Humanity
Can I please get a DO OVER
As I grew older, I realized life happening had provided me with a two way mirror. I could look forward, but I could also see what I left behind. Standing in the midst of these reflections, I felt regret and sorrow. Partly because I was overcome with the reality of never being able to change it. I was paralyzed in that space for years. I raised my kids in that room of regrets. I began new relationships in that room. I worked a career in that room. I hated myself. Although I could see and feel deliverance, I could not embrace it because it felt so out of reach for me. I believed that too many mistakes and bad choices gave me the keys to accept a life where I was disappointed in myself. I owned occupancy.
By Olivia Crump5 years ago in Confessions
Stitch-by-Stitch
Crochet found me in a dark time in my life. I was working at a bar that was the last to close in our small town. Inevitably everyone made their way there at the end of the night when they were the least reasonable and the most intoxicated. It was not quite so bad, until they opened the casino and cut my bouncer as well. That brought in a whole new crowd and even later hours for me. On top of the late hours at the bar, I also cut hair a couple times a week at a local salon. Keeping in mind, that this is all while I was also going to school full time taking prerequisite courses for the nursing program. It was a full-time load filled with science courses which include labs and fast-paced tests. And in the mix, I began dating a man, who all too soon became my fiancé.
By Rugergirl225 years ago in Confessions
Living with pain
Not that long ago really, in terms of a lifetime, I was in great shape and very healthy. During my years in the Okanagan I was incredibly active. I ran a hiking club, year round. In the summer months every Sunday, weather permitting, I would roller-blade usually for several hours. I had several boats and went water-skiing at every opportunity, even learning to slalom. I biked the Kettle Valley many times. My Dad and I dirt-biked all over the Okanagan and in Revelstoke. I played tennis, although not as often as I would have liked. I even para-glided, which was awesome. In the winter I downhill skied, cross-country skied and snowmobiled. I played racquetball three times a week, including Sunday mornings which usually ran three hours or more. I danced for hours usually once or twice a week at the Corral. Most of my many good friends were twenty years younger than me because people my own age couldn’t keep up. I was a very fit one hundred and seventy pounds and, despite the fact that I smoked and ate my fair share of fast food, I had all kinds of stamina and energy. I slept like a baby and was rarely sick, usually a cold once a year or so.
By Gary Jones5 years ago in Confessions
Bad Timing
I knew the day we got her. She was the runt of the litter, and gorgeous with brindle coat and white teardrop on her head. I picked her up in my arms and felt how good she would be. She was so sweet and kind, and I knew she could be the perfect dog for our family. I also knew that something didn't feel right. I was afraid I was too hasty in which one I chose, and I felt an ominous gray cloud over us as we left. Oh, I was thrilled to be finally getting the little puppy I had wanted for so long. I was happy. And yet I didn't feel the bond I expected.
By Aine Jones5 years ago in Confessions
Looking Back
“I wish that I could smile, but then I look back at each receding mile.” –from I’m Sorry by Leon Stevens I remember seeing my childhood home disappear behind the climbing tree. As my sister and I got older—and braver—we would climb higher through the prickly, sappy branches until reaching the point where you could feel it sway. We had built forts in it, each one a bit better than the last, but each with its own problems. The branches were so thick and long that they could be slid down like a slide until father trimmed the lower ones. My father built the house with just the essential tools, the labor of friends, and his love of creation.
By Leon Stevens5 years ago in Confessions
Behind Closed Doors
No one knows what goes on behind closed doors. No one quite understands the way in which the secrets, realities, lies, fantasies, arguments, betrayal, confusion, guilt, happiness, and the mundane all gather and dance together there. Even those who exist within them don't always understand what the hell is going on. If walls could talk, mine would be communicating in a an indecipherable language - even to me.
By Suzi Sevilen5 years ago in Confessions
I Used to be Fast. Top Story - July 2021.
I used to be fast. I've had fleeting moments, but could never pinpoint a time in my life I could confidently say, "I am happy." I wonder if anyone truly is because I cannot conceive of that feeling lasting longer than a few minutes at most. I hear people say they are and feel how I imagine the blind must feel when being told about color. The knowing that I don't understand and never will is as horrible as it is perplexing.
By M.C. Murphy 5 years ago in Confessions
We have a Problem
We have a problem in so-called Australia, it’s the same problem most countries that were colonized have, reconciliation. It’s important to first understand what Reconciliation means, in its broadest sense reconcile means ‘coming together. A dictionary definition of the word is, a situation in which two people or groups of people become friendly again after they have argued.
By Janon5 years ago in Confessions
Life as a rolling stone
My story began in 1965. My recollection of it begins in 1969 70. Being raised in the 70s by what was considered hippie parents was an education in partying. Don't misunderstand, my parents were good, hard_ working people raising 3 kids in a crazy time in American history. But for me, it was the best of times. My sister Renee and I played and fought with each other and got into a lot of trouble. The family life was going well, I started going to school and realized that there were more kids than just my sister, and Renee wasn't happy about that. She tried everything she could think of, including throwing my shoes behind the big console television to stop me from going to school. Mom was on to her, though, it always amazed me how mom knew exactly what the problem was. Didn't always like how she dealt with the problem, since it usually involved me having to go get dad's belt. Dad's belt was always around dad's waist, which meant not only was I getting a whooping, I had to explain to my dad why I was asking for the implement of my misery. And so went the first few years before my brother was born.
By James Sims5 years ago in Confessions
