motherhood
Prayers For A Prodigal Son
I had been wanting to write this for some time, hoping to use the right words to say this. I feel the time is now.
Recently, we celebrated another Father’s Day in many countries all over the world. For the seventh year in a row I did not see my son, Raymond. Yes, as always I got my hopes up, only to be disappointed again. I usually try to prepare myself days in advance, to get myself out of a bad attitude for knowing that he won’t be around.
I am sure there many fathers or mothers who do not get to see their children. I was a good father, and I know that no one can take that away from me. Father’s Day is a lot harder to me than Thanksgiving or even Christmas, because that one day out of the year is to honor your parents. Both of mine are gone, but I still reflect on what I did for them when they were alive, and what they did for me. Continue reading
In The Shadows Of My Psychic Ancestors
Since my mother had passed on I wanted to look in to the history of psychics in our family. I am a third generation psychic, like my mother and my older brother. I have nieces who also have the gift, and so it will carry on into the next generation.
I can remember the point in my life when I saw a ghost for the very first time. I never imagined how many doors it would open for me one day. The psychics before me made this possible for several generations on my mother’s side.
I visited my aunt and uncle to ask them about my mother’s side of the family. There are a lot of things I don’t know about my mother’s family, except them being partly descended from the Blackfoot Indians. My grandmother was adopted so there were no records to be found. Continue reading
Manifestations, Mothers And Cars
So, by now, if you are a regular reader of my blogs, you’ve become acquainted with my bipolar mom who is great 75% of the time. You would also know that I am a psychic reader of great faith, and a couple months ago I wrote blogs about both my mom, as well as my plan to manifest a new car for myself. I am pleased to share with you, dear reader, that I have achieved success!
But how, you say. What happened, you ask. I don’t know how it happened, but it did.
While I love my mom tremendously, when she takes a ride on the bipolar train, I step back for a week or two and let her work through it. So, it just was the case a month or so after I wrote that blog, she went on a tear again and I backed way up. I had no choice, because you cannot reason with the unreasonable, and as anyone knows who is familiar with the highs and lows that mental disorders can bring, sometimes it is best to live to fight another day. Always pick your battles carefully. Continue reading
Letter To My Daughter
This is a letter to my daughter – if I had one, that is. But I don’t. So, this letter is to her, the daughter I might have had, and also to those young ladies I have known over the years who I have felt were like daughters to me.
My daughter’s name would have been Chantal-Marie, should she have been born. I suppose I could have had her, but life took its course and time slipped away. I was too busy mothering myself, I think, and I couldn’t have mothered her, in retrospect. But hindsight isn’t always 20:20 – don’t let anyone fool you.
So here goes. Strangely enough, I feel as though I were on the edge of a precipice as I write this. It is a most unexpected feeling. Continue reading
My Mother, My Self
My mother is a wonderful woman. Kind-hearted, giving, a great cook and a good listener. In short she is all the things a good mother should be.
My mother is also the most mean-spirited and callous woman you could ever not want to meet. She will cause a scene just to do it, just to get a rise out of someone, because she is bored and isn’t getting paid any attention. Which, to her, is all the time.
My mother is bipolar, with severe manic-depressive mood swings that leave you gasping for breath in the wake of an episode, the same way you gasp for breath after being sucked under by a huge wave of water. My mother has Narcissistic Personality Disorder (NPD). There, but for the Grace of God, go I, as the saying goes. Continue reading
The Potential Power Of Telepathy
Have you ever had a thought or a feeling that someone was thinking about you? Before we had caller ID and the phone was ringing your would sometime have that feeling who might be on the other end.
Is it possible that someone can connect to a person’s energy through their spirit guide? Is it possible to get an old schoolmate or an former boyfriend to contact you through using your mind? What if you had a song that you really like when you were a kid and could you could use certain lines from the song to communicate telepathically?
I do believe all these things are possible. I feel that human minds can communicate across time and space without limitation. You often hear of instances where a mother knew that something had happen to one of her children, because the child was yelling out to her or calling her. This form of communication is known as telepathy. Continue reading
The Mystery Of Mom’s Silverware
It’s been almost 19 years since my mother passed away and today I can still remember as if it was yesterday. I have wonderful memories of her, from her making her little cherry pies to Sunday dinners.
When I lived at my parents house there was a silverware set that I wanted, and nothing else. That was it. As a child I would rearrange this silverware set when she was not looking. I would place the forks where the knives were supposed to go, and I swapped the bigger spoons with the smaller ones.
The cutlery set was mounted on the wall and every time I did this she would get upset with me, because she had to put them back in order again. I continued this silly game into my adulthood, as childish as it may seem. After she passed away I didn’t know what happened to the silverware set and I ask my dad about it. He said, “Your sister had it and she was going to put it in the yard sale.” I was naturally very upset. I wanted something that I can look at when I was at my parents home and picture my mother pretending to get upset with me when I would rearrange her precious set. Continue reading