Five Minutes A Day – Days 6, 7 & 8

Prompts: send, mystery, street

For punishment, Mother used to send us to our rooms. I don’t know how this affected my siblings, but for me, this was no punishment at all. I enjoyed the solitude. There in my room, I no longer had to pretend to be the perfect daughter, sister or friend. I could just be myself, whoever that was. I was still figuring that bit out.

My room was my sanctuary. It was small and covered in red & gold wallpaper with golden eagles on it. Sometimes, I pretended it was an important office of some high official and I was the secretary. Other times, I would just sit and stare at all those eagles and wish we, they and me, could be free and outside soaring in the air. All that pretending afforded me a healthy imagination.

If my room was a sanctuary, then books were my saving grace within those four walls. I spent about two-thirds of my day reading something – at home and in school. I had a few favorite genres: biographies, gothic novels, and science fiction; however a good mystery could suck me in for hours. I love trying to figure out the who and why. Someone gave us a huge box filled with Nancy Drew and Agatha Christie mysteries. I devoured those eagerly. When I was around thirteen, I’d spent the entire summer reading books at my local library. By the following summer, I’d read everything in the junior children’s section, but I needed more. I finally convinced my mother to call the librarian and give her permission for me to read from the adult book sections. Although I was reading books for adults, I still had a few children’s favorites – The Secret Garden, Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good Very Bad Day and an adorable story titled The Street That Got Mislaid (also known as Green Bottle Street).

I was so enamored with the later, that I just knew there had to be a hidden street in everyone’s town. And so I embarked on a little sleuthing about my town until I came across a hidden alleyway behind an old doctor’s building and set off exploring. It took me nearly an hour to remove old vines that had twisted their way around the gate and by the time I’d freed that gate, it was nearing dinner and I had to head home without exploring further. When I was finally able to return the next day, I had butterflies in my stomach and had not slept the night before nor even eaten breakfast that morning.  All I could think about was that alley and what I might find. In the end, it wasn’t nearly as exciting as what the man in the Green Bottle Street story had found, but I did find some lovely rocks, a few old marbles, and a penny and dime, both from the 60s. Those little treasures made it all worth it.

If you’d like to join me for this Five Minutes A Day, please feel free to do so. You can post it on your blog or use my comments below. All I ask is that if you do this on your own blog, that you link to my blog and be sure to give full credit to Kate Montaung (you can click her link to go to her page). Have a blessed day, me lovelies!

Way Behind

Hello, me lovelies. I am going to make a grand attempt at playing catch-up today on my Five Minutes A Day segment. My internet has been bouncing off and on for several days and I’ve already lost several attempts at putting something here. I’ve finally wised up and have been putting everything on a notepad so I don’t lose it when the ‘net goes poof!

So once I’ve had some coffee and a sweet breakfast treat, I will attempt a fifteen minute catch-up here. No guarantees though; the ‘net’s already gone down twice this morning. The joys of modern times!

Five Minutes A Day – Day 5

Prompt: Table

Round and clad in flowery cloth with only four spaces. Deliberate? If you were late to dinner, you didn’t get a seat at the table. In those early childhood years, I needed one of those seats. I had family dynamics to work on. Thankfully, those first three years after the coma, baby brother had his high-chair and a seat was easily available. Not so once he grew into a booster-seat. Then it was a battle between me and Tamara. Dad was at the head of the table and Mother across from him. Baby brother always had his chair with the booster, so that left only one.

As I got to know my family, I often carried anxiety and weariness with me to the table. I wasn’t sure what food I was supposed to enjoy or how much I was allowed to eat, so I just followed Tamara’s lead. Often there would be astonished looks from Mother as I tried out different vegetables, or looks of disgust as I crinkled up my nose at other food.

“You never used to like that,” Mother would say. Or, “but that’s your favorite!”

I would just shrug my shoulders. What else could I do? Did my taste buds change too?

Once I had to battle for a seat, I would deliberately be late. I didn’t find any pleasure in competition and Tamara liked to gloat if she beat me to the table. I’d gather a plate of food and pad off through the house to the front porch (if it was warm) or gather around the wood stove (if it was cold) and eat by myself.

By this time, I was doing a lot of things by myself. Mom was often moody, Dad was distant, Tamara was smug and Baby Brother was fussy. I found myself alone in my room, playing with dolls or reading books. I still didn’t trust people and there was little else to do. Even at the age of nine, I knew I was different and a loner.

Changes were coming soon. Changes that would set me apart even more.

If you’d like to join me for this Five Minutes A Day, please feel free to do so. You can post it on your blog or use my comments below. All I ask is that if you do this on your own blog, that you link to my blog and be sure to give full credit to Kate Montaung (you can click her link to go to her page). Have a blessed day, me lovelies!

Five Minutes A Day – Day 3

Here I am, eleven days later. I didn’t really forget about writing here and I hate making excuses. I just felt anxious. Too anxious to sit down and do anything constructive or creative. It will probably happen again, and again. Consistency hasn’t been my forte of late. Thankfully, I am persistent. So shall we begin anew?

Day 3 Prompt: Plan

If you read the beginning of my little story, then this will continue forth. Because Elle had no memory and her mother didn’t believe her, Elle plotted out a plan. She knew she wouldn’t be able to go on unless she pretended to know people, but how could she without memory of them? And so Elle became an observer.

Her days were spent sitting silently listening, watching and mentally recording everything and everyone around her. This sitting wasn’t a problem. Elle wasn’t allow to participate in many activities, especially ones that might tire her out. She heard whispers of “We don’t want a relapse.” And any time she became too rambunctious, her mother would tell her to go sit down with her dad. Elle learned all about her dad pretty quickly. He wasn’t a complicated man. He enjoyed sports, westerns, and comedy on television. He liked to hunt and fish, alone. He worked hard and took his coffee light and sweet. He told funny stories and loved to laugh. And he didn’t like conflicts.

Mother was a bit harder for Elle to understand. Sometimes her mother was full of life, laughter and love. Other times, a melancholy came over her face and only sadness resided there. Her mother watched daytime soaps and game shows, with the occasional night time soap or old movie. She loved listening to country music and Elvis while she cooked or cleaned. She rarely left the house but to visit one of her sisters, but couldn’t stand to be alone either. She was constantly on the phone. Elle’s mother also told stories, but they weren’t funny like her dad’s. No, her mother’s stories were about her childhood and how badly Elle’s grandfather treated her mother, her aunts and Elle’s grandmother. Elle’s mother thrived on conflict.

Tamara made little to no sense to Elle. She wasn’t much older than Elle, but she had an air of authority about her. She could tell that Tamara wanted to be in her company, but she also wanted to run and play, something Elle just couldn’t do without the wrath of Mother coming down on her. So Elle watched as Tamara went off with cousins and friends. They rarely talked. For Elle, it was as though Tamara was a huge mystery and she didn’t have the understanding to figure her sister out.

While a distance swept between Elle and Tamara, Elle had a baby brother. He was too tiny to know her and since he was born while she was in a coma, Elle could be anyone around her brother and he wouldn’t know the difference. Elle’s imagination flourished around her brother. She played with him more than she spoke to her sister or Mother, but Elle still cherished the alone time she had with her Dad.

Her plan was working well, and yet, all her life she felt like a fraud. A feeling that would linger with her for her entire life.


Well, there’s that. Hope you are enjoying my little story. Will be back soon (hopefully tomorrow!) for another part. 

If you’d like to join me for this Five Minutes A Day, please feel free to do so. You can post it on your blog or use my comments below. All I ask is that if you do this on your own blog, that you link to my blog and be sure to give full credit to Kate Montaung (you can click her link to go to her page). Have a blessed day, me lovelies!

Five Minutes A Day – Day 2

See, this is what happens when you aren’t accustomed to writing every day! I almost allowed the day to slip away without doing my small stones over at A Whispered Wind and today’s FMAD. I promise, I will get back into the flow of this!

Day 2 Prompt: Story

Let me tell you a little story and then, dear readers, you can decide if it is fact or fiction.

It all began back in 1971 on a trip to a fish hatchery in West Virginia. Two young girls joined their father on this trip and from all accounts, it was a glorious time. The youngest of the two, Elle, finished the the evening by drinking from a water fountain before she, her sister Tamara and her father returned home. The next day, while playing outside with Tamara, Elle felt ill and went inside. She had a fever, so her mother called to the doctor to find out what to do. As was the norm in those days, she’d been told to give Elle some baby aspirin and put her to bed. This turned out to be a disastrous decision. Some time later, Elle began to have seizures and her parents rushed her to the hospital. Elle was then airlifted to another hospital on the other side of the state. By this time, Elle had fallen into a coma.

Unknown to Elle at the time, she was in the children’s ward of the UVA hospital in Charlottesville, Virginia with four other children. Three of those children died while Elle was still in a coma. By the time she came to a week later, the other child had suffered brain damage from the high fevers and seizures. The doctors weren’t hopeful about Elle’s diagnosis after what had happened to the other four children, but were astonished to learn that Elle would be fine, just a bit of a “nervous” stomach.

However, Elle wasn’t fine. Elle had no memory. Not of why she was in the hospital, nor of her parents. Nothing was familiar. Elle was assured that, “yes, these are your parents and yes, you will be going home with them.” And so home she went. Once there, she didn’t recognize her sister Tamara and she had a new baby brother. Elle tried to tell her mother that she didn’t recognize anyone, but was told she was just being a silly child. Mother showed her pictures of herself and her family, but they meant nothing to little Elle. At the age of five, Elle would have to begin all over again, in a world she didn’t know and with people she wasn’t sure she could trust.

There you have it, dear readers – my little story, but it doesn’t end there. Tomorrow I will continue the story and integrate the daily prompt into it. 

If you’d like to join me for this Five Minutes A Day, please feel free to do so. You can post it on your blog or use my comments below. All I ask is that if you do this on your own blog, that you link to my blog and be sure to give full credit to Kate Montaung (you can click her link to go to her page). Have a blessed day, me lovelies!

Five Minutes A Day – Day 1

While looking for something to write about this morning (after a t-storm bolted me out of bed!), I got an email from Joyce over at From This Side of the Pond. I used to enjoy doing her Wednesday Hodgepodge, but since I haven’t journalled in a very long time, I’d simply been filing her emails away in a folder (and yes, I feel guilty about that!). Today, I opened her email and read it and realized that she is doing a 10 Day, Five Minutes A Day  Writing Prompt Challenge hosted by Kate Motaung. So I decided I would join along too. I’m not going to even attempt to catch up, mainly because Kate’s challenge has already ended and Joyce is on day 8, so I am just going to begin at the beginning and work my through the ten days.

Day 1 prompt: Today

Today is another day of being in the now. Too often, I allow myself to get distracted by emails, YT videos, movies and documentaries, chores and what to cook for whichever part of the day it is. I don’t give myself enough time to just be present in this moment, in this day. I talk a good talk when people ask me for advice, but very rarely do I walk the walk of living in the moment.

Since the world, it seems, is on lock-down, I’ve been using what I have learned from Mindfulness training to elevate anxiety. It would be too easy for me to begin fretting about Covid-19, the stock market plunge, the arguments among my online friends (is this real or a hoax? Is it as serious as everyone claims? etc.), and my own panic of a horrid immunity system that has never fully recovered from chemotherapy eight years ago.

So instead of hitting the panic button, I sit quietly for the first 5-10 minutes upon awakening, close my eyes and breathe, say a silent prayer to the Father and just be present for those moments. I breathe in LOVE and breathe out FEAR, chasing it as far from my mind, body and soul as I can.

This has given me a new perspective on this whole virus pandemic. It has allowed me to focus on my intention of sending love to the entire planet, to surround myself with loving-kindness and feel compassion for fellow human beings. What seems on the surface to be a very personal, selfish moment of inner reflection, has brought me closer to the entire planet and everyone and everything on it. It also makes me ready to face today calmly.

Wow, so that was harder than I thought it would be. Took me a while to gather my thoughts, but once I reflected on how I’ve been beginning each day this past week, the words flowed easier. If anyone would like to join me in this challenge (or write a comment about TODAY in my comment section), please feel free to do so. All I ask is if you do choose to write these on your own blog, for you to link back to my blog and give credit to Kate Montaung (you can click her link to go to her page). Have a beautiful day, me lovelies!

The Daily Me (Journal) Memories 2 – 01/04/17

Today’s prompt comes from Journaling Your Way Home via Writing Our Way Home, in which Kaspa has asked us to write a memory from the timeline of our life that we wrote Sunday. (Note: this is taken from an e-book which I purchased as part of this e-course. If you’d like to join in, you can purchase the course at the Journaling Your Way Home address above)

No Happy Ever Afters For Me

Shortly after my sister kicked me out of her place in Greensboro, NC in the late Summer of 1985, I returned to Virginia, stayed with my Aunt for a while and got a job at the ice cream store she worked in. There, I met two female missionaries from the Mormon Church. Before long, I started attending, had moved into my own apartment and was doing pretty well for myself. Suddenly, for no reason that I was told, the female missionaries were recalled and two male missionaries showed up. One of them was this tall, linebacker of a guy with dark-hair and sapphire blue eyes. He was very charismatic and I fell head-over-hills for him. His name was David from Modesto CA and like me, he was a convert to the Church. Over the course of six months, we got to know one another well. I even cooked dinner for him and his companion a few times. Sometimes, they would stop by the ice cream store, get my keys and hang out at my apartment while I worked (I know they were watching tv, which was against the rules).

David liked to play practical jokes on people and he played quite a few on me. One night, I came home from work to find sticky notes all over my walls and the inserts from magazines tossed haphazardly around the room (that was his companion’s thing). Another night, I came home and it looked like I had been robbed. Every piece of furniture was gone, except that it wasn’t. I had a very tiny room that I used as my bedroom and they had stuffed every stick of furniture, books, dishes, etc. into that little room. They couldn’t fit the sofa in there so they just propped it up at the door. Another night, I came home to find the inside of my house, down the staircase and the tree outside my apartment building toilet-papered. Sometimes he would call me late at night, just to tell me ‘sorry, wrong number’ repeatedly. I knew it was him. I would recognize his voice anywhere.

But the worst joke he pulled on me was at dinner one night. I had cooked him and his companion a three course meal. Salad; pot roast with potatoes, carrots and peas; and a homemade banana cream pie for desert. I had slaved over all of it all day, especially the pie – supposedly David’s favorite. It was my first time making pie crust and meringue and it had come out perfectly. We’d eaten the meal and I’d put the pie in the fridge and gone to the bathroom. When I came out, BAM! Banana cream pie in the face, followed by laughter, and David and his companion running away. You’d think that I would have hated David, but I didn’t. I only loved him more.

After about six months, word began to spread about David and his companion spending too much time at one woman’s apartment. No, it wasn’t mine. It was a mutual friend of ours. She ran interference for he and I, allowing him to call me on the phone at night and opening her apartment up for us to hang out, supervised. She had no idea he was spending so much time at my apartment and neither of us told her, nor did the companion. Anyway, the Church elders decided to split the two missionaries up and send them to other locations. An elderly couple took their place.

On the night David left, he called me and asked me to marry him. Of course, I said yes. He still had a year to serve as a missionary, but he said he would call his sister back in CA and make arrangements for me to go live with her until his service was up. I told our mutual friend, but she wouldn’t believe me. Then I received a letter from him a week later, expressing the same thing. She finally believed me. The sister thing fell through, but he told me to start making preparations to have a Temple wedding. That meant I had to get baptized in the Church, take the required classes and get a Temple recommendation. I did all of those things for him. Our mutual friend and her two sisters even went with me to the Temple. It was all happening so fast. I’d gotten the Temple recommendation on my first try, went through the Temple and was all set to marry that handsome, charismatic man from California. We talked three times a week by phone and wrote letters nearly every day. I knew he was the one.

David still had five months left of his mission, but he was no longer enjoying it. He stole the mission car, drove all the way to Covington VA from Richmond VA and held up at our mutual friend’s apartment. He called me from there, said he was leaving his mission and going back home. I asked about the wedding and he said we’d have to plan it by phone. I didn’t even get to see him before they sent him back to CA. When he arrived back in CA, he still called me frequently for the first couple of weeks. Then silence. He didn’t call and didn’t return mine. He eventually told our mutual friend that he had left the Church and no longer wanted to marry me. I got the news from her, not him. I was never given any further explanation and never heard from him again.

This was supposed to be my fairy tale wedding, my happy ever after. I couldn’t understand why he didn’t want me. What had I done? I was heart broken and fell into the only comforting arms around – Andy’s. The guy I had dated while living with my sister. Four months later, I was pregnant, married to him and living in Burlington NC. Completely unhappy and definitely no fairy tale. A dark tale, perhaps. But that’s for another memory.

The Daily Me (Journal) Familiar Memory – 01/03/17

Today’s prompt comes via Writing Our Way Home, as part of the email section of the course Journaling Your Way Home. (Note: If you’d like to join in, you can purchase the course at the Journaling Your Way Home address above to receive both the e-book and the emails)

“Writing is an exploration. You start from nothing and learn as you go.”
~E. L. Doctorow

Start with a familiar memory. Re-enter it. Live it again. Let go into fantasy if you like. Go where the writing takes you.

You know how you can smell something and it takes you back in time to a memory? I did that this morning. I was refiling my humidifier and suddenly smelt salt water. It made no sense. There’s nothing salty about the mist from the humidifier, but there it was anyway. Salt water. My mind instantly drifted back in time to the mid-to-late 90s when I was attending Hollins College and my friend Claire and I would take Spring Break trips to Nags Head. Suddenly, I was there again – walking along the sandy shore, listening to the Ocean breathing, and feeling the cool salt water on my face. I felt her calling me, enticing me to join her, to be one with her. She has that effect on me, lulling me into a state of complete bliss.

I am pulled into her foam-green petticoats, swirling around with her, allowing myself to drift further out and under. I feel the pressure as she gently coaxes me to go deeper and deeper. I want to be with her. To become her. To be inexplicably one with her and never resurface. I don’t worry that I am made of flesh and blood. I am also made of water and can, therefore, become water. I watch as schools of fish swim by. They are as curious of me as I am of them. What is a human doing so deep? Is she out of her mind? Surely she will drown, or perhaps she will adapt. I’d like to adapt, grow my own gills so I never have to leave this place. Then I could not only be one with the Ocean, but also one with the dolphins, whales and sharks.

In the distance, I hear a raven cawing and am lifted from the sea. There is a war going on inside of me. A battle between the call of the Ocean and the call of the Raven. To be deep in the sea, or soaring through the air. I want to be with both, but I know that I cannot. I realize it is my dual nature as part Gemini and part Cancer, a cuspie. To be of Air and Water. In my mind, I return to my mountains feeling wholly unsatisfied and wanting.

The Daily Me (Journal) Memories 1 – 01/02/17

Today’s prompt comes from Journaling Your Way Home via Writing Our Way Home, in which Kaspa has asked us to write a memory from the timeline of our life that we wrote yesterday. (Note: this is taken from an e-book which I purchased as part of this e-course. If you’d like to join in, you can purchase the course at the Journaling Your Way Home address above)

Why’d They Choose Me?

Looking back on my childhood, I’ve often wondered why those three boys back in grade school chose me to sexually harass. What was it about me that made them feel it was okay to do that to me? Did they notice something about me that made me easily accessible to their perversions? Was it even about me? Or were they just seeing what all they could get away with? Twelve-year-olds. I still can’t wrap my head around it.

I do know it made me feel dirty, cheap and insignificant. I also felt like I deserved it. I never reported it at school and I never told my parents. Truthfully, I didn’t want anyone to know. It became my own shameful secret, but it wasn’t just mine. Those three boys told plenty of other students and my three best friends knew because they were there when it began. I was only eleven, nearly twelve. They stole my innocence and childhood from me. No child that young should have to know the disgusting, sexual things I knew. I still don’t even know how those boys knew those things. Probably from porn magazines and/or movies.

It didn’t even stop after grade school. Those three boys harassed me all through high school too. I wanted so desperately to tell my 9th grade English teacher what a nasty son she had, but I never did. Who would have believed me over a school teacher’s son? Years on, the other two became local cops. Can you imagine any young woman feeling safe if they’d know the way those two carried on as teenagers? The school teacher’s son was one of the local potheads, not sure where he ended up after high school. I do know that when one of the other two who’d become cops died last year, he was given a hero’s funeral and people all over the area came to praise him. If they’d only known what I knew.

I know that’s when my psychological problems began. I became a bulimic because I wanted to be thin like all the ‘good’ girls in school, the ones who were fawned over but not sexually harassed. I was no longer the happy-go-lucky kid. I became withdrawn, dark, and couldn’t stand to be around people. I wasn’t suicidal, but I did cut myself often to get rid of the pain I felt inside. I still have scars on my thighs. I didn’t want anyone to see what I’d done, so I hid it away. I hid a lot of things in those years.

That Summer of ’79 only confirmed my suspicions that it must have been something about me. That was the summer that my sister’s then-boyfriend backed me into the alcove behind the staircase at home and molested me. It was 4th of July and it was supposed to have been a fun time with family and friends.

Dad was barbecuing in the backyard, mom was making salads in the kitchen, my sister was outside with family and my brother was upstairs. I remember mom had put on some Elvis music. I went through the hallway from the living room headed toward the kitchen. I got to the doorway of the dining room and got pulled into that alcove. I remember Little Sister was playing and J whispered into my ear, “Big sister does. Does little sister?” I can’t even listen to that song anymore without remembering his hands all over me and his tongue down my throat. I hate to think what might have happened if my brother hadn’t come down the stairs. He let me loose and I fled to the backyard. I never told a soul what he did and he acted like nothing had happened when he joined my sister a few minutes later.

I think the shame I felt in those days led me to be promiscuous later on in my life. I was looking for love and acceptance, and I didn’t care what sleazy guy I ended up with to get them. Of course, I never found either and I only hate myself more because of it. I learned self-loathing at the tender age of twelve and it persisted until about three years ago when I decided to be celibate and start loving myself.


The Daily Me (Journal) My Life’s Timeline – 01/01/17

Today’s prompt comes from Journaling Your Way Home via Writing Our Way Home, in which Kaspa has asked us to write a timeline of our life. (Note: this is taken from an e-book which I purchased as part of this e-course. If you’d like to join in, you can purchase the course at the Journaling Your Way Home address above)

My Life’s Timeline

June 20, 1966 – Loretta Anne was born on this day in Covington Virginia

Late April, 1972 – Reye’s Syndrome, coma, near-death. One of two survivors, but unscathed.

Late April, 1972 – By contract, I’Ceen, an Andromedan, walked into Loretta’s body and resumed all of her functions.

1974 – Family moved to Clifton Forge VA

1978 – Sexual harassment by male classmates

Summer 1979 – Molested by sister’s then-boyfriend

Autumn 1979 – Began high school (eighth grade)

1983 – Graduated a year early from high school

Autumn 1983 – Began community college taking Business Management courses

Spring 1984 – Moved out of parents’ house for the first time and in with 3 classmates; began having casual sex

Late Autumn 1984 – Quit college and moved to Covington Virginia, worked at Roses Department store and then Groggins Plastics for a short while

Spring 1985 – Met Andy via my sister (8 years older than me), moved to Greensboro NC, lived with sister and brother-in-law, dated Andy

Late Summer 1985 – got kicked out of sister’s place for being a shameful hussy, her words; moved back to Covington VA; met David, a Mormon missionary; joined the LDS church; prepared myself to marry David the following year when his mission would be over.

Mid-Winter 1986 – David and I broke up; Andy came for a visit; I got pregnant.

Early Spring 1986 – Married Andy and moved to Burlington NC; lost the baby at end of 1st trimester; left him at the end of 7 months (he was abusive); quit attending the LDS church because I was shunned for leaving my husband

November 1986 – moved back to Covington VA, got a job as a receptionist at a Hotel; met Jim; filed for divorce.

January 1987 – Summer 1989 – lived with Jim; divorce finalized; Jim asked me to marry him; worked two-to-three jobs. Began to realize who I really was: a walk-in. It would be another 24 years before I would discover all of it fully.

Summer 1989 – Early Spring 1991 – broke up with Jim (he got cold feet); moved out; began having more casual sex and partying with friends. Began studying Wicca

Mid-Spring 1991 – moved back home to Clifton Forge; got a job at a restaurant; enrolled at the community college

Autumn 1991 – began classes at CC

Spring 1992 – began an affair with a married man named Mike; got pregnant; had a miscarriage when I found out he’d been cheating on not only his wife with me, but on both of us with another woman (couldn’t eat or sleep, became ill and lost baby). That miscarriage caused me to become sterile.

Autumn 1992 – Met Jaime, became fast friends; met Dameon at the Fall’s Festival and began dating him; he moved in with me in November of that year.

Spring 1993 – Discovered Dameon was cheating on me; kicked him out; moved in with Jaime; we became lovers; graduated from CC.

Autumn 1993 – Summer 1997 – Went to Hollins College; began going by the name Lori instead of Loretta; met Claire (my Reiki Master); worked part-time at a convenience store;  met ‘the name that shall not be spoken’ and had a six month fling; still lived with Jaime (we were mostly companions by this time); graduated with a BA in English in 1995, MALS in 1997

Autumn 1997 – Broke up completely with Jaime (we remained friends though until I moved to OK in 2005); moved to Roanoke VA; still going to Hollins University, taking a CAS in Creative Writing

Winter 1997 – Winter 1998 – had casual sex with multiple partners, both male and female; began studying Buddhism

Winter 1998 – Met John; he moved in

Spring 1999 – finished CAS only to learn that I would not get my certificate due to financial issues at the college, nor my other transcripts; kicked out John; began working at Allstate

1999 – December 2000 – lots of casual sex; worked at Allstate; had first nervous breakdown in October; put on antidepressants and anxiety meds.

January 2001 – October 2001 – Met the estranged one online; met in person in April; he moved in in June; I quit work at Allstate due to mental state; he and I married in October.

November 2001 – April 2005 – Went to work at convenience store and did secretarial work for a car salesman; rocky start to marriage (he drank a lot); agreed to move to Oklahoma with him

April 2005 – 2008 – lived in OK with estranged one; didn’t work; stayed home, miserable and homesick

2008 -2009  – estranged one came off the road (he was a truck driver) due to an accident; got my first job since moving there at a smoke shop; had casual sex with a few customers; met Tanya online

Autumn 2009 – Tanya moved down from Canada to be with me; big fight with the estranged one; moved out with Tanya for 6 months

Late Spring 2010 – Lost job at smoke shop because of mental illness; lost house with Tanya; moved back in with the estranged one

June 20, 2010 – Tanya went back to Canada; suicide attempt and hospitalized on June 26th

Autumn 2010 – 2012 – series of suicide attempts (7 in all); hospitalizations; diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder, Bipolar Disorder, Social Anxiety Disorder and severe OCD; moved out and in with Carol (met at mental hospital) three separate times; had a fling with a married man while living with Carol; finally moved back in with the estranged one in March 2012. In 2011, I was contacted by an Andromedan named Fulsan who began my education on who I truly am and why I am here.

October 2012 – March 2013 – diagnosed with uterine cancer, surgery and round of chemo

Late March 2013 – final suicide attempt and hospitalization in OK.

October 2014 – left the estranged one and Oklahoma; moved back to Virginia and in with Dad and brother.

Late 2014 to Present – still living with Dad and brother; celibate; nervous breakdown in June 2016 and hospitalized; found out the estranged one is transgender; giving him my full support; spend time writing; still in contact with Fulsan.

And there you go, dear readers. The. Most. Honest timeline of my life that I have ever done, filled with all of my shameful deeds. I think I need a good stiff drink now. It’s a shame it is so early in the morning. Some of these will be flushed out with other exercises from this course.