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This area is reserved for the tidbits I know hope will be of interest to my readers. Check back often for regular updates. 


Check out this article about the Fifty Shades of Grey phenomena, including a list of organizations which strongly oppose this sick trend, and have implemented various means of helping women who have been sexually victimized.


Were you raised by a narcissist? Chances are you were if you suffered any form of childhood abuse. The Little Red Survivor website is filled with excellent articles examining the many faces of narcissism.


It's been a long time coming---7 years to be exact---but finally email notifications for new BD posts is available. Sign up today and never again miss another post. You know you want to!













Kate Is Rising has an excellent Survivors Resources page which directs you to numerous websites dealing with issues of abuse, healing and recovery. Please bear in mind that the information on these pages may be triggering.



There's lots of good stuff at the Dissociation Blog Showcase, including a list of 180 blogs dealing with some aspect of this disorder. 



On the Overcoming Sexual Abuse site there's an article entitled, "It's Not About You Mom" which I could have written myself. I bet many of my readers could say the same!








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« Wish I Could Set My House in Order | Main | Not Fade Away »

These Are a Few of My Favorite Things



My little granddaughter, Anna, had a battered shoe box full of crayons. About 2 weeks before Christmas I heard her whispering to her sister, Maddy, about a gift for me. Anna was holding the shoebox, and Maddy was telling her to put it under the tree.

"Just put it with the presents," she said, "she won't know."

Of course I sat feigning ignorance, fiercely knitting on the couch. I'm not sure if they think I'm merely oblivious sometimes or hard of hearing.

A few days later Anna complained that she didn't have a black crayon.

"Go get one out of the box," MaddySisters and best friends. instructed, both of them glancing my way. I saw this out of the corner of my eye and again played dumb. I played dumb while Anna inched her way to the tree, bent down and rather noisily extricated the shoebox and sifted through it for the right crayon.

"She won't know," I heard Maddy whisper. "You can put it back when you're done."

A few days before Christmas their daddy was checking out the presents under the tree and came upon the shoebox.

"What's this doing here?" he asked, picking up the box and setting it on the coffee table. At this Anna became agitated, and I told him it was supposed to be a present for someone.

"This?" he said, opening the box and peering inside. "It's just a bunch of old crayons."

Poor Anna ran from the room in tears, and I quickly filled him in on her surprise for me.

"Well how was I supposed to know?" he asked.

I told him he'd better go talk to her. He disappeared into the bedroom and ten minutes later they emerged, with the shoebox wrapped in Christmas paper and a big smile on Anna's face.




"I like Anna's voice," Maddy tells me as she lollygags on the couch after school.

"You do?"

"Oh I sure do," she says, sounding for all the world like Shirley Temple. "She has a cute little voice." 




"Nana," 10 year old Izzy says one lazy evening, "when you were little what did you want to be when you grew up?"

I give this some thought so she'll know I'm taking her question seriously, but I really don't have to think about it.

"A writer," I finally say.

"Nana!" she cries, with widened eyes, "that's so cool. You wanted to be a writer and now you are  one!"

Oh yeah, totally cool.



When Anna hears I'm making chicken soup for dinner, her expression turns serious.

"Nana, maybe your chicken soup will make Daddy feel better."

"Oh I hope so," I tell her.

"Yeah, because I do love him so and I want Daddy to feel all better, and chicken soup is what people eat when they're sick. So maybe it will make Daddy all better."


These little moments (and so many more) which make up the bits and pieces of my days, are treasures I will carry with me when I am no longer here, a constant presence in their daily lives.

This year, and every year since their births, I've truly been blessed to have these beautiful granddaughters in my life to help me keep my sense of humor, to allow me to learn a bit more patience with my little insiders, and to give me the opportunities I need to play. Their intelligence amazes me, their gentleness and compassion touch me deeply and help me to heal. Their sense of the ridiculous frees me to remember that not all areas of my world are dark and troubling; there is light, there is healing, there are hopes for the future.

2013? I look forward to this new year with cautious anticipation. I've just read some older journal posts and am amazed at some of what I read. I haven't exactly grown in leaps and bounds, but I haven't been rooted to the spot, either, frozen in place afraid to move or dare to dream.

May my readers and I continue the journeys we so hesitatingly embarked on when first we began to deliberately seek healing and wholeness, whether those journeys have been decades in the making or only begun a month ago.

May we look about us and see what is good and light and healing and comfy, even while we delve into our rickety childhoods for anything of value worth salvaging. May we resolve at the beginning of this new year, even if we make no other resolutions, to continue the journey. To move forward one step at a time.

We owe this to ourselves, to one another and to future generations whose well-being in part depends on strides we make in recovering our lives, and healing from our wounds.



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Reader Comments (2)

Beautiful Dreamer, your granddaughter is sooooo right - whether you are a published author with books on the shelves of the local libraries and bookstores or not, you ARE a writer -- just like you wanted to be as a child.

I have a restless mind that allows me to write much easier than to read. I LOVE books, and surround myself with them, but when I sit down with one I am lucky if I can sit long enough to read more than a few pages. Over the years, I have learned to discern which books I might actually read for real - and to forgive myself for returning most books to my shelves or to the library, still appreciated, but left mostly untouched. I have also learned that there are certain authors who weave words with such skill that they act like a beautiful net that holds me securely while I eagerly plow through page after page. It is as if their words are that of an angel, or a wise and strong mentor who makes you want to sit at their feet and just LEARN.

Dreamer, YOUR writing has that magical effect. Whether through practice or by natural ability, you have the gift of storytelling, a way of writing that makes it effortless for your reader to join you, wherever you are -- and follow you, wherever you go. I could definitely read a book written by you! :D

-- SynthGirl

January 6, 2013 | Unregistered CommenterSynthGirl


For some reason I just now saw some of your comments on here.

Thanks for the kind and encouraging words! I hope my writing contains some beauty, and something which helps others to heal just a little bit more.

January 15, 2013 | Registered Commenterbeautifuldreamer

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