I learned about this from a friend Magaly who shared "Secrets of a Sweet Southern Girl's" blog post on it.

Denim Day, which I had never heard of until last week, is related to a story from Italy in the 1990’s.  An 18 year old girl was raped by her driving instructor, she presses charges and he is arrested and prosecuted.  He appealed the sentence and the judge decided that because she was wearing jeans, he could not have gotten her pants off alone; therefore she must have consented and overturned his conviction.  In outrage women in the Italian Parliament began a protest immediately by wearing jeans to work.  The first Denim Day in LA was in April 1999 and continues today.

When I first heard about this I have to say I was a bit disappointed with myself that I’d never heard of it.  Being a very open minded and female positive person, I would think that I wouldn't have missed this. 

As my first entry for Denim Day, I’m going to write about a personal experience of mine.  I’m going to go ahead now and post the trigger warning.  

Below are descriptions of the rape of a 15 year old girl.  

The experiences are real, and they are mine.  

Please take care if you decide to continue.

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It’s dark outside.  I've been at my new house for about a week now.  I ran away from home because my mom and aunt took me to the police station to have me arrested.  My aunt slammed my face in the back door of the car before she tossed me in the back seat.  She turned on the car interior light to make sure I wasn't bleeding before escorting me into the station.  At the station they told me that they couldn't make me stay.  They took me home.  I laid in my twin bed listening to them both talk with my step father, the one who had been molesting me from age five, about calling the ‘reform school’ and having me locked up the next day.  Needless to say I ran like a bat out of hell.   What’s that old saying?  Out of the frying pan into the fryer.

I ended up calling everyone in the phone book with my last name.  It’s a small town so it was a short list.  I asked for my bio dads name at each number.  Finally a woman on the phone said, one moment.  I was paralyzed with fear.  Would he let me come there?  I’d been on the streets for a week or so.  I needed a place to go.  He answered and told me he’d meet me by the fairgrounds.

The first week was normal, yet odd.  I went from being the oldest of three girls to being the middle child.  One older brother and sister and a younger sister.  I was allowed to do whatever I wanted.  I didn't go to school.  Instead I stayed at the house and smoked pot and sometimes did other drugs.  I drank too.

My father decided to have a party to celebrate the return of his “daughter”.  Lots of people were there and we drank late into the night.  I was offered a cocktail of drugs from prescription to acid.  As I staggered out of the trailer and back to the lounge chairs that sat under a huge tree, I fell down on one and looked up at the stars.  My “Father” pulled himself on top of me and started pawing at my body in a very non-fatherly way.

I jumped up and staggered a bit and ran for the road.  I ran down the road, I was in shorts, and bare feet.  The rocks cut into my heels.  There were no cars on the road.  We were in a very remote isolated area.  He pulled up beside me in the car and said get in, it’s fine.  Don’t worry.  I got in the car and he drove down the road and pulled into what looked like an old fishing trail.  He looked at me and said, how can you give that to him and not me?  Confused I looked at him and said what?  You do that with him and not me.  I finally got it.  He was referring to the years of abuse by my stepfather.  I jumped out of the car again and he came around the side and tossed me on the hood of the car.

My arms fell limp has he took off my shorts.  My body gave up.  My mind looked to the sky and cried inside.  Is this why I’m here?  Is my only purpose in life to be hurt and taken advantage of?  If there is a God I thought, “Please Let Me DIE”.

My mind and my eyes glazed over.  I felt the stars come down from the sky can wrap themselves around me.  They pulled me up and away from this place.  I looked back to see what he was doing to my body and was comforted in knowing that I was not really there.  He may have taken my body, but he didn't take me.

I blacked out after that and woke the next morning back at his house.  I went from being abused by my stepfather to spending the next year and a half being abused by my father.  I only was able to escape after he was arrested.  I spent the next 10 years hiding from him.

Today, both my attackers are dead.  I don’t have any love for either of them.  I am glad they are gone.  For many years I blamed myself for both attacks.  But today I know that I was not responsible for it.  I was a victim.  Today I am a survivor.

Talk to your sons, teach them not to rape.  Talk to your daughters; arm them with the knowledge that they are not to blame.


No one asks to be raped.  Not in the way the dress or the way they act.  No one gives consent to be rapped by the clothes they wear, they way the dance or by passing out at a party.  Sexual assault and abuse is wrong.  If someone cannot say yes, then the answer is no.  If someone did not say yes, then the answer is no.  If someone says NO then the answer is no.

Show your support for Denim Day and wear Jeans today!

Namaste & Blessed Be

Sosanna

)O(

Photo Credit - Renee Olson Denim Day Contribution

Today just a day after my rituals regarding the Mallory Owens incident, I'd like to talk about something that people by this time in human development should be aware of. Violence equals violence.

At my now, 42 years I've become quite the pacifist.  I don't want to see wars.  I believe we should not be blowing people up.  Over anything.  I sit sometimes and watch the news and think, it's just a piece of dirt.  Yes, I know you think its holy, and they think its holy and OH YEAH this group over here thinks its holy but guess what?  It's still dirt.  You know what's more important?  Having children hear a plane and not duck for cover.  People are turning into these uncaring beasts.

Over the last few days I've seen, dogs being tied to cars and drug, women beaten to a bloody pulp, kids dying in air strikes and what for?  What exactly is this all for?

Mallory has come forward and stated that her attack though unjustified was not a hate crime.   She said, "He had his reasons."  That sounds very familiar to things battered women say.  I still follow the page that seems to have been created by her mother, who is very very concerned about her.  I can honestly say, if my child looked like that, and I knew she was in the same house with that same person, I would be scared for her.

An attack, whether a physical attack on a child in your care; an attack on a wife or partner, an attack on a stranger tied to a fence, or a bomb flying through the air destroying a school, is still one thing.  It is violence.  We are an advanced people.  We are the products of evolution.  We are the products of arts and education.  We have millions of years of learning, and relearning things and yet we sit and continue to make the same mistakes.  

It is not my place to say that Mallory is lying or if she is just suffering from a battered spouse situation.  I do know one fact.  At the hands of one man, she was beaten so badly her mother didn't recognize her.  There is no reason to hurt another this way.  We should not be allowing people who are capable of the massive amount of rage it takes to beat a person like that out on the street.

Yesterday in my blog post I stated that I wanted to donate some of my sales to her hospital bills.  I think maybe a better option might be to donate to a women's shelter or group home.  I have not had anyone purchase based on my offer to donate to Mallory so I'm comfortable setting out this challenge to my blog followers.

Do not take her defense of her attacker as a dismissal of his behavior.  There are many people out there who believe that date rape is fine, there are many people who think that women should not have rights and there are many people who believe that people of color are less than.  When asked by social services as a 5th grader if I was being abused I said no.  I keep it secret that I was being hit by my second husband.  To admit that you are being abused is a very difficult thing.  And many continue to return to the violence because they don't know anything else.

We may not be able to help Mallory directly.  No more than we could help Matthew Sheppard or the many other victims out there.  We can however put the world on notice that we will not tolerate violence and ultimately this is what this is about.  Violence equals violence.


If you or someone you love is being abused please reach out to your local police department or search on the web for violence support. For more information on domestic violence check out this link.



Namaste & Blessed Be
Sosanna
)O(

Over the last few months I've been dealing with a lot of family drama.  To the point of posts on my Facebook Page calling me names and even attacking my mental disorder.  I've been working through a lot of it with writing exercises (pros and cons) on dealing with my family as well as trying to come to terms with being ok with saying, No you don't get to treat me this way just because we are related.

At this point in my life I understand that I'm stuck at the age of about 16 and act accordingly.  I do manage to get myself to work each day and do for the most part, a good job of being a wife, when I'm not a complete brat.  I spend a lot of time saving animals, dying my hair purple and looking for witch boots at thrift stores.  Some people might say I'm childish.  I prefer "child like".  I'm the first to admit I'm naive. I tend to trust people just a little too much.  I always assume people are doing the right thing and never think that anyone would ever do anything to hurt me on purpose.

I try to always treat others the way I want to be treated.  I think first and then speak.  Generally I do not speak out of anger or hatred and when there is some sort of drama or altercation my disorder is such that I spend hours and hours dissecting it to see what I could have done differently to reach a better outcome.  I troubleshoot life.

All that being said, today I get a call from Walmart letting me know that my mother's prescriptions are ready.    I called the pharmacy to find out exactly what's ready and then being the type of person I am, instead of just saying screw her and all the drama that they gave me last week, I call her on the phone to let her know about the prescriptions and ask if she'd like me to pick them up.  I find out from the nurse there that she's decided to leave the home on the 23rd and move in with one of my sisters.

Ok.. news to me, thanks for letting me know.  I finally get her on the phone and confirm that she's moving out of the home.  I ask her about her mail and her stuff she has here and she tells me I should put all of it in my sister's name.  I told her about the bills coming and about me bringing up her paperwork to the home on the 18th.  I remind her that I've already paid for her to go to my grandmother's birthday and she didn't need to pay again.  I had paid for her, Eli and myself, but Eli and I wouldn't be attending.  She asked me why and I told her it was because my sister had threatened me with courts, lawyers, police and all sorts of other attacks and that I didn't feel it was right.  Her exact quote.  "Whatever".

Now I'm not one to hold on to false hope, and trust me I honestly thought that I really didn't give a rat's ass what she thought about anything. However when she said that, pain shot through my chest.  I think it finally hit me, that she didn't care that I brought her in my home.  She didn't care how hurt I was from all the family drama when I was a child.  She didn't care about how I felt now.  It was painfully obvious.

As I hung up the phone I went to the USPS online site to change her address, I started pulling the folders out with all the documentation I've collected over the last five months.  The Social Security Meetings, the Medicaid Meetings, the Cardiologist appointments and so on... I began to cry.  I couldn't control it, and I still do not know why.

I texted hubby and work and had a little chat and a pep talk to get myself back up in a better frame of mind. I do everything I can to help everyone and for the most part, most people are wonderful.  But there are those that can do nothing but hurt.  I'm not sure how to deal with the hurt.  I've tried tucking it away; I've tried burning it up, I've even cast it out away from me, but still some can bring it roaring back into my life with a vengeance.

So my countdown begins.  there are 7 days until I will be done with all the paperwork, all the updates, all the emails and messages.  I'll be changing over the prescription notifications along with all the other necessary information just in time for her to move in with my sister.

I'm taking some time to heal up before I go around any of them again.  I'm not sure when that will be.  I'm not even sure I'll be missed. I'm hoping this is the right way to deal with the hurt.  I know I certainly don't want to be hurt again.



Namaste & Blessed Be
Sosanna
)O(

Today many of you my dear friends were subjected to a horrible rant on my my wall.  A niece of mine who I have always held dear became annoyed with the issues between her mother and me.  At some point my sister's new boyfriend decided he wanted to take the phone (I'm hoping he took it) and post some really horrible things on my page.  He called me names, belittled me, attacked me and my "witchy" friends.

First and foremost I want to apologize to those that were attacked.  I was out in my car going to pick up prescriptions to take to the nursing home for my mother and I did not know how to remove the post, or remove her as a friend.  I tried to make light harted jokes and make light of it, but really it was a vile thing to do.

He made reference to my coming in and out of my families life and not being able to "take it" to hang around. He said that I should tell all of the truth.  Many of you have read the posts I've made regarding child sexual abuse, drug and alcohol abuse as well as my day to day struggles with being diagnosed with bipolar disorder.   And I have left out many of the gory details that I didn't think really were necessary.  At this point I'd like to post a trigger warning and offer that those that are triggered by these types of things to please come back another day to read my blog.





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I was born to a high school drop out mother and a father who was in prison.  She "SAID" I was conceived on a visit, however no one on my father's side of the family agrees with that.  See my mother took a little trip up to Chicago with my "father's" uncle to get bail money for him.  They say when she returned she was pregnant with me.

I born and left to live with my grandmother and my cousin Tony. I lived with her until my mother showed up pregnant again with my sister.  She was going to leave that one there too, but my grandmother said, no more babies.  She found my stepfather and married him.  When I was five she took me from the only home I ever knew and put me in the house with him.  I remember being of the age to write my name on the wide pages for kindergarten and the little girl next to me telling me that her father kissed her and pointed to her mid section.  I said, OH mine does too ... She called me a liar and said her daddy said she was special and no one else got that.  I never told another soul until I was 14 years old.

My step father had sex with me nightly while my mother watched tv in the living room. To clarify, it was oral sex. Sometimes when she'd go to the store he'd put my two younger sisters in the bath and have sex with me. Today when I'm scared or upset I get in the bath, it's always seemed to be a safe place for me.  When I was 13 my baby sitter and I had sex and the rubber broke.  I thought I was pregnant so we pretended the house was broken into.  Of course the cops figured it out and told my parents.  When my step father found out his once oral only rule was broken and he began penetration.

My step father didn't allow me to spend the night off or go anywhere.  My middle sister and I cleaned the house and did the dishes while my mother sat and watched tv and ignored us.  OH wait, she did managed to go off with an Old man once in a while for money.  She would stay the weekend with him and he'd pay her.  While she was off with him, my step father would put me in his bed.

At night sometimes I'd lay on the floor next to his bed and listen to him breath.  I had a fishing knife I used to carry, and I'd lay there trying to get the courage to stab him in his throat.  See he was a nasty hateful man.  He would wake us up in the middle of the night at ages 8 and 9 line us up in the living room and proceed to call us whores and sluts.  He'd smack us.  My mother sat and watched.  She said nothing.  She played cards.  Never even looking at us.

At age fifteen I'd had enough.  See he came in and hit my middle sister in the face.  I lost it.  I grabbed the keys from the counter and ran out to steal the car.  I took it to a friends house where I tried to get a gun to kill him.  My friend wouldn't give me a gun.  When I finally went back home, my mother looked at me and said, You're lucky I didn't call the law on you.  I remember thinking, I was trying to save you, to save my sister.  The night ended with a knock down drag out fight where I was punched in the face and he was kicked in the nuts.

Not too long after that I left for good.  I ran to my "real" father.  This may rub some the wrong way, but we want the truth right?  My real father offered me acid, pot and alcohol.  The only thing I had done up to that point was a little bit of weed.  One night he was very drunk in the yard and I went out and said what's up.  He pulled me down and tried to have sex with me.  I got up and ran down the road and the followed me in his car.  I got inside the car and he said to me.... You'll give that to him but not me?   Don't you love me?  I gave up and I gave in.   While he was having sex with me I closed my eyes and went to another place.  I found flowers and streams that I could play in all inside my head where there was no one to hurt me.

At some point his wife found out and he had to take me to Florida to live with another sister.  I stayed there for a while but he ended up coming back and forth.  He was indeed unstable.  He cut me across my head, he cut himself in front of me.  We rode around to different towns where he would get me to lure people outside so he could take their money.  I was scared and alone.  I heard him talking about doing a 'strong armed robbery' and I didn't want to be part of that so I took a bit of cash I had and bribed his brother into taking me to meet my mother in a small town.

I went back to the house and told my mother I didn't want to stay in the house with Charlie.  She told me I had to.  I found my old babysitter still there and he wanted to get back together, and I thought, at least if I was married Charlie would leave me alone.  Today there's a picture of my first husband (the babysitter) and I on a couch in the trailer.  About 5 minutes before that picture Charlie told me that we were going to start again.  I look at that picture and all I see is hate.

The babysitter and I didn't last long.  About 2 months to be exact.  I went back to Florida to my sister's because my father was in jail and I thought great now I'm safe.  I sent the babysitter packing and was ready to start my life.  At this point 16 and pregnant.  When the babysitter got home my father showed up to find me.  He told my father where I was.  I completely freaked out and my sister and I hid at a burger king for the entire day.  When we pulled back into the driveway my father was there with a gun.  He put it to the back of my head and told me to get in the car.  I did.

For the next few weeks we road around Florida.  I wasn't allowed out of his site for a second.  He burned me, he cut me and he raped me repeatedly.  One afternoon he was trying to break into cars in a parking lot because my little pinto had broken down on the side of the road.  The cops picked him up.  When the saw me they asked where I lived.  The couple that was with us said they'd take me in so I went to the hotel with them.  They promptly wanted me to have a threesome.  (really?)

I left in the middle of the night walking to find a bus station.  An aunt of mine sent me a bus ticket to go stay with her.  She was really nice to me.  So nice in fact that my brain couldn't take it and I ran away.  I was so confused.  I remember being in and out of a fast mind and a slow mind.  Now I can look back and know I was cycling.  I ended up back in Florida and miscarried.

A few months later my sister in Florida's mom was going back to NC to visit her family and asked me if I wanted to come.  Silly as it is, I went.  My mom told me she'd get me back home to Florida.  When I arrived I told her I was going to stay with an aunt because my mother was STILL married to my molester.  She said ok.  When I came back the follow day for the reunion she told me she wasn't paying to send me back home because I wouldn't stay with Charlie.  I lost my car, my job and all my stuff.

I ended up moving in with my aunt in Virginia and getting my GED.  I started working at McDonald's where I promptly had a nervous break down.  I was taken out of work for 3 months and I went back to Florida with my other aunt to relax.  At this point, I had no therapy and hand told no one about my life.

I went back to VA to go back to work, I met my second husband.  He was 12 years older than me.  I told him about my life on the first night we went out.  He promptly screwed me.  I became pregnant and he had me "hide" from his mother so that she wouldn't know he had me on the side.  I never saw her until she walked into my hospital room with a cigarette and wanted to see the baby.  I realized very quickly that I was not meant to be with him.  My daughter was born when I was 18 years old.  I told my husband I was a lesbian at 19.

I lived with him for 12 years to help raise his children.  I took care of them the best I could as a kid with no training at all.  We had an arrangement.  I would go out on the weekends and see the women I wanted, as long as I stayed home during the week and cooked and cleaned.  It was fine as long as I was dating girly girls.  However my little heart quickly went pitter patter for a little butch and the shit hit the fan.  I was kicked out cold in the middle of the night.  My daughter was told that I was a lesbian and that I was unfit to be a mother.

I spent the next 2 years in another abusive relationship while I watched as my daughter was taken away.  Really my only reason for living.  As her father drove away with her in the car, I kept hearing his words.  Get a home, get stable and you can have her back.  I got a good job, I got a house and I sent message after message.  He kept telling me  how a witch and a dyke couldn't raise a kid.

I decided I would end it.  I wanted to see California.  I stopped in Kentucky to say good bye to my daughter and drove to San Diego where a friend of mine lived.  I was there ready to die.  It was all I could do to wake up in the morning.  I went to see a psychiatrist there and he told me I was bipolar and promptly started me on meds.  One thing I left out in this story is that I started out weighing about 300 lbs and by the time I was heading to California I was down to 110.   I had a gastric bypass surgery to try to lose weight.  It worked to the point.  I met the love of my life in California.  He's amazing.  He's strong and understanding.  he helped me get my daughter back.

We got my daughter back and we both worked hard to get her into a great school where she could go to college.  We both lost our jobs and had to work crap and eat nearly nothing, but dammit she had a senior gown and a picture.  We even got her a class ring.  She was accepted into a private college in Oakland California.

While she was in her senior year my husband and I decided to move back east because of his job in Virginia.  We moved back to a little town just outside where I grew up.  I thought I was far enough away.  Hubby would leave for work on Sunday and come back the following Friday night.  My weight ballooned to over 268lbs and my family slowly began to make me insane.  My cycling became worse.  I am what you call a rapid cycling bipolar.  Bad food, bad energy and lack of sleep trigger my events.  He ended up having to quit his job to stop me from going to the loony bin.

Slowly over the next 4 years we got it back together.  He got me back to a vegetarian lifestyle.  He was able to keep me away from my family.  I only saw them once ever other week.  I was slowly becoming myself again.  Our kid graduated from college and moved back home for a year to get ready to go to school abroad.  After she left for school again we were those fun loving kids again.  Riding the motorcycle and having a great time.

Then in January I got a call from my sister telling me that our mother was in the hospital.  I told her I'll be right there, to support her.  I walked in the hospital and she walked out.  She left me to take over.  I'm the oldest after all.  It's my job.  HUH?  Wait what?  How is it my job to take care of some old lady that I don't even know just because she happened to be the twat I fell out of?  Really?  Yes, harsh.... Did I mention not only did she stay with my step father until he died of cancer but she also had another child with him?  Yeah, mom of the year she ain't.

So over the months from January - June I was able to get her on medicaid.  Get her sugar back to normal, get her weight down and get her healthy.  Granted she still had renal failure but at least we were trying to get her back up.  I got her on a full organic diet and got her to the doctor.  We got her teeth and glasses.  Because of the renal failure, she had a lot of accidents.  She did not have great control of her bowels.  Needless to say I was slowly going down into a serious depression.  I started putting on weight again.  I was negative and moody.  My mind filled with suicidal thoughts.  I reached out to my sister asking if she could take her for a while, or maybe for a weekend.  She laughed.   One day we told her that hubby and I nearly got hit while we were on the bike, her response was, You can't die and leave me here with her. (referring to our mother)


In May my mother developed an infection from sitting in her own poop too long.  With my sister's assistance we got her into the hospital which allowed me to get her into a nursing home.  That should be a good thing right?  Well apparently not.  Now I'm being accused of sneaking her out of the hospital and stashing her away in a nursing home without telling anyone.  She's accusing me of stealing from her and being a drug addict.

Yesterday I get a message saying "Mama's out of pills, you're keeping her meds" "I'm going to a lawyer" and I go to the home and they said, she's got plenty of medicine, no one told your sister any of that.

Today I got a text telling me that she was going to file a paper to revoke my power of attorney.  Which is really funny because I resigned that last week and filed it with the court. AND told her I did.  What kills me, is that I'm the unstable one.  I'm the one that gets messages posted on her wall calling her names, "bi polar bitch" I believe was one.  SMH

So there it is.  The entire, ugly truth.  My life out in the open for all to see.  Hopefully I haven't misled any of you.  Hopefully after seeing this those in my life that feel they know it all after only being in the family a few months will do me a favor.  Leave me alone.  Don't text me, don't email me, don't call me, don't post on my wall and I do mean every single word of that.

Embrace the Sparkle
Looking forward to some positive energy.

Namaste & Blessed Be
Sosanna
)O(

So currently I'm participating in the Pagan Blog Project 2012 this past two weeks were on the letter F.  My week I chose the word Family and did my post on that.

I've been put in a position to where I'm taking care of my mother.  We never got along well and in fact up until January we didn't even really speak.  I liked it that way.  I didn't have to deal with all the old crap from my childhood.  I could go about my life, being happy with my hubby and spending time with our dogs.

How life changes in just a few months.  It's March now and here I sit at 8 in the morning barely rested because my mother woke me at 2 in the morning confused and standing in the hallway of our house.  She didn't make any sense at all and here I am trying to get her back into bed.  Apparently she had gotten lost from the bathroom to the bedroom.  Our bathroom door and the her bedroom door are literally 3 feet from each other.

I've had to update my calendar and change everything around because just in the month of April she's has 5 appointments, as well as an eye surgery scheduled after which she'll be completely blind for a number of hours.  The sight will return but we have to go back in for another treatment where again she'll be blind for a limited time.  I went from having no connection at all to having to be someone's complete caretaker.  It's becoming daunting.

I know that it's not her fault and I want to be the type of person to help others when they are in need.  I want to be able to assist someone in their transition to the underworld.  I need to find away to separate my old emotions from the person that's here today.  I also need to find a way to stop holding expectations of others.  I would gladly be here to help my hubby should he become in a state that he needed constant care.  But he never treated me like crap.  ARRRG  All the old stuff in my head.  Dealing with all this is so stressful that I've begun to put on weight and my tummy is on fire all the time.

Last night hubby says to me, you're not the same person any more.  In my effort to assist her, I've started to lose myself.  How is it that the "family" I have around me cannot see the toll this is taking on me and try to help me? 

We know why don't we?  It's because it's easier to let someone else do the work.  It's easier to sit back and toss out directions and offer suggestions but not actually do any of the work.  Something as complicated as working with Medicaid, getting the hospital bills paid and then suggestions around what's happening to the money. 

I have responsibilities too.  I have expectations and needs.  At one point I really wanted assistance.  I wanted help.  Now I'm jaded and bitter.  Now I don't want anything.  I just want to be here, finish my sentence and become free.

It sounds awful.  It sounds too much like someone I don't want to be.  However I cannot allow myself to hold expectations for others, only to be let down time and time again.  So I'm done.  I can count on one person and one person alone.  Together we will succeed.  Just like we did when we took care of his mother.  We'll get mine off to her afterlife and then we will move on.  No more information, no more calls, no more babying the situation.  It is what it is and I am done.

Family is not permission to be uncaring and hateful.  Family is not a pass to drop your responsibility in someone's lap just because you can.   Most of all, Family is not a group of people joined by DNA.  Family are those that lift you up.  Family make you smile.  Family see your burden and come over to shoulder the load.  Family may be blood, but generally its those people around you that CHOOSE to be related to you, not the ones that are there by blood.

If you know someone one that needs a bit of a lift, take this post as a reminder to pick up the phone, send them an email.  They just might not be as strong as you think they are.


Namaste and Blessed Be
Sosanna
)O(