The Anniversary of Edison’s Death

People say, “you still thinking about that dog?” How insensitive. But I understand, perhaps …
Some people have never lost a daughter to schitzophrenia and bipolar and hallucinations that i am some kind of monster, and to make it worse, she’s married to a man who advocates this, and keeps her dillusions alive, for his control.
In my sorrow, I replaced my emotional loss with a loving little 3mo old tiny Yorkie pet, who at the time, fit into my hand. He was a sickly little fellow, and oh so tiny. They told me he would never get more than 4 lbs. 
I made him as healthy as I could. He lived for 12 years, was 6 lbs, and of course began to show signs of what I was told may happen: he had a prolapsed trachea, common in those types of breeds. In other words, he was suffocating to death.
I know he longed to stay with me. I could tell by the looks he gave me while trying to breathe. He could no longer sleep lying down, thus, could no longer sleep. Within 3 days, he was standing and stumbling, while I carried him as much as possible, but even that was not comfortable for him.
Yet, still:  my daughter remains alienated to me for 15 years now.
Edison could finally not get air, and I  had to….I was forced, even by the veternary doctor, to put him down, he was suffering.
When he died it was like I lost my daughter again. But worse: I lost my most treasured friend, who was with me at my business office since he was a tiny shoebox baby. He was evidently tied to that entire time in my life, I did not know it then, and I did not know it even when he died… But I know it now. He was  my only connection to the healing of that time… The wound of his departure does not seem to heal, and I cannot–nor will I, forget him…
I still have his partner, I call her, his “wife,” lol! It’s kind of hard to explain. I love her, and I love my two cats, all of my pets: I love them very much. But Edison was the first pet I had afterI lost my daughter, and I gave him the love and care I wished I could give her, and I was rewarded by his very loving loyalty.
I will NEVER forget my little man, Edison… It will be one year in February 10th…I will never forget him, and I pray almost every single day, that God would allow our pets to be in heaven, because I am looking forward to holding him and seeing him again.

Awake, New Year!



I wrote this poem in 2015, when we left the year before (2014), but it stands on its own, for every year, so hope you enjoy this little bit of my pensive self.

Awake, New Year!

By Lydia Nolan

© December 25, 2015


When I encounter dreams, I wish, that had come true,

I know that they first started in my everlasting heart.

And brand new Hope brings Joy that hoping does impart.

And then, y’know, our Dreams don’t sleep away,

The hoard of heaven brings boiling, Hope’s fresh brew …


Forgive the hurts, repair our souls, and never fall apart,

I hold the good, and learn from it, that I must clearly bend

Give free my love and never hate, and always do append

The best of all; the truth in me, the only Me, I know.

While visiting old dreams, the dreams that groan to start…



So, Come, New Year! Give us good cheer to every living friend,

I look upon the end of last year’s chapter as I ponder.

No dream does die, we only send it to our hearts to wander

And rest our heads in pillows, and the Dreams which I intend,

Brings New hope in the night, as New Year starts again.



Welcome 2018, I think…

Welcome 2018

by Lydia Nolan

Well…so… the new year has begun, and if what’s happened so far is any indication of what’s coming, I had better take cover and plan a strategy for survival.

First of all, I was fine all year until the day before New Year’s Eve. I caught that awful flu that turns into bronchitis, and if one is not careful, it can turn into pneumonia.

That was the beginning.

Then as I lay dying and coughing painfully, I tried to allay my desperation by reading. I read Vanity Fair, an article about all these TECHIE people, whose view of the world is sick, for they seem to think it really is their oyster because they are making so much money hand over fist. You would have to read the article yourself, to get equally as disgusted and angry.


Earlier, before the flu, my beautiful iphone 6Plus died. I had to get another one. I did not even get the top of the line, and it cost me over $500! But what are we going to do, we’ve got to have a phone, and there is virtually NO MORE telephone company for regular phone service.

 I mean…LOOK AT ALL THOSE PHONES. THEY ARE HEADING IN PRICE WELL OVER $1000!  WHY do we need so much on our phone, just to amuse ourselves?

I have been feeling betrayed for a long time now, and I’m not talking about my love life. I am talking about in general as one of the masses.

I love the movie, “The Fisher King.” There is one line I really took to heart. It was when Jeff Bridges had realized his role in the murder of many people and three years later he appears to be a drunk.

A child gives him a little Pinnochio doll, and he begins to talk to it. He says, [drunk and talking to the Pinocchio doll] “You ever read any Nietzsche? Nietzsche says there’s two kinds of people in the world: people who are destined for greatness like Walt Disney… and Hitler. Then there’s the rest of us, he called us “the bungled and the botched.” We get teased. We sometimes get close to greatness, but we never get there. We’re the expendable masses. We get pushed in front of trains, take poison aspirin… get gunned down in Dairy Queens.”

Nietzsche’s observation struck me when I read the Vanity Fair article, and for some reason I really began to feel duped about how the world is playing out. Especially when I know how difficult it has been for me to attain my goals because I am too busy acquiring student loans (but no job), and paying my respects to Verizon, IPhone’s thief mob, MAC, and all the other techies that are creating great wealth on our backs, as we toil further and further into the ground.

I don’t know what to do about it. But for starters i want to get rid of all my websites, social media connection, apps, and whatever follows.

I don’t mind being called “backward,” because backing out of this joke of a techniclly advanced life is not, and never has been meant for my wealth or health, but for the few who know how to manipulate “the masses.”

So welcome 2018, ,maybe it’s time for Silicon valley and all those techie sleaze bags to get foreclosures on their homes and become homeless; let them know what other people go through while they are having their sickening sleaze lives. This is my rant for the month. Enjoy it. Read Vanity Fair this month.

Characterization: Writing in Perspective


When I first encountered this little spoof about a dog taking on human characteristics, I laughed. Sure! it was funny, and it was endearing.


Could it be true? I mean, couldn’t it be possible for animals to know exactly what we are thinking simply by reading our brain waves? Because after all, thoughts are invisible.

Although we KNOW one is alive mentally by those brainwaves moving about on the scientific screen, science has yet to evolve to spirituality–and we don’t know if it ever will.

Science reads brainwaves only, in the physical world; it has no connection to the spiritual world, hence, there is not a spiritual universe for those who follow science ONLY… Thus, we cannot say whether or not animals can read our human brainwaves too.

Who is to say that animals can’t read our brainwaves in some animal form, that they too, are capable of using, in their own spiritual universe… maybe they are assessing what we are thinking…hmmmmm.

When we look at an animal, not all of us see anything other than some kind of living critter, which to our mind, needs only food, sleep, sex, and an occasional jaunt around the outdoors, with others of its kind.

Writers, to which group I belong,  take things a step further than the average person, because it is in the writer’s nature to ponder EVERYthing.

Writers think way beyond what others might be thinking, or they are able to interpret to themselves what they are thinking; others simply don’t exercise that portion of their brains.

Perhaps science does not see the value, most likely because science does not seek a spiritual level of existence. Science is a doubting Thomas as a whole; it only believes what it sees, touches, hears and smells.

Whereas, most Writers do value the unseen, spiritual realm and emotional apperatus, untouchable. Writers see to find the TRUTH in existence, hence, they are constantly seeking… And seeking, makes for very astute observers.

Thus, who is to say or not to say whether or not the dog, displayed above, isn’t really thinking about his “master” cleaning up his poop, and then wondering if his master is going to serve his food not having washed his hands? Can you at least agree with me it’s possible?

On the other hand, another dog might be looking at his master, not even considering his hands when picking up his dog’s poop. That dog may be thinking, “I’m hungry, I wish he’d hurry up!” Therefore, animals in their own universal thought process, can be just as different as humans in their thought processes.

So let me share with you a thought or two about this quality of observation from the standpoint of a Writer. Because all of the above rhetoric was only a segue into the conversation in which I am about to enter.

Every living, breathing critter (including humans), have a certain character, or certain characteristics that identify them distinctly. That is true about animals, too. Have you not ever noticed the difference in one pet from another? One may bit easily, another may be the kindest, docile pet you could ever have. Then, another pet could be totally observant, and another could follow anyone without knowing them, while another would run until its heart stopped, from anyone they do not know. THAT, my friends, reveals character and characteristics.

So now, let’s turn out attention to the human. Humans definitely have characters and characteristics that identify them as a certain character, as well.

Great novelists and authors use their observations to assess character, in everyone–in everything! This includes people, animals, birds, bovine, equine, the weather, the ocean and all its movements at different times of the day, or night. Writers and novelists even enlist themselves into arguing with one another over how to define such observations and the events in which they exist.

I am talking about changes in scenery, depending upon whose viewpoint is being showcased. If a doctor sees someone having a heart attack, you might have a report that looks like this: the patient went into full cardiac arrest, with assorted arythmia at start, then complete flatline within 45 seconds… Whereas a truck driver might see it like this: the guy wacked out, I think he was seizing or somethin’ and foaming at the mouth like some dog bit e’m or somthin…

From the truck driver’s view, the hospital may seek for dog bites, or wounds, while attending to the arythmia. But the doctor’s view will have the hospital team go directly to working on the heart.

Because of these two different reports, those who hear their reports may react to taking action differently. In one case, the report indicates less than life or death. In the other report, hospital staff will read the report as a matter of life or death indeed.

But what am I really talking about?

I am talking about Writing. I am talking about actual events in a Writer’s tendencies: of observation, analysis, definitions and elements of characterization. And then, comes the “reporting” (writing of a story or novel).

I remember in college a professor stating that without the plot, there is no significance in character, hence the plot comes first.

He was dead wrong. But HE was the teacher, and I the student. I’m glad I’m not so gullible as to think simply because someone is employed with credentials that they might be more informed than myself.

Characterization is everything, otherwise, the world could be turning, plants could be growing, plots could be happening through tornadoes, and so forth, but who would recognize the plot if not for some kind of character interpreting it?

One must admit that without conscious effort to recognize an event or “plot” of sorts, there is nothing. There is only oblivion. There is no recognition and definition of the event occurring at all.

So it is very important. Characterization in a story of any kind, is the key to learning how to evolve into the spiritual realm of existence.

Assuming my readers here agree with me, I will begin a teaching series of characterization, come January, 2018.

Remember: the perspective of the Character is created by the Writer, who dictates the Character’s behavior and thought process, and the careful plotting of this aspect in the story (characterization) will affect the Reader as the Author desires, and as the Character presents.

Again, Writers make their entire life’s purpose defining actions and thoughts, and all that those two elements enclose, giving the meaning to the character’s “perspective,” and the Reader’s potential for growth toward a spiritual universe.

Writers create the world Readers read, in order for humans to evolve into larger intellects…which leads to a spiritual awakening. Well, at least Many Writes do, I cannot speak for them all. I see myself in that group.


May your 2017 end with joy, Merry Christmas, and on to the new coming year.

Lydia Nolan, Editer,

A Day in the Life…of our Generation… the Baby Boomers.

I am at that “jumping off point” as described in “Fried Green Tomatoes,” denoted by Jessica Tandy’s character, which means I’m at the end of my life, or pretty near anyway.

I managed not to listen to my parents and chose to learn what ever I wanted to learn, however I wanted, because I had absolutely no respect for my parents. You see, I was the last of six kids, my parents did not get along (I didn’t know why then), and both of them left most of the time, to escape the poverty and disarray of the home life, leaving us 6 kids alone most of the time.

Oh, don’t get me wrong. My eldest brother was 12 years older than I, my eldest sister 10 years. But as each grew, each left, and it was me in the last stand, suffering the comedic tragedy and the irony of the whole thing. i am talking about what came by that time.

Then, when things got sticky and messy, and I had to pay for my consequences, I began to remember what it was my parents tried to teach me, and suddenly I worshipped them and longed to see them again. Of course, this was long after they were gone, and I sorrowed tremendously over losing them.

I have in my old age, accepted the consequences of my obstinance, and endured the pain for which I was blamed in the lives of others who were in my care, because in my heart I knew I deserved it, even though I was never malicious, only ignorant, because I did not want to learn from others…

But in reality, I did the best I knew how., considering we all say that, but never admit that had we listened to those who had already gone down those roads, we could have learned a little better…that is, of course, if they themselves knew what they were doing.

So what it is I am trying to tell you is that I learned a very valuable lesson in life, at this jumping off point.

There is a good many things about our parents that we could call “teaching” moments; sometimes the lesson is what NOT to do. Other times, they may have some hidden wisdom in an area and not even realize they are bestowing it upon their young. You don’t need to question how they go about finding these things out. You just need to trust them, sometimes.

That is alright. Simply because you can see they do not know what they are doing at times, does not give us the right to disrespect them, or deny them any honor at all. Even when they stumble over their own lives, they try to do their best. Sometimes, if nothing else, we could choose to look at those things they may be good at handling, as pearls in the midst of a soggy, staled, outer layered shell.

For example, my father was very good at maintaining his calm while trying to explain something very important. It may be that the content seemed minuscule in the area of importance, like “keep the handles on the pan inward from the outside of the stove, so you don’t bump into it and get burned.”

The point is: it was HOW he explained it, that was the lesson.

We would shrug, whine, and hassle him for telling us over and over again and yet, he told us over and over again. He never got angry for telling us, and he always spoke kindly, with warm eyes, a slight smile, and at the level of understanding of our age (about 10 or 11 years). THAT was the lesson. How to speak to a child of that age, with a disposition of rebellion. He never saw it, but to this day, I keep the handles inward, and have never been burned.

My mother I am sure was bipolar, in the words of today’s hack doctors. She was emotional, and she hurt easily, and having been caught in a generation gap did not make it easy for such a person to adapt to a new way of the world.

In fact, many of us from generation to generation will experience a gap that we have to bridge inside of us. However, for those who held tightly the beliefs, the strengths of their generation, it is very difficult to let go if they are expected to do so. Add to that a hypersensitive person’s emotional apparatus, and you have yourself what the newly installed generation calls “bipolar.”

But one thing I always saw in her, as well as my father. She always prayed when she was alone. I might have peeked at her, and maybe that was a bit menacing. But she was so engrossed in her prayer that she never noticed or heard me or paid any attention. The lesson I learned from both of them in this area, is when you are doing something of value to you, nothing should get in the way of it.

How quick we are to complain, to blame others, to see only the negative of things.

Yes, there are negative things that need to be skewed, but there are also things that need to be remembered and  honored as well…. like the hard job of parenting, and our parents who never got a manual to know HOW to raise us. And when a family has money enough to care for their young, and when a family has education enough to see the teaching moments for their children…. and when  family has managed to do well in life in many areas, it will obviously be a little easier. But try not to think too much about what you did not have, and think about the tiny little things that helped you get a little better than your parents; that’s how civilization evolves…and we are part of that… I am more thankful than ever, now… that I am almost there with my ancestors.


Forgive because we are forgiven.


The Woman Warrior

It’s not easy being a Christian in a modern world. I have always been a warring child, and thus a warring woman. Yes, it’s true, I’ve always had a warring spirit within me. You might say I was very much like Isaiah, Rahab, or Peter. I am afraid of what that may mean, because their lives were definitely saved, but they went through horrendous suffering in life. Nonetheless, that is my DNA. I think God had planned on my being a warrior in prayer, because that is how I approach prayer, like a warrior who wants to eradicate evil, and save those who are weak and in need.

People like to make people like me out to be corny, nerdy, or worse, rebellious. But it serves a purpose when you’re a Christian, or I like to call myself better, a “Christ believer,” because the title “Christian” has become filled with yeast, or dilluted by so many who call themselves as such, but like me, they have trouble abiding.

As a little girl, I always had trouble listening to my parents because I was quite observing and critical. If they told me to obey Jesus, but they had trouble, I’d say: “Why should I, you don’t. I’ll figure it out myself.”

Looking back, there is no way I can say any longer, that my parents were poor parents; on the contrary, they were wonderful saints of Christ, why? Because they failed miserably as human beings, but they remained steadfast in their belief in Christ. That is the “ticket to ride,” when it comes to following the Lord.

When I think of the little rebel I was ALL MY LIFE, it stands to reason I have a lot of consequences that won’t go away now, much like Corrie Ten Boom.

For you younger people, it would do you good to look her up. Yes, I am a wild horse when it comes to becoming subject to others, but then again, I also am stubbornly sticking to the Lord, regardless of my human failings, which means: yes, I’m human, but I am saved by the grace of God through Jesus the God-Man, the Christ.

I’m still rebellious in many ways, I’m not a follower of people, it’s true, though I’ve let them influence my decision making, and usually mixed with my interpretation of what I think is best, and admittedly I haven’t made very good choices. But one thing I know: “forgetting what is behind me, and looking toward the prized of the  high calling of Christ Jesus, I press forward…” So it’s all good. Life is tough, but God is tougher, I think I’ll just ride the storm with God. Blessings upon this earth and mercy big time!

The Gospel in Isaiah – (Online Bible Study)

Rahab : The Prostitute God Uses

1 Thessalonians 5:16-18English Standard Version (ESV)

16 Rejoice always, 17 pray without ceasing, 18 give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.

Lately, memories of family…coming back to me…

I was listening to this beautiful song, orchestrated with lead singer, Allison Cross, and it crept up on me; I saw past scenes, of which I remembered so many wonderful memories as a child.

I am not of European ancestry at all. In fact, my Daddy was from Maztzaclan, Mexico. My Mama was from Texas. She used to tell me that he was an orphan of Apache descent, but raised by a Mexican woman. When he was about 17-18 yrs. old he joined the Mexican army, but he had his own intention. He crossed the border, threw off his uniform in the wilderness, and went into California, started his career as a radio singer. Later, he played the part of an Indian in the western pictures, getting shot and falling off his horse.

Being older, he never mastered the English language, while my mother, from Texas, never allowed us to speak Spanish. Her history goes like this: in school, she was slapped or hit by teachers if they heard her speaking Spanish. So, she wanted us to be as American as any other immigrant, European or Latin, French, whatever.

As the years went on, my father became a Southern Baptist Minister, and he preached and ministered to the Mexican farm workers, since he also worked them. I will never forget his beautiful voice and his way of teaching. Although I would not speak it I understood everything he said.

When I was 17, and pregnant, my father while traveling to Mexico for his convention, was killed in a car accident. That fact has continued to illuminate so many of my senses of loss, and fears. To lose someone so far away, when you need them most was the beginning of my devastating life.

Years later when my mother died, it opened that old wound, and I understood the words I heard before: I am an orphan now.

This song reminds me of when I was a very small child. My family sung like this, in church. To boot, my grandfather was a minister as well. So my whole upbringing was “about that good ol’ way.”

I am old now, and remembering those days as a child has brought me comfort in this old body, longing to see all my family again, for nearly all of them have passed.

I still believe, and I plan to see them again, i pray to see them again. … Daddy, I miss you… Mama, too, but I had you with me in so little of the time… I will rejoice when I see you again…


I have been feeling very sad about this world’s way of dealing with the sorrow and pain of others, when we are in a good place and others are suffering.

Unfortunately, it took my becoming one of those suffering people, to realize what others go through.


Has anyone ever seen the movie, “Changing Lanes?” The general plot is about how some event occurring, can change a person’s entire life. Of course it begins with changing a lane, and an accident and so forth, but the title “Changing Lanes” is a metaphor for what happens to the people in the movie.


In 2008, and 2009, I lost one home and a business, and then I lost the other home I was going to retire in. I had not saved for anything else but those two properties, because I believed nothing could ever happen to real estate. When I began losing everything, without ever experiencing such devastation, I did not know what to do or from who to ask for help. I only knew I had to somehow gather strength to stop the  financial tsunami I was experiencing.


So here it was: In the economic downturn, I got sideswiped and forced to change lanes with devastating results.  From a life of ease and middle class comfort, I drove into a life of devastation, and slowly became a member of the poorest population in our society.


Did anyone in my line of profession come to help? No. I struggled for about two years moving, renting here and there, attempting to go back to school, thinking that would help me get a teaching job, while going to work for another broker, hoping to make ends meet that way.


Guess what… a famous corporation of real estate motivators called TOM FERRY, sued me during this time, because they could not find my 3-day right of refusal when I changed my mind in giving them money for exhorbitant priced training, that I realized I would not be able to afford in my desperate frame of mind. Since I moved around so much, I could not find my copy, and when I asked at work if they had a copy they had already disposed of OTHER people’s faxes, so I had no proof.


Consequently, I was forced to claim Bankruptcy; a situation I promised myself earlier in my life I would NEVER do. During all this time, during this harrowing economic crises, this big organization decided to sue someone like me, who was already drowning. This is why I very carefully choose who I trust in the real estate business, and the TOM FERRY ORGANIZATION IS ONE NOT TO TRUST.


But going back to those nightmarish years, I was losing my home and had to live in a motel for a while until I got through my bankruptcy and began over again, I began to reassess the meaning of life and purpose, of significance, and so on, but this came very slowly… try: 10 years. I had ups and downs, distractions, bypasses, forks in the rooads, so many upheavels, it is too painful even to remember, but i have to, because remembering all this has brought me to a place, but we’ll get to that.


I claimed that for ten years I was in Moses’ desert, groping, feeling devastated and disillusioned. I burned out, lost what little self-esteem I had left, felt incurably angry all the time, experienced the worst self-hatred, depression, whatever you can think of to name, I went through all of it. I drank too much, smoked too much, and sat in front of the television watching movies that helped make me cry, because that was all I was doing anyway.

It was as if I had stuck my head (metaphorically speaking) in the sand like an ostrich, pretending nothing was happening, but my life was a trip to hell. It brought me to where I am now: physically ill.

It seems today, my mind is trying to get up, but my body keeps pulling me back down. I watched a number of videos today, because I could not walk; I have these bouts of pain that cripples me for a couple days, then I (hopefully) bounce back after rest.

Anyway, I watched these videos, and I think I sometimes watch them because I am looking for help and hope. There are times when I reach anxiety levels that drive me to fear in high gear.  Homeless has always been one of my fears, since I came from acute poverty as a child.

Getting older, and/or getting sick, is a fact of life. But being prepared for getting older and getting sick, is a choice in life. Consequences reflect one’s choices. This is part One of many reflections to come, I’m sure.  For now though, let me start my series here, by showing you one of those videos I watched today while I was recuperating.

This is what I was obsessing with today, because I am in constant need of help with my pets and household chores, and simultaneously trying to work from home. Whenever I get into these “scrapes” of health deterioration, I get desperate to find help emotionally. I think because I feel a lot of guilt for my illness, and my husband who is healthy seems agitated with me having to ask him for help.


What is Epiphany?


On occasion, I have epiphanies. I had one recently. To me, this is a natural progression of either the intellect, or spirit—but, however one wishes to see it.


Epiphanies occur when growth is knocking on one’s consciousness, but you must open the door, or you’ll miss it. This is becoming more and more evident to me that as I have these epiphanies, a gradual or sudden change pursues thereafter, mainly in my awareness.


This may seem trivial to some, or it can be substantial, depending upon the change, and the person. I imagine this happens to most people, if they are self-aware. I welcome this progression as enhancing my thoughts, emotions, and intellect, to a new level of awareness.


To get back to the point, the last major epiphany occurred during the last couple of years. Yes, there are levels, and the higher ones come less frequent; many little ones happen to us daily.


Anyway, I had been arguing a lot with my husband, whom I was sure was having an affair. I accused him of this in fact, so many times, it’s embarrassing to me at this point. But something was lacking terribly in our marriage. The romance had gone out of it, and there were no other similar interests as we once had.


If he was having an affair, there was not anything I could do about it. I had lost all my financial means during the 2008 economic downturn, having a bankruptcy tagged to me now. Nonetheless, the marriage issue was no longer the issue.

I had been analyzing myself deeply due to this lack of affection I was experiencing. I had been observing everything I would say, everything I would do, and in my mind I questioned myself like a therapist: ‘why did you say that?’ or  ‘why did you do that?’ or ‘do you think maybe what you just said (or did) might be the reason for his negative responses?” or “Perhaps you have given him enough ammunition about your neuroses that he is unable to come nearer to you anymore…?”

In psychological terms this kind of self-analysis is a part of the strategies we teach students and people in therapy, to activate metacognitive strategies, hence, the journal, narratives about oneself, diaries, etc.

I went about on a discussion of the matter, to myself, of course–for months. I wanted to leave him, but my anxiety to leave and find myself homeless was much greater than my anxiety to live with a man who is legally bound to me, yet unmoved by my existence. In truth, I am much too old now for leaving. And for a while there, I was becoming despondent, and felt like I would not live very much longer.

Curiously, I seemed to be falling into love with my husband again, and more and more. However, I think it was a last ditch in my own mind, for I obsess over what I cannot have. It has to do with being neglected as a child, hence, the need for hoarding, in case I find myself once again, alone, and uncared for.

But our marriage is not at all what this write is about. It is about the epiphany that was brought about due to the distress encountered in ordeal about my marriage.

If I may make an observation here, distress or desperation sometimes can be a godsend, leading to an epiphany, if one has exercised metacognitive habits already. An epiphany may actually help get you out of a rut. And so it was for me, though it may sometimes be very painful, I became elevated by the epiphany, which made it all worth the pain.

Now, therefore, you ask: “What was that epiphany of which you speak,” because of yet, I’ve not actually told you anything about the actual epiphany.

Henceforth, I began to wonder about our relationship, especially wondering if all relationships go through a period, after having been married for so long, that a spouse just stops loving their significant other, or just loves differently; like loving their partner as they do a pet.

The spouse may still feel the lustful feelings occasionally, mostly from seeing others who are desirable to look at, or some funky show on television. But the spouses have been through so much together, that they feel bonded beyond the norm, such as a deep friendship, or as a parent and child.

Marriage has its own bonding phenomena, and it grows stronger the longer spouses are married. Further, the more obstacles over which they have survived, they become even more bonded.

But what really made me think about all this, is the fact that, many people I know who have been married for many years, fall into one of two categories: one, they live separate lives, in which case one may thrive, the other may die, or they may both thrive, having other interests–including affairs; or they may both be miserable and both die younger than expected.

Another occurrence may be that they could be separated for a long while, having many things happen to each in their own sphere, similarly to the first analysis,  (affairs, ills, etc.), only perhaps in this case, it is a professional or venture event, and then, they come to value each other more deeply and become very close whether they are romantically involved or not, and remain together for the rest of their lives.

I believe my husband and I were experiencing a change in marriage, but did not know how to deal with it, and unfortunately it took its toll on my health. I have met so many who have been in various groups of ill progression due to marital confusion or disillusion. Most of the times, the women die off: sad, depressed, emotionally vacant, then ill, then death. Or if it is the man, it would be because the woman has found herself having been left to herself, and has evolved as an independent person, having a wonderful time with others, and now it is he who is left out: sad, depressed, emotionally vacant, then ill, then death. Either way, it is a sad scene.

I was heading that way, when this epiphany came. This is what it was. I have always believed in God, yet I felt God was distant to me in this situation. Finally, I began to wonder how God sometimes does not speak or make a sound, but may use circumstances to get at a weakness in someone. I believe this is what  happened to me. I realized the weakness was my sense of victimization.


I realized that even though it was true, I was a child that was neglected, it was an experience that could be turned around for good. If I am left alone, I must learn to love myself. What better way to learn to love yourself than in a situation where you are alone, whether you are alone in reality, or emotionally. So I began to teach myself how to be alone. Now I am learning to cope with our differences, making ways for me to find other interests aside from venturing out and doing stupid things, like affairs and such.


When I sense that old feeling of abandonment, I read more and lie down, take care of myself, drink more water, or a cup of coffee (never did that before), and sometimes even treat myself to ice-cream, or a glass of wine, and read, or write. It has always been hard for me to reach out to anyone when I am in emotional pain. I purposely do so now, especially when I sense that old feeling of loss and abandonment.

I have come to accept those things I used to complain about, in my husband. He is who he is, and I have come to respect who he is, AS he is. Where I complained of his weaknesses, I have learned to strengthen my own in those areas, so that I can keep myself company in such areas, times, and situations. His strong points are still strong points, and so I am able to focus on those points, which makes me look at him more positively. I feel proud that I am part of him, and whether or not he feels the same, I do not care: I know I am a good part of him.


In that small change, I have begun to love him more, without being clingy, and this has changed me for the better: I am less sad and depressed, I am becoming emotionally independent, I am less ill, and I feel I may just live a long time, after all. Thanks to mind blowing epiphanies. I hope to have more, about which to write.