How Can I Convince Them?

I spend YEARS of my life trying to convince someone that they were wrong about me.

It was someone determined to believe what he wanted to believe. Reality, truth, emotion, evidence. NOTHING convinced him otherwise and, worse, he spread stories and his opinion about me far and wide. To this day, I still feel it in some people when I interact with them. There is very little I can to do change it.

Why am I talking about this?
Because I see it on Facebook all of the time.

HOW can I convince my loved one to see that BL really do M?
What can I say to explain to my loved one how horrible the current president and his administration are?

Good people are constantly looking for the perfect words and phrases to convince their loved ones of fundamental humanist beliefs, of the belief in the goodness of all people.

So what are those words?
I'm sorry, but the answer is there are no special words.

There is nothing you can say.
These people aren't lacking in evidence; they are lacking in desire to believe what you believe or know to be true.
That is racism and that is a choice.

Do not be dismayed by the brokenness of the world.
All things break. And all things can be mended.
Not with time, as they say, but with intention.
So go. Love intentionally, extravagantly, unconditionally.
The broken world waits in darkness for the light that is you.
~L.R. Knost

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Pink Ribbon

So, I've been wondering about Social Media and how to manage your life on it. It's so weird. TMI, TLI? I don't know.

So, I decided to just share my stuff, the stuff going on because it makes sense to and because I care about my friends and family and I think they would care. I hate being the person who is the last to know...

Three weeks ago I was diagnosed with breast cancer, the good kind, IDC with no lymph node involvement, stage 1. If you Google it you will see that this form of cancer is highly-treatable and with good prognosis.

So I'm very optimistic about it.

I had a lumpectomy this week and I'll be getting radiation treatments for a couple of weeks, starting in about a month.

SO, I'm now status-post lumpectomy, some minor pain and discomfort, but mostly fine!

Geez, would you tell everybody like this? I have NO idea!

Grief and Eddie

Tonight I'm grieving Eddie Vedder.
Not because he died, he's still here!
I'm grieving him because I just discovered him!

I wasn't into Grunge in the 90s; I'm not really into it now. But I do remember just ignoring so much of the new music coming out because I was just too busy to pay it any mind. I was in graduate school in the 90s, then getting married, then mother to a newborn. I really didn't have any extra attention to pay. Besides, I was still rocking out to the 70s tunes.  🤣
Not really. I wasn't listening to much music at all. I mean, all I had was the radio and CD player...so when I think of music at that time, all I actually remember playing alot of was a favorite Kenny Loggins CD.

In the past couple of years I've also been exploring different movie genre', book genre', authors, art, all kind of interesting cultural experiences. I feel like the world is a smorgasbord and it's music time.

Anyway, so the other night I was just messing around on youtube listening to a variety of music. Lately I'm enjoying exploring other genres of music that I have never given time to. I guess I'm a bit bored with my own favorites. Though how one can be bored of Kenny and Luther after only thirty years of nonstop listening, I don't know.

So I was messing around and I kept thinking to myself, DANG, my memory stinks. Who is that one band that I keep meaning to give a listen to?  For several days in a row I tried to remember but just could not. Luckily, my son reminded me, it was Pearl Jam. I was listening to our local rock station KSHE a week or so ago when a song came on that had me quickly Shazamming the thing. It was Black by Pearl Jam.

Yeah. That one.
The lyrics, Man!

So, anyway, long story short, I pulled up some Pearl Jam last night and got lost in their songs, and, eventually, in everything by Eddie Vedder. Dude, I love him.

YES, he's hawt.
But he's SO COOL and so interesting and so real. I love his voice and his lyrics and his career. I listened to several songs he sang with other big singers and just...fangirled.

Then I started feeling super sorry for myself for not being mad for the guy for the last, what, thirty years? 🤣  I'm so late to the game!!! So, now, I'll be giving him his due. I plan on listening to everything: concerts, covers, interviews, covers, everything! And, certainly, looking at every possible image of this gorgeous dude. Fergoodnesssake! I didn't know!!!!!

So, if you've been awake these past few decades, I'm jealous. I've been missing so much great stuff...I wonder what else is out there???

Any suggestions? Send me your playlist! But, Girl, make it as amazing as EV!

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I'm Sensitive

You're too sensitive.
If I've heard it once, I've heard it, literally, a thousand times. Someone notices that my feelings have been hurt by something they've said or done so they shake their head, little frown, and say Aw, tip of the head, you're so sensitive.

I have spent a good deal of my life apologizing for being sensitive. I've had people minimize their own rudeness/unkindness by simply thinking it is my sensitivity that is the problem and not their own rudeness or their boorishness or their bull-in-a-china-shop-...ness.

This has been an ongoing and constant issue for me.

So I've been quite ashamed of that part of me for years. But no more and never again.

The truth is, I am. I'm sensitive.

It's a huge part of who I am.

I own it and I'm grateful to it because it makes me the kind of person that I am proud to be. So I don't just accept that part of me, I celebrate it.

If this describes you too, take heart.

* I know I post about this issue alot...it's a thing for me...

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Pornography

Here's another grey area for you.

Actually, maybe it's not so grey after all...

When I was growing up, my dad has pornography in the house. On the walls. In the closets. Sitting out. In the john, of course.

This was a house with one young boy and three young girls. This was a house where Mom left (GEE, Wonder why? ) and the kids were raised by this man. This man who thought it was OK to have pictures of nude women hanging around, who thought it was OK to have pornography (not the classy kind) just sitting around, accessible to these young minds.

Yep. I looked at it.
Yep. I was affected by it.

This morning I was thinking about what I thought about it all of those years ago and how I was affected by it. How I am, in fact, still affected by it. Let's start with a thing that happened when I was in the second grade.

I was in my second grade class, talking to some boys. They mentioned naked women and I said, "I can show you lots of naked women!" So we organized a trip to walk over to my house (literally 100 steps from the classroom door) so that these boys could see the naked pictures. I remember it being at least two boys (Tom an Michael), but I know that there was at least one other boy. We walked over to my house and into the garage. I turned on the lights/ the boys eyes lit up! The walls were covered with pictures. I felt kind of proud, kind of knowing, kind of generous. That is, until Mom came out and scooted us out of the garage. Until that moment I had no idea that it was a shameful thing or that there was something untoward about having naked pictures on the wall. To me, that was normal.

When I first became curious about the books and magazines around the house, I guess I was pretty young, in elementary school. Somewhere I ran across this old black and white dirty magazine of sorts. While most of Dad's pornography was of young women, this thing had an image of a naked dude standing there with a huge penis. As a kid I remember looking at that picture and feeling horrified at that hideous thing. I kept that picture hidden for months just so I could look at it with disgust.

As I got older, the message was always something like "Women are either virgins or whores." So any sexual activity, regardless of how freaking normal that is, was viewed as being a whore, being sinful, being unlovable. In fact, as soon as my sex life became common knowledge in the family (thanks to my brother reading my diary when I was 16 or 17...), my dad moved about fifty miles from me emotionally. From that moment forward, he never acted loving toward me again, and he died almost forty years later...

Imagine that weird dichotomy. Pornography all over the place, but we're not supposed to be sexual or to have sexual experiences. I was effed up about that one for decades...
What's normal? What's real? What's healthy?
All of these issues have reared their ugly heads because of the normalcy of pornography in my life.

Anyway, more stuff in my teens...somehow my boyfriends were from very conservative families, resulting in mothers hating me. Whore.
Yep.

And the pornography?
Somehow it gave me a weird, fucked up vision of women, of femininity, of sexuality. Using and enjoying pornography doesn't bother me. Use it if you like. Be in it, if you choose to. Enjoy it. Just use your integrity...your principles.

And, forgoodnessake, keep it off of your walls!

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The Perks of Being 55

Last year I turned 55, the same number of the 1974 National Speed Limit Law*. I remember when that happened...it was crazy big news in 1974.

Anyway, I'm 55. As in Years Old.
Man, that's weird.

Inside, I often feel waaaay young. I think most of us feel this way, super young and vital and ingenue...until we walk past a large picture window... At the same time I feel 55. Totally 55. In fact, I think I've felt like I was 55 inside for most of my life.
Weird, huh?

I actually think I've felt 55 inside for decades, but I didn't know it until I turned 55. I've been a very responsible person for most of my life and I've been super-adulty since I was twelve years old, the year my parents split up. I mean, really, about the only reason a young person "acts adult" is because their adult person or people aren't doing their jobs. That was me.


And this is me.
I'm 55 and I love it.
It's so much more than AARP and senior discounts. 

• I feel completely and authentically myself now.
  I feel so much more personally powerful than ever before.
• I'm far more trusting of my instincts and ideas.
• I'm healthier than I've been in years.
• I get to be a grandmother.
• I'm married to a gorgeous guy.
  (For 24 years now!)
• I'm participating in volunteer work that I love.
• I love my job.
• I feel no need to apologize for ANYTHING I have chosen.
• Or explain.
• I'm better able to stand up for myself and for my needs.
• I have confidence in my abilities.
• I'm super, super completely happy.

I'm 55 and I love it.

* The National Speed Limit Law was repealed in 1995.

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Weird and Honest: Death

When you lose someone in your life, in addition to entering into the so-called grief cycle, you also enter into a complete cover-up culture of your own thoughts and feelings. Let me explain what I mean, because, as usual, I have had to come to this awareness slowly... 

But first, please read the cautionary comment below.

 And please, be aware, this blog post might trigger you 

if you are in a place of grief...

yet it is a freeing post for me 

because I plan on being entirely transparent 

in my usual TMI, weird, awkward, honest way.

OK, let's first start with the so-called Grief Cycle. 
Look, I'm a huge fan of Kubler-Ross. I think she was brilliant. I've probably read far more K-R than most people have simply because of my field of study and because of my own interest. Her book On Death and Dying was a landmark book at the time because it, first, looked at an almost taboo subject, death, it also sought out to normalize what is, in fact, normal. I'm sure you have at least a passing knowledge of the stages of grief.

Her five stages of grief (denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance) are pretty universally accepted, though some offer criticism of these stages that the stages are not universal and, in fact, have no empirical evidence to support the theory. But most people, lay people and human behavior researchers alike, can acknowledge that the stages are very relatable. From the loss to death of a loved one, to one's own journey toward an expected death, to losses of all kinds, like moving from place to place, major breaks ups, loss of personal reputation, to loss of important objects, etc, the stages of loss tend to look pretty similar.

Other critics of K-R's Stages of Grief Theory simply suggest that the so-called stages are undefined and fluid and, therefore, not useful. The critics also remind us that the tasks of grief are never really behind us, as the concept of a stage might suggest, but remain ongoing in our lives for most loss. On other hand, their usefulness as predictive points of grief cannot be denied and have been a real comfort to me.

Before and After

Second, and I'll be brief here, the idea that the grieving process actually leads to a place, a place of new meaning, seems counter to my own experiences. Many losses really have no meaning. We each might have to move toward a new reality or understanding of ourselves in the world, but the idea that loss actually has intrinsic meaning...let's just say that I'm skeptical about this one.

Kudos to you if you have found new meaning. But please understand that that new meaning is not the purpose or the point of our loss; it is our own need to move forward into our continuing life without our lost person, object, or personal loss.  That idea of before and after a loss or major life-changing struggle. We do have to move forward, right?

So there's that, the fact that our grieving is never really over, never really past, never really apart from ourselves...but my next point is the real crux of this post, so beware. Be. Ware.

Ever since my parents' deaths, one of the thoughts that I have had in my head, in spite of trying very hard to push the thoughts away, is the propensity to imagine the actual physical stages of decomposition of my parents' bodies. In their metal, hot caskets. Under the ground. 

I know.
How can I actually say this one out loud?
I've given it alot ALOT of thought and I actually think that MOST people must have thoughts like this, but they do every single, solitary thing they can to push the thoughts out of their heads...I simply refuse to do that anymore. I acknowledge that I have obsessed about this because I've tried hard to push the thoughts out of my mind. I have looked on line for stages of decomposition of a body over time because I needed to know...for some reason.

Don't, DO NOT Google this subject unless you think you can handle the truth. The truth: the body decomposes in a very predictable, normal way. There are images of these stages of decomposition... No supernatural stuff. No fear. Nothing unnatural. Just the complete natural aspect of nature: non-living tissue breaks down into smaller and smaller particles until those particles disperse and become a part of the natural world around them.

And, actually, writing that just gave me sincere comfort because I'm pretty sure I'm not the only one. I'll bet more people experience these thoughts but are CERTAIN that they are weird or alone in this. When, in fact, why wouldn't we think of this? Right?

I'm sorry, I simply can't not say it and, as I was thinking about it again today, I decided to simply OUT myself as human. I'm sharing with you a thing that I've pushed out and pushed away and tried to eradicate from my thoughts for years now...with no success. The thoughts are still there and, this is key, I honestly think we all struggle with this part of our mortality. With the physical part of our own death which, of course, leads directly to decomposition.

But what a taboo thing to write, say, THINK.
It's dark but it's real.
And, here we are and I'm feeling a bit calmer now simply calling this out, simply writing the thing that has consumed so much energy to avoid thinking about...WOW. 

A glass thing
with ashes

And so, with this in mind, I've talked to my husband and kids and I've told them that I do not want to be buried. I don't want them to have these disturbing images in their heads as I have had...you know, the very real and predictable stages of decomposition. Sorry, you do know... Anyway, I told them that I wish to be cremated and to have my ashes either put into a cool glass thing or spread somewhere that means something to each person. It's their choice and they will have to live with it.

I THINK this will prevent each of them from having the potential gruesome thoughts that I, myself, have fought for so long...

What do you think?

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Mid-August Gratitude List

I've been having a non-relaxing summer as I really dig into my new job and to all of the learning that I'm doing to get up to speed. 

I have to admit that I'm not the strongest person, I'm not that person who has unlimited back bone, and I'm not that person who has large reserves of grit. No, I must admit that I can only take so much challenge before having to stop and take a rest. 

I'm at that spot.
This week I've had a day or two of mental exhaustion from actually doing what I love to do. Which brings me to the part where I have to lay out some things for which I am extremely grateful.

Beginning with a HUGE #1: My Husband.
I was having a very rough day, lots of feels, lots of exhaustion the other day. Lots of self doubt. And there he was. Fresh and ready to support me with every bit of energy and every bit of time I needed.
When I asked him if he would support me if I wanted to quit work, without a second's pause, he looked me deep in the eyes and replied YES.
I don't want to quit and I have no plans to quit, but his total and complete support of me was a balm to my heart and mind.
I'll never forget that moment.

#2 - My kids.
I know I talk about them nonstop, but the truth is, they are my very heart. With my struggles and challenges, they are both there, solid, and supportive. No mom to cook, clean, hug on a daily basis and these two have stepped up and I SO appreciate it.
I needed to know that they could do that.

#3 - Melatonin.
I have a lifelong issue with sleeping at night.
I don't do it, sleep at night, it's not a thing I do.
And, you know, if you have a job in the day time, it's better to sleep at night. (I'm pretty sure that this issue is a huge part of my difficulties this month.) Melatonin isn't fixing anything in the long run, but it's taking a small bit of the pressure off of me and helping me to function on a daily basis.

#4 - My Heart and Mind
This job uses every single bit of me on most days. The good thing is that I have a good heart and a good mind and they serve me well. I've learned so much and I'm getting so much of the information organized in my head. I enjoy this job and I'm glad I have the chance to have it. And my heart and my mind? I'm grateful for them.
They're rare and fine, and I know it.

So, Thank you, Life.
Thank you for the beautiful people.

What are you thankful for?

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Go Smoke

Years ago, when the ground was still hot from all of the volcanoes and tectonic plate shifts, in my twenties, I remember this one time when I was feeling quite lonely, quite introspective, quite different. I was at the park near my house during a winter month while I was just thinking and feeling down and recognizing how I would probably never discover people who could or would appreciate or understand the way I move through the world.

In the mid-80s, I was standing near a tree, just looking out at the pond thinking to myself Dang, I wish I was a smoker; that might make it more understandable why I'm standing alone in the park on a day like this, because it wasn't just OK to be standing alone in the park on a cold day solely because I was lonely and deep in my musings. I even took a picture of myself that day, using a tripod, because taking a selfie wasn't a thing...for over two decades!

When I think of that blurry picture, I see myself standing there in a black-blue second-hand pea coat, face away from the camera, icy weather. I remember the thought I wish I was a smoker. I remember the beauty of the quiet of the day. I remember the perceived stigma of being there alone, with no witnesses whatsoever to my shame.

Being a deeply introspective person, a person deeply observant, deeply over-thinking, during my twenties, I was exquisitely aware of the uniqueness of my self. I knew I was not understandable. I knew I was too observant and too honest and too too and that knowledge was miserable to me.
I knew I was annoying to those around me who could not appreciate my own struggle with all of this.

Fast forward a couple of dozen years and I still, sometimes, wish I could just say that I'm going to go smoke, and then, just peacefully, solitarily breathe in the toxins inside of my little smoky cocoon outside the restaurant while the rest of the world spins on.

If you go smoke, you get to escape from the stress, from the interactions, from the unsaid, from the undercurrents, from the unspoken, from the connections, from the vibes, from your own reverie, from the intensity, from the overwhelm, from the immersion of so many keen impressions, hidden. 

The need to sometimes escape it, yet yearning for, requiring authenticity and depth...

I don't recommend this, by the way, being this type of person. It's painful. The absolute need for authenticity is exhausting.
Seeing underneath communication.
Seeing the motivations of others, whether I'm always correct or not, whether I'm seriously in error of these perceptions or not (which is not uncommon), the mind operates on several different levels at the same time. The realness in communication. The truths. Can't avoid it.
All of these qualities can really annoy people.

Sometimes, still, I think it would be a relief to just...go smoke.

.Your thoughts?.

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Peace and Compassion

I tend to take things personally - that is, until I finally begin to see that someone else's behavior actually has nothing Nothing NOTHING to do with me. 

This behavior (of taking things personally) probably began as a young girl with my sensitivity to the emotions of those around me and of the other external factors that influenced me as well. Most likely I learned to be self-critical and other-compassionate pretty early in life...because it's been one of those battles that I struggle with pretty often, as it turns out.

It would be one thing if this propensity only hurt me. Which it does. But I have also hurt other people with it. I remember years ago feeling that internal pain and confusion and other more physical expressions of the emotions about a friend of mine who, in my mind, was behaving in a certain way toward me. By the time I figured out that her stuff was, in no way, about me, I had really damaged that friendship.

This month I've been relearning this.
Again.

Some things have been feeling personally hurtful (sorry for the vague blogging) and, again, after about a month of dealing with it badly, I, again, realize that it's time to learn that lesson again, the one where other people's issues aren't about ME. I have to be vague about it because it's the right thing to do as it's not my issue, but believe me when I tell you that I need to post this particular meme on my wall or something. It sure makes me tend to damage things by accident...things that are already fragile, fractured, or simply burgeoning.

And so, as I learn this lesson yet again, join me in learning that when you finally learn that a person's behavior has more to do with their own internal struggles than they ever did with you, you learn peace and compassion.

And it changes everything.

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You Don't Comment...

It's a funny thing, being a blogger.
As a blogger you have this awareness that you are writing mostly for yourself, but every so often you are reminded, I am reminded, that there is an active readership out there, reading my stuff.

I've been blogging for about nine years now and my awareness of the readership goes in and out. Mostly because you guys are so quiet. I'm pretty sure that people drop in and drop out following clip art and such, and, of course, that's OK. It's a blog for goodnesssake. 

And I'm perfectly capable of sustaining my own motivation for blogging and for regular postings and, just, for creating content that is readable and relatable and maybe a little bit provocative. I do think of my writing as a thing that I do for myself too...IOW.

The thing about a blog, though, is that it is an oddly intimate, so I'm going to share this little secret about myself with you.

• I like hearing from you.
  I do.
  Your voice matters to me and, in a way, if you are are here, we are one-way confidants, you know? And I prefer two-way.
  I guess that's my problem though.  ☺️

Anyway, I like comments. I like communication.
I like quality over quantity.

But if I'm not earning it, I'm not, I get that.
🤔  Hmmmmmm, your input is welcome.
This post isn't about guilt tripping anybody and it's only a little bit about begging. It's actually more looking for feedback. 

Maybe I'm not offering enough to read? Maybe my content isn't gutsy, provocative, inspirational, authentic, unique, or readable enough. In that case, I'd appreciate hearing that. I don't know what I'd change, but I would love your feedback.

Thanks for your time.
You don't comment...and that's OK.  😊

Please Share This Post With Your Frends.

LOL, JK! 

😄 

I Couldn't be a Millionaire or a Billionaire

If there is one thing I don't understand as I read the news these days, it is the upper crust, the top 1% of people who have insane and savage amounts of cash. I simply don't get that. Surely there is some mental illness label for people like this, people who can hold onto obscene amounts of money, who even collect and desire more, at a time when so many humans have such need.

I simply could not be a millionaire or a billionaire, because I couldn't keep that money. I COULDN'T be a millionaire. I already give away far too much money. My poor husband is always having to add large sums to the GIFT$ section of our budget. I cannot help it; I get far better feelings giving it away than I ever did having it. I know this for I have done it again and again...

I cannot fathom how a human being can have reserved cash when other human beings are homeless, in need, unable to pay for necessities, kids with needs, humans living in poverty, entire countries struggling, incredibly worthy opportunities to support research or cool projects, investment in people and ideas, and on and on. I have about two dozen friends who could each use a million dollars or more. I know of about a dozen very worthy groups who do amazing good in their communities who could use another million. I know of entire cities who need essentials such as clean water, electricity, safe and adequate schools, health care, services for veterans, civic projects, humans of all age who could use my billions. 

No, if I was a millionaire or a billionaire today, tomorrow I would not be. 
And I would be happy.

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Genetic Testing - 23 & Me

A bunch of years ago my friend Judi sent her saliva to get the genetic testing thing done and she kept urging me to get my testing done. 
At the time I wasn't very interested, though 
I understood her excitement about the ability to gain knowledge of ourselves. Recently I decided that the time was right.

I sent my saliva sample to 23andme about six weeks ago. I was surprisingly excited to get my results, after all of these years. Well, they finally arrived. Today. YAY.  😀

In my family, a little on both sides, there is some belief in an Italian background. And Swiss, tons of Swiss. But generally we expected German. Forever back, German. It turns out that some of that is correct and some of that is incorrect. Here's the breakdown:

Not a bit of Italian in the bunch and lots more Irish than I thought, or ever even considered. It's a rather unremarkable ancestry, all things considered. Also, I would venture to say that nearly everyone in my hometown has an ancestry that would break down nearly the same.  😄  Unremarkable. In fact, in my own composition, there is nothing at all except for German until one goes back to at least the early 1800s. 
Ja, Freunde, ich bin eine Deutsch madchen.

Along with the ancestry composition, the genetic testing results from 
23 and Me include quite a lot of other interesting information. I doubt much of it is interesting to you, Dear Reader, Sehr Geehrter Leser, except to know exactly what type of results are available through this particular company, and I'm delighted, erfreut, to share that with you. The only thing that really and truly surprised me about my own results is the part telling me that I'm highly unlikely to experience any dementia or Alzheimer's because it was not detected in my genes...I fully expected to get that because of my ridiculously bad memory and recall. Anyway...

The results came to me today by email, six weeks after sending in my spit. I've been clicking on many links and boxes and getting more and more information on myself. The results have lots of explanation as well as lots of disclaimers. 
The explanations are very clear and useful. 
Here is a list of a few basics bits of that information that is available with the emailed results. Each item listed here has an explanation of the characteristic as well as if the characteristic was detected. Lots more comprehensive information is available on their website to help understand results, though no result is considered a diagnosis. I'm including this entire list in case you are looking for something specific:

I found most of that interesting to read about. The results include a multitude of fascinating links to keep me busy reading for days!

I also enjoyed reading about how my long, long ago ancestors spread across the European continent, as well as some information on the family of African mother and I, Afrikanische Mutter und ich, and, indeed, most of us, came from. Here is an example. This map shows the movement of my ancestors, a very short trip, it seems to me, for such a long period of time, over 160,000 years! The L, L3, N, R, and H groups are all traceable and knowable lineages. My results included information on the movement of these distant ancestors. Here are two enticing and intriguing nibbles of information that came with this map:

Haplogroup L

180,000 Years Ago If every person living today could trace his or her maternal line back over thousands of generations, all of our lines would meet at a single woman who lived in eastern Africa between 150,000 and 200,000 years ago. Though she was one of perhaps thousands of women alive at the time, only the diverse branches of her haplogroup have survived to today. The story of your maternal line begins with her.

and

Though haplogroup H1 rarely reaches high frequencies beyond western Europe, over 60% of eastern Tuareg in Libya belong to haplogroup H1. The Tuareg call themselves the Imazghan, meaning “free people.” They are an isolated, semi-nomadic people who inhabit the West-Central Sahara and are known today for a distinctive dark blue turban worn by the men, and for their long history as gatekeepers of the desert.

I'm still processing lots of the information and will continue to do so. I have to say that while I'm very excited about having this information, there are a few things I was hoping to find out more about. Like cancer. I seem to have some of that in the family. Maybe a few other more common disorders and abilities as well. But WOW, I'm excited about what I have to read and research and, for now, zur zeit, I'll keep following links and using this information as the perfect distraction from my bad back...

If you have had your DNA testing done, or if you have any questions at all, please let me know! I'd love to hear from you.

 
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My Writing Group and Writing Prompts

One of my favorite things is a little writing group that I started a year or so ago. We meet weekly, as long as all conditions are right, at a local coffee shop across the street from a beloved friend that we all secretly hope joins us.  💓 Most of what we do is, using prompts from books, websites, or of our own creation, from all over the place, and write for three to ten minutes. Then, if we wish, we read our writing to each other, pause with love for one another, and move along.

Our writing often prompts wonderful conversations full of emotion, love, and connection. It's truly a beautiful thing, with a side order of iced tea and brownies.

With the love of this writing group, I've decided to add my suggestions for some excellent writing prompts. All around the internet you can find website with dozens of memoir writing prompts, most copy from one another. Each of these personal narrative prompts is from my own head. Enjoy:

• Which of your parents are you the most like? How. Describe your similarities and differences.
• Describe the relationship that you consider the one you call your "first love". Does it affect you in any way today? Are you still on contact with that person?
• Write about a fashion trend that you can't get on board with.
• Are you an introvert or an extrovert? Write pros and cons of being that type of person.
• Write about the most inspiring teacher, mentor, authority figure you have had in your life. 
• What are some of your pet peeves and what do they seem to say about you?
• Write about a beautiful moment from the past week.
• Make a list of small things that bring you joy.
• Describe a time when you felt too far away from home.
• Write about your hometown. Its positives, negatives, things that give it character. Write some of your essential memories from there. What would a visitor see?
• Write about a time when you realized you had misunderstood the whole thing.
• Describe your mother or grandmother's kitchen.
• Write about a time you got in trouble as a child, especially when you didn't mean to.
• Were you a bully as a child? Explain what made you behave that way.
• Imagine you have a million dollars. What would you do with it. No taxes.
• How do you like to spend an afternoon on your own.
• Write about a road trip you took.
• Write about a party you threw.
• Write a letter to yourself at a certain age. The letter should say the exact things you needed to hear at that moment.
• Write about a time in your life when you made a major change. How did it go?
• Imagine it's 200 years in the future and your time capsule was just dug up and opened. What is inside and what does it mean?
• Write about a childhood friend and some unresolved issues from that friendship.
• Write a list of things that you are grateful for.
• Write about the first person or relationship that broke your heart.
• What recurring elements do you see in your dreams? If you gave them meaning, what might they be telling you?
• Write about a song that holds meaning for you.
• Write about a time a friend or family member came to the rescue.
• Write about how the people in your life know that you love them.
• Write about a time you became separated from the group.
• Write about a time when someone made you feel empowered.
• Write about a time when you had to end something, and were the better for it.
• Write about a low point in your life and how you found your way out of it.
• Write about a movie or book that you wish you could step into. What would you do there?
• Write about a bedtime story you made up for a special child in your life.
• Write about a person that you admire without using their name.
• Do you, your parents, or someone you know have a wonderful love story to tell? About how they met? Tell the story.
• Write about a time you were too drunk/stoned/high.
• Describe a time that you look back on fondly.
• Tell a story about being unwisely in love.
• Make a list of things that you love about your life.
• Where were you on 9/11?
• Where were you when the Challenger exploded?
• Think about a person you have lost touch with. What was your relationship like? Would you like to reconnect?
• Write about a book or some books that made a huge impact on you and your life.
• Write about a time you had an encounter with someone famous.
• Write about a time you were the victim of a crime.
• Write your own version of NPR's This I Believe.
• What is your absolute earliest memory?
• What does it seem are common impressions of you that people seem to have?
• Write about the most painful thing you have ever experienced.
  Have you learned anything from it?
• Write about a time you were on stage.

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More Writing Prompts
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