Tuesday, March 6, 2012

A Fear of Violence


During my first year of grad school, two gun-totting protestors had held hostage a classroom of students of which I was a part, and I myself had shotguns aimed at me and guard dogs sicked on me as I protested the Vietnam War.
Also, I suggested a different way of teaching to a professor who felt I was threatening him, possibly with a gun, and I attended manifold classes in diverse disciplines in which I felt dull-witted.


For many years, four memories from the second year of grad school haunted me. Two illustrated my stupidity; two were violent. In my Saturday posting I will begin to share the latter with you. Today, I want to share with you a thumbnail account of why violence catapulted me into an attempt at suicide.
There had been only two terrifying instances of violence in my childhood home. But always there was the possibility of more because of my father’s drinking. By going away to college I left that violence behind. I engaged in magical thinking: if I wasn’t there to see the violence, it wouldn’t happen.
Then I entered the convent where I tried so hard to be perfect. I fooled everyone, but the very act of hiding my deep insecurities left me feeling as if I were a fake. I came to dislike myself intensely. It was then that I began to hallucinate three yammering individuals who hounded me for twelve years.
In December 1966, I left the convent, deeply depressed. That no one realized this is a testament to my acting ability. I knew the kind of things “normal” people talked about. I knew how they reacted and expressed themselves. I was a quick study. For the next ten years—from 1966 to 1976—I played the role of a “normal” person. I hid the fact that three yammering complainers accompanied me everywhere.
During those years, life took many twists and turns. In 1968—when I was thirty-one— Mom died. Dad died in 1975 when I was thirty-nine. Their deaths left me bereft. From 1966 to 1973, I kept moving, searching for some peace from the constant hallucinations.


·      I moved to Dayton. In the space of two years, I lived in seven different apartments. It was there I taught in a Catholic academy for girls and an inner-city classroom.
·      I moved to Minneapolis to get a graduate degree.
·      I moved back to Dayton to teach at a dropout center for black students.
·      I moved to New Hampshire to teach students whom the faculty thought were mediocre. While I was in New England, a Dartmouth psychiatrist advised me to go somewhere and settle. To find roots. To find, somehow, a home.
·      Finally, I moved back to Minnesota to work for a publishing house. During the next four years, I moved twice. Then, in 1977, I bought an 1870 lumberjack home in Stillwater and settled down for thirty-two years.

 
My hallucinations ended in 1976 when a Minneapolis psychiatrist prescribed an antipsychotic drug. I still take it and will until I die. In prescribing it, she told me that I’d been so deeply depressed for over twelve years that my body was chemically imbalanced.      
Moreover, I had nothing left to filter out stimuli. Every hurtful, negative, tragic happening that I read about or encountered “struck me to the core.” I was unable to let go of the cruelty humans inflicted on one another. I was, she said, “a bruised soul.”
You will note that the name of this blog is “coming home to myself.” Only in the last few years have I found within myself the peace I’ve always sought. I’ve finally embraced myself.
I’ve embraced my history with its fears and neediness; with its immaturity and loneliness. I’ve embraced as well the strengths of that young woman who struggled so hard to be a force for good.
She’s older now—I’ll be seventy-six in less than a month—and she knows—I know—that I am a treasury of all I’ve experienced and all I’ve loved. At long last, I have found a home. It is within myself. 

54 comments:

  1. Dear Dee,

    You have had some crosses to bare, but yet, you have accomplished so much. I can picture you sitting in a chair and writing all this down and hoping that every time you do this, another layer of pain is being removed. Besides all your gifts and abilities, you have lived a brave life, you have given so much and made a difference in so many lives - your blogger friends included.

    It is kind of sad that it is usually only later in life that we realize who we are and how valuable we have been and continue to be. How wonderful it is though, that we can finally come to that point.

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    1. Dear Arleen,
      Yes, I find myself grateful every day that I've let go of my disdain for myself and accepted that I'm fine, just the way I am. What a blessing it is in our lives when someone helps us, gently, to look honestly at ourselves and to wonder that we've been a survivor. You have such wisdom, Arleen. It must have come from your own reflection on your life.

      Peace.

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  2. wow. You have been through so much in your life! and it is so amazing that you can tell it to everyone now!

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    1. Dear Baiba,
      By the time you are my age, you will have been through a lot also. Now you are enjoying your last year of high school! That is exactly what you need to do. I so enjoy reading your posting that reflect the concerns you have today. You are a sweetheart!

      Peace.

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  3. Dear Dee--I, & my fellow followere, are so grateful that you are sharing your life (& baring your soul) here on your post. You always end your comments with the word "peace". It seems you have found it.

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    1. Dear Fran,
      Yes, I have found peace. The journey has been long with many stops and pauses and fits and fretfulness. And it will continue I know, but for now I have come home to myself. I've always felt that you did that long ago and that explains the light hearted way you can respond to the blogs of others. You are so young in spirit, Fran.

      Peace.

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    2. I AM happy within myself. It is a wonderful feeling.

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  4. Dee,
    You are such a strong, amazing person. I'm so glad to have you in my life. The things you've gone through--and conquered--you truly are a shining star--giving the rest of us peace as well.
    -E

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    1. Dear Elisa,
      Thank you for your kind words. It's so wonderful that throughout our lives we can share Oneness with others. A blessing.

      And by the way, you're pretty amazing yourself!

      Peace.

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  5. Dee, Thank you so much for sharing this very personal information. I know you'll help someone or many someones who don't understand chemical imbalances and perhaps need psychiatric attention themselves. It's a matter of the more you know, the better you can do.

    Love,
    Janie

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    1. Dear Janie,
      I do hope that my story helps others on their journey. For myself, I'm discovering the meaning of many things that puzzled me in the past. That chemical imbalance is changed only with medication. And so many people suffer needlessly because they don't find a doctor who can diagnose the symptoms and prescribe theright medicine. I was so lucky. Blessed. Fortunate.

      Peace.

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  6. You have gone through so much and I applaud you for the way you have come through them.

    Yvonne.

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    1. Dear Yvonne,
      I think that all of us have been through hard times. It's just that right now, with this blog, I'm finally laying them out for others to read. I'm doing this for two reasons: to find the meaning of my life and to help anyone who finds something relevant in my life.

      Peace.

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  7. from the title through your journey, you have lived on the edge of that violence, and it is a potent thing within you known by a wise woman. the journey includes the arrival, where you are becoming.
    losing one's parents, i can't imagine. i've lost my dad, and that was a swimming experience. i'm 39.
    the causes you supported were for peace and justice. what a progression you are.

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    1. Dear Ed,
      Thank you so much for going to the two links I gave for the convent and the hallucinations. I appreciated your comments on them.

      Losing a parent is always hard, but when a parent dies while you are still young--and 39 is young--then we truly lose part of the definition of ourselves. That sets us on a journey of discovery.

      Like you, I believe that each day I'm arriving and becoming. I'm a rough diamond that is being faceted.

      Peace.

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  8. You've had a rough road and learned so much over your lifetime. You've been so filled to overflowing with empathy that it was painful to you and made living difficult. But you never did give up your search, your quest to find answers to those big questions. You never let it close off your heart or shut yourself away from life. I admire you, Dee. You are a strong soul. And sharing your life stories can't be an easy thing to do.

    I am curious as to how you happened to end up with that lady psychiatrist who finally gave you the meds you needed. What a blessing! I imagine it wasn't an easy road to her door.

    It is so true that until we can accept all of ourselves...the good, bad, and the ugly...we cannot truly love ourselves. Tough to love others unconditionally, too. I can see that is where you have found peace. Bless you!! Bless you!! :):)

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    1. Dear Rita,
      You expressed curiosity about the psychiatrist I met. Here name was Dr. Nimlos and she truly saved my life. I was planning, in 1975, once again to commit suicide. Then I had a transcendental experience in which I felt the deep love of my parents flooding through me. I knew then that I had to hold on to life. So I called a friend who worked with teenagers and knew a lot about the psychiatrists in Minneapolis, where I worked. He gave me her name. I was forever be grateful to him.

      Thank you for your blessings. I will put that in my gratitude journal tonight.

      Peace.

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  9. Dee: Thank you. So much. I believe that the coming home to a point where we are comfortable in our own skins, warts, wrinkles and all is a trip that many never make. I am not certain I will though I yearn for that distant shore.

    Your caring, empathic nature gave a lot to your students and your friends. It continues to do so now in the blogosphere. Thank you for your generosity in showing us part of your journey home

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    1. Dear EC,
      Yes, you've said it so well--"comfortable in our own skins" with all the "warts and wrinkles." Don't you think, really, that you are taking that trip? Simply by blogging and exploring the lives of others in their blogs? Isn't that part of the journey--to listen to the story of others and find within those stories a little of our own history?
      Be patient with yourself. And please be gracious to yourself.

      Peace.

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  10. I am so very impressed with your honesty and your courage. The thing is that you not only survived what would break most, but you prospered. You never quit tying and thank God, you found someone to give you the help you needed. You truly have come home.
    Thank you so much for the very thoughtful and kind comment you left on my post.

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    1. Dear Arkansas Patti,
      Thank you for recognizing the actuality of my coming home to myself. At my age, being honest and courageous is not so hard as when one is young and needing perhaps to impress others. We are what we are when we are.

      Peace.

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  11. Dee it's so hard to see you in the light you portray yourself here. The Dee I know and love is such a happy easy going riot! I would have loved you then but I just adore you now! What a blessing you are to me. Thank you for being you.

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    1. Dear Melynda,
      You know all my life I've been able to project the persona people wanted me to be. The difference today and in the last few years is that this persona is truly who I am. I suspect that many friends in Minnesota who've known me a long time are surprised to discover just how unsure I've been within myself all these years. Now as Popeye says, "I yam who I yam!"

      Peace.

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  12. You, Dee, embody the soul of a survivor. Someone who not only has come through intact with impossible odds against it, but you have changed the lives of many in your journey home, and you continue to inspire and heal through this blog. I know I have taken so much of your writings into my heart (not the least of which was about Dulcy), but I continue to look forward to everything you have to say. I have entered my 70th year and am so glad to have a mentor to show me the way forward...

    Peace to you, too.

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    1. Dear DJan,
      I have to tell you that my life truly seems simple next to some of the lives I've seen in the inner city and in the classrooms in New Hampshire and in the hospitals where I worked with young men who were HIV positive. There is so much sadness and tragedy. So many children's lives are destroyed or damaged when they are so little.

      So I think that you, DJan, and so many others around our world, through your random acts of kindness and your graciousness to everyone you meet really bring hope to our world. You are a blessing in our midst.

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    2. If omly everyone would practice random acts of kindness, as you do & I try to do, what a blessed world this would be!

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  13. Dee, What you have shared today makes me admire you all the more! I really appreciate your honesty--that is proof that you have come home to yourself. We tend to think of ourselves as so strong, but really, we each are fragile in our own ways, and when pushed too hard, there can be serious consequences. Your story could have ended tragically, but I believe you were spiritually guided to the right people and help at the optimum time! Your sharing is such encouragement to persevere in times of struggle. Bless you! Debra

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    1. Dear Debra,
      I'm sure that I was, indeed, guided to Dr. Nimlos. She unerringly recognized that I had psychotic tendencies and knew what drug would work for me. She also prescribed only 2 mg. of it--a very low dosage--because she recognized that my body responded quickly to medication. She was a marvel!

      Peace.

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  14. How gracious it is of you to share your life and struggles as you have 'come home to yourself'. I am so grateful that I have found you and your most generous soul. Your story is a very great gift to us.

    As a young girl I went through quite a long period of self-loathing and soul-searching. Then a priest pointed out to me that when Christ said 'Love thy neighbour as thyself' he didn't mean loving your neighbour 'more' than yourself. When I began to explore what that means I began to not only be a happier person, but a better one, too. It's also a life-long journey and I'm definitely still on it!

    I think that may be the bridge I see from my brother-in-law's dock in Afton?

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    1. Dear Broad,
      Thank you for your kind words. You know I consider your story of moving to England and settling there to be a real gift to your readers. I learn something new from every one of your postings, and as the day passes, I find myself thinking about what you've shared.

      I so agree with that priest. That the loving starts with ourselves. Only then can we really love others. Boy! It took me a long time to learn that.

      That bridge is the one over the St. Croix at Stillwater. The one you can see from Afton is the Highway 94 bridge over the St. Croix. It's south of the Stillwater bridge.

      Peace.

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  15. I am so glad that you have found comfort and love in coming home to yourself, Dee. Life is, indeed, a journey in which we carry the baggage of wherever else we have been along with all the lightness and oneness and goodness of where we are. What a terrible burden that must have to have those voices with you and how brave you were to know that you needed someone to help you. It takes a lot of courage to ask for help. I'm glad you did and are here now to help others along their own journeys.

    I think we've chatted before about losing parents early in life. No matter how good or bad or in between our lives may have been, there are unresolved issues that can hang on. I still find myself in some instances when working with older men that I resort to that shy, unsure 19 year old I was when my dad died. I'm 62! I think the important thing is to recognize it and then capture, sometimes again and again, the person I am now.

    You are a precious soul, Dee. I'm glad your journey has brought you into my life.

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    1. Dear Penny,
      You've really nailed the problem--those "unresolved issues" when our parents die early in life. And I know about acting like a 19-year-old. That happens to me when I need work on the car and meet a mechanic!

      I wanted to tell you that I finished "Wonderstruck" last night and I so hope you read it and let us know on your blog what you think. For me, the book was wonderful. And also, I discovered that the second "Little House" book is "The Little House in the Woods." I'm getting it from the library.

      Peace.

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    2. I just checked "Wonderstruck" in my interlibrary system, which is a large system and all books are either checked out or checked out with numerous holds. It is a very popular book, as are Selznick's others, especially the Hugo book. I've stickies and notes reminding me, Dee, and will check it out when I can - and yes, I'll let you know.

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    3. Dear Penny,
      I don't know where my head is! I just read "LIttle House in the Woods." The second book, which is at the library waiting for me, is "LIttle House on the Prairie." After that, it's " . . . Plum Creek." I'm so happy you got me started reading these Wilder books.

      Peace.

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  16. Dee, your honest and courageous account of the struggles of your younger self are both touching and inspiring and also potentially very helpful to others dealing with mental health issues. I have 2 younger sisters with bi-polar disorder - another chemical imbalance that can be almost miraculously helped with the right drugs. I'm so very glad for your sake that you found the help you needed and went on to become the strong, loving and mature woman we all admire.

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    1. Dear Perpetua,
      I do hope that my story with chemical imbalance helps others. The right medication--as you know from your sisters--makes all the difference.

      I remain always grateful for Dr. Nimlos and the medication I take.

      Peace.

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  17. Your struggles were difficult enough, without having a persistent depression and manic hallucinations. Praise God! that a intuitive doctor realized what you had survived and was able to give you a life-line.

    Coming home to myself--the blog title means even more now.

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    1. Dear Susan,
      I'm glad the title has cracked open for you. It's part of the truth of my life.

      Peace.

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  18. What a courageous story you tell of survival and faith in yourself! I'm so thankful God led your physician to treat your depression so that today you are able to share your life story with us and others. Sharing the truth is freeing not only for the writer, but for the reader as well.

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    1. Dear Sherrey,
      Thank you for visiting my blog and for your words of thanksgiving. I tired to find your blog but was unable to do so. That's means I can't visit you to read your postings. I'm sorry about that.

      Peace.

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  19. Dee, what a beautiful post; there is something rather wonderful about being utterly honest and resolving never to wear any mask alongside our fellow man. God bless the doctor who helped you, finally, to cast off the millstone that is depression, and come home to yourself.

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    1. Dear Kate,
      I started taking the medication in February 1976--but thirty years passed before I could let go of the childhood need to please others so as to retain their regard. Such is the tragedy of childhood trauma.

      Peace.

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  20. Everyone who arrived here ahead of me has left such thoughtful, compassionate and sincere comments and observations, each one similar and yet all so different, too, expressing the personality and wisdom of each gently accepting and loving soul. I am always struck by the level of interaction your blog generates. This can only come from a place of honest sharing. From earlier posts, I knew you had faced some hard times in your life and with your identity, or acceptance of yourself, yet I tend to believe that who you project now was really there all along, just not able to anchor herself due, in part, to a particularly active and vivid imagination and your experience of life. I suspect, too, that many more of us than care to admit have likely experienced similar feelings of low esteem and self doubt, grounded in the earliest experiences of our own lives. I think our minds are incredibly powerful and devise all sorts of ways and means to protect ourselves from perceived harm, whether or not we are conscious of this. Growing up in our world with all the external pressures is not, and I don't believe has ever been, easy. We all adapt in different ways and I believe many of us act roles throughout our lives, until we come to the realization that it is simply no longer doable to hide from ourselves, or to hide who we really are from others. Most of us reach that point without needing psychiatric intervention, but for those who are so intuitively wrapped up in the feelings of the world, and who feel so very deeply what others feel, I can understand how it could all become unhinging to one. At core, I believe we are all vulnerable. Some of us have just had tougher knocks in life than others.

    The 'ease' with which you are able to share these intensely personal experiences stands as testimony to how far you have come in arriving home. It takes immense courage to reveal our truth and the hurts we have suffered, but to do so is healing, since it opens the way for others to do the same and suddenly, we realize that we aren't that different after all. No one wants to be seen as different or weak, so we all present strong, brave faces to the world and hide those fragile parts deep within. We can only come into the fullness of who we are when we are able to find peace within, as you have done.

    To be able to be contented with who we are, where we are and with what we have I think is when we reach full maturity as human beings. That is, when we come into the fullness of ourselves, when we can stand for and speak our truth without fear of rejection. This you have done for all of us in this beautiful post, Dee.

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    1. Dear Desiree,
      I hope that everyone who visits my blog in the next day or so will read your comment. It is a handbook on maturity.

      You know, I had such a happy children until I was five. I was an outgoing child who giggled a lot and could be naughty and who knew she was special to her parents and her brother. Seeming abandonment changed all that. I think that what has happened for me is that now--seventy years later--I have found within myself that little girl. I've come full circle. This ring of life has been a journey that I now find fully satisfying.

      Peace,

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  21. Dee - you are truly a gem in this world.
    The depth of your sharing, the honesty of your words - words fail me.
    The words "thank you" seem inadequate, to someone who opens their soul to others - someone like you.
    Dee - I am so blessed that our paths have crossed.

    You remain in my prayers.

    Patricia

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    1. Dear Patricia,
      How kind you are. The strange thing about blogging--or so it seems to me--is that we write unexpectedly. By that I mean, that when I sat down at the computer Tuesday morning, I did not expect to write this posting. It just came. And I trust that when words come they are meant to me.

      I, too, am glad that our paths have crossed.

      Peace.

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  22. Oh Dee, what a life you've lived!! What a triumph you are. I think this is something I too have been learning and have only recently come to understand - that my home is within myself. When we moved west, I longed constantly for "home" but I was longing for something more -a feeling of belonging or of having roots. Oddly, I am about to be somewhat rootless - our travels in the RV will take us all over - I'll have no home that is permanently affixed to the ground. Yet I'll be seeing people I love and have missed and places I've loved as well as places I've wanted to see. I can only do this now because I am more "at home" within myself and this goes with me everywhere. You are an inspiration and I can't wait to read more of your story. Thank you for your sweet note on my blog, and I hope that my book will be coming at just the right time for you to enjoy it!!xoxo

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    1. Dear Melissa,
      How well you have expressed what coming home to oneself is. You said, "I am more 'at home' within myself and this goes with me everywhere." Now that I have discovered that my home is within, I am, like you, hoping to move. You will be in the RV, finding adventure. I hope to return to Minnesota and settle again amidst kindred spirits. We are both blessed.

      I do trust that your book is being read at exactly the right time!

      Peace.

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  23. I am glad you have found the peace you have been seeking all these many years.. right within yourself.. welcome home, Dee.

    You have indeed had a long and arduous journey.

    hugs and smiles across the the miles,
    Pam :)

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    1. Dear Pam,
      Thank you for the "hugs and smiles." I agree that the journey has been, at times, arduous. But one of the wonders is that as I age, I have more and more years to look back on and when I do that, I discover that all has worked out unto good.

      Peace.

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  24. I've caught up with you again and am still agog.
    You are a very special person and I am so glad that you have found 'home to yourself'. For some people it really takes a lifetime to learn to like themselves.

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  25. I'm sort of catching up on your posts backwards.Oh Dee! I'm so glad you found your inner peace AND that you've shared it with us.

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  26. The perfect blog name.

    The world can be such an overwhelming place, especially when you are so pure of heart.

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  27. It is easy to believe that the person writing a blog full of wisdom and love has always been so. Quite often, though, I feel that it is in sharing our frailties and failings that we give the most. At one time, such a post as this would have been a lifeline for me. Perhaps it is for one or more of your readers today.

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