What do you want to accomplish for 2015? What is your strategy? I know what I want to do and have a plan. 
Tuesday, December 30, 2014
New Year and Reflection
At the end of the year, a lot of news shows do a year in review and review the top news makers. What would your year in review look like? What were the positive or high moments and what were the low or negative moments? What would you do differently?
Thursday, December 25, 2014
Christmas morning
(Written earlier)
It's 341am and all is calm and quiet. Reading of our Savior's birth. Thinking about the first night God sent His Son and Mary giving birth. We sing about Jesus's birth but do we experience it or does it get overshadowed by the busyness of Christmas. Have you taken moments to be alone to think about His birth? What does the birth of Christ mean to you? For me, it is summed up in a few words, bridge from sin to salvation and grace. Grace every moment and second of my life. Merry Christmas family and friends.
Thursday, December 11, 2014
Parents please read and take heed
Parents do you know what your kids are saying when they use abbreviations and acronyms? It is disturbing that can be said via text and chat and people do not know what the abbreviation means.
Detective Mike Harris from the Jefferson County District Attorney's Office informed 7News that cracking the codes kids use isn't about being cool, it is about keeping them safe. Harris makes a living posing as children online to catch internet predators in the act, but the perverted criminals are even better than he is at talking to the kids at their level.
Here are a few of the abbreviations:
8 - means ate or can also refer to oral sex
9- Parent watching
99 -Parent gone
143- I love you
1174 - the meeting place, meet at
420- marijuana
53X- sex
ADR- address
AEAP- as earlly as possible
ALAP- as late as possible
ASL- age, sex, location,
Broken- hung over from alcohol
CD9- Code 9- it means the parents are around
GNOC- get naked on camera
GYOP- get your pants off
IWSN- I want sex now
KPC- keeping parents clueless
LMIRL- lets meet in real life
MorF- male or female
MOS- mom over shoulder
MPFB- my personal F*** buddy
P911- parent alert
NIFOC- nude in front of computer
Q2C - quick to cum
RU/18- are you over 18
PIR- parent in room
PAW- parents are watching
PRON- porn
RUH-are you horny
TDTM- talk dirty to me
WYCM- will you call me
WUF- where you from
WYRN- what's your real name.
Sunday, December 7, 2014
Hope Is...........
None of us have ever woken up and thought, “I hope I have a terrible day today.” We might expect to have a bad day or worry about having a bad day, but these emotions are not hope. Hope is believing the best for us.
There is a difference between having hope and having a wish. Wishing is an optimistic thought that doesn't require any action; hope is about trusting. Wishing the store will have your favorite flavor of ice cream when you get there is just a thought. Hope is calling ahead, learning it is in stock, then trusting the manager put it aside for you. Our hope is only as valuable as the person or thing in which we place it.
Reflect:
Who do you place your hope in? Do you have a hard time hoping ? Why or why not?
Monday, November 24, 2014
Thanksgiving
thanksgiving
what should we be thankful for? That is an individual answer to a big question. One could say I am thankful for my family, but what if you don't have family or have lost a loved one this year? One could say, I am thankful for my job. Maybe you were downsized this year? I am thankful for my health. What if you were diagnosed with a terminal illness or a chronic illness? I am thankful for my home. Maybe it was foreclosed on, or you are homeless. I am thankful for the country I live in. However, this country rejects you based on race, ethnicity, income level, education, etc.
I am thankful that I am alive. Sometimes that is all we need, a glimmer of hope or feeling of being alive. If you have or are experiencing the crisies listed above, remember you are alive and when there is life, there is hope. Don't give up hope. Don't give up your hope!!!!
Hope brings forth thankfulness and life and life brings forth hope and thankfulness.
Monday, November 17, 2014
10 Bucket Fillers for the Holidays from the "bucket lady”- Amy Cole of Life Tree Counseling Center
· Take time for silence and solitude. Be alone and embrace the silence and aloneness.
In the middle of the hustle and bustle of the holidays, take a few moments to
just be.
It is more blessed to give than to receive. Do you remember how much fun it was opening Santa gifts from under the tree. Some families cannot do that. If you have the time and the extra money, make Christmas for another boy or girl. You may have fun remembering what is was like to wonder the isles as a kid and look for what toys you wanted on your list to Santa.
Take time to reflect on all the good things you have accomplished this year. Whether it was a new job, losing some weight, running a 5k, walking a mile or learning something new, relish in the fact you accomplished a task this year.
When family members disappoint you (and they will) remember they are human too. They have their fault just like you do. Give them some grace. (Grace comes from Latin gratus, which is favor, kindness esteem or pleasing.)
Also, slow down and do one item at a time instead of multitasking. Ask for help from others as needed. Let the grocery store make the pie, or stuffing or even the whole meal.
If you do not have family in the area, get together with friends. If that is not an option, go serve food to those in homeless shelters. Giving of yourself helps defeat depression.
Meditate, read, or listen to good music or books for tape to encourage yourself.
Do your favorite activity. Take a walk, photography, writing in a journal, playing sports outside, playing with children, grandchildren, family members. Playing games with the family.
“Don’t sweat the little stuff, and it is all little stuff.” Pick and choose what you get upset over, remember you control your emotions. A mantra to use is “will this matter next year?” or “will this matter 3 years or 5 years from now?” Chances are you won’t remember anything from last year.
Remember the reason for the season. It is to be enjoyed and relished.
It is more blessed to give than to receive. Do you remember how much fun it was opening Santa gifts from under the tree. Some families cannot do that. If you have the time and the extra money, make Christmas for another boy or girl. You may have fun remembering what is was like to wonder the isles as a kid and look for what toys you wanted on your list to Santa.
Take time to reflect on all the good things you have accomplished this year. Whether it was a new job, losing some weight, running a 5k, walking a mile or learning something new, relish in the fact you accomplished a task this year.
When family members disappoint you (and they will) remember they are human too. They have their fault just like you do. Give them some grace. (Grace comes from Latin gratus, which is favor, kindness esteem or pleasing.)
Also, slow down and do one item at a time instead of multitasking. Ask for help from others as needed. Let the grocery store make the pie, or stuffing or even the whole meal.
If you do not have family in the area, get together with friends. If that is not an option, go serve food to those in homeless shelters. Giving of yourself helps defeat depression.
Meditate, read, or listen to good music or books for tape to encourage yourself.
Do your favorite activity. Take a walk, photography, writing in a journal, playing sports outside, playing with children, grandchildren, family members. Playing games with the family.
“Don’t sweat the little stuff, and it is all little stuff.” Pick and choose what you get upset over, remember you control your emotions. A mantra to use is “will this matter next year?” or “will this matter 3 years or 5 years from now?” Chances are you won’t remember anything from last year.
Remember the reason for the season. It is to be enjoyed and relished.
Monday, October 13, 2014
Article from Huffington Post
Huffington Post
THE BLOG
My Battle With Depression and Anxiety
Marisa Lancione 10/12/14 11:11 AM ET
Living with a chronic mental illness often feels like waiting for the other shoe to drop. Well, the proverbial shoe has dropped (it's stylish at least). I've been struggling for a while, but I'm finally coming around to admitting it. Despite seeing therapists on and off for nearly 10 years, I still find it hard to communicate how I feel. But even more difficult is being honest with myself about how I am feeling. So I guess this is sort of a litmus test. Will confessing how I feel get me out of denial or will I continue to keep my head in the sand and ignore it?
I've been battling semi-regular panic attacks for the past six months. My first panic attack in years happened in March. As with most panic attacks, they happen at the most inopportune moments. This particular one happened during the middle of a concert. I was at a bar that was packed with drunk hipsters, tossing their bodies carelessly to the music. I began to feel claustrophobic among the ever-increasing press. The bass of the music reverberated in my chest, amplifying my pounding heart. The bar was too hot. The walls were closing in on me. I couldn't catch my breath. My heart felt like it was going to explode out of my chest. I had to get out of there. My husband and I snaked our way through the crowded bar, each time someone bumped into me, a jolt of adrenaline coursed through me like an electric current. By the time we made it to the door, I was in the throes of a full-blown panic attack.
These situations are incredibly frustrating. As I was leaning against the building, among the smokers and couples making out, I couldn't help but cry. I was having such a great evening before this. My husband and I enjoyed an incredible dinner before the concert. We were hanging out with friends, listening to an amazing band. And then I had to leave before they finished their set. Compounding my anxiety was the fact that the friends I was with had no idea what was happening. As we left, I mumbled excuses about having to catch the last metro.
Panic attacks are like getting the stomach flu right before an event. Except instead of knowing before that you were cancelling to puke in the safety of your home, you're suddenly vomiting in public (lovely imagery, I know) and rushing out of the door.
After this first attack, I started seeing a therapist (who was a former psychiatrist) for the first time in about four years. She's an incredibly lovely lady. She suggested that I exercise more and cut out caffeine and sugar. I started working out every day, reduced my caffeine (I haven't had a coffee that wasn't decaf in three months) and tried to avoid sugar as much as humanly possible. Except, none of this helped and the panic just got worse.
As my anxiety levels increased to nearly intolerable levels, sleep became a joke (despite already taking medication that is supposed to help me sleep). I can't tell you the last time I have slept through the night. Finally in May, after not sleeping for about four days, I was given anti-anxiety medication. I often pair my nighttime pill with my anti-anxiety meds, but I still wake up in semi-terror, feeling like I have forgotten something important. Other nights I just toss and turn unable to sleep at all.
But lately, it's more than panic plaguing me. An encompassing sadness has attached itself to me like a shadow -- following me wherever I go, no matter what I do. I've had this feeling before, it's certainly not new to me. It's just been a while. I know it's depression waiting in the wings. I know that if I don't fight it hard enough, it will envelope me completely. So everyday I force myself out of bed and go to work. I force myself to keep plans and socialize because I know that if I don't, I'd spend my weekends in bed, reading or watching TV until Monday. I know that depression is never fought by being a hermit. Sometimes it works and I end up enjoying myself out with friends but other times, I just wish I was in bed.
Nothing comes easily right now -- including writing this. Stringing words together has always come easily to me and it's frustrating to feel like there's a dam blocking my flow of words (perhaps that's why I resorted to a scatalogical simile earlier).
But the worst part of all of this is watching the concern on my husband's face. I know as I stare silently into space as we watch TV, his mind is running through worst case scenarios. Is she thinking about killing herself? Is this going to result in another hospital stay? Will I catch her self-harming? How concerned do I need to be?
You may be thinking that these scenarios may seem a bit extreme, but the fact is that we've gone through all of them, and only four short years ago. My parents have been extremely supportive through the ups and downs of my illness, but they don't have a choice -- I'm their kid. My husband always had the option to leave and he didn't -- even when I have repeatedly encouraged him to.
Even if his worst case scenarios have happened in the past, the reality of this recent sadness (I am still reticent to name it depression, for now) is that I'm not in that headspace. I refuse to resort to self-harm at 28 years old. I'm not thinking of suicide as a viable option because I see the value of my life. And for the first time in my illness, I'm actually taking positive steps to help stave off depression.
The first step was recognizing the persisting sadness -- it's been longer than a week, this is more than a bad mood. The second step was making an appointment with my therapist. And the third, and probably the most important step, was sharing how I was feeling with my husband and parents (my main support system). This third step has always given me the most trouble.
It's not that these steps will guarantee that I will ward off a full blown depressive episode. I'm terrified that it could still happen. I'm intimidated by the thought of changing my medications and dealing with new side effects. I'm scared that I might have to take a leave from my job. I'm horrified by the potential of another hospital stay.
But at the end of the day, even if all of this happens, at least I know I tried. And that's something.
A version of this piece originally appeared on Healthy Minds Canada.
Have a story about depression that you'd like to share? Email strongertogether@huffingtonpost.com, or give us a call at (860) 348-3376, and you can record your story in your own words. Please be sure to include your name and phone number.
Need help? In the U.S., call 1-800-273-8255 for the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline.
THE BLOG
My Battle With Depression and Anxiety
Marisa Lancione 10/12/14 11:11 AM ET
Living with a chronic mental illness often feels like waiting for the other shoe to drop. Well, the proverbial shoe has dropped (it's stylish at least). I've been struggling for a while, but I'm finally coming around to admitting it. Despite seeing therapists on and off for nearly 10 years, I still find it hard to communicate how I feel. But even more difficult is being honest with myself about how I am feeling. So I guess this is sort of a litmus test. Will confessing how I feel get me out of denial or will I continue to keep my head in the sand and ignore it?
I've been battling semi-regular panic attacks for the past six months. My first panic attack in years happened in March. As with most panic attacks, they happen at the most inopportune moments. This particular one happened during the middle of a concert. I was at a bar that was packed with drunk hipsters, tossing their bodies carelessly to the music. I began to feel claustrophobic among the ever-increasing press. The bass of the music reverberated in my chest, amplifying my pounding heart. The bar was too hot. The walls were closing in on me. I couldn't catch my breath. My heart felt like it was going to explode out of my chest. I had to get out of there. My husband and I snaked our way through the crowded bar, each time someone bumped into me, a jolt of adrenaline coursed through me like an electric current. By the time we made it to the door, I was in the throes of a full-blown panic attack.
These situations are incredibly frustrating. As I was leaning against the building, among the smokers and couples making out, I couldn't help but cry. I was having such a great evening before this. My husband and I enjoyed an incredible dinner before the concert. We were hanging out with friends, listening to an amazing band. And then I had to leave before they finished their set. Compounding my anxiety was the fact that the friends I was with had no idea what was happening. As we left, I mumbled excuses about having to catch the last metro.
Panic attacks are like getting the stomach flu right before an event. Except instead of knowing before that you were cancelling to puke in the safety of your home, you're suddenly vomiting in public (lovely imagery, I know) and rushing out of the door.
After this first attack, I started seeing a therapist (who was a former psychiatrist) for the first time in about four years. She's an incredibly lovely lady. She suggested that I exercise more and cut out caffeine and sugar. I started working out every day, reduced my caffeine (I haven't had a coffee that wasn't decaf in three months) and tried to avoid sugar as much as humanly possible. Except, none of this helped and the panic just got worse.
As my anxiety levels increased to nearly intolerable levels, sleep became a joke (despite already taking medication that is supposed to help me sleep). I can't tell you the last time I have slept through the night. Finally in May, after not sleeping for about four days, I was given anti-anxiety medication. I often pair my nighttime pill with my anti-anxiety meds, but I still wake up in semi-terror, feeling like I have forgotten something important. Other nights I just toss and turn unable to sleep at all.
But lately, it's more than panic plaguing me. An encompassing sadness has attached itself to me like a shadow -- following me wherever I go, no matter what I do. I've had this feeling before, it's certainly not new to me. It's just been a while. I know it's depression waiting in the wings. I know that if I don't fight it hard enough, it will envelope me completely. So everyday I force myself out of bed and go to work. I force myself to keep plans and socialize because I know that if I don't, I'd spend my weekends in bed, reading or watching TV until Monday. I know that depression is never fought by being a hermit. Sometimes it works and I end up enjoying myself out with friends but other times, I just wish I was in bed.
Nothing comes easily right now -- including writing this. Stringing words together has always come easily to me and it's frustrating to feel like there's a dam blocking my flow of words (perhaps that's why I resorted to a scatalogical simile earlier).
But the worst part of all of this is watching the concern on my husband's face. I know as I stare silently into space as we watch TV, his mind is running through worst case scenarios. Is she thinking about killing herself? Is this going to result in another hospital stay? Will I catch her self-harming? How concerned do I need to be?
You may be thinking that these scenarios may seem a bit extreme, but the fact is that we've gone through all of them, and only four short years ago. My parents have been extremely supportive through the ups and downs of my illness, but they don't have a choice -- I'm their kid. My husband always had the option to leave and he didn't -- even when I have repeatedly encouraged him to.
Even if his worst case scenarios have happened in the past, the reality of this recent sadness (I am still reticent to name it depression, for now) is that I'm not in that headspace. I refuse to resort to self-harm at 28 years old. I'm not thinking of suicide as a viable option because I see the value of my life. And for the first time in my illness, I'm actually taking positive steps to help stave off depression.
The first step was recognizing the persisting sadness -- it's been longer than a week, this is more than a bad mood. The second step was making an appointment with my therapist. And the third, and probably the most important step, was sharing how I was feeling with my husband and parents (my main support system). This third step has always given me the most trouble.
It's not that these steps will guarantee that I will ward off a full blown depressive episode. I'm terrified that it could still happen. I'm intimidated by the thought of changing my medications and dealing with new side effects. I'm scared that I might have to take a leave from my job. I'm horrified by the potential of another hospital stay.
But at the end of the day, even if all of this happens, at least I know I tried. And that's something.
A version of this piece originally appeared on Healthy Minds Canada.
Have a story about depression that you'd like to share? Email strongertogether@huffingtonpost.com, or give us a call at (860) 348-3376, and you can record your story in your own words. Please be sure to include your name and phone number.
Need help? In the U.S., call 1-800-273-8255 for the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline.
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