Check out this TED Talk

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I watched this TED Talk and thought you would find it interesting.

Rebecca Brachman: Could a drug prevent depression and PTSD?

https://go.ted.com/CyyL

Learn more about watching TED Talks on all of your favorite platforms: https://www.ted.com/about/programs-initiatives/ted-talks/ways-to-get-ted-talks

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Sick with joy

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I find it immensely perplexing that i can feel, that i can form thoughts and ideas and put them into words both auditory and literary. Think of yourself in the desert, it has been many days since you have seen the face of another human, and  just as long since your last drink of water. When you are on the very brink of death, feeling forsaken, you see an oasis in the distance, you run to it and drink, you drink until you are satisfied. The feeling you have, the gratitude, relief, the unfathomable happiness, that is what i feel about my own cognition. It is as though in some other life or universe, i was not able to form complete thoughts, i was not able to make myself known and heard, i was not a sentient being. Its a silly thing, i know, to feel as though at some point in time i was unable to feel but i can not shake the feeling. In some way i know that there is more, more to life than living and  more to death than dying, but i don’t know what or how to find it. I’m ridiculous, i know, these are probably the ramblings of a mad woman, and yet i cant stop searching. Suicide, lets just get the big bad S word out of the way. You and I both know and have known since we were young, that suicide is not a socially or morally acceptable way of dying. I have never truly known why. I understand why religious people find it unacceptable, seeing as god will punish them for this and many other offenses, but what about the non believers? Lets say I’m one of those people who don’t believe in god, never have, never will, so ethically and morally why would suicide be the wrong choice for me? I do not fear eternal damnation at he hands of a fallen angel and his followers and i do not look forward to bouncing from cloud to cloud at the feet of god.

I feel in my heart of hearts, a moral dilemma that tugs and weighs me down. I  write, maybe not well, possibly badly, but I write. Ive been writing a story that keeps coming back to me, ive dismissed it for years, I write a bit then stop all together. Hopefully this time I can get more of it on paper, maybe that way it will stop plaguing me. The greatest obstacle I face while writing this story is that it is sick, it is twisted and makes me cringe. How am I to finish it? I see the scenes play on my closed eyelids,but when I open my eyes and hold the pen I can’t bring myself to write something so disgusting. The anxiety is driving me crazy, my heart flutters and my stomach turns but I feel compelled, I feel an obligation to write the story. I wonder if this is how everyone feels when they write, the men and women who write horror and gore are not necessarily violent. Those who write romance are not always hopeless romantics right? The fact that I can feel should be enough for me to know I can freely express myself. It is enough for me to know, that the awful things I write are not my own, those feelings belong to a character that chooses to tell me his story. I am content for now, reasured by my own words, I will write. I will write for others and then I will write to myself, to tell me that it is ok.

To dream the dream I am dreaming. 

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Those of you who know me in the tangible world have probably listened to me rant about injustice and how powerless it makes me feel to witness it daily. As a part of the medical field I occasionally bear witness to what I believe to be the cruelest irony. The elderly are treated badly, usually in unknown nursing homes and behind closed doors. We might read an article here and see a news report there, and we think, sometimes out loud, that it is sickening. I am one of the people that are sickened by this injustice, more so because it is not just behind closed doors in my personal experience. I see it right in the open, I watch others justify the mistreatment of the sick and elderly because “maybe the caretaker had a rough day” or “well you just dont understand how frustrating dealing with dementia can be”. To those who think there is any way to justify cruelty because someone “might be having a bad day” I say take a look in the mirror, take it all in, you are the problem. There is no excuse, there is no good reason, there is no justification for making someone who needs you to care for them suffer. I listened to an elderly woman cry, sob with great emotion, while she told me “I’m sorry, I just feel so hurt” and while speaking of her caregiver “she doesnt care about me, I pay her and to take care of me but she doesnt CARE”. This woman, Joan, told me that her caretakers arrive late very often and since she is unable to walk, she urinates in her bed, she told me they get mad at her. Joan has demetia, she is easily confused and emotionally weak, that is not a reason to mistreat her, that is a reason to be patient and understanding. “No one cares about me anymore, no one cares, my family is gone they left me here by choice. No one wants me, no one really cares”, if you could have seen the tears streaming down her face maybe you would reconsider your excuses, or maybe like that caretaker, you would roll your eyes and say Joan is “dramatic” or that “she is a liar”. Youth might make some feel like they will be young forever, like they will never be in joans shoes, but whats to say you wont. I dont wish misery on anyone, not even those cold hearted enough to be cruel to the weak. I wish reflexion will reach them and they will look within and extract this darkness living within them. I hope one day, you who think im overreacting, will realize that we are all deserving of compassion and love and patience. I know for damn sure that I will not change the worlds action with a blog post, but I plan to change the world of every mistreated person I encounter, even if it means nothing to anyone but them and myself.

My endeavours with soap…

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I have opened an etsy shop 🙂 stephndinostuff, go take a look!
Ive started making soaps, it’s been a fun endeavour so far! They smell simply amazing, and make your skin silky smooth! Apart from the flowery colorful ones I will be making coffee soap variations.The coffee soap can help with celulite and is a great way to exfoliate your skin!
#1. Coffee and sandalwood soap, smell great and exfoliate!
#2. Coffee and mint, wakes you up and makes you feel fresh!
Anyways, check it out and tell your friends!

Sunday mornings

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Its not often on a sunday morning that i am up and about this early, but today i had to work!
Maybe its the caffeine, but I am feeling great! Ready to take on the world! Im ready to conquer my fears, im ready to start dreaming again! Im ready to start writting.

A few years back I had a dream that to this day replays in my head, because it was such a disturbing and vivid dream. It goes like this-
I wake up in my bed, the air around me feels damp and hot, the atmosphere of a sauna… I look around, I am high up in the air. I can see through the rotting walls of the tree house, the decaying limbs of the enormous weeping willow. There is a tingling on my right cheek, I hesitate before putting my hand up to it and i feel the electic shock of fear. My hand touches raw flesh, my face feels like ground meat, I become frightened and jump out of the bed, I need to find a mirror. The tree house started off as one room, housing the bed i lay in snd myself, I could see all of it from where i sat in bed. Now on my feet it has become a huge maze, still made of rotting wood but impossibly ample. I wander the halls for a while before I notice the smell. It smells like a dead animal, it becomes over powering and I fall to my knees and vomit. I look up and to my right, out of my peripheral vision I can see a disformic black shadow. I avoid looking at it and try to wake myself from this dream. “It just a dream, im in bed, isela is next to me in bed, thats real life, this is a dream, im safe, im safe, im safe” I repeat this to myself and exert all my energy to try to move my pinky, if I could move in real life I know I can wake myself. As I concentrate  on my left hand, my pinky, the darkness comes closer, instead of moving toward me it is closing the space between us. The darkness is next ro me, I can close my eyes in the dream but i know it is close enough to touch, i realize the smell is coming from the darkness. I open my eyes,  I  need to see it. I have become much bigger, too big for the room, I am crouching down and i know i am still growing. The darkness is small enough to hold in one hand, I pick it up and look down at it. At first it is a new born bird,  naked, not s feather on its body. As I continue looking it looks like my sister,  it starts  bleeding and rapidly rotting. I cant stop looking at it, the smell is overpowering, the creature is overpowering, its small pink, fleshy body is riddled with spots of rot and they are spreading. I know the creature is isela, I panick, I need to help her. I try to whipe away the rot but as I touch the creature its skin burns and it begins to make a ghastly sound.  The sound is nauseating, it reaches in my soul and break me.  I start to cry and scream, i can feel on my own skin the pain the creature is feeling. The creature by this point is just a puddle of feathers and blood and bone. I look at it, we are the same size now, suddenly it turns back into the baby bird and I realize my nody is rotting, I am overcome with disgust….
I wake up, feeling short of breath…. my sister sleeping peacefully beside me, I cuddle up next to her and i am so thankful.

Memorials to remember….

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To start my post, I would like to direct you to this great article-

http://www.beliefnet.com/columnists/yearofsundays/2011/04/jehovahs-witness-memorial.html

You need to read the article before so that my post makes sense 🙂

First off, let me just say, WOW…. there are no words in my vocabulary to express the amount of respect Joel deserves….. This couple is amazing, he was extremely brave and she exuberantly understanding. I wish, I really do, that one day I can break the holds that the organization still has on me.

I am, by JW definition, a sinner. I have been a smoker, a drinker, I’ve tried an array of drugs, I had sex with multiple partners before marriage, and the list goes on….

I am, by JW definition, an apostate. I have hated the church, I have questioned the organization, I have publicly called them the religion a cult, I have WARNED others to stay away……

I have been disfellowshipped, which makes me, in the eyes of the JW organization, damaged goods. I have been betrayed by the people I loved most, thanks to “the truth”. I have been left behind by the friends I thought would always be there for me, all because we no longer share in our beliefs. I have been ridiculed and passed over and publicly shamed by the organization because of things that are not uncommon or criminal.

I am eternally ANGRY thanks to the JW organization.

All that being said, I will be attending Memorial tonight. I will be wearing my new dress, I might even take notes….. I will sit next to my worldly Husband. I will not do anything disrespectful, I will pass the wine and bread,  I keep my anger at bay. I might even enjoy it.

For those of you that don’t know, I was disfellowshipped ( along with my younger brother) for 10 months, from 2009-2010, I have since been re-established. In the time that I was disfellowshipped I held hope, for many reasons I would rather not explain. I returned to Jehovah and to all my friends, whom had ignored me for neatly a year, everyone acted very happy to have me back.

The story of how and why I distanced myself from the organization is too long to tell at the moment, but I’m sure its no different than that of any other ex witness…… The judgement, the betrayal, the public shaming all seem interchangeable.

I hope to someday break the hold that the organization still has on me mentally. I feel in my soul, that I cannot miss the memorial, not only for my Parents, but just because i cant bring myself to just say no.

The couple in the article are amazing. I hope that one day Andrew and I may have a relationship so strong that he can hold my hand while I burn the bridge and leave the Jehovah Witness Organization on the other side. Until then, Have a happy memorial everyone! Oh and Happy Easter!

 

 

 

 

Life and living

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I have survived the first week in myrtle beach! Also my first two weeks of marriage! Yay me. OK, let me just give you a quick overview of my days. I am living with my husband, in a little two bedroom, single level condo, one short mile from the beach. I can smell the ocean air everywhere we go. When i look out at the ocean i feel complete, i know why life brought me here and why i had to wait to find the perfect person to share it with. I finally understand the defeats were all for the purpose of a greater triumph. Our condo is small but cozy, we have a screened patio in the back of the condo, where cupid (my bird) can make all the noise his little bird heart desires. Noise, cupid is surprisingly loud for such a small creature, I some days wonder how such noise can be emitted from such a small body. Cupid has been by my side for sixteen years, the entirety of his life he has loved only me, isn’t that neat? I find it incredible, when i look over and see this small feathered creature looking at me, with his dreamlike joy and all the love he can hold in his being, all for me. My days have been filled with chirping and singing and love from my feathered pet. My days have also been filled with smiles and laughter, provoked by my wonderful husband, Andrew Quinn. Although he is not as noisy as the bird, he fills my days with sweet words and happiness. I will be eternally grateful for these memories, when i grow weary and days are gloomy i can come back here, to the days i felt this way. When my mood is dark and unpleasant i can brighten it up with the dreamy characteristics of the last couple of weeks. I have been incredibly happy with life as it is. Even the sourness of missing my family and friends feels a bit sweet. I love that i have these people to miss, i am lucky to have wonderful memories everywhere i look. It is hard to be so far from my tiny soul mate, my person, but it is also alright, “absence makes the heart grow fonder” they say, and although i have at times disagreed with that saying, i agree now. I cant wait to share all my happiness with my cricket and my punkis and the rest of the people i love. I am happy right this second and i know i will only be happier when we reunite. So know that i am missing all of you with all my heart, but also know that my heart is full and overflowing with happiness.

That’s it for now! Text, call or email if you have questions about Myrtle beach or anything really!