I wrote this about my most recent battle of surviving and healing physically/mentally after my car accident. It took me LEFT
“with nothing” to realize I already have everything I need and I can say I am Thankful my God continues to prove his love for me!!

Left. Starving.
Tryin to keep my head up…while being fed up. Hard to stay UP when all you feel is down. Pushed down. All the way down.
To the Mf ground. Stuck on a marry go round. Left. Spinning. Where we stop nobody knows. Can’t afford to take no more blows. Left.
Down where the stream flows.
Saying goodbye to all my belongings.
Saying goodbye to dreams
Suddenly
Saying good riddance to the negativity. Watching my stuff float out of sight.
Still starving but can’t get fed a bite.
Left. Freezing cold with no warmth in sight.
This is where strength kicks in ready to fight. Move how you are forced to move. Wedged. Jammed. Left. Scared. Worried.
Made to believe you have luck.
How, when all I feel is stuck.
Still searching for my belongings
floating in the muck.
Maybe I wasn’t looking for my stuff after all wtf… I was left looking for more outta life.
Left. Just So I can get RIGHT.

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.

I hated my dad’s classes. He would take out his “Black Tapes”, his Black Law books, and his printed-out thick packets of information from whatever minister or professor he liked then and turn on his computer. It was only occasionally, but the topics of our history always left me feeling uneasy. As I’ve grown, I realized it wasn’t his fault the topics were oppressive to deal with, but I am fortunate he tried to prepare me for the outside world I was entering.

He is good at that.

I was homeschooled and in one of our many classes, I remember he made my brother and I draw a circle on the page in front of us and write these words.

“The space inside this circle represents my realm of knowledge. All that I think I know about whatever I think know is depicted right here within this circle! I must keep in mind that there is more to know than what is within the circumference of my awareness.”

I admired his way of storing and sharing information. His eyes lit up when he had the chance to but other times, he just kept his head in a book or focused on the new installment of monitors on his desk; only to interact again when his friends were around. The people who seemed to matter most.

What he does to me, I do to him. Even though in the deepest parts of our hearts all we want to do is hug each other. We choose to dance around it. We hurt each other, but we do it with love. I know it makes no sense, yet it’s true. I say nothing to protect us and he tells me nothing to keep my image of him from being damaged forever.

Everything he taught me I absorbed. I stood on a podium and to 300 people. I told them that quote he told me. I made them make a circle with their hands and recite these words, again.

“The space inside this circle represents my realm of knowledge. All that I think I know about whatever I think know is depicted right here within this circle! I must keep in mind that there is more to know than what is within the circumference of my awareness.”

I saw him watch me and I could feel how proud he was without having to look. There are moments when I love him with my whole heart and there are moments when I can’t because it hurts. But I always listen to him, just like I know he listens to me.

I love you in the way rain always escapes the forecast. It surprises me how much I always forget my umbrella. I love you and it’s hard because it’s hard to love myself sometimes.

We talk and clash because we both want to be right and since he can’t respond I will part with a piece of his song:

A baby boy, amazing grace. The 20th of July, a special day. A father’s smile and mother’s tear. Through that special reunion, I appear. So full of life and so many dreams. Raised in the ghetto the eldest of three.

This sounds like me:

A baby girl, amazing grace. The 25th of July, a special day. A father’s smile and mother’s tear. Through that special reunion, I appear. So full of life and so many dreams. Raised in the ghetto the youngest of three.

And this part sounds like us:

Plans were made to visit Grandma and them. But underneath pops’ wings is where you’ll find me. Right before bed was the best of times. I swear moms can read a book and make it come to life. But maybe life pressure got to Mom and Dad. Made them change directions from the ones they had. Buckets of tears running down my face as I watch in pain my hero’s separating.

But with me and you, there are no separations.

I am a work in progress

Orphan baby that time stole

As I figure out my role

Though sometime just a hot mess

I try to find my true self

Racing time against its toll

Challenging my self control

While maintaining mental health

The haters and the lovers

Inspire my will to thrive

And my desire to stay alive

Lest I dive under the covers

So, in stepping out of bed

I take steps toward my goal

Like a newborn baby foal

To live life outside my head

Have I really been working on myself or did I just change from my work clothes to something more comfortable
Is this depression or is it just the pigment of my skin
Can I defeat you, detach from you or are you so fingerprinted to my thoughts that I’m simply running away from me
Sometimes I wish I could just escape me, myself wears a mask, and I am tired of getting dressed up just to still feel down
I’m black said my mind, I live in the shadows of sadness watching the sunlight from a distance
If only the heat from the suns smile would kiss me, maybe it would melt away my sadness
I’m black said my words, followed by you’re different, they won’t accept you, you don’t fit in
I’m black says the mirror looking at a reflection of depression
I get so lost in my waning emotions my waxing moon can barely breathe
It’s so cold that even the rays of light feel sad
I’m black, I’m depressed, I’m black, I’m oppressed, I’m black I’m obsessed with the idea of my feelings living on equal ground
I’m black, I’m depressed the two interchange while beginning to sound the same so much so I took depressions last name
When I look at me I see one broken piece
I can’t find the rest of the lyrics to my song, maybe it’s because the writer will never finish it
Maybe it’s because I didn’t cry enough to water my heart
I’m black, I’m dirt, but my soil is killing the last remaining rose
I am a rose with bloody red regrets for petals, I put my failures on a pedestal
So, every time I tried to look up it got me nowhere
I’m lost and I keep letting the grey line give me directions, because there’s a thin line between joy and happiness, and in the middle is pity where you can find me
I’m black so they think I stole these 5 minutes of happiness, and so what if I did everyone deserves 15 minutes of fame and mine is coming soon
But right now, I just want to smile and actually feel the laughter hold me instead of the facade that hugs me like a long embrace
This morning I stopped running and looked depression in the face
My mind is not yours it is the Lord’s
p.s. let the battle begin

As a writer, I often find myself discovering scraps of writing I have jotted down somewhere, or suddenly, a line will appear in my head that doesn’t fit anywhere or doesn’t feel good enough. Sometimes, I foolishly let it fly away because it wasn’t what I was looking for at that moment. I have pondered how we do this with so many things. We set expectations and order and refuse anything that breaks the pattern, even if the thing we are shooing away isn’t harmful but is healing. We become so strict within ourselves that we become the cause of our discomfort. We search for relief in one way and refuse to accept that anything other than that specific thing will help. There is a calming effect that comes with the familiar, but only because one thing helps us, it doesn’t mean something else won’t. Here is a little silly analogy. Only because you love fries doesn’t mean you can’t like mash. It doesn’t mean mash isn’t satisfying, even if fries are your favorite. The same goes for everything in life. Are you feeling sad? Then you probably know something that can help, but if you are being entirely honest, can you say you are open-minded and open-hearted to other options? We tend to dismiss things before attempting them and convince ourselves that something else won’t work until it stands no chance. I was against exercising for so long. Told myself that I hated it and did so with such intensity I couldn’t let myself feel how I genuinely felt. There was no benefit because I refused there to be one. I was determined for it to fail, so it failed; however, when I let go, gave it a chance, and approached it with openness, I learned it does a lot for my mental health. This is one example of many. It is strange how this links with my writing and how I have started writing down the notes I would abandon before, and the results have been incredible. Instead of telling myself they are awful and brushing them out the door, I let them stay a while. I give them room in my notepad and let them ruminate.
In summary, I am saying we are terrible at giving things chances, and we should open ourselves to everything. It is okay if you give something a genuine attempt and it doesn’t work out for you, but please try it. Download the running app, try those HIIT workouts, make that recipe you’ve been unsure about, and write the poetry you are sure will suck. In celebration of this, here is an ending of a poem my brain created that doesn’t have a body yet. Hopefully, one day, it will.
“Please call back later
I’m trying to sleep off the silence
And if you don’t understand
what I’m saying
Congratulations
You’re cured.”
(If you like this letter, I write these weekly on my website. I will post more here also, so make sure we’re friends.)

Dear Movie Fanatics,

Where do I start on my mood swing journey?

Well, you all should know a little about my personality. To begin, I am a partial introvert with an appreciation for life. Empathetic, goofy, and humble all rolled into a nerdy late 30-year-old. I go through the swing of life with a healthy mix of career and personal goals. My love life is healthy, and my fiancée is awesome. He is my balance, happiness, and 1/4 of my heart next to my dad, mom, and dog.
Just to give a little background now let’s go on the rollercoaster- fasten your seatbelts, everybody.
Like most people, I go through different moods depending on my situation in life. I have 5 that drive the genre of shows I am going to watch for the day, week, or month.
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MOOD 1 (Psychological Thriller Genre)
Typically, when I start watching films like this it indicates that I have been around complex individuals—usually my friends, fiancée, or coworkers. To add on, I have watched something insightful/educational. My handy dandy TV providers HULU, Netflix, Tubi, etc… are always on the ball with recommendations for what I usually watch but sometimes I like to switch it up on them.
Recently, I came across a movie called “The Loft” which has a pretty badass cast. The plot centers around five married men who use a loft to have affairs however one woman ends up dead and they must figure out who killed her. Sounds predictable to most moviegoers but the writers threw in two great plot twists. Logan’s character, the main one who ended up buying the loft, ends up essentially screwing all his friends over by having affairs with Chris’s wife, sleeping with Ben’s sister (who was a virgin), and Matt’s affair partner. All the friends end up framing him for the murder of the girl, but it ends up being the awkward friend of the group who gave the girls sleeping pills and Logan’s half-brother who kills her.
A lot went into the plot, but I was very impressed with the director’s ability to keep the story on track. I love it when I have to double back on a film or re-watch it to understand the plot.
After awhile, my brain does need a break from all the movie Jedi mind tricks and that’s when I transition to the more non fiction based genres.
——————————————————————————————————–
MOOD 2 (Documentary Genre)
After I have gotten my dose of fiction for a week straight, I start to crave semi-predictable “historically accurate” content. I tend to get into this mood whenever I discover something new about myself or the people around me. Research begins and I look up specific artists of different genres to get their backstory. For example, sometime last year I happened to be listening to “Time Machine”, by Willow Smith, and in the lyrics, she sings, ” Baby, if I had a time machine, I’d go back to 1983. Maybe I would chill with Basquiat, I’d be out there playing make-believe.” The first question that sprung to mind was, “Who tf was Basquiat? Some French guy?”. Without hesitation, I immediately did a Roku TV search and happened to find a documentary on Hulu called, “Boom For Real: The Late Teenage Years of Jean-Michael Basquiat”.
“OMG, this is the SAMO guy!”- I screamed aloud.
Of course, my random outburst scared my dog and fiancée, but it was only because I felt like I had been sleeping under a rock. After watching how prolific this melanated Brooklyn-born artist was during the 80’s, I ended up purchasing a huge Basquiat-inspired “docu-art-book” (roughly 1,000 pages long) and got through 25% of the book as I am writing this article today.
After viewing 1-10 artists’ life stories, I started to wonder if these celebrities infamous or not, were the inspiration for different horror films. I then delve into my Horror Film binge.
———————————————————————————————————
MOOD 3: (Horror Genre)
Recently, I have been curious about the human experience regarding coincidental or inexplicable events happening in the past or present. I researched the story of Ed & Lorraine Warren. While most people thought they were “Kooks”, I found the integration of their career in “The Conjuring Universe” to be quite insightful. Curiosity at this point got the better of me and I began my binge of the whole series. From “Annabelle” to “The Nun”, each movie kept my attention for following the storyline. Jump scares used in moderation make for a great horror film in my opinion.
Afterward, I go to the old-school films that set the bar for the horror franchise today. Films such as “Child’s Play”, “The Exorcist”, “The Shining”, “Alien” etc… I am a firm believer in giving homage to the originals. Eventually, after my subconscious tricks me into believing I am being chased by an evil puppeteer, I begin my transition into a animated viewing experience.
————————————————————————————————————-
MOOD 4: (MANGA/ANIME/CARTOON GENRE)
I usually get into my animation craze when I need a dose of comedic relief from any horror or non-fiction binge I finish. Anime, Manga, and cartoons hold a special place in my heart and brain. Maybe the fact that someone’s inner child brought their imagination to life is what draws me in so heavily. One of my favorite anime series is Cowboy Bebop. Alongside this masterpiece, I also love “Samurai Champloo”, “Trigun”, “Attack on Titan”, and “The Boondocks”, just to name a few.
Afterwards, I go down memory lane for my dose of nostalgia and start watching projects from Nickelodeon, Disney Channel, and Cartoon Network. “Samurai Jack”, “Hey Arnold”, “Code Name Kids Next Door”, “The Proud Family”, etc… bring me down memory lane and my loved ones talk about which episodes resounded with us the most.
Recently, I made two cartoon theories on the TikTok app. Both theories focus on the possibility of cartoon characters being reincarnated on other cartoon shows. For example, I made a theory video about Susie Carmichael, from “The Rugrats” being reincarnated as Ms. Zorski the drama/English and music teacher due to their hobbies or life events in each show. As a result, I have come up with 5 video theories that are in progress as I write this letter. I love the fact these animations can get your imagination running wild. After a while, I need to come back to “reality” and I end my monthly genre binge with a more adrenaline-based viewing.
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Mood 5 : (Action Packed Genre)
Finally, I end my monthly binge with some blood-rushing special effects and ass-kicking films/tv shows. I usually get into this mood after watching manga turned into anime shows where the fight scenes get my blood pumping. My favorite action film is a mix of horror/action, and it is “Blade”. I know that is technically “cheating” but his killing vampires and the fight scenes using Wesley Snipes are downright awesome. I always get more inspired to learn self-defense in my spare time as a result of watching an action-packed movie. I’d also venture to say that the actors/actresses also inspire me to get to my ideal body. Special thanks to Halle Berry in “Catwoman” for her perfect curves in tight leather. Standing ovation for Salma Hayek in “Dusk till Dawn” for her two-piece bikini dancer body. Honorable mention shout out to Angelina Jolie for making it cool for girls to look sexy in hunting gear with gun holsters.
After I tire myself out mentally and physically, I give the action genre a break and restart the binge process all over again.
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In conclusion, my taste in movies has changed over the years but my personality has played a role in the films/tv shows I have had the pleasure/displeasure of viewing. I’ve concluded that my rollercoaster always encompasses these 5 main genres. However, they do not always follow the order of the genres listed in this piece. Sometimes, I can have one mood for two to three weeks at a time and I could end up watching one genre for 3 weeks and switch it up at the last minute. (Especially if I am feeling impulsive).
So, I challenge all my TV/FILM fanatics to look into their favorite genres and reflect on their process for picking what they want to watch for the day or month.
Ready, Set, GO!

In the realm of whispers, where simple truths twist and turn
Resides the tale of crayons, damaged and yearned.
“They still bring color ” they say, with a glance
Those who have tried know its a flawed dance.

For crayons though vibrant and bold
Struggle, in hands that fail to hold.
The canvas awaits, vast and forgiving
Fragmented pieces make coloring less than living.

Coloring, not painting; the distinction is clear
One wields crayons while the other brushes near.
Yet the challenge endures with these parts
Smooth strokes of joy elude us like lost arts.

Lines appear jagged and hesitant, on our quest
With each tiny fragment causing hues to fade best.
The persists “They still bring color indeed ”
Oh how we long for crayons to succeed.

For isn’t true bliss found in slow glides?
In crayons that smoothly coincide?
Yet from brokenness we learn resilience imbued
Colors emerge despite abuse endured.Well you know when it comes to coloring with crayons it’s not as easy, as using the ones. It’s like a story of never giving up and facing our fears. Actually it could even be seen as a metaphor for more than just coloring.

In both life and coloring those who are broken may still manage to leave their impactful marks.. Lets not pretend that it’s just as simple or fair for everyone. We all have our own challenges and obstacles to overcome, both in our lives and, in our endeavors.

I don’t mean to sound conceited
But now I’m focused on respecting me
I’ve lived my life trying to people please,
Finally done with it, I broke free
I need to respect me
By setting boundaries
Boundaries stronger than Titanium
I need to practice saying no
Saying no to compromise
And stand firm in my beliefs, feelings and healing
I need to practice discernment
Keeping my vulnerabilities away from those
Those who only know how to hurt me
I need to practice patience
That word used to scare me
I used to be so hard on myself for not
Not progressing as fast as others
I need to stop comparing myself
I have my own pace and they have theirs
I need to practice confidence
I need to walk in boldness and grace
Like a Lioness with pride in her prowess
Stomping on the skulls of what used to haunt me
Terrorizing my sleep, making me drowsy
So I can’t live to my full potential with this chronic fatigue
Afraid to sleep because the girl I saw
Seemed to be impossible to be,
So I shut her out to have depression keep me company
I thank my Father for pushing me and encouraged to fight
So i take my sword paired with my shield
Decimating the lies that the demons wield
Their voices no longer linger in my brain
All because I fought without restrain
I wont tolerate what I don’t deserve.
I need to take care of me
So I have the capability to be a blessing to others
I need to put my healing first,
So I don’t bleed on the ones who didn’t cut me.
I need to trust myself,
So I can discern who I can or cannot trust.
I need to respect myself,
So I can respect those I love that surround me.
So that way I’m not plagued by hypocrisy.

On various classic episodes of The Simpsons, Homer’s adventure of the week will sometimes become his lifelong dream, only for Marge to tell him that his lifelong dream was something different entirely and say that he’s already done it.

Example: In Colonel Homer (1992), Homer becomes the manager of a country/western starlet named Lurleen Lumpkin (voiced by guest actor Beverly D’Angelo) and proclaims that it’s been his lifelong dream. Marge’s retort: “Your boyhood dream was to eat the world’s biggest hoagie, and you did it at the county fair last year. Remember?”
Anyway, I bring this up because yesterday, I had my annual meeting with my home health aid and her supervisor, during which time the topic of lifelong dreams came up. I mentioned that my lifelong dream has been to attend an event at the Rose Bowl Stadium in Pasadena.

My home health aid wondered if there were any events held at that venue aside from the Rose Bowl Game on New Year’s Day, to which I mentioned that the stadium is also UCLA’s home stadium for football and that they have flea markets in the stadium parking lots every so often (according to Google, the next Rose Bowl Flea Market is scheduled to take place in March.)

Now, make no mistake: Although I want to attend an event at the Rose Bowl, by no means am I interested in attending a flea market. I want to see a game there. Every time I see a telecast of a sporting event from that stadium, it takes me back to the times I was a bright-eyed little boy watching the Rose Bowl Game on ABC with Keith Jackson on the call.

It’s my hope that one day, this lifelong dream turns into reality.

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.

In the cosmic dance of chance and fate,
A story unfolds, a love so great.
A Spectrum of colors, a call in the night,
Where fate intervened, two worlds took flight.

In the realm of pixels and data streams,
A Spectrum call center, where reality gleams.
As a troubleshooter, I entered the scene,
Little did I know, fate was foreseen.

In the sunshine state, where palm trees sway,
Florida’s warmth met Ohio’s gray.
A sweet voice on my line,
A connection so divine.

Fate had more in its grand design.
Little did I know, she’d soon be mine,
She insisted on more, a number to exchange,
Feeding into destiny’s range.

Two and a half years, our connection grew,
Before I gave into her irresistible pursuit.
A realization of self-discovery, coming to light,
As I embraced the truth of my own unique sight.

In the closet’s shadow, I found my way,
Guided by fate’s hand, in the light of day.
Coming out, my thoughts unfurled,
She stood by my side, as I reshaped my world.

Long-distance whispers across state lines,
A love so deep, like vintage wines.
Florida to Ohio, miles and miles apart,
Yet, she captured my soul and entered my heart.

Through video calls and messages, love took its place,
A connection so strong, no distance can erase.
Her laughter echoed through a virtual space,
Serenading me in a symphony of love and unspoken grace.

In her, I found a safe harbor, a haven of peace,
Long-distance love, a sweet release.
She, a lighthouse, guiding me through,
In the vast ocean of love, our connection grew.

Miles may stretch, but love knows no bounds,
With the help of fate, our story resounds.
A love that bridges the space and time,
A testament to fate, beautifully sublime.

Here’s to the place where it all began,
Our fate smiled, as it crafted our unique plan.
In the Spectrum of love, we found our place,
A love story written by destiny’s grace.

Note: I wrote this last New Years day. I found and re-read it yesterday and realized that in part that my prayer was answered. Some of it is still in the process of being answered.

As we close the curtain on 2022 and pull back the curtains to a bright, new you I don’t know what to expect. I couldn’t have imagined 2022 going the way it did, so please forgive my anxious anticipation, and please know that it is also mixed with an excitement and enthusiasm to reset and begin again.

I pray that I change, heal, and progress throughout the year. I pray that you teach me the lessons God knows I need to learn to be who He has created me to be. I pray that you are a gentle teacher full of compassion, kindness, “I love yous” and and “I’m sorrys.” I hope this year is full of adventures, full of laughter and love, and that it is surrounded with healthy friendships that continually call us both to excellence and holiness.

Most importantly I want to strengthen my relationship with God, to listen to his voice, to trust and rely on Him fully in every moment and to give Him everything.

I ask for protection for my………
Mind
Heart
Soul
Body
Friends
Family
Home

in the upcoming year. Deliver us Lord from every temptation, evil, danger and/or harm that the enemy could imagine. Make us holy.

2023 you have large shoes to fill. I know the Lord has given you a big purpose to fulfill. I know that the Lord is just a step ahead of me–He’s already in 2023 dealing with each trial, making a message out of a mess and guiding my footsteps. And so I dare to follow Him wholeheartedly into the unknown, into the heart of you–2023. Welcome 2023! I can’t wait to see what you have in store.

Sincerely,

My heart is broke I’m begining to sulk
My tears are for fears that you might not be back do you have to go away for this long? I don’t think Im strong for lack of a better word, maybe I’m being absurd
First time I saw you I knew you were the one.
Starring in to each others eyes our lips touched and that was it, I was hit with cupid’s arrow.
Now years later a lie was created
doubted thoughts loom and you assume.
My heart drops what did I do I never knew you felt like this I must’ve missed.
I want to give you a kiss and be in bliss again with you, this what I really want to do
I miss you

In a world of toes and heels
There resides a villain, fibrous and real.
Plantar fibromatosis, a foe
Transforms my feet into a peculiar grind.

Nodules and bumps they sprout with delight,
Turning shoes, into foes that plot through the night.
Every step brings a wince and a frown,
Oh why must these growths be so renowned?

I tread with caution like a stroll
Avoiding pressure to maintain some control.
These fibrous companions have their say
Playing tricks on my feet day, after day.

I yearn for shoes that offer respite
They taunt me creating an odd plight.
“Give it your shot ” I say with a grin
I’ll hobble forward making every step akin!

So here’s to plantar fibromatosis my amusing companion,
Transforming each stride into an union.
I’ll Wiggle as I manage the scene
With humor and laughter keeping it all serene!