My Father’s Eulogy: Harold Edward Johnson

My Father’s Eulogy, June 20, 1939 – August 14, 2016

As human beings, God gives us the power to write our own story in the span of our own lifetime. My dad has quite a remarkable one.  I wrote this eulogy the early morning of my father’s funeral, August 18th, four days after his passing, after four terrible weeks of hospital and hospice care, and two and a half years after my mother’s death.

We know he left extreme poverty and difficult circumstances and moved for the first time from Arkansas to California at the age of 14 and permanently at 15. He started a new life… a new story away from his dear mother. He once told me “homesickness” was the worst kind of sick. When it comes to writing his own story there are three themes that are prominent and worthy of mentioning in his passing. In the past 2 and a half years since my mother passed, we have had many discussions about his story, and how he wrote it.

First most prominently is Harold’s work ethic. Harold began working early, the earliest story is when he was 12 or 13 and moved in with his grandparents Columbus and Nora. He helped his uncle Floyd build fences so that he could save enough money to move to the Golden State. He saved. And saved. He moved to California at age 14 in the 50s. He hauled hay…a lot of hay. In the sixties, there wasn’t much of a way to make money for a boy like my dad except by the brawn of his body and hands and the sweat of his brow… so he did that. He hauled hay in the 50s and 60s…square heavy 100 pound bales, and his Uncle Lloyd had said, that Harold was the first man he’d ever known who could make $100 per day hauling loads of hay. It might have taken 20 hours a day, and dad slept four, but he did it. And he saved that money. Later his brother, Jerry, came to California, and they worked together. They did the same. They loaded; they traveled 10 hours to deliver; they unloaded; they traveled 10 hours home; slept 4 hours and did it again…every day. He slept on Saturday and lived on Sunday. And started again on Monday.

He started a prosperous business delivering square bales to the Greater Los Angeles area from Lancaster, and saved $25, 000 so that he could move his wife and children back to Arkansas in 1971 (45 years ago) to a less volatile part of the U.S. His business partner became a millionaire in a matter of years, but dad wrote his story how he wanted…he wanted his family safe and in a wholesome environment, so we moved to Rudd. I was 7; Bob was 13; Ron was 15; and Rick was 17.

In my dad’s childhood, my grandfather, Elbert, became a preacher, and in those days a preacher wore the badge of being poor, so food and money were scarce for my dad’s family while he was in Arkansas. When I asked him how and why he became such a hard worker without a strong role model, he didn’t take credit. He said, “Things just sort of fell in place for me in California, and I took advantage.”

During the last 3 weeks of his life, things got tough for Bob, Brenda, Hal, and me. Bob and I were at his bedside and Dad asked me if I was tired. I said, “Yes, Daddy. I’m a little tired.” He said, “Yes, I’m a little tired too.” Bob, pulled me aside with tears in his eyes and said, “I worked with him side by side for 30 years, sometimes 10 hours a day, and I got really tired… but Harold NEVER said he was tired… no matter how hard the work was or how long we had worked.”

My mom, Bob, and Harold were tough and worked hard in the rain, snow, 10 below zero and 100 degree weather side by side for 45 years and built 312 acres into a productive and prosperous farm because “Things just sort of fell into place.” My dad left Arkansas for California with an eight grade education and a strong body and mind and a desire to “have more” and left the earth last Sunday as a millionaire.

Another theme that runs deeply in my dad’s story is that he was and is a champion. While in California, he with his brother Jerry and some with other partners, Cotton Cleo Stewart and Al Duncan won numerous Rural Olympics at the Antelope Valley Fair. He competed and broke multiple records and in 2010, he was admitted to the Antelope Valley Rural Olympics Hall of Fame. When he moved back to Arkansas in 1971, his cousin, Irvin, taught him how to ride Missouri Fox Trotters. When he wasn’t riding or training, he was judging and teaching others how to win ribbons. He won many horse shows and won two World Championships. He also served on the board of the Missouri Fox Trotter Horse Breed Association for three years.

The other theme that runs deeply and consistently in my dad’s story…authenticity. He was always the person that he said he was. There was no pretention. My father was proud to be who he was and playing an altered role in a different situation, was NOT an option. He taught me early that being honest and being myself whether I was weak or strong, ugly or pretty, popular or not, rich or poor, happy or sad… that THIS was enough because I was loved no matter who I was… loved by God and loved by Harold and Jo and Bob.

When I was a kid going to college, I had a friend from high school that didn’t fit in with my new fancy friends. I shared with my dad how uncomfortable I was when this high school friend showed up. Here is the conversation: How long have you known these new friends? Me: 6 months. Him: how long have you known your high school friend? Me: 5 years. Him: Do you love him? Me: Yes.

And that is all he said. And that was his way of telling me: “Be who you are Wendy. Those fancy friends are only your friends if they accept all of you.” I was 20 when he said that, and I have carried that lesson with me my whole life.

Our dad’s story is remarkable. He was the hardest worker we will ever know, he was a champion in everything he pursued, and he was always himself and as genuine as they come.

And for those of you who fear he isn’t in heaven, he shared with me months ago, that he had accepted Christ when he was a very small child, and said, “Does that count?” And I assured him that yes it did.  So Dad ended his story when he left the earth on Sunday morning to be with our mom, Jo, his momma, his brothers and sisters, his best friends Cotton Stewart and Bill Brown, and many other treasured friends and family, and that is his HAPPILY EVER AFTER.

As a narrative therapist, I make meaning from the stories people tell me and live by. My dad’s story wasn’t spoken to me. He just lived it.

I am grateful. Thanks to Bob and Brenda Ladd for taking care of our father for the last 2.5 years. Bob fixed him breakfast every day. Bob and Brenda made sure he had everything he needed EVERY. SINGLE. DAY.  Thanks to the visitors/helpers he had: Mandy Smith and Jenny Moroles, Chuck Conner, Ronnie and Kaiden Johnson, Greg Johnson, Marcia Boaz, Kevin and Mark Sevars, Corey Grassman, and of course, John and Shelia Howerton and the Rudd Baptist Church.  Last of all, Thank you to the ones that encouraged me through my mother’s death and now my dad’s: Dyanna Bain Albert, Sheri Stacy, Janet Gilmer, Robin Russell Goodman, Jane Roberts, and of course, Hal Poole, who is my rock and true gift from God. I AM GRATEFUL.

Stifle Your Inner Critic in 3 Steps Everyday

Multimedia Word Showing Digital Technology For Movies And Broadcasting

As humans, there is a running dialogue in our minds more times in the day than not. That is normal. When the voice is more times a critic than a helpful friend, who puts limits on you and influences the way you live your life in a negative manner, is when it becomes something to look at more deeply.

  1. Limit your exposure to “perfect images”. How many hours a day do you spend in front of a screen being exposed to the beautiful, the super fit, the “perfect” Hollywood images…or even an indulging People, In Style, Vogue, magazine? Not saying that you can never watch television or see a movie or magazine again, but be aware and MINDFUL…these images are not reality. The images are airbrushed and perfected on a canvas, or created out of 100 motion picture takes in the perfect lighting that hides imperfections even when the model or celebrity has worked hours and hours to become desirable and super fit. Normal humans at the same time work at least 40 hours per week, and most of the rest of our days are spent taking care of others. Yet we constantly compare ourselves to celebrities who are gain their livelihood and spend most of their days achieving this beauty and image and if you want to call it “perfection.”
  2. Contact your feelings and thoughts while being exposed to these perfect images. How do you feel when you see red carpet’s Angelina Jolie’s long perfect hair, legs, and neck in a gown and jewels that most of us will never have or wear? Do you feel hopeless to never reach that perfection? Do you feel less than? Are you filing away what true beauty is, so that later while looking in the mirror you can judge yourself against her? A lifetime of looking at these pervasive images beginning at an early age while innocently looking at the Sears catalog, begin to influence the way we feel about ourselves.
  3. Practice kind gestures and affirmations to yourself. When looking in the mirror and you are tempted to be critical and judge yourself against the latest Hollywood beauty, REMEMBER your accomplishments. REMEMBER you are more than your thoughts. You are kind, you are giving, you are supportive, you are resourceful, you are LOVEABLE. Put your hand over your heart and say these things every single day. Whatever you are…you are more than what your inner critic voices. Visualize shewing him/her away, and believe social worker/shame researcher, Brene’ Brown’s words: “I am imperfect and I am enough.”

Wendy J Poole, Licensed Counselor, MS, MA

Email her at: wendy@wendyjpoole.com or call for an appointment.

 

 

 

Getting the Love You Want Book Review

5.0 out of 5 starsThis is old data…NOT, February 2, 2015

Originally published in 1988, Getting the Love You Want by Harville Hendrix, PH.D., I was sure that I would find this book old fashioned and outdated; however, I was pleasantly surprised. This information, Hendrix puts forth, brilliantly holds true for now. I read a lot of books (2-4 per month), and this book was well worth the time put in. I will use the information in my practice on a daily basis. Anyone can use it to know oneself better and/or to become a better relationship partner.

Getting the Love You Want informs the reader about the three stages of an intimate relationship, while providing case studies which include beneficial advice and suggestions for couples to navigate the inherent obstructions and create a robust connection in a marriage/partnership.

First, he explains the stages: falling in love/attraction; romantic love and the union; and inevitably the struggle of conflict. He also proposes techniques to recognize the conflicts related to each stage. Next he comunicates how to re-capture the early phase of romance and convinces the reader it can be restored, and the ugly struggles are replaced with empathy and indelible support. Finally he introduces Imago Relationship Therapy, the process to help you create a “conscious marriage.” CM is “a marriage created by becoming aware of and cooperating with the drives of the unconscious mind: to be safe, to be healed, and to be whole”

Finally, Dr. Hendrix integrates these concepts into an exceptional therapeutic curriculum (better explained in the workbook version), submitting a thread of exercises that lead to acumen, resolution, and restoration. He offers how to communicate more accurately with sensitivity, how to change self-defeating behavior, and how to focus on meeting each partners’ needs.

As a mental health therapist, I can wholeheartedly recommend this book for couples in crisis or anyone wanting to learn how to be a better relationship partner.

Wendy J Poole

MA, MS, Licensed Associate Counselor

 

How to Change the Story We Live By

ビーチでジャンプする女性

 

 We Live by our Stories: Truth or Not

As a therapist who sometimes uses Narrative Therapy (a theory which starts from the assumption that “the story” is a basic human strategy for coming to terms with our human experience), I listen to a myriad of lovely and sometimes difficult stories. I am not talking about porch sitting, lap slapping, grandpa told stories. I am talking about the stories we tell ourselves on a daily basis, “I am always the outsider; I can’t seem to fit in.” “I am just not a good relationship person.” “I am an anorexic.” I am fat. I am ugly.” “I am the child of an alcoholic, so I have my issues.” “I just cannot be monogamous in a relationship.” “I have a learning disability, so I am just not smart enough for a good job.” “I am a wreck financially, and I always will be.” “I am a terrible mother; daughter, wife, friend.”

These stories may sound familiar to you. As humans, there is a running dialogue in our minds more times in the day than not. That is normal. When the story puts limits on you and influences the way you live your life in a negative manner, is when it becomes something to look at more deeply and maybe look at it with a friend you can trust, or a therapist.

For example, the story that you might tell yourself is “I am always the outsider, I can’t seem to fit in anywhere I go.” This bigger story includes smaller stories like these: “I moved to the South when I was young and was considered a “transplant” “yankie” or “stuck up” or just different from the others.” “I’m an overachiever in most things: grades, jobs, or projects. So people are threatened or jealous of my success, and do not want to be close to me.” “I am very liberal minded for a Southerner, so having these ideals keeps me away from the more abundant conservative crowd here.”

These stories about yourself that you hear from your family and peers or you tell about yourself and others in casual conversation becomes the storyline or narrative of your life and is indicative of how you live your life. Believing this particular story may keep you from joining in readily with others and keeps you at a distance. It may keep you from applying for your dream job. It can convince you that something is wrong with you. Or maybe it convinces you that you are “special” or “more unique” than others and gives you a narcissistic bent.

Neither is really true, is it?

Sometimes your narrative is used with power and greatly benefits you; and sometimes not. We don’t know why some folks tell inspiring stories about themselves and others tell limiting and punishing ones. By aspiring to be authentic at all costs, I check and recheck my stories, and I do see holes in some of my own stories or plotline, but it takes a lot of practice and the knowledge to debunk them. The beautiful truth is you are NOT your thoughts, your problem, or even your story. You, I mean we, are much much more than our stories.

Using Narrative Therapy on your own story/stories doesn’t take a therapist. We can logically expose the negative and debilitating stories and live our lives more truthfully and successfully with a friend (and these steps) or even better…a narrative therapist.

STEP 1.

Choose a name for your story/problem. If we were to give the problem a name, what would it be? Ask yourself this question when a trustworthy friend is present and discuss. As a therapist, I ask the client this very question. “What can we name your story?” Since I have probably heard many versions of the same story and correlating themes in the sessions, I can offer suggestions. In the particular case of the first narrative I mentioned: “Outsider” is a perfect name. You can name your particular story: Stinginess, Bitterness, Addiction, Not Smart, or Not Fit For a Relationship.

STEP 2.

This is a BIG and very important step, so make sure that you understand it completely before you continue through the steps. Externalize and personify the problem as if it is a character in a story or a puppet in a play. This just means to separate the character, Outsider, from yourself (externalize), and assign it the oppressive attributes that it deserves. It is a thing, a character in a play, or puppet, an icky critic over your shoulder, or an animal. The Outsider is a loner, not a member of many groups, cold, is lonely, is unloveable, is self-conscious, is ultimately unworthy. When we use an externalizing language like this, you can start to see how YOU are NOT the problem; however, the Outsider has a myriad of problems just mentioned. The key here is to use a non-blaming manner with yourself, do not shame yourself…remember we are talking about a part of yourself the Outsider. You are more than the Outsider.

For example, “The Outsider makes me believe I am unworthy and unable to fit in.” “It seems like Bulimia tricks me into binge eating” or “The Motor inside of Me makes it hard for me to sit still in class (ADHD).”

STEP 3.

Ask yourself how the problem has been disruptive and discouraging throughout your life? How are your choices being limited? Is the Outsider keeping you at home instead of going out and being more social? …keeping you out of healthy relationships? …keeping you from going back to school or from applying for that new job that you think you want? Is it keeping you in the same pattern of continually repelling others and perpetuating the idea that you don’t really belong?

If you could wave a magic wand and change the Outsider story, how would the next 24 hours look for him/her? I am a big fan of writing things down: a detailed list of things that would change in the next 24 hours. This list helps make it more official…that this is a problem story and a problem that I really don’t want or deserve. I encourage you to look at how the magic wand will change YOU and your outlook and your future…and not others.

STEP 4.

Talk with a friend or therapist and discover moments in your past when you were free from the problem/story. Dig deep, give yourself credit for those good times and sparkling periods. We tend to loose these memories because they haven’t been part of the plotline…but there are exceptions to the problem’s influence or unique outcomes in your life. Your job is to find historical evidence in your past to encourage a new view/story. This perspective will consist of the competent person that you are victorious over the Outsider, a joiner, a sociable person always invited to the party, the fearless and fierce pursuer of career and dreams. The question you ask yourself looks like this: “So when was the last time you were not considered an Outsider?” “Who knew you as an adolescent/young adult/child who won’t be surprised that you’ve been able to reject feeling like an Outsider?”

I encourage you to spend a lot of time on this step. Write it down. Keep it close. Refer back to it when you get stuck in the old plotline.

STEP 5.

Design the future without the problem/story. What future story emerges from the strong, competent person who you have redefined? Because the problem/story is not a permanent characteristic of yourself, it can be done away with or changed; although you have been telling it for 50 years. What specifically will result if you keeps resisting the problem/story? “Can you describe what it will be like when you are free of the Outsider plot? Write it down and manifest your new perspective of yourself.

STEP 6.

Re-write your story and tell it. What this means is to do just that. You can write in letter form with your friend or your therapist. If you don’t like to write, and it makes you feel bad to actually write it down, use a therapist or good and trusted friend to re-write it orally. Follow the rules to writing a new, positive, and doable narrative/story and include: Plot, Character, Setting, Conflict and Theme.

Tell it. Tell it more than once. Tell it to more than one person. Allow it to become your new narrative and refuse to repeat the former negative one…even in self talk or casual conversation. Be vigilant and mindful of the running dialogue in your mind and what comes out of your mouth. SHUT DOWN the negative. It is ever so important.

Narrative therapy helps people become authors of their own stories which greatly influence how they live their lives. In my practice, it is a GREAT day when a client re-writes his/her story and becomes the survivor and winner in his/her own storyline.

Works Referenced

Freeman, J., Epston, D. & Lobovits, D. (1997) Stories of hope. In Playful Approaches to Serious Problems: Narrative Therapy with Children and Their Families (pp. 47-67). New York: Norton.

Nylund, D. & Corsiglia, V. (1993). From deficits to special abilities: working narratively with children labeled ADHD. In M. Hoyt (Ed.), Constructive Therapies (pp. 163-183). New York: Guilford Press.

Zimmerman, J.L. & Dickerson, V.C. (1996). If Problems Talked. New York: Guilford Press.

https://www.flocabulary.com/fivethings/

http://psychcentral.com/search/?Match=1&Terms=narrative+therapy&x=0&y=0

 

Mourning My Mom

Portrait of happy mother and child kissing while sitting on haystack

MOURNING MY MOM

Christmas day 2013 is when it all began. My very small family’s holidays were centered on Mom and her brilliance in the kitchen. On this day, she was scurrying around to get things prepared for us and fell down in the bedroom, her feet became tangled in the bedspread. She laughed when she told us the story.

From that day on she complained “a pulled muscle in her back.” She started physical therapy soon after but never seemed to kick the pain in her back. March came and her new affliction began: constant nausea. None of us knew it was related. Her pulled muscle and nausea were more than likely caused by her enlarged liver which was full of cancer and had spread from her lung.

Death came for my mom 6 days after she was officially diagnosed with lung cancer. From the beginning of the 6 days, she was very weak from being unable to eat much for the previous 6 weeks.  She went from fully aware (still bossing my dad and me around) to unaware of things beyond her bed within that time frame.

We, as human beings, are guaranteed a grieving process unique from all others. Coping with loss is ultimately a deeply personal and singular experience. Nobody can help you go through it more easily or understand all the emotions that you’re going through. The best thing you can do is to allow yourself to feel or lean in to the grief as it comes over you. Resisting it only will prolong the natural process of healing.

Easier said than done. If you are anything like me, you don’t indulge in the pain, you run from pain. I typically dull my discomfort with my obsession to work, alcohol, and food …anything to pull the focus from what really hurts. However, I am a therapist and hopefully somewhat self-aware, so this is what brings me to writing this blurb. I am leaning into my pain by sharing my experiences with you, hoping that you who are grieving can KNOW that this is temporary, and you will heal from this pain, but it won’t be easy.

What I have experienced and continue to do so, in some way, follows the popular Kubler-Ross STAGES OF GRIEF. Although the original research around the 5 stages mostly involves data from terminally ill patients, some of those stages pertain to us, if we are grieving any kind of loss.

Denial and Isolation.

There wasn’t much time to for me to deny it, but my mom had a couple of days to do so. On the Wednesday before the Oncologist appointment, my mom, dad, and I went to the emergency room of a local hospital because my mom’s doctor noted her yellow color and wanted some tests. After eight hours of caring for my dad who has many more health issues (wheelchair bound) than my mom at this time and my mom who is so weak she has to be in a wheelchair of her own, we were told, “You have cancer, but we can’t tell you how bad it is or in what organ it lies.” Two days later, we were at the Oncologist, and before we went in, my mom said, “We don’t know if I really have cancer.” I just nodded. But I knew it. I just didn’t know how bad it was. In talking with my dad, he says she never mentioned cancer or her dying on the hour and a half back home drive from the hospital. They spent the next day living the way they had for 50 years, except for the physical weakness in my mother and the ever presence of their only daughter moving in to take care of things. The next day is when it all changed forever; hospice came.

Anger.

My mom’s anger was never voiced because she instantly became too weak to talk. When I looked in her eyes, I didn’t see anger, I saw “This is not what I expected; I don’t want to leave my family. I am disappointed. This will kill your brother.” Although I had little time to be angry for all the things that needed to be done for someone in hospice care and the other very unhealthy parent witnessing the ordeal, I found time to be angry with the initial physician she saw. It took him 6 weeks to send her for tests. My mom was uncomfortable, weak, and couldn’t eat much for 6 weeks because the doctor (or so I thought) was an idiot and “just a country doctor who didn’t care about my mom.” She was terminal, and I knew that 6 weeks would not have saved her, but I was still angry at him, and shortly after her death I convinced my dad to change doctors all together.

In the 6 days, before she died, I cleaned the house (it was in disarray because she had been sick for a month prior to this), my brother and I took care of my mom and dad’s personal care, laundry and linens, bought the groceries and prepared the meals, dealt with hospice, dealt with the visiting community members, paid the bills, located bank accounts and wills, and you name it.  Who had time to be angry? There wasn’t much time to be angry and what would I be angry about? I guess I could be mad at her for smoking since she was 15.

In retrospect, I haven’t really been angry. I continue to grieve my mom’s death and my dad’s current dying process, but calling it anger never really nails it. I mean, isn’t this the natural order of things? Parents get older, they die, and you live life without them. This statement does NOT make it any easier for the person grieving. And the next person who tells me that…GRRRRR.

Bargaining.

Bargaining is the normal reaction to feelings of helplessness and vulnerability and is often a need to regain control. For some control-freaks like me, this will be a more difficult stage because there is NOTHING you can do about saving your mom from death. Nothing. Secretly, my mom may have made a deal with God to postpone the inevitable. But probably not, my mom probably did not bargain with God in her last days. She had said to me many times before on days when her COPD had gotten the best of her, “I’ve done this to myself.” So I don’t think that bargaining with God for more time with her family was on her mind. Regret maybe.

My mom and I had a complicated relationship. So this phase has done a number on me in many different ways. This phase showed up as:

  • If only I had tried to be a better person toward her…given her a break on whatever we disagreed upon.
  • If only she had had another “better” doctor who would have treated her more effectively.
  • If only I had not been so wrapped up in my career, I would have paid more attention to her and got her the help she needed much sooner.

My heart is broken because I never could agree to disagree on what we didn’t see alike.  I just want one more day with my mom to apologize or to make it up to her. I will never know if she forgave me or knew how much she meant to me or knew how much the holidays will NEVER be the same without her.

Depression.

The Black Dog of Depression

Again, it wasn’t obvious that my mom was experiencing depression because it happened so quickly. I am not convinced my mom ever truly believed she would die so soon. Depression has been mine to bare. There were so many things to do and get done that my depression lingered backstage for several weeks, and came center stage a good two or three months after her death, and remains there. My depression has more to do with the change my little family has undergone and what it continues to go through due to my mother’s death and father’s illnesses. The concept of the finality of your family members leaving is pretty tough. You will never say another word to your mom, you will never get the joy out of buying her a gift, you will never be comforted by her chicken soup when you are ill, and you will never be able to apologize about not being the perfect daughter, and soon enough your father will be gone forever as well. Some get through this with prescriptions; some weather it out…but it ALWAYS comes in one way or another.

Acceptance.

The only words uttered by my mother in her last day was, “I want peace.”  I believe that this was her voiced stage of Acceptance. This stage is marked by withdrawal and calm and a tightening of the visual aperture. Loved ones that are terminally ill or aging appear to go through a final period of withdrawal. She in her last day, appeared to be unaware of things occurring beyond her bed.

This stage is not afforded to everyone. I have not reached it as of yet, and she died 8 months ago. Of course, I have accepted I have spoken my last word to my mother and of course, I have accepted that my father is not on this earth for very much longer; however, I haven’t accepted it without a lot of emotion, and I am all but calm. I continue to lean into the pain every single day, and yes, I numb my pain with food and work, and calm still has not come.

When you experience grief, it is best to experience it with others (if it is a healthy support group). I share mine with my ever supportive husband, grief stricken brother, a couple of dear friends, and a group of intelligent and compassionate therapists (yes, therapists have therapists.) I believe I am doing it in the healthiest way I can…less numbing of the pain, and more leaning into it.  But here I am in the final edits of this article, and I am weeping like she died yesterday. I miss her.

There will never be another holiday with her, and we will miss her huge spectacular turkey and dressing and delicious pies, her charm and sarcastic whit and beautiful voice and spirit. We are the lucky ones though; we got to meet her, even be born from her. She mothered us with all of her might. The holidays will still come, but they will never be the same. Eventually we will get through them and remember how lucky we are to have had her in our lives for almost 50 years. If you turn to God in this time, this is the scripture that gets me through the darkest of days. Psalm 3:3 “But you, O LORD, are a shield about me, my glory, and the lifter of my head.”

Here are just a few resources for you (churchy and non-churchy)if you or your loved one is going through grief. There are plenty in this area; if these don’t suit you, just google it. I encourage you to get support and not ride this wave alone…it is treacherous.

Central United Methodist

Rolling Hills Baptist

Washington Regional Hospital

Circle of Life

By no means does this blog capture the whole heart my practice. SO THIS IS THE DISCLAIMER. There are many therapists and many points of view gathered there. It is JUST A BLOG, so don't take it too seriously and don't substitute if for real therapy. Reading and writing about how to manage a better happy life has been an ongoing project for Wendy... most of her life.


By no means does this blog capture the whole heart of my practice. SO THIS IS THE DISCLAIMER. There are many therapists and many points of view gathered there. It is JUST A BLOG, so don't take it too seriously and don't substitute if for real therapy. Reading and writing about how to manage a better happy life has been an ongoing project for Wendy...most of her life.