My Parents Taught Me 2B Me


My Pops had a way with words, poetic in style! 
My mother had her way with words too, and I learned from both!
parents will not be there forever

My style is not poetic, more like my mom’s, but when combined with the flair of my Pops, sometimes I am question as to my why my tone comes across as stern.  My only response to that is that I write from the heart, and I open my heart and soul to so many that I often let it get crushed.  When it’s broken, and I explain my thoughts through blogging, your interpretation may view it as blunt, stern or even anger.  However, my words and feelings are mine, and when I write I make every attempt never to point a finger,  I am not a perfect specimen.

pretty words


Although this is not a direct apology to any one specific person or any particular blog, it is my way of saying, that a blog is writing about: experiences, thoughts, and opinions.  It is a personal dialogue.  Mine are not meant to hurt anyone emotionally or physically in any manner.

successful person

I have always been someone who wants to help.  As a young child whether I was good at it or not (and if you had asked my mother, I wasn’t) I wanted to wash dishes rather than dry because I thought I could do an excellent job.  I loved the idea of not only washing the dishes, but cleaning the sink, wiping down the counters, and completing all the details.  In my mother’s world, I wasn’t very good at it until I was a teenager.  Once I became a teenager my OCD kicked in, and washing dishes became an activity of a clean kitchen, my nickname became Matilda, and cleaning was my game.  I was helping my mom, a rare full time working mom in the sixties and seventies.

never give up

Being a Type A personality with OCD traits (and not understanding those traits most of my life,) I have always been an ultimate volunteer.  My hand is the first one to be raised when asked for help, and even if I don’t know how to do the job, I find the resources to get it done.  I never want to let anyone down, even when others have left me standing alone.  Life has taught me to make lemons from lemonade and often the blend is sweeter.

walk in my shoes

This morning as I sit here writing once again I reflect on having my hand slapped.  Someone mentioned that yesterday’s blog was biting and may have hurt others.  What that person may not have seen is the pain and hurt that I have endured, but I am strong and brave enough to say, your opinion of me may be correct!  However, walk in my shoes…


You are still my friend, I am reflecting on the fact I never intently want to hurt another, and I don’t want anyone to hurt me!


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