Who Am I? Been Sick, Sad, and Dealt With Life

Who am I? Lately, those words mean I have been sick. Food poisoning has had me for almost a month. It has been the worst case I have had in years, but I am finally feeling a little better. At least I feel alive.

The last couple of months has been difficult, to say the least. I have cried so many tears that I feel cried out. Losing a pet to the majority of the world means you lost a pet, but to my family, it is more like losing a family member. Our furry family is far more than just simply pets. 

That began for me when I was a little girl. My parents gave Larry and me a beagle puppy, Susie. And we loved her dearly. Although the love I have for her was nothing in comparison to the relationship we have with our current and recent furry family. Susie was such a sweet dog, that sweet little beagle face. Life for Susie cut short, sadly.

My parents had built a house, and we were to move to the country. It was an exciting time, and I couldn't wait to run the fields with little Susie by my side. Daddy went and got some chainlink fence so he could build her a pen until she got used to the farm. We had a beautiful day and went home nearly at dark. 

I will never forget the look on the neighbor's face as we pulled into our drive. He had witnessed the woman in the big car come down the street and as she ran up over the sidewalk into the yard, where little Susie sat. I will never forget how he was positive that she had done it on purpose.

Images of the bike riding woman from Wizard of Oz flooding my mind and remain with me today. How could someone be so cruel and intentionally kill an innocent? Boy, would life teach me that lesson time and time again?

I was so devastated. The funny thing is that I never realized how much it affected Daddy. That chain link fence laid in the same spot for nearly 30 years when Lynn was the one to move it. For me, it was about a year before we got the poodle that would be my best friend, my confidant, and my actual first furry family. 

Mitzi was a beautiful miniature teacup silver poodle. But more than that she was my friend. I adored her, and she adored me. That sweet little silver face was at times the one face that allowed me to retain my sanity. Then, Lynn came into my life, and she hated him. All he had to do was get near her or me, and she would bite him. This moment was the first and only time she ever behaved that way. It wasn't so funny then but as I look back after all of these years it is funny.

I was torn and didn't know how to get her to like him, let alone love him too. No matter what I did, she just couldn't stand him. Then the unthinkable happened, Mitzi who had congestive heart failure began to slip away. It was so awful watching her suffer, and all I could think was I had to get back to Mama and Daddy's before she passed. 

Lynn drove like a madman trying to get there as I held her little quivering body close to me. But about 3 miles from Mama's house Mitzi crawled out of my arms and moved to Lynn. She laid her tiny head on his arm, licked him and as she looked up at his face she passed away. I will always know that was her way of passing the torch of my care on to him. 

Now when Susie was killed it hurt, but this was a pain like nothing else. I was lost. I didn't know what to do.

You can't replace a love of a furry family, the only thing you can do is to put something else out there for you to think about. That furry family member always missed, and here 36 years later I still shed tears for little Mitzi.

Lynn tried to make me smile and tried to fill that empty hole left by little Mitzi with a teeny, tiny black spitball of a pup. Cherry Bomb came into my life with a flash, and that was how she remained. She was so tiny, and so sweet. Sure she wasn't Mitzi, but she quickly became my baby.

I spoiled her so bad that I never left her alone. Granny would babysit anytime we went somewhere she couldn't go, and I began wearing overalls so I could slip her inside and go most every place else. It wasn't what I should have done, but I snuck her in McDonald's as we ate and slid french fries down the front of my overalls so she could share in lunch.

The Health Department would have died if they knew. And she rode in my pocket no matter where I went. That was life with Cherry, and it went on for many years. She saw the birth of both my girls and did her part to help with them.

Life with my furry family would continue. Furries came and stayed as long as their little lives would allow. The love we shared has only increased, and they are just more spoiled every day.

Bambi (Bam Bam) came into our lives because our oldest wanted a Min-pin, but she quickly decided she was Cole's dog. Or maybe he was hers. It was hard to tell. She slept in bed with Cole from the time he was a tiny baby until she got so old she was nearly blind and deaf and she had to sleep in a safer spot. Then it was too dangerous for her to be on the bed. That little red spitfire passed away a month or so ago at the ripe old age of 16 1/2 which is nearly unheard of for a little dog. Cole will always have a hole in his heart where she lived.

I think she passed because she was grieving just as we were. Dewb had left us just a couple of weeks before she died and it was the most painful passing of a furry family member any of us had ever had. Losing him was something that was beyond belief. He never knew he was a dog, and he was far from being a pet. He was a little boy, and that was how we treated him.

The pain that left behind will never stop, and we only try to move on. But Bambi loved him too, and I think it was more than she could handle. Just as my Dad died when Mama did, Bambi left with Dewb.

Our pain continues and seems never to end. Duncan, sweet little Duncan who was brought into our lives to help fill a gap left us just a short two months after. It was sudden, fast unexpected and devastating. None of us knew how much we loved him.

So tears fill our eyes, and the pain is overwhelming as we try just to survive.

The furry family is the greatest thing, but with it comes pain. Pain because we love them so deeply.



If the world loved each other as honestly as those sweet little furry members of our families loved all of us. When you come home to that little face of your furry family, there is absolutely no doubt that they love you. Dogs have no concept of lying, no idea of hiding their feelings. So when they act glad to see you, well they are.



AMENDED  So many furbabies have crossed our paths, and it would take me days to fill in the names. But they were all loved with all our hearts and souls. They will be missed forever and left huge holes in our hearts. But I would not change a thing because they added so much love and happiness to our lives. Tears of joy, sadness, and heartache. Love those furbabies. Tiny man, you were such a sweet soul. Rottweiler beauty but such a softy. Everyone loved you, and we miss you still. Precious, Cassie, Cookie, Prissy, Penny, Toby, Rowdie, Sandy, Peppermint, Gidget, Duke, Baron and the list goes on. We loved them so much. There were a few cats that crossed our paths as beloved furbabies but Brian you were one of a kind, and we still talk of your antics.

Birds and fish filled our hearts as well. Our fur family has been large, but we loved and love them all. Cherish them because they are loyal, loving, and depend on you.

Who Am I? Darkness of Depression Finds Sunny Skies

\

Who am I? That has been something I have spent many years wondering. But in June of 1980, I was at one of the lowest moments of my life.

Everyone always says that your teen years are some of your best, for me, I sure hope not. Sure, there were some great times. But emotionally and mentally that was a very dark time for me.

I was graduating High School, and it should be having the-the time of my life. Most grads feel like they have the world by the tail and are preparing for a future. Not me, I was wondering what my purpose on this earth was, and I was lost.

Mental illness is an awful term, but that is what Bipolar disorder is in a nutshell. And I was suffering from the darkest depression I had ever experienced. I felt alone, unwanted, unloved, and completely lifeless.

Every morning I got up and went through the motions of living, but I wasn't. My sense of not belonging anywhere was adamant, and I was in such a dark place with no light. Then, out of the blue something happened.

My brother was not one who asked me to go with him places, and since he had gotten married, we hadn't spent any time together at all. So when he invited me to hang out with him after I got off of work, I should have wondered something. But in my haze of darkness I didn't.

We rode to a gas station, and Larry said he wanted to make a phone call. Again, I didn't think anything. He called Lynn asking him to come hang out with us. I thought okay, that was all right with me. I knew Lynn, but we didn't hang out or have the same set of friends, but this seemed fine to me.

It was just a matter of seconds that Lynn came pulling up in his little black cobra mustang. We all got into Larry's car and headed off to do the only thing to do in town. And that was to drive around and around until we got tired. Then we headed off on a dirt road finally making our way to a place in the woods where we could all sit around and drink beer.

Drinking beer when you are a teen can often be the only thing there is to do, I don't like beer now, and I didn't like it then. It was 1980 in the Ozarks, and that was all there was to do. So as Larry backed his car into the woods we settled in for a night of talking, looking at the stars, and pony Millers the beer of the Midwest teen in the 80s.

It was a breathtaking night. The stars were shining with such a sparkle that it felt like magic. Maybe there was some magic in the air, I don't know but as strange or impossible that it might sound I fell in love with Lynn.

There in the dark woods under the stars as we talked and walked down paths I fell in love. And remarkably he did too, it was a miracle or fate. I'm not sure,
My life would change and never be the same.I had someone that made me feel good that made me want to be a part of the world, and it was an incredible feeling.

When someone hears of that night we drove out into the woods, they always think it for us to do far more than talk. And even though circumstances caused rumors to spread, we didn't do anything but talk.

Those stories came from the fact that my work uniform which had been in Larry's car, ended up being dragged out of the car in the dark and left lying in the woods. So when a young boy found it, he took that uniform back to my work (it had my name on it) to leave it with my boss. So well I guess it doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what happened next.

Once, the night was over Lynn followed us back to Larry's house and stayed till the early morning as we held hands and watched a movie. He was so sweet and wouldn't even kiss me when he left.

That shyness is still there under the surface 36 years later.

Our first official date happened the day after our starry night in the woods.

June 6, 1980, seems like it was just yesterday. Then, I look at the time on the calendar to realize it was 36 years ago. Lynn didn't stay away from Larry's house long that morning after he finally did go home. But it was just to shower and change clothes.

When he got back, the two of us joined Larry and his wife plus another couple. Hitting the highway, we headed to Mountain Home and the lake. It was a gloriously sunny day, and I felt alive. Alive.

We rode go-carts and got asked to leave because we were too rowdy in the owners words.

Then our little group was asked to leave Pizza Hut because we were laughing so loud. Looking back I laugh to myself because the reality was that we were a bunch of punk kids just having fun. We didn't hurt anyone; we just had fun..

That was the first day of the rest of my life. Lynn and I had a connection. One that is stronger today than ever, one that has protected us on this journey through life.

And it all started that long ago night in June of 1980.

Who Am I? Why Me What Have I Done To Deserve This? Sometimes God Has To Slap You In The Face

Who Am I? That simple question can mean wondering Why me? And Why have something happened to me? Sure it is usual for people to feel sorry for themselves but for some in this crazy world that are the only thing they think of. 

Just take a few moments to go shopping and listen to the people complain. It is a never-ending litany of why this and omg that. One person looks at another to mention their aches and pains. 'My back hurts.' They are then, met with a complete grocery list of the many things wrong with the other person, all in an attempt to prove who has the worst pain.

When did it become a competition to see who has it the worst? When did caring for others turn into 'but I feel worse' kind of world?

Think of the last time you went to the Doctor and remembered the people in the waiting room. For me, it was a group that all tried to outdo the others in their level of pain. I know that people have pain, I am not saying that. But why is there a contest to see how much more everyone suffers?

Isn't the pain in itself bad enough? Pain is awful. No matter where you hurt if you are a chronic pain sufferer, YOU HURT! Funniest the thing is that remember as a child the paper cuts you would get? That hurt so bad and still do. So as we remember those tiny cuts just take a moment and realize you don't have to see another's pain for it to be real.

Lynn has a head injury. We have dealt with years of people looking at him because he did things like mow the lawn or cut wood. A judge in our case answered it better than anyone ever had before. "I see nowhere in Mr. Johnson's file on his head injury that said it was his back. And unless he is mowing his lawn his head I see no problem." 

That put it in a nutshell. But the world still looks at everyone else as if each and everyone in the world is lying about pain. Why would anyone lie?


But as we go through this crazy existence that we call life, we are all in the spot to at one time or another feel depressed. That depression comes from being tired, and pain or suffering is tiresome.

We as humans have a tendency to go through times of feeling sorry for ourselves, don't worry everyone has done it sometime in their life. I had had moments when that feeling overwhelmed me, but reality came calling.

It was in 1988 when Lynn was hurt riding a four wheeler. He was wounded awful, compound fracture of his shoulder among other things. After his surgery, he began to suffer from pneumonia that had one lung full of fluid, and the other one was over 98% complete. He was in terrible condition.

He lay in his hospital bed unconscious and slim chances for recovery. I watched him terrified for his health. Here I stood six months pregnant with a 3-year-old hanging onto my leg. What would I do? I felt so alone, sitting there watching the love of my life suffer, while I had no one but my child to comfort me.

I watched him lay in that bed; he was so sick, and he was my world. Placing my hand on my belly, I cried because this baby needed a daddy too. I cried because my three years old needed her dad. And I cried in fear of losing my best friend, my partner, my soul mate, and my love. What would I do without him? 

Lynn's Doctor told me that if he were to survive the night, he had a 50% chance of surviving this. Which undoubtedly meant to me that he had a great chance of not surviving. I was horrified and more scared than I remember ever being. 

Nowhere did it feel to me that I was selfish, I only thought of myself and my little family. It just didn't seem like I was doing anything wrong. I just kept saying "Why me? What have I done to deserve this?"

Then, nearly out of the blue I heard a rattling commotion. It seemed to echo out of nowhere, so I went to the hospital room's door. Slowly I opened the door to look out. It was almost 4 in the morning, and my eyes met two gurneys pushed by a group of nurses and orderlies. Every one of the people had such a look of sadness on their faces which made me look at the gurneys again.

The first one held a tiny little thing; I later found out she was barely three years old, burnt. But not just burnt, this sweet baby was suffering burns over 97% of her body. The tears ran down my cheeks, as they do still today just remembering that sad night so long ago. I gasped as I saw the second gurney held an even tinier little body. But this one was covered head to toe. 

And I knew what that meant. A nurse stepped up to me, she saw my condition and knew I needed someone at that moment. As she placed a loving hand on my shoulders, she told me what had happened. The little girls were in a house fire, and the littlest one just didn't make it to the hospital.

My knees were weak, my heart sank, and I was ashamed. I was more ashamed than I had ever been in my life. How could I question God about my miserable life when those little babies had suffered so painfully? I was ashamed as I felt the wiggles of the unborn child and embarrassed as I looked at the beautiful little girl of mine asleep in a chair.

That was a moment when I know God reached down and slapped me. He hit with the knowledge that no matter how bad you think you have things, look around.That night I did look around, and I saw sights that would haunt me forever.

As I stared at my little girl asleep and I laid a loving hand on my stomach, I fell to my knees and begged forgiveness. I asked forgiveness for the horrid ways I had forgotten all the wonderful things in my life. I had forgotten just how fortunate I was.

In my begging I thanked God for my beautiful little girl, I thanked him for the healthy pregnancy. I thanked him for the time that Lynn and I had together. I thanked him for everything in my life, and I told him that if it was his will to take Lynn, then I only asked for the strength to handle it. 

I said that if this was all the time with the love of my life, then I was grateful for that happy time. And I cried. I cried for those little angels that had suffered; I cried for the shame I felt at questioning.

The night continued as I cried and prayed. I gave thanks for every second of the time I had with Lynn and the morning sun finally came up.

With the rays of sun shining into that white hospital room,  my morning greeted me with the beautiful blue eyes of my husband. He was lying there staring at me, and he had a beautiful smile on his face. And he was hungry. I laughed, I cried, and I hugged him.

The Doctor was surprised by the strange quick recovery he was witnessing. But I told him I wasn't surprised I knew why. And I was thankful.

So when I look in the mirror and ask Who Am I?, I know I am a grateful, very fortunate woman who has suffered, but I have made it through.

Do I step over someone who needs help? Not if I can do anything at all to help them.


Will you help someone? 

Who Am I? Redheaded BiPolar Irish Danish Native American Gemini Mutt

Who am I? I am a person who wonders, do you ever get used to the loss of your parents? Especially on your birthday.

No matter how many birthdays I have celebrated with the gaping holes left after the passing of Mama and Daddy. I never stop thinking about them and longing to hear “Happy Birthday baby.” But they aren’t here, and I will never hear them say it again. That brings such a pain to my heart I can’t even put words to it.

Even though they aren’t here I see them everywhere, I see Daddy in Cole as his significant height looks down at me, and he cocks one eyebrow up. I see Mama in Heather as she does whatever she sets her mind to. And I see them in the flowers I plant, the stars I watch, and the laughter of my family. My parents aren’t here, but they are everywhere because they made such an impact on me.

I never went a birthday that I didn’t have them to say they loved me and wished me Happy Birthday, no matter what was going on or the circumstances they did. I never failed to call her every day even when we weren’t getting along because I loved them dearly.

There are instances in life now where children and their parents do not talk; I am sadly too familiar with it. I wish things were different, but you can not force others to do what they do not want to do.
So with my birthday approaching, I look back at the years. I never really had a birthday party, Larry was the one who had parties. It wasn’t until after Cole was born. It was an average birthday, or at least it started that way.
I got so mad at my girls because they ran off and didn’t help with the chores or do anything. They left me on my birthday. I was furious. Then I got a phone call that said they needed their dad and me to come pick them up at the neighbor’s house. So we got in the car, and I was still fuming, bitching and complaining about those ungrateful little girls.
We drove into the neighbor’s yard, and I was still furious as I walked inside to let my kids have a piece of my mind. Then as I entered their dining room, I was met by an entire lot of our friends. Yeah, my girls had left me to do all their chores, but they were off busy planning a surprise party for me.

The tears still fall my cheeks as I remember the feeling of everyone screaming Happy Birthday and the look on my girls’ faces. It was priceless, and everyone liked to remind me how mad I got

 But I had never gotten a real birthday party, and I had no idea this was going to be one.
It was unbelievable, and they were all so wonderful. But boy did I get mad that morning. Now, it is funny. Then, not so much.

Birthdays to me are a time I reflect on the past, a time I remember the tears, the laughter, pain, and joy of being me. It is when I try to see the world through the eyes of my family, and I know they haven’t had it easy.
Dealing with me is something they need commendations. Being a Bi-Polar redheaded Irish Native American Danish Gemini is not easy for anyone. They need medals.

Who Am I? The Mother of A Three Year Old Attacked By a Chimp

Who am I? First, I am the mother of a child who was attacked by a chimpanzee. So as you can imagine the news of the Cincinnati Zoo killing their gorilla is one that feels too familiar to me. My child didn't crawl into an enclosure; my daughter attacked in our living room. My emotions over this ordeal are intense, but they may not be what some might think.

I am a mother that has had to deal with a lot of years of pain caused by the offensive attack. I have had to deal with the real chimp, Sammy, that attacked my 3-year-old being one that an entire county cherished as if he were a celebrity. We had had years of dealing with that one night when that man brought Sammy into our home.

Sammy changed our lives and altered a personality of the most wonderful little girl. He didn't suffer, he didn't pay, and he went on to live a life untouched. Even, though at the time of the attack, both her dad and I wanted to kill the little monster immediately. All of us wanted to see that Sammy suffered, but our priority was taking care of Heather.

As I look at the headlines of the gorilla killed because of the little boy climbing over the fence and falling into the pen at the Cincinnati Zoo, I have to say while some will see a similarity they are not at all alike. You see I had my baby standing safely in front of me when Sammy lunged to attack her. We were in what should always feel like a haven, our home. Sammy's owner brought him to a real estate transaction and left him in the vehicle long enough to sign papers. That didn't sit well with the male chimp.

I was watching like a mother hen as I couldn't stop the chimp from his onslaught of terror. I was being observant and taking care of my children as the attack happened. This incident was not a moment where parents weren't watching their child, and this was a time when parents couldn't stop something bad from happening. We learned later that when chimpanzees get angry, they attack the first thing smaller than them and unfortunately that was my three-year-old.

That Cincinnati mother, I still wonder how the child managed to climb over without anyone stopping him. Where were the parents? Anyone who has taken their small child to the zoo knows that they are fast and slippery, but this is unacceptable.

As we wanted to see, Sammy killed it never happened. The owner of that little monster so consumed with whether or not we were going to sue him, all of our attention and concern was on seeking medical care for our little girl.What did happen was the fact that his very irresponsible owner had to stop taking the chimp where small children could come into contact with him? What also occurred was the laws changed regarding transport of wild, exotic animals, they no longer could have free run of vehicles. Those were beautiful things.

The things that occurred at the hospital were a different story, one I will tell later.

When asked about the ordeal later in life Heather remarked that she felt she saved lives, because now people would be held more responsible actions regarding wild animal pets.

I watch the news about the Cincinnati Zoo killing the gorilla, and at first, I reacted like any parent would. Whatever did it take to make sure the child was safe, right? That was the first thing that I thought. And I listened as they explained that using tranquilizers would have taken too long. Then I heard that they watched this ordeal for 10 minutes before they shot the gorilla.

That was when I thought Seriously; they waited 10 minutes? I couldn't believe it; they said the tranquilizer would take too long when they took that long anyway? Why didn't they use it at first instead of watching for 10 minutes?

Now, I know I was not there and don't know the entire story. But as a mother who watched my child viciously attacked by a chimp, I have to say: If they had killed the gorilla immediately, I would think differently. But they didn't they waited. So why didn't they tranquilize in the beginning and save a life?

Watching the video, it appeared the gorilla was protecting the little boy, something as a parent I think the parents should have done in the first place. There was time; maybe there was a way to have saved the gorilla. They didn't even try.

Who Am I? Life Happens, People Need You, What Do You Do?

Who am I? It wouldn't seem like that should be a tough question to answer, but how many of you have looked in the mirror and wondered that very thing? I guess that quite a few have done just that.


We all hope to be successful in our careers, happy in a relationship, and loving as parents. But that doesn't describe who we are inside. Are you really a good person when it counts the most?

If you were to find yourself faced with an incident where another person is in need, what do you do? Do you step over them not wanting to get involved? Do you reach out a hand even though it 's hard to do? What do you do? That is the basis of. Who you are. So now as you look at those questions look in the mirror once more and ask Who Am I? What is your answer?

It only takes a few minutes to go out in the world to find people having trouble, and you merely have to open your eyes to the real sights are around you. From the woman at the grocery store who has a sad look in her eyes as she counts change and removes things from her cart, did you see her?

Or the child that looks at the food with such hunger and a parent with glistening eyes because they can't buy enough to eat, did you see them?


Did you notice the woman with that pained expression with every step she takes or the elderly man barely able to walk, did you see them? Have you seen those people who see families and cry because there own family isn't here any longer? Have you seen the pain from a wife as she stands at her husband's grave? A child when they have no one?

Have you seen the difficulties a family has when illness strikes? Have you seen the family who deals with the loss of a home? Do you know if your neighbors or your friends have enough to eat? Are they lying awake at night in fear because they may lose their homes? Do you know?

What would you do if someone asked for your help?

What do you do? Do you walk by with blinders?

Hopefully, I will always do my best to help.

It was the year 1980, Lynn and I were just freshly married kids. He was still 16, and I was a naive 18. Our home was situated next to an old highway that saw a lot of traffic from kids on the weekends and was also the location the highway department mixed their asphalt.

That Friday night we were watching a movie as we usually did. Being a young married couple meant we were close to our money. It was about 2 in the morning when a knock on our door broke the sounds of our movie. I went to see who it was because in 1980 it was relatively safe for me to do that.

I opened it to find a girl; she looked about 16, and her clothes were ripped covered in blood. She had blood running down her face, and she was shaking in pain. Grabbing a blanket, I wrapped her up and tried to get her to talk to me.

After moments of difficulty she got us to understand she had been in a car accident and there were others. I only remember Lynn and I running up the road to find the wreck. There was one boy lying in the ditch, and I did what I could for him, but the second one was lying on the train tracks. He was hurt the worse.

We didn't know what to do; we only knew we shouldn't move the one on the tracks. So I ran back home to call an ambulance.

With the arrival of the ambulance, we were informed that they needed parental permission, or at least an adult to stand responsible for the injured kids. I made phone calls to the bar where they said one boy's dad was on a date with the girl's mom. But they refused to come; they didn't want to be disturbed.

What would I do? None of us could be considered adults in this situation. So I did the only thing I knew how. I called Mama. They didn't say one word, they just came. Mama and Daddy got up in the middle of the night and rushed to stand responsible for kids that weren't theirs. For kids, they didn't know.

That was the parents I had. That was the way they taught me to care for the rest of the world.

What would you have done? Would you have done what they did? I hope in the same situation I would stand up for the example they left.

Who Am I? My Journey to Enlightenment After 8 Months Catatonic

Who am I? Well as a kid that grew up in the Ozarks during the 60s during a time of rotary phones and only a few numbers to dial. A time when we had a black and white tv that got if we were lucky two channels, we chased fireflies at night, played outside till the streetlights came on, and build forts on the vacant lot next door. We also explored the entire sewer system under the town with the prodding instruction of my Uncle. But then again that is a different story. The one I will save for later.

But I grew up in this small little town where we didn't lock our doors or cars, and all the neighborhood kids roamed free. Or at least we thought we were free. The actual reality was that the entire town was watching us and protecting us.

I didn't know people told lies, and I thought if it was in the paper or on television it was absolute truth. Now don't get me wrong I was not quite like my Granny, who would sit and argue with the television when her stories were on because in her mind she thought they were real.

As a teenager, I would be lying if I said I had never been around weed smoking and drinking. The reality is that in small towns there isn't a lot of other things for kids to do. That was a terrible thing for me. Because I was around people I loved and cared for and they were smoking marijuana.

It has been particularly hard because my parents taught me that the Reefer Madness propaganda about it being the Devil's Weed was the absolute truth. So my soul was torn between what I was seeing and those teachings. What was right?

Were those I watched smoke it the devil's spawn? Or was there another side to the story? For me, I never saw anything but the evil.

But my life would go in a direction that would take me on a strange epiphany. I suffered an infinite amount of difficulties in a short period. For someone who is Bi-polar, that can be devastating. And for me it was. So as I tried to handle the still fresh wounds of my Mama's death, and fact that my Daddy died not too long after. Those things followed with the house fire that ripped us of nearly everything. And, I had my identity was stolen after that (and the thief had a lot of fun to my name), there were government audits in my company which made me spend every dime of my savings, and the world began to spin.

I went back and forth to my doctor, my psychiatrist, and my cardiologist who sent me deeper into a spiral. The road to treatment led me down the pharmaceutical road of add this to the medications and then add this to that.

The next thing I knew I woke up. It had been eight months, and I didn't remember any of it. I woke to Lynn taking the medications away, and he said things had to stop.

It was so hard, but that was the beginning of a journey that I would have never thought I would take. We moved to California, and I began to meet people treating their medical issues with marijuana.

It was unreal. How could those patients be helped by the one thing I thought was so evil? But I spent time with parents who were treating their autistic children with drops of CBD oil, cancer patients who relied on marijuana so they could eat and take their chemo treatments. Then I got to spend an afternoon with the most remarkable young man. A young man who would change my life.

I first met Mikie, a wonderful boy with the need to be tied to his wheelchair. The straps were the only thing that could contain his shaking body from falling to the ground. He wasn't even able to put two words together to have a conversation. But I was supposed to interview him about his medical treatment.

Sure I had seen what I thought was evidence that marijuana had real medicinal properties but that afternoon my eyes became wide open. This remarkable young man with a beautiful smile sat before me, and I watched as he took two hits off of a joint.

It was the most amazing thing I had ever seen. Mickie's entire body relaxed right before my eyes. There was no denying it, and I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was not faking it. I watched as that young man relaxed and then we had the most wonderful talk. All because he had taken two hits that relaxed all the muscles and tendons in his body that he struggled with every moment.

Now I was hooked I needed to see more. So I spent time with some of the autistic children and was witness to the effects that two tiny drops of CBD (Cannabinoid oil) had on them. I watched as children that were having hundreds of regular seizures on a weekly basis.  Children that because of those seizures were not able to participate in life at all. They didn't play. They didn't talk, they only suffered. Then I watched as those same children became fabulous little people who ran around playing, laughing and being what God intended in a child.

So as my world and my eyes opened to a possibility of good. The right in what I had always seen as evil I began to see that this natural plant. This plant that doesn't have to be altered to help people. This plant was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

So who am I? I am a believer. I am an advocate for the use of medical marijuana. And I am a new person who realizes that not everything taught in the past was the truth.