All posts by cm writes

About cm writes

A lifelong desire of mine has been to write. As a child I wrote, even though it needed some pizzazz; but as a child, my abilities were very limited as you can imagine. Every person has much to learn, and I did that along the road to adulthood. I sure wish I kept them so I could us them for other posts. Fool that I am, I destroyed them. There were diaries through childhood abuse, tossed out. I guess that they served their purpose. Diaries I also kept through 2 abusive marriages and where are they now? They have all been destroyed, but yet I love to write. I guess that I didn't see any reason to keep them at the time, but as I write now, I can see the true value of them, precious. When I write now, I keep everything no matter how bad it seems to be. When I was in therapy I wrote everyday. Even if there are parts I don't want exposed, I don't expose it, but that is nothing new to writers. They have been doing this for years, and it works well. Happy Writing

Underestimate

Why would you want to do that?

I underestimated myself all the time until I took a good look at the word and then a good look at myself. Using the thesaurus, I found the first word listed was “under value”

I didn’t know myself at all. Here I was plugging along and just going through the motions of life. I never stopped to think that I had any value at all. Until I got off  “my little pity pot” and took an honest look at myself.

  1. Yes, I had faults, so does every one
  2. I just had no energy and I didn’t care if I made a difference in anybody else’s life
  3. I’ve never felt I was worth anything at all. OK I told myself.. 

It’s time to get off the pity pot and get some positive juices going. The reasons above are now things of the past. First of all, I am a person who is a giving person, I love people and it makes me happy to give to others. I know that I make them happy because they always tell me how glad they are when I stopped in and visit them, or bring them something to eat when they’re sick.

Then there are all those years that I contributed to society by working, paying taxes Then there is the fact that I have talent in some things. I love photography, and I have a knack for writing. It doesn’t matter, stories, diaries, resumes, etc. I found that when I looked at life through the eyes of an objective person, I have a lot of worth.

So, let’s all get off of our “little pity pots” and take a good look at ourselves. I will never underestimate myself again and I bet you won’t either.

The Flying Fork

 

When my stepdad came into the picture, I was about 11 years old. There were five of us kids, four girls, and one boy. My older sister was eight years older than I was and she had just left home the year before when she turned 18. She joined the W.A.C.S to get out and away from home.

Jack asked us if he could marry our mom which I was very impressed with and the four of us said yes even though my brother didn’t fall in love with him like the rest of us did. He came from money but drank it all in his early years. He was broke and just out of jail when he met my mom. They met at an AA meeting and he fell in love with her. Continue reading The Flying Fork

Dementia and/or Alzheimer’s?

Have you ever wondered if there is a difference between Alzheimer’s and Dementia? Does it even matter? Why should you care?

A few specialists say there are no distinctions and they utilize both Alzheimer’s and Dementia equally. Some specialists find there are a couple of contrasts yet say they all end up in the phase of Alzheimer’s so it doesn’t make a difference what it is called. In the two articles in Lifescript.com, and ALZ.org there are varying opinions.

Alzheimer’s sickness is the most widely recognized reason for extreme mental deterioration (dementia) in the elderly. It has been evaluated that 30% to half of the individuals more than 85 years of age experience the ill effects of this condition.

Continue reading Dementia and/or Alzheimer’s?

How Could I Show the Depth of My Love?

Depth

It’s funny in a facetious way how my profundity of love for my husband would be tested in such a way such as it is at this time. While I was growing up, there was no real love in our Copy of Copy of mom and dadfamily. If it wasn’t for my step-father who I have always felt was my real father I would not have a speck of love within me. He put us, his family first. He never cared what time we called or what he was doing at that time; his secretary was given instructions to put his family through to him even if he was in a meeting. That’s how he thought of us; we were his family.

Since he married my mom when I was eleven years old, it was almost too late for real ron ann col 56family love to shine through and actually recognize it as being something special or even important. My real father had no love for us kids, and a future series on growing Continue reading How Could I Show the Depth of My Love?

Life is a Saga

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Saga

Life is a Saga

Birth is a constant and death is a constant. These two constants happen in every one’s life. As soon as birth takes place that constant has begun. Now it becomes intermittent and irregular. When that part ends, then the other constant is in place, death.

Intermittent and irregular things happen to all of us between the constants of birth and death and that is called life. There have been many things that have happened to all of us. Many of them were good, and those are the memories that should be the only things in the forefront of our minds. Unfortunately, there were also the many tragedies that happen in all of our lives and people think they should just forget them; as it were, out of sight out of mind.

Wouldn’t that be nice if they were wrapped in neat little packages of good and bad? If that were the case then life would be good. The intermittent cycles of life would be in neat and self-contained packs.  Life isn’t like that though. The bad things in life are not ever wrapped in neat little packages. Unfortunately, the bad always contaminates the good and the owner spends a lifetime trying to clean up the contamination.

That is what makes everyone’s life a saga. Each of us could write a story about our own lives. They would all be different, very interesting, and no two stories would be the same. At the same time, that other constant is the end of the line for everyone, and isn’t that the end of everyone’s story?

Is There an Art to Gift Giving?

Is there an art to gift-giving?

My thoughts on gift-giving are not very impressive. Many of today’s kids are thankless and no matter what you give to them they are going to return anyway. My first question is; What kind of gift is it going to take for them to treasure instead of return it? You’ve probably already asked yourself this question. What are their likes and dislikes? They are not going to be satisfied with something ordinary. If it is ordinary, they can exchange it and buy something for themselves. How about something they have asked you to get for them? Where is the real pleasure in giving something that someone asked you to buy? That sounds routine; as if they’re asking you to pick up a loaf of bread on your way home. Where’s the surprise?

Do you honestly want to buy them something they really don’t need or want another of the same thing? Give cash? You do that every week anyway, what would make that special? Besides, if you give them cash again what are they going to want to do? They are going to want to go right out with their friends and spend it, leaving you alone and feeling used and empty. Continue reading Is There an Art to Gift Giving?

Sing

Sing

When I sing, the birds disappear, the trees shiver, and people cover their ears with a look of terror in their eyes. I don’t understand why. I love to sing. A song can make you feel as if you are floating on a cloud but it could also make you feel as if your heart is about to break. Sometimes songs can make you feel empowered as if you can accomplish anything.

I have heard the expression, “…couldn’t carry a tune in a basket.” I wonder what that means?  Well, it doesn’t matter. I sang in the chorus in school, and I sang in the church choir when I was a child. I even sang a solo once in church. I was too soft, so the choir director motioned for me to sing louder. I thought I was doing great. The louder I sang, the more people began stirring. At the end of my part, I was singing so proudly, and I ended with a smile from ear to ear. As I waited for the applause, I looked up.  I saw the seats empty, and the choir director galloping out the door. Was it something I said?