“Mom. Mom. MOM!” Dawson yelled.
Why did he insist on calling me from upstairs? Was I the only one with legs in this house? I started up the staircase, muttering as I climbed. I reached the top and found Dawson sitting on his bed meticulously inspecting a sweatshirt in his hands.
“What do you want?” He looked up, clearly as annoyed as I was though not for the same reason.
“Mom, why didn’t you try harder to get this stain out of my sweatshirt?” I strained to see what he was pointing to. He shoved the sweatshirt inches from nose and still the spot was barely visible.
“Did you try all of the stain removing products?” He demanded more than questioned. I resisted glancing at the clock on the wall which would inevitably announce how late this ridiculous conversation was making us. The cats circled his unmade bed, meowing for their breakfast. He’d put on a t-shirt but was still wearing pajama bottoms and hadn’t brushed his hair by the looks of it. All those unfinished tasks yet to be ticked off the morning list caused a nervous twitch at the corner of my eye. I called upon my inner yoga-mom, took a deep breath, exhaled.
“You did not tell me it had a stain when you threw it in the wash, so I washed it. That set the stain making it nearly impossible to remove. When I finally noticed the stain, I treated it several times and re-washed it, still to no avail.”
His eyes widened; he dropped his sweatshirt on the bed. “So, you’re just going to give up?” His voice cracked.
I scanned his face certain he must be pulling a fast one on me. His tight expression revealed otherwise. But instead of conjuring feelings of motherly compassion, I lost my temper altogether.
“Dawson, half my life is likely over. I am not going to spend what precious moments I have remaining scrubbing a stain out of a six-dollar sweatshirt. You’re young. If you want to scrub that stain, have at it. Knock yourself out. But I’m done. Now get ready.”
The drive to school was mostly silent and I had a chance to calm down and see the incident for what it really was, a vehicle to channel emotions he was feeling but hadn’t the words to express. We were both having a hard time accepting this next step, but we’d agreed on it. This was the last day Dawson would attend high school. At least for the year, I was officially withdrawing him.
I pulled into my usual designated handicapped parking spot and unlocked the doors. Dawson cast an accusatory look at me because of course I was breaking the law. But for like three minutes, I reasoned. He snatched his pencil, an eraser, and a protein bar, from the stash in the glove compartment, grabbed the car door handle.
“Hey, babe,” I reached across the seat, laid my hand on his shoulder, “The stain will fade over time. All stains do.” He smiled back at me.
“Love you, too Mom.”
I drove to the district office as if to a graveside, with a heavy heart. I walked slowly up the steps and straight to the receptionist’s desk.
“Hi, I’m here to withdraw my son from school.”
She looked at me with a confused expression. “So, you want to take him out of school?”
I nodded.
“Do you want to homeschool him?” she asked.
“Oh god, no.” She raised her eyebrows, and I was immediately embarrassed by my response. I explained I wanted to fill out paperwork to withdraw him from school, take him out, nothing else. She picked up the phone to call someone upstairs with more authority. It only took a few moments for the woman from upstairs to make it downstairs. She listened to my story, nodded.
“Yes, I’ll get the paperwork for you.”
It was involuntary, the tear that rolled down my nose and landed right where I needed to sign my name.
The woman with more authority leaned into me, patted my shoulder. “He can always come back,” she assured.
I thanked her for her kindness. I wondered if she could feel my failure. I wondered if she knew this was my second son to drop out, that I couldn’t inspire even one of my children to finish school. I thanked both women and made my way back to the car.
Inside the silent vehicle, I leaned onto the steering wheel. Rested my head for a moment. I closed my eyes and just breathed. Dawson never did have a decent day in school, especially once his father left. Every day had been a constant struggle with his tears, anxiety, and the effects of his obsessive-compulsive disorder. For my part, I’d simply tried everything I could. I threatened, bargained, bribed, begged and finally yesterday, I agreed to let him drop out. It was going to happen in less than six months when he turned eighteen anyway. Why prolong the inevitable.
Was I giving up? Maybe. For sure I was being forced to give up on my dreams and expectations for what I believed his life should be. And I’d have to learn to live with the stain it would leave on my mom-heart. But I reminded myself that it would fade over time. All stains do.

Dearest Readers…This is a fictional story. Any and all characters in this story are purely fictional. Any and all relations to real people is unintended. I hope you enjoy!

I thought I heard music coming from the door. But, I knew better than to go in because he always told me not to. “That’s not a place for little children. Only me and mommy.” There was a certain feeling coming from the door pulling me to it. But I never went in. Until that day.
I had come home from school and my mom was already at work. My dad was home but in the garage where he mainly worked on his off days. I go to the garage to tell him I was home but, he wasn’t there. I looked around the house and found my mom’s purse and phone on the table. I heard music and followed it to the door. “That’s not a place for little children.” My father’s voice echoed in my head but, I wasn’t a child anymore. I opened the door and a blinding light shielded my vision. I kept hearing my name and I went toward the voice. “Rhyla? Can you hear me?” I slowly nodded my head. “Where am I?” The woman sighed and had a smile on her face. “Welcome back. You are in the hospital. You’ve been here for several months. He had a tight hold on you this time didn’t he?”

This story is inspired by those who struggle with mental health each and every day. I am glad you are still here! You have friends and family who love you and people willing to help you feel like yourself again!

I know you stress,
Because I put you to the test.
I know you’re scared of the unknown,
But I’m here and I’m grown.
You’ll hurt yourself along the way,
But you’ll live to see a sober day.
Almost 33 now,
I know…we’re both asking how???
The pain is strong,
But come along!!!
You’re clinging to music,
That’s good. We’re going to use it!!!
Those artists will know your name,
I’m still working hard and we haven’t hit Fame.
Not yet, at least,
keep going. It’s no doubt you’re a beast.
Some call you Savage
you desire a life of lavish.
You’re not wrong… The mission is bigger than you think.
But come along and I’ll take you where we belong.
You’ll cry and ocean’s worth of tears,
I mean literally for years…
But don’t ever forget that song
We’ll take every shot you got
I don’t know it all,
but your phone they will call.
I’m trying to close some deals,
prepare us some meals.
To be eat like a queen
by your idols you will be seen.
We’re making a difference
Stay positive in your Deliverance
It’s time for me to go
I can’t wait to watch you grow
I love you the most
That I need you to know…
Breathe deep
Cuz your future I keep!!!

Hey, you, old man.
This is a letter to yourself and from yourself.
You know all those things you’ve done wrong,
Regardless of who’s fault, or who’s right or wrong.
But this is not of that my friend…
Yeah, it’s amazing.You can call yourself friend now, but you are! ♥
I know those things I put myself and others through.
I remember the dreams and aspirations.All the good things I had for you.
Looking back is confusing and God it just makes me cry.
But I’m gonna try to leave You out too.Because this is a letter to myself. To maybe find out why.
But God I can’t, I can’t look back Because it hurts too much…
I can’t go to the beach, I can’t go to school, I can’t go to church, Sitting bereaved, I feel a fool.
But Lord, I can’t do it, I cannot watch.
Cannot go to Toledo. Cannot go to Cleveland cannot go back to jail, God what am I believing?
Cannot run to West Virginia, cannot hospital trend…
All along.I hated myself, yet all the while was a good friend. ☺
I can’t even write.I’m sorry I can’t do this.
All along my life, it was my own mark I missed.
But that’s a good thing because i’m not in hell…
Only I could see my place where ever if I made, could never get bail.
I’m sorry, no can do.
God thank you for saving me from me.

Dear You,

Never in a million years did I think I would be so connected with you, but at the same time disconnected.

The thought of ever thinking of you as a POSITIVE mainstay (I use mainstay literally), in my life is like finding a person who does not know what an iPhone is.

The bane of your existence on another person would literally freeze me.

I could not talk at the mere sight of seeing what felt like a drowning impact you had and sometimes still have, on the lives of innocent humans.

Prematurely punishing them with the ability to not talk!

This confinement… well, it just seems like the prison sentence of Jeffrey Deskovic, a man who spent 16 years innocently behind bars. A person who missed 16 years of freedom, family events, friends, and much, much more, for being wrongfully accused.

This powerful story can be read in the new book – “Unseal Your Superpowers: Letters To Inspire The Hero Within You” by Lauren Brill.
(See bottom for link to book).

So much of my life with you I let myself die inside by not behaving as my authentic self.

I was in a stranglehold with you that even the Hulk would not be strong enough to combat your grasp.

Despite you letting go of that fiercely tight grip, I have the scars to show for it.

After years of healing, the scar’s are still there. All but so faint, no amount of scar cream can make it evaporate.

The pain of you will always be there, nagging me like a tag on the back of a shirt.

I realize that tag is not meant to be ripped off or even taken off as a whole, it’s there as a reminder that sometimes a tag or label will never die, but if you don’t like it you can always use tie dye.

Despite the tag or label still there, this time, I am going to exchange it for one that fits me! Only me — the authentic me! After all, no one can be me!

So, I thank you for the lessons you have taught me, cerebral palsy. Now, I’m going to live life authentically and OWN you, tag and all!

Love your once enemy and now friend,

Jake

Here Is the link to the story mentioned above, and much more.

We are currently donating a portion of our proceeds (10%) to two charities:

Lift Our Voices, which aims to transform the American workplace, making it safer and more equitable for everyone, and Team LeGrand, a fundraising arm of the Christopher & Dana Reeve Foundation dedicated to supporting quality-of-life initiatives and treatments for spinal cord injuries.

A NOTE FROM GRANDMA SOLETA
TO LUJUANA MY BEAUTIFUL GRANDDAUGHTER
This is a fictional story. Any representation of situations or real characters is unintentional. My grandma did visit me after her death. I have spoken with spirits and decided to dedicate this story to all grandmas, moms, and their granddaughters, and women everywhere. We are beautiful. Peace to all. To all my relations.

Dear Lujuana,
We are not promised roses without thorns nor rainbows without rainstorms.
I miss you so much. I am in the light now but was granted temporary leave to write you this letter. You are an incredibly talented and beautiful woman. You lost your creativity for a moment in time, but you will soon receive all the talent and creativity back that a few people who wished you back luck had put a spell on you wishing you homeless, and in dire poverty so they could convince everything and everyone that you are a bad hombre. They lied about you to your friends and acquaintances. The ex-lover wanted to destroy you as a human being out of revenge and hate. In his opinion if you did not want him then you were on drugs and seriously dumb to not have stayed with his lying narcissistic personality. The rejected lover wanted to hurt you and throw you into the dark night of the soul forever, but you, my beautiful granddaughter, did not succumb to their threats of hate and evil intentions to destroy you as a human being. Your ex-lover vowed to destroy you so you would never find love again. He and his cronies laughed at you throwing stones through words and gossip to anyone they encountered to hurt you so deeply hoping you would die or live in darkness, but you, Lujuana, are a child of the Universe. You are surrounded by light and angels.
However, my sweet Lujuana I was allowed to send you guides to watch over you and protect you from his evil intentions to destroy you as a human being.
I want to let you know I love you so much. I know you have had too many broken relationships by wrongdoing men. Even though you are old now, age 74, it is not too late to have a special relationship with an artistic, creative man. I know you say it must be a miracle music man to stroke your breasts and kiss your lips. So, my dear Lujuana you will meet your mystery man like a bump in the night.
I have permission to continue to watch over you by hiring your spirit guides to always be around you to keep you safe.
I am watching you write, create art, and grow into your peace and light and love position as a human being. There are many stories you can write to help others with your stories of fiction, non-fiction, poetry, and photography. Even your little stick figure drawings and your flower drawings are a part of your many gifts given from the Universe.
I wanted to stop by to deliver this message of love, peace, and light. I wish we could text each other as you do your friends in 2024. Despite this I will always be by your side to guide you. Your pop says hi and to let you know that no matter how old you get you are still his baby girl. Your mom, my daughter, has gone into the light and moved on as a reincarnated soul to learn lessons. She loved you very much but died young at age 65 and must reincarnate with her soul into another human body.
I love you my dear Lujuana, and you are protected from all evil intentions of an ex-partner that wished you harm. I know you know that the ex-partner truly kept all your photos to create a dark aura around your life not wanting you to succeed in your career. They no longer have power over your life.
May God, the Universe guide you to be the strong warrior you are to fight for equality for all, LBGTQ rights, women’s rights, gun control, peace, love, light, and understanding.
Be thankful, pray, create roses with and without thorns.
Love,

Grandma Soleta
January 30, 2024
This is a fictional story. Any representation of situations or real characters is unintentional. My grandma did visit me after her death. I have spoken with spirits and decided to dedicate this story to all grandmas and their granddaughters. Peace to all. To all my relations.

Dear Unsealers,

I wrote this poem as an homage to our ancestors, when spirituality came before organized religion, when we viewed the world with wonder, and when we longed for understanding of life and death:

Primitivo

I worship the Sun

And his daughter, the Moon

I pray to the sky; morn, evening, and noon

The stars I will use as my guide and my light

To honor my ancestors throughout the night

And I pray to the gods of the wind and the rain

For peace and strength and no more of the pain

For my mother, the Earth, and my father, the Sea

Gave life and birth for me to be

The son of comets and shooting stars

My brothers Venus, Earth, and Mars

Watch over me as I wake and rest

And live my life as I do best

For when my body returns to clay

The stars will cradle me, and there I’ll stay

A note to my younger self
Dear Ms. Vicki Lawana,
I realize you were raised with a double standard as the after affects of being born in 1949.
You were born on September 18, 1949. The most popular song of that year was “RAGTIME COWBOY JOE” By Jo Stafford. The most popular movie was “MISS GRANT TAKES RICHMOND” starring Lucille Ball and William Holden. A comedy about a secretary who unwittingly helps her boss run a betting parlor.
You have so much potential as a young woman. You were born with so many talents. However, you were told as a woman you had to buckle down take care of your man. You questioned that point of view by asking questions of all the family. You thought maybe you were born again, as you looked out your window counting the stars asking the universe why you were here in this house, with this family and now what? You hear a choir singing from far away, as though the angels answered your question.
You grew up learning to play the piano for hours, writing music, singing the blues. Your mom and grandma were your biggest fans.
But as time went on you were told you could not be a singer or none of the things you were interested in at that time. There were only four things a woman was allowed to do in 1949.
1. Secretary
2. Housewife, baby maker, home maker
3. Nurse
4. Retail clerk
Then when your dad tried to teach you mechanics, your mom told you, “Baby girl, ladies don’t work on cars.” So, you went inside the house crying tears of pain because your poppa was your hero. Your mom did not know any better. Your poppa told your mom. “Honey, there will be a time when ladies do work on cars. At least I wanted to teach her the basics.”
Your dad worked long hours except he never worked on a Sunday as that was his family time. Your poppa bought you all the latest rock n roll of the 60s and 70s. Music was the go-to for everything in your family.
You visited a nightclub when you were 15, jumping on stage singing “I’m Sorry” by Brenda Lee.
Of course, you were only 15 and your dad found you, pulled you off stage. Sometime after that you quit singing or playing the piano. That was devastating to you. You would sit in your room writing songs and lyrics listening to all the latest bands.
You grew up in a male patriarchal society. A woman could not buy a house or car without her husband. You marched in parades for equal rights for women and civil rights for people of color.
When the 70s arrived and the women’s movement had opened doors for women to go to college and not be codependent on their husbands. Your dad sent you to nursing school in 1969. You began college studying business management and journalism. You discovered you had a high IQ of 135. You remember back in 1967 you were told your IQ was 95 below average. You were being prepared to survive in a male patriarchal society where men were smart, and women were 2nd class citizens.
You rebelled against this, but still loved men and not always choosing the best characters.
I want to explain, Ms. Vicki, that you listened to everyone but yet kept going to college and aspiring to fulfill your dreams. You worked at the LA Times when you were 30. However, you were introduced to a dude by his brother that worked there. You married him, had two babies as you thought your time clock was running out. When you landed the job at The LA Times it was not about marriage or babies. So once again you lived your double standard. You were divorced in 1989.
Then you worked with a dude in the music and film industry whom you married.
You never really had to marry anyone or have children to fulfill your womanly desires.
I tell you as younger self, finish your degree, don’t marry because you think you must, work hard, play hard, study hard. It’s your life. Then one day you would meet the artist who respects you as a human being not a 2nd class citizen.
Write those stories, interview the same stars you interviewed with your man, but do these procedures as a woman, educated, strong and successful.
I tell my younger self, Ms. Vicki, you are unique, eccentric, artist. You don’t need a man to make you a whole person. The truth be told it’s the men who need a woman to make them feel like a man.
So as a young woman you can do anything your heart desires and use your own talents in your career not worried about your man. Your man will love you for your strong qualities not just a ragtime cowboy side kick, but as a partner in life, a friend, a lover.
GO FOR GUSTO, MS. VICKI!
The rock song of 2023 was “Angry” by The Rolling Stones. The best movie was “Love at First Sight” by Netflix. Have we changed in the last decades? Yes, there are many changes. We stream music and movies through the internet. Web no longer have to go to the theater or concerts to see stars.
There is a group of people in America today who want women to go back to 1949. Ms. Vicki, please work not to let this happen. If there was a time machine I would like to sit and talk to my younger self to tell you, do not marry just because it’s the trend. Do not have babies just because your internal clock is ticking. Study, work, play but do it on your own please.
Ms. Vicki, you love your kids and grands very much. Surly you know your kids and grands have so many choices as men or women. There’s a new future ahead. There’s a rainbow of colors spreading all over the land. The Earth turns in motion to the beat of eternity as learn to move forward for equality for all.

Please bear with me as this is something that I’ve been wanting to do & finally got the courage to do so a freestyle fiction story that has been on my mind.

A child’s core memories develop at 5. Her core memories were not like others. Her core memory was waking up from her sleep as she was in the backseat of a car covered with her dad’s jacket while he was speeding on the freeway. She felt safe seeing her dad and went back to sleep as he told her to do.

She wasn’t going to school, but she went from home to home thinking about what a great time she was having with her dad. She went with the stepmom to be with her siblings. She doesn’t recall how she spent her time there but just the vhs movie that the stepmom threw away. Once dad picked her up, he noticed she was sad. Since her dad asked her what happened, she did just that. Dad said, “Wait in the car. I’ll be right back.” She just knew that her dad was going to take care of it. In her world full of chaos, all she can do was observe. When it felt like she was all, alone she realized that she was always guided and protected.

She went with another stepmom who was just a sweet and caring soul. She treated her right, and she knew, being in her presence, that everything would be just fine.