BPD, Cyclothymia and Agoraphobia Fact Sheet. 8216;No, nothing was wrong with my food. Something was wrong with me. The things that at the time felt impossible. The things that I was sure would kill me, but that I eventually wiped out myself before they had the chance.

A Calling of Light- Fiction. A Calling of Light Part 2. The quilting is on hiatus. I had three seams to go on my weekly homework when my sewing machine froze up. Ack! So the machine is in the shop. The guy is supposed to look at it tomorrow. Hopefully he can fix it for a reasonable amount. Hopefully he can fix it fast. Then I can get my three seams done and be ready for my Tuesday night quilting lesson. We are going on a trip to Lake Tahoe with these peop.

A couple of weeks ago, Gary and I headed out to walk Holly long after dark. The sauna-like air, and the songs of the summer night along with it, momentarily took me back to summer nights during my childhood in Michigan. It was a very pleasant place to be, even for a moment.

Praise the LORD, for the LORD is good; Sing praises to His name, for it is lovely. Unlike things in this world which come and go, the Lord God is forever.

Long ago and far way there once lived. Long ago and far way there once lived. But no one appears to want to be tolerant of my apparent intolerance. Interview with Ken Decroo, author of Almost Human.

Everything you never needed to know. My Life-Changing Experiment of Tidying Up.

I turned the pieces into planters. But, this little endeavor has brought me such joy and satisfaction.

So on my way through the back roads to get to and from school, I often encounter wildlife of some kind. But a surprising and delightful sight nonetheless. And then there was the day that I encountered an old joke- a whole line of chickens crossing the road. Most of them looked like roosters, bu.

Just go! Quick 140 characters. Go! 24 hours on social media is like three weeks in the real world. Just go! Ok Blue and Black.

How easy it is for us to trip up. A respected Christian friend tells me we can tell the quality of our walk with God by the extent to which we suffer for it. My face watches her lips move, as she tries perhaps to explain, but all my attention shifts inward, searching for something that might be labelled suffering for my faith. Because of my earlier ideas about God this felt right, even if it was disappointing. Even if it seemed to reopen the wound of anxiety.