Tag: hope

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Last summer I wrote a letter to a friend and placed it in a bottle. I hadn’t seen her in a while and it was great to reconnect. I wanted to mark the occasion for her and show her my gratitude and love. She traveled a great distance physically and emotionally to arrive at my…




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I spent my youth Away from Home. Wishing my friends Were sisters of my own. I didn’t like family. Dangerous love. Beat up and tortured, Push comes to shove. We lived in the country, Away from town. If there are no neighbors, Does abuse make a sound? My heart goes back To that scary place.…




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Background I was abused for 19 years by my father and others. Physically and emotionally. Then my dad died in ’92. For 6 more years, I would be physically and emotionally abused by my sister. At 25, I moved out, got married and I was free! From almost-daily emotional abuse. But. That day? That I…




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My recovery from depression and anxiety seems to be moving in a positive direction. Yay me! Smiley face While I am still – for now – taking medication to assist me, I am hopeful that over the course of the next year I’ll wean myself off and get back to my “normal” – whatever that is.…




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Whenever you feel inspired, open your heart, empty your mind and listen.
See what is it calling you to do, what is it inspiring to be, get a sense of the vision for your life that your inspiration is showing you.

Trust that. 😉




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There’s a little glimmer of warmth, burrowing into my chest. And a chink of light, peeking into my spirit. If I listen carefully I can almost hear a heart-warming song. It has taken me awhile to recognise it – the song of hope. Unfamiliar. Really scary. Really positive. Hope. Hope has a few different acronyms…




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“Are you on a diet?” I was 22 years old. I was not on a diet. I was not overweight. Yet… It was Christmas Day and I was away from my family. Invited to a friend’s house for the day, I met a lovely Japanese couple. His English wasn’t the greatest and when I said…




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Food tastes like failure. I don’t savour beautiful textures and flavours. I never mindfully and sensuously nibble delicacies, inhaling aromas and luxuriating in the tantalising sensations on my tastebuds. When I eat, I scoff food down like a starving woman fighting a horde of ravenous dogs, scratching around for the last morsel on a carcass.…




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I grew up in a pretty normal, conservative, middle-class household. My parents weren’t super strict. Or super lenient. They were just sort of – average really… Piercing, body modifications and tattoos just weren’t our cup of tea. I remember my dad thinking it bizarre I wanted my ears pierced at 16. I did it anyway… Twice… Never in…