The Experience Holds the Answer

24 Monday Nov 2025

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How often does one question themselves if they should or should not? How frequently does one think, “I’ve done this before, but I don’t quite remember?” How seldom does one question whether they should do what someone else is doing, knowing that they shouldn’t, but they do it anyway because they don’t take the time to think through the consequences? My experience has taught me that life can come at me fast with a bang. Instead of reacting, I can halt and ask myself, “Am I hungry, angry, lonely, or tired?” If so, I need to quiet that disturbance first. 

I am here to say, “My experiences hold the answers to what I should and should not do.” What I mean is, time and time again, I will repeat an experience until I learn the lesson. I know there are times when I hear other people share what they are doing, knowing well that what they are doing will not work for me. For example, people say they prefer mocktails to cocktails. As a person who has chosen not to drink, drinking a mocktail is setting myself up to go for the real McCoy. It’s in my experience where I have learned that lesson.

During the holiday season, sharing meals and drinks with family and friends can appear attractive. Yet, I know from experience that I have to think about the invite from start to finish. The first thing is not to be so hasty to say yes. Instead, I can tell someone that I will get back to them, then take time to think it through. If I get uncomfortable, will I have an escape route, like my own transportation, if I need to leave before the gathering ends? Will the gathering be in a place where I will be triggered or bullied for not doing what others perhaps are doing? Do I have a purpose to be there? Is my spiritual condition in good order? If I can answer, to my satisfaction, that I will be safe, then I can accept the invite.

Another lesson that I am thinking about is cooking, like cooking fresh greens. I have to destem the greens first. Then I wash and rinse them several times. It’s a method. My dad was adamant about even putting a little salt and dish detergent to clean them, but not much. I thought that was ludicrous and could skip some of those washing steps, but there is nothing worse than biting into gritty greens. Yuck. Some can probably relate to the method of cleaning chitterlings. Not that that is my thing, and nor have I ever done it, but I suspect some readers can relate.

Experiences can be my teacher. Yet, if I fail to adhere to the previous lessons, I will continue to repeat the experience. The unfortunate thing is that sometimes the next lesson is worse than the last. I am grateful for this season of Thanksgiving. I don’t need to worry, because what will be will be. Instead, I want to put my energy into prayer and to be thankful for what is worthy of praise, like life and the opportunity to keep trying. 

The biggest lesson I have learned is that no matter what I am experiencing, I have to trust the process and believe that everything will be okay. It might not work out like I think it should, but in the end, it will be alright. I have to press on, no matter what. I try to remember the worst experience I ever had and how it turned out.

My most challenging lesson was when I was estranged from my family, living in a basement with a drug dealer. So often I compared those days to days that I knew had been better. One would say that I had the will to live, because here I am no longer doing drugs and drinking alcohol, but living what I call my best life.

Sure, life is not perfect, but I am at peace with myself and the choices I make today. What I know is that I have no idea what the outcome will be for me, but I keep my determination to remember the lessons I have learned. I admit life can be perplexing because not all lessons are worth remembering until they are needed. One day at a time, here I am. Experiences have helped me find answers to most of my concerns. Call it a sixth sense: maneuvering life as if I am being taken care of, just by having the willingness to survive. I call that willingness wisdom. 

I wrote myself a poem. “Sweet, sweet wonder, anticipate the best in life, but expect nothing. Accept life on life’s terms, and remember the hailstorms, and adjust yourself accordingly, and know that this too shall pass, because you are not choosing a wineglass; instead, have yourself some hot tea, because there is a sweet lesson for thee.”

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The Power Is In the Vote

05 Wednesday Nov 2025

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I can remember it like it was yesterday. My dad was 92 years old in 2008; he was illiterate, meaning he could not read or write. Yet he was determined to go to the Wyandotte County Election Office at 850 State Ave., Kansas City, Kansas, to cast his vote. I said, “Daddy, you want me to help you?” He said, “No. I know Bama.” When we got there, the line was long. He shuffled up the sidewalk, and the people made my heart pitter-patter because they all moved aside to let him get in front of them.

In November 2012, during another election period, my daddy, due to his health, cast an absentee ballot. While he lay in bed, I sat and listened to the manual clock tick on the wall, waiting for the election results with my earphones to avoid disturbing him. I calmly said, “Daddy, President Obama won the election.” My dad pulled himself up into a sitting position on his elbows and said, “Lynda, how do you know that?” I said, “I just heard it on my phone.” He proceeded to tell me, “Don’t you tell me that there isn’t a God, that a black man can come here in chains and win the highest office in the country.” He lay back down and died peacefully on December 27, 2012.

You see, my father was a World War II Veteran. He fought against fascism in 1942-44. He was a truck driver on the Red Ball Express, from Normandy through the Battle of the Bulge to Germany. When he returned his truck, it had 76 holes in it from shrapnel and bullets. He had shrapnel in his leg, too, but he never got his Purple Heart, and not that we didn’t try. My father understood the importance of how far black people have come. The thought that this country is trying to eliminate any representation of who and what black people have done for this country causes me to write, to try, and persuade people to rethink their positions on the power that perhaps one might think they do not have, but that is not true.

This time is a season when I want people to wake up and know that our power lies in our vote. I watched as I traveled to Ecuador. Ecuador has a mandatory voting system; citizens who fail to vote receive a fine. It’s my understanding that people who receive any benefit will lose that benefit if they don’t vote. To facilitate universal voting, elections are on Sundays, and everyone must participate. They take voting seriously, with flags, horns, celebration, and a day dedicated to understanding the importance of citizenship.

Did you know that failing to vote affects not only the people who don’t vote, but also those who do? Non-participation can alter election outcomes at all levels of government, creating a system that disproportionately benefits those who do vote. What’s that old saying, “One bad apple can affect the bunch?” Therefore, I am responsible for voting, and in my opinion, so is everyone else. 

A glance at the three branches of government: the legislative, executive, and judicial. It’s essential to understand their functions. If civics classes were lacking, and often in the inner city school district, black children have and continue to lack the bare necessities to have a quality education. I believe the more I educate myself on who is responsible for what, the greater the likelihood I won’t get hoodwinked by lies that come at us from all angles, such as the news and social media. Did you know that people get paid to spread lies? That is why it is imperative to understand for oneself.

I am old enough to understand that here in the U.S., Republicans do not want everyone voting; otherwise, they would not be redistricting areas where the states lean towards blue states. It’s called gerrymandering. It’s sad to watch the outrageous stealing of fair elections because, in my opinion, otherwise Republicans would be obsolete. I hope people get to a place sooner rather than later to understand that we have the power to change our circumstances and keep the power.

On November 4, 2025, a Special Election was held. It doesn’t matter if the election has one question or multiple questions; I make time to vote in every election because it matters. There is also absentee voting. If you need help, ask at the Missouri Election Board (816.842.4820), the Wyandotte County Election Board (913.573.8500), or the Johnson County Election Board (913.715.6800).

The season change is upon us, the leaves turn and fall, the gentle rain turns into sleet and snow, and our bodies can welcome the newness of change. Allow ourselves to take a risk, do something different. If you do not vote, start. If you do vote—continue. Pass on the importance to others; be the light in someone’s darkness.

The Land of the Not So Free

24 Wednesday Sep 2025

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Each day, the news plagues us, so much so that it will make even a staunch Republican grab their wig. Day after day, week after week, we have a bunch of lunatics running this country, and there is no shame in their game.

It’s a litany of ways of how this administration is catering to white supremacy, and how to maintain their power, because they want us to think they are the aggrieved people.

Are you familiar with the Dred Scott decision, an enslaved man who in 1857 sued for freedom for himself, his wife, Harriet, and their two daughters, Lizzie and Eliza’s freedom, but was unsuccessful? The Supreme Court ruled that blacks were not considered citizens and therefore couldn’t sue. Furthermore, black men had no rights that a white man had to respect. Shameful.

The plot is the same today: white supremacists want unequal rights. As a result, this administration is stripping black people of our rights, such as DEI (Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion). They are preventing the teaching of our history in classrooms. Along with redistricting maps to make the voters elect them every time. This gerrymandering happens every 10 years after the census. States redraw the boundaries of congressional and state legislative districts to stack the deck against anyone different from the self-choosen supremacists. You better believe Republicans will rig the maps in their favor; it has been happening way before they were called Republicans, since 1812.

They are targeting federal education offices. They don’t want people of color to learn and understand their rights or our history. No. They want to dictate who, what, when, and how people maneuver. They are constantly attacking our civil rights protections, even removing historical material that has anything to do with slavery and Native Americans. They are making segregation legal again, and racial discrimination legal again, and they have a bought and paid for Supreme Court on their side. They are stripping us of affordable housing, robbing us of having the Affordable Care Act for healthcare, attacking historical Black colleges and universities (HBCUs), and controlling white universities like Harvard—requiring them to teach what this administration wants them to teach—the list is infinite.   

Where do we go from here? How do we take care of ourselves when we are powerless over what is out of our control? We will not be moved, because our ancestors already fought this fight for us. We have to pick up the baton and finish what they started. We must restore and maintain our spirits because their plot is to cause an environment of fear, and we have to fight back. Yet, we must be vigilant because it’s risky to speak freely. We have to protect ourselves and each other because the law doesn’t matter anymore. The Oligards are ruling.

I know most will not want to hear this, but two major holidays are upon us, with the major one being Christmas. Let’s shut it down. Do not purchase anything. Let me repeat this, “Do not purchase anything.” If you have to give a gift, consider making something and having a conversation with others about why this is important, rather than purchasing. Forget about Black Friday—it’s not for us, it’s for them to get their financial books out of the red.  

We have to remember what Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., et al did during the 1968 call for economic action. They called for us to redistribute the pain from us to them. Support Black-owned businesses, especially Black journalists who are telling us the truth, like Joy-Ann Reid, Roland Martin, and Don Lemon. But let’s not support the racist Uncle Toms and Aunt Tommies. Let’s get off these social media platforms that have these algorithms targeting us, inciting us, against one another, while honoring white supremacists as heroes. They are not. Let’s understand that they are who they are—racists. Understand that AI (Artificial Intelligence) is not our friend. Let’s not utilize this to write and think for us, but let’s use critical thinking for ourselves. Read. Let’s learn as much as we can. We can do this, and like Dr. King called for, while emphasizing nonviolence.

Each one of us has a responsibility to help democracy work. We need leadership, not necessarily leaders. We must commit ourselves. Share our resources, no matter how small. Organize within our communities by mobilizing what we have. Start a walking group. Strategize with one another; perhaps we can clean up a block in our neighborhood. Disrupt the status quo. Refuse to be a follower of hate. Instead, engage in love—an agape love for freedom. Participate in elections to elect people who work with us, not against us.

We must vote in every election. September 30 is a special election to recall Executive Frank White. Personally, I see it as a power grab because he did not support using taxpayer money to support billionaires in building new football and baseball stadiums. Yet, you get to vote for who you want, but please vote. Let us demand the reclaiming of our country. Now is the time. No one is going to save us; we must save ourselves. May peace be with us all.

We Are All Wounded

27 Wednesday Aug 2025

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It is human nature for people to critique themselves and compare themselves to others. When one thinks they don’t measure up, it can be a cause for self-destruction. What I mean is, so many times I have compared myself to others, especially my body image, telling myself I need to go on a diet. When I fail at losing some unrealistic weight or lack discipline in following a rigid diet, I turn on myself. Essentially, I bring about harm to myself further by indulging in those things that keep my weight up to start with, like sweets, or I want to blame others for my failure.

I have spent the majority of my life in a role of intentional listening. What I am grateful for is that we are not all wounded on the same day. It is in sharing our struggles that we learn we are not alone. Having a confidant with whom we can disclose honestly is vital. It is when we listen to stories from others that we realize, “me too.” We can offer comfort to others in their time of distress, as if putting a bandage on their wounds while we bandage our own. It is the experience that helps us overcome unimaginable challenges through working with others.

This woundedness can create a façade that one is better than the other. It’s happening in living color with this administration. The unemployment rates are approximately 4.10% in Missouri and 3.80% in Kansas. There are heated conversations about immigration, and as a result, there is abuse by ICE towards innocent people. There is a refusal to release the Jeffrey Epstein files. The GOP is redistricting and gerrymandering maps predominantly in black areas to allow Republicans to render the black vote ineffective. Not to mention the attack on black communities and how homelessness is now a crime, the start of school is around the corner, and meals and supplies will be scarce in public schools, while charter schools will provide parents with vouchers to help cover tuition. Then there is the rising cost of living, inflation has skyrocketed, and the inability to work eight hours and earn a decent wage to support oneself, let alone a family, can make it hard to survive. The lack of mental health is staggering. The disadvantages of income equality are glaring in comparison to someone who is living a wealthy lifestyle.  

Have you ever looked outside yourself and wished you were someone else, or somewhere else? Let me say, “Even those with wealth are wounded.” Otherwise, they wouldn’t try to steal from the lower and middle classes to gain more wealth for themselves. Sure, it’s greed, but also they are wounded. The thought is a metaphorical realm of suffering and harm generated by spiritual emptiness and emotional distress.

The moral of the story is to recognize that we are not alone. We all have flaws, yet we don’t have to punish ourselves because we are not where we want to be, or because we are not getting the necessities we need. No. It is by helping someone else, even if it is only lending a listening ear to look for the similarities and identify with someone else’s pain, that we can share and lessen our burdens, as well as theirs.

I read a quote from Philosopher Hannah Arendt, “…constant lying is not aimed at making the people believe a lie, but at ensuring that no one believes anything anymore. A people that can no longer distinguish between truth and lies cannot distinguish between right and wrong.” Did you know that the National Institutes of Health claim that people in the poorest countries, with fewer resources, are some of the happiest and most satisfied individuals? I attribute it to accepting their lot and not comparing themselves to others. Please do not believe the lie that we are not worth living; instead, take the time to register to vote and cast your ballot in every election. What better way to offer oneself the greatest gift when things seem so doomed.

We might all be wounded, but we are not helpless. We can make a difference in our communities. We can contribute to the change by utilizing our voting power to remain optimistic. Or we can choose to harm ourselves because life isn’t exactly what we had hoped for. Either way, it’s a choice. Conditioning ourselves to life, instead of thinking life is to change for us, will give us the most excellent satisfaction of acceptance, serenity, and spiritual well-being. It is a state of inner peace and deep connection to a greater purpose and power.

Love is the Answer

29 Tuesday Jul 2025

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Have you ever been at a loss for words and didn’t know what to say? I am experiencing a moment like that. Yet, I want to spread good news, primarily because the world tends to focus on the broken.

Did you know that smiling requires us to use around 13 to 17 muscles, while frowning uses a whopping 43 muscles? Some might think that using more muscles is beneficial. But think about the energy it takes to frown and how the results would be wrinkles, and what some call crow’s eyes. Whereas, smiling can tighten things up.

When I smile, it reminds me that I love myself. When I love myself, I can reciprocate love to others. Love is the common denominator of living. If I choose to share love with all people, it becomes easier to overlook things that hold no significant meaning in one’s life. For example, I read that people were more concerned about the cancellation of TikTok than about contacting their Senators regarding people losing their Affordable Health Care. That thought is alarming to me because it suggests that we, as a people, have lost our way when it comes to caring about other human beings.

When I was growing up in the small town of Kansas City, Kansas, the population was approximately 121,000. I lived in a community where people of Black, White, and Hispanic backgrounds intermingled. People shared resources like food and electricity, yes, you heard that correctly. If someone lost power due to a lack of payment, another family would allow that family to connect an orange extension cord to power the home that had no lights. We had a community store on the block, and oftentimes they would enable people to run a tab for food until payday. There was a fruit orchard across the street, and it was plentiful, allowing the neighbors to walk the grounds and gather what they could cook and eat. We even shared our talents. I recall gathering all the kids on the block to our basement and teaching them arithmetic. Yes, I was the teacher—grand memories of people sharing love. I didn’t even know what racism was until I came of age, working in Corporate America. What a brutal awakening.

I miss the days when people didn’t judge others by their lack of resources, but shared and offered love in a meaningful way. We saw each other as equals. Maybe I was naive to what was happening, but I long to live in a world where memories of spreading love are possible, regardless of color, class, sex, or religion.  

How can we, as individuals, regain a sense of community? What can we each do to contribute to repairing what is lost? How do we become a beloved community without hate, guns, fear, drugs, and the sense of not enough, but enough to believe that we are stronger together than we are separate?

Martin Luther King Jr. stated it best, “I have decided to stick with love. Hate is too great a burden to bear.” There are times when I pass someone on the street while walking, and I just want to give them a hug. I develop a sense of community by carrying dog treats in my backpack, so I can strike up a conversation by acknowledging the pet. People love to speak about their animals. I ask permission to provide a treat, and lo and behold, the dog remembers. The next time, the pet dominates the owner to stop so they can get another treat. It’s an art, and I love it. It is a way to strike up a conversation and get to know one another, removing the stigma that we should be afraid of each other.

I have noticed more people who appear to struggle standing on the corners of many intersections. I am not able to hand out money to them all, but I can pass them a smile and words of encouragement. What a difference that can make if one makes an effort to show love instead of judgment? What if every time we saw someone in need, we could pass on a word of hope? “I love you, brother. I love you, sister. Hang in there. Things will change.” It costs us nothing but an effort.

I plan to continue my desire to help those in need. It might not be monetary help, but a smile never harmed anyone. I plan to practice looking at myself in the mirror and comparing my smile with a frown. Which would you choose? It takes practice, and I plan to stay hopeful that we all deserve some love on this day and every day, especially in a world that seems hopeless. Love is the antidote to hate—peace out.

The Emancipation Proclamation of 1863

13 Sunday Jul 2025

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Did you know that in 1865, when black enslaved people realized that they were free, that announcement had originally happened in 1863? It was almost two and a half years later that all states acknowledged that fact. It was Union General Gordon Granger who enlightened the people in Galveston, Texas. Can you imagine how happy and celebratory everyone was when they finally heard that news? I pictured a straight-down hootenanny on June 19 of that year. 

My Op-Ed began with Juneteenth, yet so many things to discuss have happened since then. For instance, why did America bomb Iran? Be mindful that Iran has a significant stake in oil, so don’t be surprised when gas prices rise and inflation increases. Why are people blaming women for the removal of David Hogg, the expelled Co-Vice Chair of the DNC (Democratic National Committee)? Isn’t David a grown man who can handle himself? Why did Senator Alex Padilla (D-CA) get arrested for asking questions to Krisi Noem of Homeland Security? Why did the Mayor of Newark, Ras Baraka, get arrested for protesting at the ICE facility? Why is there a call to protest against a King? Why is this administration arresting judges? Why isn’t this administration listening to the SCOTUS when it makes a ruling that involves this administration? Are Social Security, Medicare, and Medicaid safe? Why are citizens getting deported to foreign countries? Don’t answer. But, why, why, why, why, all this chaos, and it’s only five months in with this administration? It makes the Kansas City Royals’ repeated efforts to move their stadium seem trite, but manageable.

The moral of this story is that America hasn’t learned the lesson. Enslaving people is what this administration aims to do. They want to keep the nation divided so we can go to war. It seems like a replica of 1933 and beyond all over again; fascism, oligarchs, greed, trickled down to nobodies, is a thing. The only difference is the color of the people they target.

I want to point fingers. I want to blame others who didn’t do their due diligence in 2024, yet that doesn’t help anyone and will only give temporary satisfaction. I can be frustrated and disappointed like I am, but I cannot rest on my laurels. Last week, I attended the demonstration on the plaza for “No Kings Day.” I carried a sign poking the bear, but I was still there. I have called and written senators and representatives for my area. Does it do any good? I know it helps me, so that is a success. The thing I have to hold onto is the hope that tomorrow will be better; hold on, the pain will end.

What if Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr didn’t stand up and speak out? What if Rosa Parks didn’t stay seated because she was tired? What if Malcolm X didn’t inform us of his thoughts? What if Fannie Lou Hamer didn’t speak out? Sure, I know these people took on some of the most tremendous sacrifices, like death, but what if we hadn’t heard what they were saying? We wouldn’t be able to see clearly how history is repeating itself.

 I am frustrated and tired. I don’t even want to write, but I keep pushing myself despite my aggravation. I understand that this, too, will pass; the desire to quit also passes. I have to hold on and trust the process. Yet, I cannot sit back and allow others to do all the heavy lifting because everyone is needed upfront and center.

I’m not sure about you, but the lack of accountability for criminals in this administration is disturbing to me. The only way that I know how to deal with the state of our world is to quiet the storm within me. I have mentioned this so many times before, and that is why I turned off the television. I deleted social media, except #Spoutible. I read informative articles from Scott Dworkin on Substack. Also, NPR and The Guardian, which is why the felon wants to rid us of these journalists, because he does not own them. I am an avid walker. I check on my neighbors. I drink plenty of water, and most days, I eat a healthy diet. I even check my blood pressure regularly. I try not to gossip, and I journal frequently.

I prefer comfort and joy, but that isn’t always possible. But I can strive for that as the goal. I think back to my mom when she was alive, raising seven children with very little money to do much. She would sew patches of cloth. I still have a quilt that she pieced together. My family did a ton of fishing, too. During the evening hours, we would sit outside, telling stories and burning rags to smoke out the mosquitoes. I can smell it now.

Life isn’t always easy or fair. Regardless, if it’s an emancipation proclamation or a revolution, I have to find ways to pacify my nervous system. Sometimes, I will play an album while sitting with my eyes closed, and usually, that’s enough for the moment. Too much can make me melancholy, so I limit the type of music and the amount of time spent, and so far, one record is sufficient.

I wish you peace, and in return, may you be able to share it with others. We can create a ripple effect, giving us joy and serenity in a sea of noise—peace out. 

Our politics differs

12 Thursday Jun 2025

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The United States of America became official on July 4, 1776. Formally, it was established on March 4, 1789, when the Constitution became operational. However, American history began in 1620 with the establishment of the American colonies, which numbered thirteen. 

The Paleo-Indians, ancestors of Native Americans, were the first to settle in America; yet, many will beg to differ with that truth, and the distortion persists.

I want to share that my neighbor and I have different political views, yet we have managed to remain cordial with each other. I have shared many meals, and they have come to expect them. It was November 5, 2024, when I sent an email stating I no longer wanted to be in a relationship, yet that didn’t last long. I realized they were elderly and that hating was weighing more on me than I could handle. So, I apologized for my behavior.

Our world remains deeply divided, a state that has persisted since the dawn of time. Enslaved people were considered 3/5 of a person in the Constitution before the 14th Amendment. The moral of the story is it will take “We the People” to change this nonsense around.

This morning at 4 a.m., I was called to the hospital of that neighbor as her Chaplain. We have had many conversations, one where she told me she looks at me as her daughter. I cried. As I comforted her in her passing, I want to share with the world that our politics can differ, but we can still love one another.

I am back with a vengeance

12 Thursday Jun 2025

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I stopped writing in 2023; don’t ask me why, but I did.

I want to ask the question that constantly plagues my mind. “Is aging gracefully such a thing?”

What does that look like? When can one determine they have it?

I have made significant changes in my life to allow me the emotional awareness that I don’t have to do the things I once did, such as wearing makeup. Sure, I put on some eyeliner, brush my brows with some color, and add a tad of lipstick, but that’s it. I don’t want to spend extra hours caking tons of gook on my face, to waste more hours trying to get it off.

I went from running to walking, hoping to save my knees. One thing I have noticed is that I don’t get to choose what breaks down in my body; it happens automatically. One day, things can be going well, and the next, I’m in the emergency room. Okay, maybe that image is over-dramatizing a bit, but you get what I mean, correct?

What I do know is that I have this urgency to get things done. I sense that this is because, each year, my age increases, and I never thought aging would be so drastic. I look at people who I have known for a while, and I think, “They are looking old.” Well, if that is the case for them, it surely is the case for me, but for some reason, I don’t want to believe that. So, it’s my body that gives me these subtle warnings that I am old. Yet, I hear all the time age is only a number. Okay. Go for that. I try, but sometimes my body says, “We’re not doing that today.” I listen because it’s not worth the agony or pain.

I am coming back to write more about this topic. Peace out!

A Bundle of Nerves

23 Thursday Feb 2023

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Today I am grateful that I gave birth to a daughter in the year that she was born 53 years ago; I seem ancient.

I am sad because my sister died, and that’s how she wanted it because she refused to get any help; I feel so powerless because I was and am.

I feel mad because I have COVID and was more cautious than most, yet I feel sorry for myself.

My nerves are like fire, and I know what to do is rest. When my oldest sister died, I drank myself to oblivion while wailing in the bar. I am grateful to utilize my tools today and write how I feel instead of drinking and drugging, thinking I will change my feelings.

No, feelings are not facts; they are emotions I can feel because of recovery.

I am grateful for a higher power that I can lean on. I have an additional layer since I added a call to prayer to my phone as a reminder to stop, breathe, and be intentional when asking for help. My spirituality is a collective of sources that comfort me, and I am so grateful for my intentions.

My spouse has COVID, too; we are alive, not dead. So many people didn’t make it, so thank you, my giant spirits, that continue to help me along the way. I could go on and on because I have so much to say, but I will stop here and know this shall pass along the way.

Grace

09 Monday Jan 2023

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It’s me; restless, irritable, and discontinued. I have no reason to complain about my life because I am stable, secure, and serene. Yet, it seems I am supposed to be doing anything besides what I do.

Last month my eldest sister had a trauma due to a car crash on the I-70 from a heart attack; she passed out, and per a witness, her car rolled 3-4 times. I was unprepared for what responsibilities I would inherit since she lived alone with no living offspring. My life has taken on a new role, and I didn’t realize some carryover trauma I hold from an estranged relationship far removed from this sister.

I am involved in multiple twelve-step programs; the one that brings the most comfort at this time is the ACA (Adult Children of Alcoholics). So many buried memories are surfacing. I have developed an awareness of a new higher power, which has been challenging too. I am intentionally asking this power to help me let go and allow this power to work in my life.

One thing I am realizing is that I have no control over others. Although I am powerless over certain aspects of my life, I am not helpless. I also realize that I have become more political than I want, and in some sense, it is hard to move past that. I am powerless over the government, yet I want prodigious results on my time, and it’s not happening.

I ask myself, “Lynda, what can you do today to stay serene?” Mostly it’s moving out of the way, allowing myself to get still and listen to nothing. By doing so, I find solace in the stillness. The complication is that I don’t live alone, and someone is constantly asking, needing, demanding, and guilt-tripping if they don’t get attention from me.

With all the adversity, I want to run, but the miracle is I haven’t. I am dealing with my emotions. Working on the ”Loving Parent Guidebook.” I write and journal daily. My yoga mat has become my friend. I have taken up lifting hand weights which are helpful too. I am mindful of the amount of water I drink and the amount I lack. I am a daily avid long-distance walker. I give back by helping other sufferers by working with them on the Twelve Steps of recovery. After making my bed, I pray and meditate throughout the day. When I struggle to sleep, I repeat the Serenity Prayer until I can sleep.

I know that this discomfort will pass. Other than change, nothing in life is guaranteed, not even my sobriety. I have to be intentional with self-care. I recently paid an astrologer to read my sign, and although it was expensive, I needed a little pick-me-up, and I received precisely that.

Trudging the road to happy destiny doesn’t mean the terrain is smooth. Yet when I accomplish one hurdle, it leaves a mark that the next one I can achieve too. So, with my higher power’s help, an attitude of gratitude, and the tenacity to survive and strive, I will be OK. Everything will be OK because of grace, and what will be will be no matter what it will be.

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