As my footprints along my life journey are walking me into yet another year, I realize that all things have a reason and nothing is impossible - every event has had its course and purpose.....

Affirmations

There are certain aspects of myself that I feel the need to change and the onset of a new year, 2014, offers me the chance to reflect, rebuild and re-energize. 

As I have been growing older I have often been consumed with regret. I have wished that I had done more, seen more and accomplished more. I have felt at times that my life was not justified and have constantly struggled to assure myself that I would always merit the esteem of my children. I have often felt that I have wasted too much time and regret that I didn't seize all the opportunities that were available to me. I have wished that life had taken a different turn.

I have become aware though, now in my senior years, that most of my regret had developed from my failure to have sufficient insight into my life. My life, many times, begged for change, but the changes I made often led to repeated and unredeemed behavior. Although intense, my regret didn't always have deep roots, and often lacked the depth to motivate a significant change in attitude. 

As I have aged and travelled many troubled, twisted and bumpy paths along my journey, I have gradually become aware that my feelings can be a mixture of regret and remorse - regret being the stillborn emotion that gets me nowhere; remorse being the active emotion that can be filled with depth and power. This remorse can awaken my awareness and introduce new and fresh behavior, and though it won't always change my life, it can change my attitude.

Through life lessons learned, I can now allow myself to express my insights with more effect. It is never too late to re-imagine experiences and to tell people who mean something to me how I think and feel. And I can even make a new life for myself based on what I can learn from my feelings of remorse.

The mere act of getting older, and entering into another year, offers me now an invitation to live more from my soul than from myself. Remorse can quietly chip away at actions done from a place of limited wisdom and give me a fresh imagination. I can discover, full of feeling, how to live my spiritual and emotional life differently. I can let remorse serve me - I can accept its offer of a new style - my style - of thought and feeling.  

At certain times along our life journey our path may lead us to a time of reflection.....

Year End Random Thoughts

I need to make time more often to reflect on the true priorities in my life.....

I must always remind myself that there are roots in my life, now unmoving and serene, that are my mother and father, who remain within me at my very core..... 

I must continue to surround myself with people who respect and trust me.....

I will continue to demand results from myself, not from someone else.....

I must keep my self image bright as it is the window through which I will see my world....

I know now that the greatest tests of my life have truly developed my character.....

I have learned, through the publishing of my book, that success is a belief come true.....

I have benefited from the encouragement of a good teacher and my life has turned around.....

I must constantly keep in mind that words are the only things that last forever.....

I have learned that it is important to nourish my soul every day as life is often filled with emotional tunnels that need to be travelled with care.....

And, as the year 2013 comes to an end, I will continue to remind myself that:
I will live in the present moment, free from the past and free of worry for the future..... 

Our journey through life takes us to places where it would be better to forget and smile than remember and be sad.....

Christmas Memories

by Beverlee Blampied (c)

Christmas
Is a special day in December
When carols are sung and candles shine a special light
When fires blaze all cozy and bright
Where bright colored stockings are filled to overflowing
Beside a tree hung with satin balls
When laughter rings throughout the house and its hallowed halls
A day full of all the things that we love to remember 
That can be full of many such things
Or unfortunately
It is a day in December
That may bring some just a few
And for many it may be
A day filled with raw emotion
With memories old and tired and true
With memories we build outside ourselves
Where love and laughter are at play
Or memories we build inside ourselves
Of sadness, depression and pain
That we have hidden away
With memories where all of our past life dwells
The good, the bad and the hurtful
With memories  where  our mind dwells
On images that will remain ever painful
Christmas Day
May be comprised of many good things
Or a day that our mind recalls only the loneliest of times
But wherever we travel along our life journey
Our path leads us forward and gives us some signs
That if we choose to believe and we don't let our mind deceive
We can help ourselves blend the old and the new
And we can learn again to build, grow and share
We can forgive the mistakes that we and others have made
And we can decide to show others that we need them to care 
We can let Christmas Day
Fill us up spiritually instead of pulling us down
We can choose to smile and laugh and vanish our frown
And Christmas Day can become a time of joy
A day made for love and for cheer
A day made for making good memories
That can last us throughout the New Year  

Along her journey through life one of the hardest lessons to learn was that anything less than love is not love at all.....

Pour Me Another One

It was a cool, crisp morning, The bright sunshine bounced off the trees outside her living room window, creating spectacular colors. It was the kind of day that usually made her feel very alive. But she was going through her morning routine in a daze, her head so filled with unanswered questions, that she remained oblivious to the world around her.

She had lost track of him several years ago, and had no idea what had become of him. However, bumping into him in the lobby of the concert hall last evening had now taken her mind to places she had long ago promised herself she would never revisit. But the mind and the heart are interconnected and she now found herself wondering if she had made all the wrong choices? What if, after all, she did have things to regret? What if she did come to hate growing old on her own? What if she would prefer puttering around her garden with an old, familiar man, talking about nothing significant at all?

She was lonely - and loneliness was very familiar to her, but when it came on her like this, after talking with him again, like a wave over her head pulling her under, she didn't know what to do, how to feel, or how to make it go away. Her thoughts were taking her down winding pathways - perhaps she had expected too much and so may simply have been doomed to dissatisfaction. Maybe she had aimed for the enormous and impossible with the cost being a failure to be satisfied with her everyday achievements. She had tried very hard with their relationship to be satisfied with what there was - it was a great deal - a lover and a friend all in one, but it wasn't in her nature to accept being second place, and her nature, wanting more, made him angry and anger made him sad and sorrow made him cold which caused her pain which made her demand more from their relationship. There were times that the two of them actually looked quite unappealing to each other. Still, they had survived for a decade. Longer than many marriages. But their time together had been measured in hours, not days, so ten years hardly amounted to a decade. But it had seemed long enough at the time.

She realized that this was becoming a dangerous day of self-discovery and she was frightened about what she might learn but she needed to uncover the nature of love  - the nature of love as it applied to herself. What was truly her own nature of love? Did love even apply to her? Did she ever have it? Did she have it and then lose it? Was there even such a thing, or was it just some comforting, or discomforting, myth, created to entertain, provide a plot, or a little surge of excitement in the midst of day to day survival?

With more reflection, she decided that there was such a thing as love - she recalled its sturdiness, its heat, and the foundation of joy it had built for her each day. But was it all just merely romance? She quickly decided no as she remembered her promise to him "I won't ever forget you", and that now appeared to be the truth. She hadn't forgotten him or their relationship, but the nature of reality was something quite different  - she knew that everyone brings part of their own history to happiness and love and all the experiences and events that shape their reality. Two people can spend time together and lay their bodies together with quite different, even conflicting, impressions. 

She understood now that the root of their failure was actually a terminal, yet hidden, disrespect for each other - his capacity to somehow be able to take her and his wife into account and her more complicated unwillingness to take his wife into account.  She never thought that he was lying when he told her he loved her - he truly meant it - and so, she presumed, he would not be lying to his wife when he talked of love with her either. What secrets had he kept from her? Certainly, he had never told her that he discussed love with his wife - she was only sure he must have. And those were the threads of disrespect that finally ruined them. It was odd now to think of herself as a secret, reduced to merely words that couldn't be said and actions that couldn't be revealed.

She now felt that having been a part of their relationship was simple bad behavior. But she was not a bad woman. Years ago his affections were a mystery to her, so what made her think now that she might be able to unravel them - or that knowing would make some kind of a difference. She had changed her priorities and today would make a pact with herself to stop walking these destructive pathways through her memories.  

And so , she made a promise to herself that no matter what happened, if he should call her, or even if she saw him again and heard his stirring and heart-spoken words, she wouldn't go backwards - she would stop this curiosity of hers and stick to her promise to herself, and that would be that,  she told herself as she swallowed another rum and coke to dull the pain..... 

Along our life journey we should try to find a path to travel that will allow us to create.....

Dreams Do Come True

Several days have passed since I dreamily floated through the book launch of Lost in the Long Goodbye, my very first - one author only - published book. I had previously been published in a newsletter and an anthology of prose and poetry, and I continually write for this blog and these accomplishments have brought me great pleasure. But to be celebrating the publication of my very own book brings the realization that my dream of one day becoming a published author has actually finally come true.

The book launch venue - The Markham Village Library, Fireside Lounge - offered a warm, inviting yet intimate environment, with its wood enclosed pipes crossing the architecturally stunning high cathedral type ceilings, and floor to ceiling windows streaming bright sunshine in from the outside cold, wintry day. The lounge was full of family and friends and others interested in books and literary events. A jazz guitarist strummed beautiful background music and I was in awe as I approached the 'podium' to begin my reading.

It was a dream that had been a lifetime in the making. Since early childhood, words had been my interest and my entertainment. I liked to read and constantly had at least two books on the go, but I possessed a powerful need to write and so my collection of my own attempts at prose and poetry began, and continued into adulthood and then into my senior years, where, until my retirement, it remained in boxes, guarded carefully under my bed.

Life had got in the way of my being able to fulfill my dream. Now, though, at this stage, with active mothering over and retirement handing me the time needed, I have been able to revisit that dream. Having an abundance of life experiences to reflect on, and having had many credits from the school of hard knocks, I have been able to pour out my thoughts once more. My creativity again lies in finding words and images for my thoughts and my feelings, translating my inner self into outer forms. It is the making of my life and my world. 

I have, however, met many stumbling blocks along my dream highway - mostly in the form of so called experts who attempted to stifle my creativity with negative, non-constructive and hurtful critiquing - people who tried to insist that to be successful and to get published it was necessary to write according to a set of rules.

I have since learned, through a very wise mentor/friend who loves writing and teaching, that I alone know best not only what to write, but also how to accomplish it better than anyone else can for me. Her excitement and her belief in me fired my creativity again, and so I will continue to write. 

I have found that to write requires the courage to experiment, to stand against those who are negative toward my ideas, and to be sincere to myself in developing my own writing style. Words and images are a very important way for me to describe my life experiences, but they must be my own words and my own poetry and stories. I have a sense of excitement again about my writing and a sense of joy in the act of writing and the expression of my ideas in words.  I have a belief in the value of my personal experiences and the value of penning it on to paper or typing it on a keyboard. I have a profound trust in self and a greater sense of possibility.

Life is what we choose to make it and I will continue to dream big - perhaps a novel next, or a book of poetry - because, with  encouragement, perseverance and hard work, dreams do come true!   

Lest we forget
by Beverlee Blampied (c)

Remembering to take a minute of silence
Each of us lost in personal thought
Many with tears, on November eleventh - tense
Each of us remembering all we have been taught
Memories of the soldiers who have bravely died
Bringing our world together - coast to coast
Eulogies are being read, remaining veterans sigh
Remembrance abounds - the heroes are honoured
        
           As the bugle plays the last post

I write because I feel - I write to you because I want you to know how I feel.....

Trampled Footprints

 By Beverlee Blampied (c)

The connection of a family

Never needs to come to an end

It's a circle, sometimes broken

But the arc can always mend

Sometimes, in a book, the endings

Are never always clear

But through the pages of the family book

A family's love can always be near

Through its family history

Endless chapters will continually show

That who we are, what we do

And what we feel and know

Have been taught to and defined us

Through the good times and the bad 

And even through the arguments and fuss

So though oftentimes our family

May be split and very torn

And all the branches of the family tree

May be weary and very worn

Our life journey's, though along very different paths 

Can always bring us back home 

And in truth - through fact or memory

We need never be alone

If not spoken now - when?.....

Notes To My Adult Children

In moments of reflection along the paths of my life journey, and most recently after writing a book about my mother's journey through Alzheimer Disease, I have become more aware that I sometimes cannot completely recall a particular place, thing, or event. Yesterday, while relating a story to a friend, I could not remember the name of a childhood friend - only her initials came to my mind. 

While struggling to recall her name, I quickly realized that my biggest fear is losing my memory -  and not knowing who my loved ones are - my partner, my children, my grandchildren. What if I was starting to lose my memory now and one day soon I wouldn't know who I really was? This would be worse than death, I thought, as death is the final ending of life, but being alive and not knowing those who love you and those whom you have loved, is a living death, and as familial Alzheimer Disease lurks in our family, threatening to cover me in its veil of forgetfulness, it is a far more frightening fate to imagine.

Suddenly the name I was searching for, while telling my story, popped into my head. I breathed a sigh of relief - the name had been there all along, dormant - it just needed to come to the surface. But what if this was the beginning of a dementia that would now progress? With this thought hovering over me, I realized again that, as tomorrow has not been promised to me, I must take the time now to say things that I don't want left unsaid.

And so to my children I need to say that I am so proud of both of them - of their accomplishments and achievements. But, more importantly, of who they are and who they have become. They are kind, caring and sensitive - they know how to love and they have compassion. 

In my life, they have always come first and being their mother has always been my priority. I realize that I made mistakes. Sometimes I pushed too hard - sometimes, not nearly enough.  But motherhood is the kind of job for which there is no practice - I gave it my best shot and I  trusted that they would be resilient enough that they would not suffer too much from my  mistakes. I have been blessed to see them grow and find their own way in life. I have watched them stumble. It was hard to let them trip and fall and it was even harder to let them go from childhood to adulthood - to independent lives of their own - lives with spouses and children - lives in which I no longer have an active mothering role. I know that in the chain of their families, I am but a small link. But that link connects me with my mother, and her mother, and it will connect my children and their children as it continues through time. 

I know that there is still much I have left unsaid, but I trust that they both know that they are the greatest gifts I have ever received.       

My life journey has placed me on a path where I can now share my words with many and through these words my voice can be heard .....

Lost In The Long Goodbye

What I thought would be a struggle to put my thoughts on paper to write a book on Alzheimer Disease was surprisingly easier than anticipated, but much more painful than I had foreseen.

I felt confident, though, that by writing this book about my mother's journey through this disease, and sharing the heart-wrenching personal stories of others whose lives were touched by this disease - I might possibly be able to convey, in a personal way, the deep pain that family and loved ones experience when Alzheimer Disease enters their world.

This book is now available and can be ordered by contacting  the author through e-mail at: bev_blampied@rogers.com 

If Alzheimer Disease has entered your life in any way, please reach out to The Alzheimer Society for help. The Alzheimer Society is the leading care and research charity committed to helping people with Alzheimer Disease. They do this by providing care, support, information and education for people living with dementia, by funding research to find a cure, by educating decision-makers about the need for health care services and qualified health care workers to support people with dementia and by increasing awareness of dementia and its impact on the whole family.

Only when you find peace within yourself can you find peace in your own space.....

Finding Peace 

Her aunt passed away a few weeks ago and she felt a deep emptiness as her heart floated in a huge, dark void.

Her mother and her aunts had had a falling out several years earlier when circumstances within her mother's life situation changed and altered the dynamics of the family, and her aunts would not accept the new parameters that were necessary for her mother to construct. For five years they had not spoken and now that one is gone, it is too late. Five years is not a lifetime, but in those years there was a lifetime of living lost - events that should have been shared - memories, birthdays, weddings, births and now death. People, once part of this family circle of love, were now complete strangers.

The argument between her aunts and her mother fractured the immediate family unit and in so doing delivered a very powerful and negative message to their children and their spouses, the cousins and the grandchildren  - and that message clearly said that nothing was absolute - that family meant nothing, that helping a sibling because 'he's your brother' or 'she's your sister' held no weight and was absolutely meaningless. That there was no need for more support, no acceptance or even caring. That there need be no understanding, no allowance for any more relationship, no crossing the bridge to make things better or to work things out. That it was all or nothing. That there was no possibility of reconciliation or forgiveness.

If the truth were known, her mother had reached out several times to make a difference, to make a better life which would include all her family, but, sadly, her pleas were ignored. The lack of emotional insight, courage and strength made it impossible to repair broken fences and fingers continued to be pointed and the berating and degrading continued on. Silence  prevailed.

Through her own growth, she had learned that she had every right to develop relationships with her relatives  - relationships that did not include her mother - but  the guilt she dealt with by not including her mother, or not defending her mother in those relationships was very painful and she now had to compartmentalize her daily existence to be able to handle that guilt. But her role in their lives was, unfortunately, superficial - there was still no real openness, no total support, no complete honesty - and there couldn't be - until the 'family' was restored and would include her mother as well.

Through her growth she had also learned how important and powerful it is to look at an issue from the other person's side but at the same time she now knew that she could not change the world and could not change other people - and that to move on, all she could change was herself. She could continue to hope, though, that maybe one day soon, truth would prevail and the negativity, toxicity, and dysfunction would melt in presence of the truth - quiet and still, yet far more powerful, as she continued to reach out to her family - to her aunts and cousins - from her heart, hoping that one day the way in which she included them in her world would send a message to them that would reach into their hearts and they, in turn,  would include her immediate family as well.   

Words have extraordinary power - they can heal or hurt the mind and the body.....

A Doctor's Duty

Dealing with the physical symptoms of a neurological/central nervous system disease will always be an uphill battle. We all know that there are no cures for diseases such as Multiple Sclerosis or Parkinson's Disease, to name a few, and to be told that one has one of these incurable diseases is devastating.  To learn with absolute certainty that you will spend the remainder of your life suffering a variety of strange, painful and  unpredictable symptoms that could possibly lead to some permanent disability or even shorten your life, can only be met with a huge degree of fear. 

There are bound to be dozens of unanswered questions, nowhere to turn and no hope for the future, particularly if you have experienced a doctor-patient relationship that did not offer any caring or compassion - where, instead of the relationship being the first step in healing it became the first step in suffering.  For good or bad, right or wrong, the doctor-patient relationship is bound, by the very nature of the relationship, to be an emotional one and it should, in its context, offer a soft place to fall, but becomes anything but that when a diagnosis has been given in a brusque and impersonal manner. A few words of hope, compassion, guidance and support can prevent the negative feelings that will naturally arise and last for many months and/or years afterwards as consequences of a doctor's cold and clinical approach.

Words have extraordinary power - they can heal or hurt the mind and the body. They affect spirit, motivation and attitude, and given the right words, with hope and acceptance people can do incredible things with their lives, in spite of the physical handicaps their disease might manifest. With compassion, understanding, and a positive approach a person can be guided toward a path of empowerment. Hope, optimism, and pertinent conversation will help heal faster and enable a person to face their disease and not surrender to it through fear and lack of knowledge.

Is it not a doctor's duty to deal gently with the sick? Is it not a doctor's duty to tell their patient that the future holds hope, and that others in similar predicaments have been able to turn fear and uncertainty into an opportunity for personal growth? Is it not a doctor's duty to deal with compassion - handle with care - as the mind, heart and body are interconnected?  

The end of a life journey can often intertwine living with dying.....

Her Choice

by Beverlee Bampied (c)

She should have the right to die
Inside she is screaming but all that can be heard is her sigh
She did not choose to be living this wasted life
She did not choose to put everybody into such strife
As she now has to be cared for
As if she were a baby
She is nothing more
Than a shell of who she was
So is it not possible that just maybe 
This isn't what God had planned for her"
This isn't the way that her life
Was supposed to be
And this certainly isn't the way she wants to be remembered
Can't 'they' all see?
She's incapable of living a normal life
She's unable to be heard now - can no longer speak
And an end to her living hell is what she now seeks
'They' need to understand that she does not want to go on
Living in such horrible pain - all her normal abilities gone
She tries to show emotion and her tearless eyes cry
As she's lost all her rights but does not know why
'They' keep on fighting  over which way it should be
As she lays there struggling to breath
She needs to move on -  they' need to see
That 'they' must let her go and allow her to
Die with dignity

The opportunity to live one's life well, even at its end, should not ever be denied and must be the first goal of the medical profession, palliative care medicine, and hospices. However, when there is no longer the ability to live life well, and no amount of medication can eliminate the excruciating pain a terminally ill person is experiencing, should there not be another option available to living while dying? Should not patients - and no one else - be able to decide their own end-of-life care and should not that decision include the choice to die with dignity? With this choice, suffering could be prevented for both the patient and their loved ones. Good things would be possible. Loved ones could be together. Memories could be shared. The patient could be emotionally protected and treasured at this very difficult time and feelings of happiness, contentment and warmth can take over as their life comes to an end.....

  

Our journey through life takes us to many crossroads where we must choose which path to take.....

The Shore 

by Beverlee Blampied (c)

No matter what, they could not break the bond
God knows they tried, alone and together
To walk away and not turn back
To mend their lives, get back on track
But no matter whatever the reason
For the passage of time
She knew he'd call, and he knew she'd sigh
Then, without a moment's thought
Plans were made and happiness caught
For again they would share some stolen time
Their minds and bodies seeking the sign
That their love was forever, and even though
They could not change life's course
Their hearts were tied - a powerful force
That would not ever break apart
But when their moments were over
And hurt pulled at their shattered hearts
They asked themselves why 
They ever allowed their relationship to start
And so they chose to move on
He, because the fear of lingering 
In the moment
Made him want so much more
But he knew he could not give it
And she, because she wanted to be part of
His everyday life - so lingering
In the moment
Would only cause her more strife
So he out of fear
And she out of pain
Whispered their tormented goodbyes
Again and again
They took separate paths
Till their roads would cross once more
Both of them knowing that they would meet again
Someday - on love's rocky shore

To indulge in my grief would be to limit myself along the path of my life journey.....

The Agony Of Grief

My grief has been heavy lately. I feel like I have ten pound weights on my mind and my heart. It has been just over 2 months since Charlotte, my friend of forty-one years - my 'chosen' sister - lost her courageously fought battle with mestasticized lung cancer.  This past week, making plans for Thanksgiving dinner with my family, has been particularly difficult as I continually recall Charlotte's last visit with us in Toronto - Thanksgiving Weekend one year ago - and the closeness that our friendship continued to give us that three day weekend.

We were so fortunate because we had used every possible opportunity in our lives to share our thoughts, our ideas, our feelings, and our last weekend together brought us even closer, as we took a long trip down memory lane - sharing every picture I had of our times together and reliving the good - and the bad - events in our lives. These memorable moments are forever etched in my mind and in my heart. I now believe that Charlotte knew this was to be her last visit to my home.

Then followed the worst of times, as, several months later my vibrant friend told me of her life shattering terminal diagnosis. What was I to do with incurable news like that? How was I supposed to conduct myself in such a lethal situation?

It didn't take me long to find out that I didn't have to answer my heart-rending questions as I was guided by Charlotte who showed me that all I had to do was to take my cues from her as she chose to face every day with 100% grace and dignity.

I visited Montreal frequently in the next six months and was honored that she wanted me to spend my time there looking after her both at her home - feeding her, medicating her, taking her to her medical appointments, going out to dinner occasionally, taking short walks around the neighborhood, and, most importantly, holding her hand and crying with her through her pain - and then in the Palliative Care Unit in the Montreal General Hospital - spending my visits by her bedside, again reminiscing, but this time, both of us knowing that there soon would be no more tomorrows.  But she chose, at this terribly painful ending of her life, to be happy -  and she continued to be grateful for every new sunset and to be thankful for each sundown that she could still experience. 

As I write this, I realize that I, again, must take my cues from Charlotte. She lived her life well. Helping others. Always giving. Loving deeply. I know that she would want me to do the same and she would want me to celebrate her life.  So, instead of being sad this Thanksgiving, I will make her proud. I will be happy and thankful that we shared the dance of life. And I will celebrate. Her life. My life. Life itself. 

Courage is the foundation of our integrity....

Love's Inner Courage

There is a therapeutic exercise in which a person plans his own funeral - he is surrounded by loved ones and friends, and he speaks to them, reflecting on his relationship with each one of them. Regrets and appreciations are expressed by all.

I have attempted this therapeutic exercise, in my mind, several times and each time found that the people I was standing among were my children. I wondered to myself what it was that I would want to be able to say to them and to hear from them? What was it that would make me feel proud and satisfied?  What did I want to have accomplished with them? And my conclusions were always the same. 

I want to have really known them, and I want them to have known the real me. I want to have been close to them. I want to have been a source of pleasure, security, guidance and love for them and them for me. I want to have been able to remind them, along the stepping stones of their life journey, that in our mutual embrace of love we shared joys and sorrows, pleasures and difficulties. I want them to remember that we laughed and cried together, that we shared the dance of life, that we made the time to penetrate the innermost selves of each other and that we shared openly what we found there.

If I can have accomplished this on my route to my journey's end, I think that I, and they, will be quite satisfied - and I can leave this world fulfilled and they can move on with their lives contentedly knowing that I had the courage to let them know who I was, and that they were fully loved for who they really are.

The future is tomorrow's moment.....

One Moment At A Time

She had never really wanted a child. In her heart and mind she was very clear about that. Of course, she waited until after they were married and busy building their careers to tell him how she truly felt about children. But it had never occurred to him that he could have left her and her emotionally dysfunctional persona to find a woman who would be happy to make babies with him - to share life and love and build a family together. He never felt he was worthy of such a privilege. In fact, he didn't even know that it was his privilege to expect their relationship to not include her screaming harsh words and throwing her book at him as she slammed the door on her way out to visit her friends. Or that it was his privilege to expect their relationship to include the sharing of their life with anyone other than her family, and so over the years he had lost the closeness he once had with his family and friends. 

As fate would have it, life took matters into its own hands and their son was born, and, for a while, things were better. Her angry tirades ended and their relationship settled into a day to day existence. She fell in love with their son. She was more surprised than anyone. He watched the way she sniffed the baby after he had been bathed and cuddled him as he napped in her arms. Their son got all the love he thought he would be receiving in his marriage. Instead his life with her continued as a series of ups and downs that repeatedly placed him in the throws of depression - a depression that led to him having to seek therapy to restore his mental equilibrium. 

Now, because he had finally reached the point where he could love her as the mother of his child but was no longer in love with her, her harsh words did not penetrate anymore - her coldness towards him no longer filled him with pain. He was able to never feel jealous of her love for their son and he was truly happy for their mother and son bonding - he really was - and it made him feel good that he had not been completely wrong about his choice - she did know how to love. She just didn't love him. She did know how to show tenderness. She just didn't show it to him. 

But he did love his son completely and his son loved him. The irony, though, was that now that he was finally emotionally free from the entanglements of his loveless marriage, he was no longer emotionally free to leave the marriage and find the unconditional love he so deserved. His all-encompassing love for his son and his unwavering commitment and need to fulfill his role as his father would not allow him to become the absentee parent his father had been in his life, and so he now chose to exist, one moment at a time, to guide his son along his life journey to manhood. He had no choice now but to close the door on his own tomorrow moment. 

Living through abuse is not an easy feat, but sometimes along a life journey, this painful test of life can reveal character and give the strength to turn the darkness into light.....

The Crawl To Freedom

When he came home that night she was sitting waiting for him and all that he brought with him. He didn't waste any time. Started right in hitting her. Only this time was worse than the others. She thought that this time he was gong to kill her. He had his hands around her throat, was choking her. She  panicked and for the first time started fighting back. He thought she was a joke , said she was ridiculous. She finally collapsed on the floor. He was kicking at her sides like she was dirty laundry. Then, suddenly, he just stopped, went upstairs. She lay on the floor a while longer, her screams silent. She knew that if there was a next time he would kill her with his angry rage and, for the first time, she no longer cared whether or not anyone believed the truth - she finally knew that she would have to leave her marriage. Her soul was dead - had died, long ago, with her pride, but there was something strange happening within her now - something stronger than herself - and it was mysteriously filling her with the  promise that she could survive, that she would be given the strength to be able to walk away and leave the horror behind. She felt the torn pieces of her soul floating, like leaves, up past her head, and she quietly crept her way to freedom.  

Freedom's Path

He picked up his half-full glass and hurled it across the room. She shrieked, throwing her arm up to cover her eyes, jolting backward against the kitchen table. She turned as the glass shattered in the sink, too far away from her to do any damage. He snatched her from behind, one arm around her waist and the other across her chest.. She gasped in shock. She strained away, plucking at his fingers to loosen his grasp. They pivoted, grappling, fumbling, neither one speaking a word. She used her feet to kick back at him, savage stabs that never landed, and then finally one heel connected with his shin. They went staggering against the coffee table, scattering the chess set. Her leg tangled with one of his and she went down hard, taking him with her. They hit, half on the floor, half on the carpet. Her elbow hit something sharp. She squealed. He let go. She got one knee underneath her and started to jump up, but he yanked her back with his hand around her bare foot. She managed to stand - made a dash for the door, batted the screen open, slammed outside. When she looked back he was getting to his feet. They stared at each other through the screen, breathing hard. But he stayed where he was, didn't come any closer. It was over. Finally over. Finished. No more going back. The ripped shoulder of her blouse hung down around her elbow. She felt battered and bruised, but stupidly exhilarated. On the brink of something - a new beginning. She was shivering all over as she made her way along the path to freedom.

Autumn is living stopped in a moment of wonder.....

Autumn Mist

Writen by Beverlee Blampied (c)

The finest mist of autumn wraps the whole world round

And on the soft wings of birds it multiplies every sound

Its cool and clinging moisture soothes my tired face

As it reaches onward, upward, toward the endlessness of space

The minute crystal droplets twinkle as they fly

Through the air, flinging their tiny rainbows at the far-off sky

The wispy fog of early fall will always seem to me

The most beautiful and peaceful sight that ever man can see

Thoughts and words rule my life journey.....

More Random Thoughts

My life has been a journey that has had no road map and many a conflict has felt like a crisis, but my journey has also been an opportunity for growth and change and has guided me to a path of new direction.....

I have learned to pay closer attention to my feelings to reach an objective mindset - thereby combatting life's unpleasant occurrences and embracing the freedom to respond to certain situations by choice.....

I now choose to reflect on moments without passing judgement.....

Along my journey I have come to realize that although the truth is important, there is only what is in front of me in each moment and I have learned to hold it and enjoy it because soon it can be gone.....

I can not make decisions on what I don't know is going to happen - I can only make decisions on what I know and what I believe.....

Nothing is absolute, not even a mother's love, but that doesn't have to mean that it is compromised......

As a mother, at the bottom of my heart there is a deep abyss where forgiveness will always be found.....

For me, sincere forgiveness isn't colored with the expectation that the other person involved needs to apologize or change and I no longer worry whether or not they finally understand me because if I just love them and release them in forgiveness, life will eventually feed back truth to them in its own way and time.....

Forgiveness is healing and  that is why it is so important.....

Every path I walk is to bring me closer to a perfect life, but I now know that perfect isn't found at the end of the path - it's found along the way.....

After watching many truths dissolve from black to white, my world has revealed itself - and through it's blurred reality there shines a spectrum of the known and the unknown.....

On her journey through Alzheimer Disease, her mind was its own place.....

Mind Collision

Written by Beverlee Blampied (c)

Like a frightened child she's lost in her mind
And as time goes by she is harder to find
She knows her name still, but she's lost all sense of self
We all try to help her, remembering the wealth
Of the love of family that we all shared
And, as mother, how much she cared
We know she's still in there, but the woman she was is gone
She's on a collision course, in a world of her own
Every now and then she stops to say hi
Then she is gone again, right in front of our eyes
She doesn't know who we are, or what day it is today
But in her mind searching, she needs us to stay
We speak softly to sooth and touch gently to not frighten
But as fast as her eyes move, her lips slowly tighten
She can no longer speak, but continues to seek  family at her side
Where we will stay with her, and watch as her two worlds collide