“I carried many storms with me. I have washed myself ashore, I have been my tide and lighthouse. Darling, this becoming me didn’t come easy. I have let my demons play. I have cursed God in three languages. Forgive me. I have peeled my flesh to reveal broken angels pressed onto my soul. I am my night and my sunshine. I have let my screams deafen me at night. In darkness, I swear I have seen the devil begging me to end it all. I have patched myself slowly, gone to war and won myself back. So, here I am. Here I am. I am not asking to be validated. Here I am. I am not asking to be protected. Here I am. I am not begging to be loved. I am here. I am here and that’s enough to be celebrated. That is enough. Darling, I am here. I am a glorious cause for celebration.”  Ijeoma Umebinyuo


“They tell us to wear masks, repress and hide our true feelings, teach us to adapt our personalities to the marketplace, and then they expect healthy functioning. Is that even possible from below a mask? Can it be any surprise that humans are depressed and act out in hurtful ways when they have been conditioned to distort their truths, bury their feelings, grin and bear it? If we want humans to act empathically, we have to model it to them as a society. If we want humans to stop hurting others, we have to support healthy emotional release so that they do not accumulate toxic feelings. If we want humans to move from their most heartfelt authenticity, we have to stop shaming and shunning their genuine expression. If we want humans to move from love, we must love them first. We can’t teach repression and disguise on a society wide level, and then expect loving, compassionate behavior. It’s entirely ridiculous.”  Jeff Brown

A Brother Named “Fluffy.”

Fluffy My brother

Some kids are lucky enough to get a dog or a cat for a pet. Some kids get a cow or a horse. Some are limited to a fish or a hamster.

I got a brother.

I wanted to name him “Fluffy” but I was not allowed to name him. No, no . . . THAT privilege went to the people who dropped him off in my life and made me responsible for feeding and exercising him . . . not to mention house training him. If someone ever tries to give you a pet that they have already named, NEVER, accept it. That means this is a “insert type of pet here” that someone else tried to love and they failed. It is true, sometimes it is the fault of the people who bought the darn thing, but most likely, especially if the pet is a brother, the fault is completely in the pet.

Someone is trying to pass off their broken lame pet on you.

Mine did not do a single trick that anyone cared about. That is because no-one cares what you can stick up your nose, or what weird sounds you can make with your arm pitt. Passing gas and burping are NOT tricks either.

Mine was forever doing stupid things.

That is all that needs to be said about that statement. No need going into detail about all the kinds of stupid things he did. He did them. ALL of them.

Mine was a tattle tale. He was forever telling everyone everything. Some of it mattered to me and some did not. It doesn’t matter to what degree your pet disobeys or ignores you, you still have a responsibility to teach your pet the right things to do. I used electro shock therapy.

They didn’t work.

Stun guns don’t work either.

Medication was pointless, even when we buried it in his Kraft Dinner, he refused to swallow it. Some of my grandmothers best linens, walls and other children are still stained with neon orange because of his projectile spitting.

Pets are meant to teach a child about love, and responsibility. They are meant to be part of the warm hearted memories and video reels that you one day pull out and start to cry remembering what a great pet “Fluffy” was and all the good times you shared. Pets are family members that are with you through some of the best times in your life celebrating, and then comforting you through some of the worst. This is the circle of life. Norman Rockwell drew pictures of this. Lassie and Old Yeller were the poster dogs for the whole movement.

This is a wonderful, good, heartwarming thing.

Everyone knows that is how it is supposed to work.  Everyone, except my pet, “Fluffy:” –  the brother. (I don’t care what the rest of the world called him.)  It is possible that Fluffy had special needs and that I had too high of expectations for him.   Wah Wah Wah … he should have tried harder.

That is why I am asking now, that people the whole world over, join with me in a movement to ban brothers from the family home where they suck at being pets and just make little girls grow up hating men and the people who dumped their problem pet off on them.

THIS is why the world is upside down and all over the place and makes no sense.

Send your donations to me.

Thank you.

(and mom, dad . . . I am not ever coming home again until you put him down.  Enough is enough.)

You Think You Know

My husband shared this with me and I could not stop thinking about it.

It is interesting at face value but on a deeper level it is everything.

What are we teaching our children?  Do we consider how much we shape their world for them by the experiences they have and the things they learn?  My mind goes to so many instances where children are used to further the adults needs and sick wants.

Can we recognize in ourselves that we get stuck in ways of seeing things, ways of dealing with life, ways of problem solving … and we pass it on to our children.  It is not that how we do things is right or wrong but rather that it is limited.  It is just one way and defending that way as “right” and defending it to the point we “hate” other people who do not share our experiences and therefore thoughts is shallow and debilitating.

I have always NEEDED to understand HOW people think.  I remember being a kid and asking a thousand questions because I could not let something go until I could understand why someone had a different opinion or idea than I did.  Once I could see that path, I was ok with it.  I was ok with that person being different than me.  As an adult, when I cannot understand an action, I start on a journey to find a connection point.  If I can understand how a person thinks then I can figure out why they ended up at the place they are in and I have a bridge from me to them.  It does not mean I agree with them but I guess I have this fundamental understanding we are all human and we are all capable of both good and bad given the right circumstances.  I can understand, for example, that a child who is incredibly abused as a child, might grow up to abuse others.  I do not condone their actions but there is something in me that can say I get why that could happen for some people.

These types of understandings should free us all to realize we are so limited and contained with our own lives and experiences and that there is never an end to learning.  Have we “chosen” to be limited?  Is our comfort, our affluence, our pursuit of physical pleasure, shut us down and numbed us to the whole process of life?  Were we meant to continue to grow and expand and experience instead of settling, switching off, and dying?

I have done things to challenge myself through out my life without really thinking about it.  I move my watch from my preferred arm to my other arm.  I write with my other hand.  I sleep on the side less preferred.  I move things around in my environment.   I am now excited to think about expanding that.  To perhaps immersing myself in different practices that change my thoughts.  How else can this work.

Let me know if you try anything and what your experiences are.


‘When we speak about reactive tendencies of exaggeration and denial, we may wonder exactly what it is we are reacting to. Think about this. How do you perceive things, and why do you respond to them in the way that you do?

We have different ways of knowing things. Most commonly we know “things” through our habitual objectification of them. For example, we often speak about the objectification of women. When we objectify something, we draw a boundary around it and therefore can only know it in a limited way. Who, for instance, is that sultry woman on the billboard – the one in that cool black dress holding a martini? Who is she aside from the one-dimensional image we have of her, an image based upon our fantasies, our desires or insecurities? Undoubtedly, she has a longing for happiness, like all of us. She also feels the pain that comes with that longing, which is touching and beautiful in its own way.

Human beings are complex: we have fresh moments and rotten moments. We have creative and destructive moments, too. We are crazy and predictable, glorious and miserable. Sometimes human beings seem like the lowest form of life on earth… then suddenly we find someone doing something brilliant, touching, and humane. There is a depth of richness in a human being that we can never capture or pin down. In truth, everything is like this – like shifting sands. Try to find “things” if you can. Try to find them before you objectify them, hem them in with concepts, tamper with them, or embellish them by exaggerating or denying their existence. Do you see what I’m getting at here? No matter how hard we search, in the realms of science, psychology, or otherwise, we will never reach an absolute conclusion in the world of “things.” A full experience only comes from our ability to know the truth of thinglessness. When we speak about the boundarylessness of things, we are pointing to knowing their truth, or essence. As we saw before: we cannot find a true boundary or edge to any thing, because all things exist in dependence upon other things. When we experience the interdependence and boundaryless nature of things, we don’t feel the heaviness of the world against us – the world as opposed to me. Instead we feel the fullness of the world, and we are part of that fullness. When we stop objectifying things, in effect, we have nothing other to react to.’  Elizabeth Mattis Namgyel

Bullying Asperger’s


As many of you have already read, my grandson Noah, a 10 year old with Asperger’s, is currently in a psychiatric hospital because his only option to the bullying he suffered at school, seemed to be suicide.

He is perhaps one of the lucky ones.  I briefly heard a news report this week of another young boy with Asperger’s who had stabbed his bully.

We have started a group called Noah’s Ark for my grandson because now we must spend all our time trying to erase the damage caused and hoping to convince him that the bullies are the minority and that there are many good people out there in the world who care.  We also started a go fund page to help offset the cost for Noah’s family.  The victims are left with the damage and the costs.  The bullies are seldom taken to task.

Please join the group and offer words of encouragement to a little boy and please contribute if you can.

I found this incredible comprehensive article on bullying that I urge you to read.  Please spread the word.  This has to stop.

My Aspergers Child:  The Bullying of Aspergers Children

A sad fact: The majority of children with Aspergers will experience repeated bullying and/or victimization at school. Aspergers students are easy targets for a variety of reasons:

• Due to having a low social IQ, they let things build up …then retaliate without an awareness of what the consequences might be

• They appear different than their “typical” peers

• They are not always aware of teasing or bullying behavior

• “Intimidation” is not in their vocabulary

• The need to dominate or control others is not part of their personality

Aspergers children who are bullied are more likely to be depressed, anxious, and suicidal. They struggle in school (when they decide to show up at all). They’re more likely to carry weapons, get in physical fights, and abuse drugs. But when it comes to the actual damage bullying does, the picture becomes more clouded.  (read more by clicking link below.)

via My Aspergers Child: The Bullying of Aspergers Children.

You might also like:  Noah’s Fight Against His Bullies

Noah’s Fight Against His Bullies.

blog noah

It has taken me a few days to sort out my emotions enough to write about this.

On one hand I realize our story is just one of thousands being told daily. On the other hand our story is every bit as important as any other.   We all do what we can do.  I write.

My 10 year old grandson has Asperger’s. He is such an amazing boy.  In some ways he is an ancient soul contained in a red headed, somewhat awkward, pre-pubescent boy’s body and in others he is just a little boy who is scared and unsure.

He makes me laugh. We have Skype time as he is in the States and I am in Australia – and we talk about life and his dreams. We had made a special Skype date, he wanted to take me to his open house at his new school so he could show me where he would be and all of the cool things that were there. He was really excited about doing robotics.

He has an interesting perspective of the world. I listen and help him explore his thoughts. He reads me stories he has written, and he is really good. We talk about the book he wants to write this summer and he sends me bits and pieces for my approval. Sometimes I see he has tried to call me several times in one day and sometimes days go by. He likes it most when everyone else has gone out and we can talk privately in his room.

It is pretty awesome to know a 10 year old boy thinks you are cool and likes to hang out with you.

That is why when I found out that he has been repeatedly bullied until he wanted to take his own life and had to be hospitalized, I was devastated. Continue reading