
Me: Are you saying you don’t want to treat my son because I am questioning you?
Him: No, I’m not saying that.
Me: I’m not trying to be difficult, I’m trying to help you. I’m trying to help your patients by bringing to your attention what can happen if you give Phenergan IV push. GRAPHIC PICTURES MAKE SURE YOU HAVE THE STOMACH BEFORE YOU CLICK.
I want to make sure if we come for Seth’s infusion next week, that the rate will be slow, and he will get Zofran, rather than Phenergan.
Him: Yes, we can do that, but we’ll have to order it. We don’t carry Zofran typically.
Me: Okay. Order it.
We left it that we would be coming, but I’m not sure. Todd thinks we should not deny Seth this opportunity to heal. It takes three or four infusions before benefits are typically seen and Seth’s been really suffering. Todd made sure he took the day off so both of us can be there to supervise and monitor Seth. He wants to just use this place for what we need it for. We’ll keep an eye on the rate and the medications ourselves.
I don’t know. My confidence in them is lost. If Seth has another reaction, or God forbid anaphylaxis or something like that, do I trust them to save my child? It’s not in a hospital. It’s at a doctor’s office. It’s not like they can just zip him down the hall to the ER.
I feel the weight of the world on my shoulders. I am sick of being forced to make such weighty decisions. Sick of my child being sick. Sick of big ego doctors and healers and therapists and no one having a freaking clue. With few exceptions they all think they are the “answer” except there has been no answer. Seth’s incontinent. He can’t sleep. He’s too scared to go upstairs to the bathroom in our house anymore, unless someone comes with him. And the tics. The endless tics. His ribs hurt. His jaw hurts. His vocal tic is non-stop.
And while I am sick of them not knowing, I can accept it. We don’t know what we don’t know.
It’s the arrogance that gets to me.
* Professional guitarist, Diana Levine lost an arm after being given phenergan IV push.
You kind of have to do it to really understand it. Basically you can take whatever images appeal to you and post them to different boards(of your creation), and categorize the boards anyway you want, and create really cool and inspiring collections. You can lift just about any image off the Internet to do it, and it links back to the site, thus crediting the source and driving traffic their way.
I’m new to it. Just joined last week, but I am loving it. To me it is one big vision board. One big pretty place, where people pin their dreams. It’s heavenly.
According to Law of Attraction, you get what you focus on. So if you are focusing on the pain and suffering of the world, you are creating more of it. Not to say you shouldn’t note the world’s dark side, and help in whatever way you can, but often we don’t. Often, we just wallow in the pain part and worry about the awful, thus creating more of it.
Pinterest is a place to focus on what pleases you.
It’s a little nook where it is okay to dream. And you get to glimpse at and be inspired by other people’s dreams. And it just keeps expanding and expanding and expanding.
And did I mention it’s pretty?
It is. So, pretty.
I love that people are pinning, dreaming beautiful dreams. Focusing on what interests them. I love the idea of a never ending vision board. I love all those hearts singing.
*Photo I pinned on the “Beautiful World” board I created, on Pinterest. Seth on the beach in Playa del Carmen. Happy, happy.
He’s intelligent. He’s elegant.
In my book he 100% cancels out Jersey Shore.
Civil rights. They’re for everyone.