Last Day

Well it is the last day of the NaBloPoMo challenge for November. 
I can't remember the last challenge I gave myself and actually finished.
This must be a new beginning for me. I can use that in my life.
Now the question is, should I take it on again for another month? Humm....

The words I write are far from eloquent. They mean little to anyone but me.
I'm pretty sure that nobody has dropped in here to read them. 
It's been fun and something to look forward to with a certain kind of dread every day.
Guess I will have to see what the morning and the blog prompt bring before I can answer the
question of continuing or not.

By the way, if there is someone out there in blog land reading this,
kindly leave me a comment, good, bad, or indifferent. Thanks.

Have a great day!

Let the Dog Out

NaBloPoMo prompt of the day: What is the last thing you do before bed?

How do you write a blog about that?
Maybe for you wordy people, it is no problem.
But for me, I am stuck on a four word answer.
Or maybe three different things that I do not necessarily in any order.
Then again, is it actually before I get into bed or after I am already there?

Let's go with the last one.

Nine times out of ten, I pick up a book and read for awhile.
Then turn off the light, plumb my pillows, pull up the covers
and talk to God about my day.
If my sweet husband has made it in the bedroom before I close my eyes,
I say goodnight and fall asleep..

Now if it is before getting in bed, well you know the usual:
LET THE DOG OUT! (Oh but that's not last. I have to let her back in.)

Abuse

We live in a world full of self centered people who will do evil things to people. It is ugly and should definitely not be tolerated. Parenting has challenges but never, ever is there and excuse for such behavior.
But how out of skew are we to call everything abuse. Parents are afraid to discipline they children the biblical way because they might be accused of abuse. Teachers have no real form of discipline in their classroom because of trepidation they may be accused of some form of it.
My own father could probably been charged with it if he lived today. But I never, even today, thought of it as abuse. His temper flared at my sister's mouth. But it was what he knew. What he grew up with. It wasn't often. It wasn't intentionally trying to hurt her. It was correction.
Experts today are finding all forms of abuse from physical, emotional, verbal and who knows what other labels they are putting on it. I do not argue that there are legitimate cases of such abuse. However, when a loving parent is accused of abuse by their child it is a death blow to the relationship. It can never be the same.

They

they are in my thoughts, penetrating my mind.
they are in my heart, drawing out my love.
they are memories, sweetly soothing my wounds.
they are faces of youth, faces of old, and faces in between.
they are gone from my eyes, but i still see them.
they are gone from my touch, but i still feel them.
they are part of me.

Friends, Feelings, and Festivities

Nothing makes one feel more loved and accepted then when they are included in other people festivities. This is the time of year when people celebrate and want to share with those they deem important in their lives. Special ones who make their lives more enjoyable. To be included verifies that you are special to someone. And that just makes you know you have value.

Little Girls Should be Seen, Not Heard

Long ago voices. A child innocently venturing through adult problems without the benefit of understanding. She gets caught in a web of emotions. Her's and theirs. Learned behaviors.

Quiet was the rule of our house. Noisy little girls were not loved, or so it seemed. To be loved and accepted was to stay quiet.  "Daddy has a headache" (again). Leave him alone. Go off and play by yourself. Mommy had a hard day at work, she needs peace and quiet. Don't ask questions. Don't voice your opinions. Just shut up. Learn to stuff whatever you want to say.  Don't be a bothersome child.

So years later, after the pattern of how to "love" is well ingrained; there are children of my own. How do I show them love? There are no good patterns established, so I give them what I know.  Try not to bother them. Leave them alone. Give them their space. Not what they need. They think I don't care.
Never will they understand. Is there even hope of change?

Balancing Act

Do you enjoy being alone or would you rather be around people?

Both.

Most of the time I prefer quietly being alone. It s not so much that I actually don't want people around, but I need quiet to accomplish anything. Distractions are killers. They  ave been known to hurt people because of my strong reactions to them. They have made me fail in school because I couldn't focus with them happening around me and get what needed to be done finished.

Then there is the social skills aspect to being with people. I haven't been blessed with the gift of gab. Words are not my friends. Misunderstanding always seems to be the result of anything I say face to face. So just avoiding that is part of liking to be alone.

But I like people. I enjoy being with them. Love to hear laughter and stories, and be part of peoples lives. I care deeply, and want to help where I can. But relationships are tricky and easily messed up. I have a knack for messing them up. Not sure if it is intentional or just bumbling ineptness.

The whole question comes down to balance, which ultimately is the answer for each of us. We need both, and to be healthy is to manage the correct proportion that is right for ourselves.