Tag Archives: feelings

Don’t Write About Me(!)

I have been writing since I can remember. I am not one for poems or fiction because to be blunt I’m pretty awful at it. My wheelhouse has always been pulling from what I’m going through.You can blame that on the many friends and family members who bought me diaries and journals.

The hard lesson I’ve learned over the years is when you write from the heart not only is it painful to put on paper it’s equally painful to read.

So as I was getting ready to approach this new chapter in my writing journey… see what I did there? I let those close to me know.

My sweet Dad who is to blame for me being both an avid reader and writer immediately yelled out “don’t write about me!”

I promise this is probably it Dad.. Sorta. But it is a slippery slope.

Every week I put myself out there.

I usually do have a plan. I keep a bunch of post its with topic ideas handy in case my ritual of an adult beverage and accompanying music of the moment leave me stuck.

But full transparency these blogs come from moments. They’re  moments that I think if I’m feeling this way maybe someone else is too and maybe just maybe they will read this and maybe not feel better, but know they’re not alone.

That can sometimes be the hardest thing. No matter who you are. But when I first left my ex husband I felt it. Hard. There were a few people who really stepped up and they know who they are.  That leads me back to the beginning of this post. When I write these I am trying so hard to not be hurtful, to keep things that are mine, mine but still share those moments.

In a recent post I alluded to a new person in my life. He caught it. Believe it or not I’m actually a pretty guarded person. If you read my series the Fixer of Broken Boys … well you know why. I’m working on it. So it can be hard for me to tell the people I care about what they mean to me, but I can write it here.

I know I don’t get it either.

Again, working on it.

It’s scary. Sharing your life. Your joys. Your not so great days. The ugly. The great. The newest wrinkle.

But that’s WHY I’m here. That’s why I’m write. That’s why I share. So on those days- YOU know someone’s got you Momma.

 

Hi there- my name is Caprise, I’m your tattoo’d, music loving, Henry Rollins obsessed, Mom of the  amazing G, single working Mom cheerleader… and I’m going to try my hardest to remind you we got this.

<3

You Hold The Memory

Do you ever wonder, how did you get so many of ‘these’? Whatever your THESE are. More than likely it’s because you bought them, they were gifted, handed down, or you won them for doing something great. Stop and ask-

“How many do I really need?”

Then decide how many to give away and begin the choosing.

I have 15 coffee mugs & 4 to-go mugs (mind you, I live alone), so I decided to get rid of 5 mugs and 1 to-go. That’s a good place to start, right? As I was going through them & deciding which ones to keep and which ones to pass on, I was noticing how much meaning I had put on each one. The emotional connection was strong for me…. to the person who gave it to me, or the vacation location I bought it at or how pretty it was. I found it a little rough to disconnect from the emotion (did I tell you I wear my heart on my sleeve and have a LOVE tattoo on my foot) because I feel.

Deep.

I reminded myself, this is just a token.  The real sentiment is in my memory, in my mind, in my heart and it’s time to downsize and simplify and the only way to do that is to let it go.

What meaning do you place on things that you have too many of?

How can you start to purge and unclutter the “too many’s”

Too many pairs of socks, panties, boots?

Too many spoons, cereal bowls, kitchen towels?

Too many scarves, vases, tea cups?

Whatever it is,take a look and begin to release some of them.  Give them away.  Donate them.  Hand them down.  Start small and remember that YOU hold the memory in you.

And proudly, happily, say to yourself “It’s time to let it go.”

 

Your God Girl,

Tracy xoxo

Empathy-Wearing Your Heart On Your Sleeve?

The word empathy is a noun. It means the ability to understand and share the feelings of another.

Depending on who you talk to it can also be viewed as a sign of weakness. Empathy. Being in touch with your emotions, wearing your heart on your sleeve.

I can’t tell you how many ex’s have told me I’m too sensitive.

I have been told by those closest to me it is the thing the love and hate the most about me. They know it means I keep my heart open when I shouldn’t. I cry when I am mad. I read into things. I can be jealous. But if I love you. I love you with all my soul. I will take care of you. Gestures no matter how small mean everything and I will do what I can in my guarded way to make sure you know.

I know guarded and empathetic seem like they don’t go but it’s the empathy that makes me guarded. Until it doesn’t.

But this isn’t about me. It’s about my proud Mommy moment.

Watching my beautiful daughter turn into a nurturer. Be aware of others around her and want to take care of them. Most recently with her cousins who are visiting from the East coast. She sees them if she is lucky once a year. Since she is an only child she refers to them as her cousin/siblings. She is in middle school so we have definitely started with some preteen eye rolls and occasional comment.

Overall though she shows me somewhere along the way she got the importance of being kind and caring. Don’t get me wrong she still stands her ground.

Do you know how great it is to be in a conference with four teachers and have them tell me how kind she is?Get that in an email from her guidance counselor.

In how she describes her friends. She makes sure to highlight details. Explain. Tell you why it’s ok. She listens.

Every night she tells me she loves me. She does the same when she leaves for school in the morning. She recognizes some of her friends are different but makes sure to impress upon us why it’s important it’s not a big deal. Her eyes are wide open and so is her beautiful heart.

In a world where people can be so incredibly cruel it makes me so proud my girl is making her own path and leading with a strong heart.

I’m a proud Mama. Who is also sending all of you lots of love from heart on my sleeve.

~~Caprise

Single Mom of the amazing Dbl G
Teacher
Sometime DJ
T-shirt collector
Henry Rollins Middle Aged Punk Prom Date

Shedding The Shame

Shame has been a feeling I have lived with for as long as I can remember, even as far back as elementary school. Shame has made me feel powerless, worthless, invisible. A couple weeks ago as I drank my coffee on my back porch I read a post from Scary Mommy on Facebook about anxiety/depression and complex trauma and it was like a punch to the gut. It has stuck with me and my thoughts kept returning to one particular part that describes me and my journey so completely it took my breath away.

“At the first sign of anxiety or depression, traumatized people will spiral into toxic shame. Depending on the wounding messages they received from their abusers, they will not only feel the effects of anxiety and depression, but also a deep shame for being “defective” or “not good enough.” Many survivors were emotionally and/or physically abandoned, and have a deep rooted knowledge of the fact that they were insufficiently loved. They live with a constant reminder that their brains and bodies were deprived of a basic human right. Even present-day situations where they are receiving love from a safe person can trigger the awareness and subsequent grief of knowing how unloved they were by comparison.”  https://themighty.com/2018/06/anxiety-from-complex-trauma/#_=_

Shame has been a part of the demons way to control my thoughts. Shame has been a tool of the abusers in my life to make me feel small. Shame has been a feeling that others wanted me to live with for my choices. Shame has been a way to keep the my warrior quiet. I have been shamed for my depression, for my sexuality, for my belief in looking at the good in people, for only being a teacher, for my failures, for my mistakes, for celebrating by wins, for the way my body looks, for my relationships, and for daring to be happy.

I am done living with what others think of what is the right path for me. I am done letting shame keep me from following my passions. I am done with shame telling me I am defective or not good enough. I am done with people who try to shame me into living according to what they believe is proper behavior. My warrior is gaining more power and the demons are losing because I am done with shame.

I choose instead to surround myself with people that will love me despite my mistakes and understand that my mistakes are a part of what has made me this beautiful, powerful warrior goddess. People who can see that I do the best I can each and every day, and love me even on the days I struggle to make it through that day. People that feed my soul with love and kindness, and want to see more that in the world around us.  People who understand my passion, my dreams, my hopes and push me to make them a reality. People who love me even when I react out of fear and know that I am a work in progress. I choose people who see my worth and believe I am good enough each and every day. I am done with shame!

~ Kellie

Working each day to be the warrior and leader I know is within me. You can follow me at https://wordpress.com/view/leaderofthepacks.blog

Social Media-Does It Affect You?

Let’s talk about social media today and how it can drag you down, and affect your well being and mental state, especially if you’re a single parent. Especially if YOU let it!

On the other hand social media can also inspire and motivate you, it just depends on what you are focusing on…

I personally found myself joining social media when my children became of that networking age and I said “If you do-I do” ~ only so that I could monitor their online presence. That was almost TEN years ago!

We all know that It’s really exciting to feel that connection to old friends and family members that live far away. It’s also great to enjoy sharing pictures and road trip photos, fun events, and even a simple shopping when someone posts things like  “Oh I bought a new sweater” or “Look at me in my new dress!”

As single parent THAT can really really can bring you down, especially when you know that you can’t afford those luxuries and you’re scraping just to put food on the table also wondering where your gonna get that extra  $50 to cover the electric bill that’s due in 4 days. Gotta love living that week to week life–you know the one right? When bringing your kids out to McDonald’s for the dollar value menu actually is a luxury!

People that have never lived it DON’T understand it and it’s all well and good when they want to sympathize with you and they want to give you that pat on the shoulder and say “you’re doing a great job”  and “look how beautiful your kids are” and “your kids are so well-mannered” and “you’re such a strong person!”  and sometimes those comments are helpful, however a lot of times these people have not walked through what I walked through.

They  just don’t get  it ~ the everyday exhaustion of doing everything yourself, like having to get up every night in the middle of the night and tend to your child and there’s nobody to turn to and say “can you help the baby?”  It’s so draining to say the least especially when you have to get up in the middle of the night and tend to your crying child who is all stuffed up with a nose full of boogers and you’re so exhausted and you have that deadline tomorrow and also that 8 a.m. meeting with your boss and you have to present the financials to the board of directors at a noon luncheon!  Oh boy! STRESS.

I do know those days.

You just do it, and take it one day at a time. You get up, have faith, be blessed, and be happy for what you do have -the roof over your head- the food on the table- your health – the job- the knowledge and the strength–YOU  just keep doing it– because you know you’re doing good for your children that YOU’RE raising, ALONE.

No one EXPECTS to be a single mother. Sadly, sometimes it HAS to happen for the safety and well-being of the Mother and children.

I lived those days and nights. It is hard. It is draining. It is exhausting. But  it is what it is- for your life- in the here and now, for today. You’ve just got to do it. Find the strength to face the day and keep on hoping that your positivity and gratitude shines through and lets your kids see your powerful work ethic.

YES, we do live in a material world, we do, but, you know it is changing,  this Millennial generation is ALL about Tiny houses and downsizing and clearing your clutter and de-cluttering your life and all these mantras, affirmations and positivity~ you know- be the dream,- live, laugh, and love. Do what you love, and it’s never too late to be what you might have been~ and it’s true! It’s  all true!

AS  I embrace my 50th year-  I’ve lived it- I’ve learned it- I can’t say I’ve loved it— but I’m looking at  my daughter who’s in her early 20s and she’s blossoming and turning into a determined,  independent young lady. My son is starting his sophmore year at a technical school with clear goals and a career path.  I sit back and I look at them and I think DAMN! I did that. I DID THAT! On my own, 20 plus years of my life, the struggles, and the hardships, sleepless nights  and you know the non-support and all challenges and so forth, but: little by little I chipped away at school and educating myself to enrich my career to make a better life for my kids and myself. I finally earned my Bachelor’s Degree at age 47. Never say NEVER.

Yes I am over 50 now and beginning to get forgetful and it is frustrating! So I just laugh at it and continue to say I CAN DO THIS, I’ll handle it~ keep your faith! That’s the most important thing. Keep plugging away, day by day and DON’T let those people out there in cyberville bring YOU down. Take it all in, set your goals, and watch yourself move forward and upward. YOU are women, YOU are strong. When you’re feeling “less than”  GO HUG YOUR KIDS! That certainly has got to make you feel better!

KDAWSON 3/17/18  revised 10/16/18

Make YOU a Priority!!!!!

Making yourself a priority is difficult. Most days “I don’t wanna”—it doesn’t really matter WHAT it is, I just DON’T WANNA.  This morning about two hours ago was no different…I needed to get up and work out and then I have to clean this entire house, write this blog post, clean my desk and oh yeah…LAUNDRY…freaking never-ending laundry.  So there I sat on top of my bed, drinking coffee, doing some work and thinking about how I did not want to do ANYTHING that I have to do today.  This day is pretty much like EVERY other day for the last 20 years…or more.

If I was RUN by my feelings then absolutely nothing would have been accomplished over the last 2 decades and I would likely be an epic failure…the GOOD news is that I am NOT run by my feelings, in fact they have little to do with my actions.  Apathy comes from giving into the voice that says “I don’t wanna”.  As I said last weekend in my blog, we are like our own breed of Special Forces…The Warrior Moms…we don’t have the luxury to give into “feelings”, we simply must PUSH THROUGH THE BULLSHIT and accomplish what there is to be done.

Back to me this morning…as I am sitting on my bed contemplating all the things that I have to do, a text comes in from one of my friends here and she says “I am getting ready to go walk the hills”—we often walk together as there are SO many hills around our houses and it makes for a really good cardio session.  I quickly decided that walking with her would be more fun than the elliptical so I threw on some clothes and went out to meet her…I must say, it was a little BRISK out there!  (By the way the picture is from the brook this morning down the street from my house…getting to look at that makes being cold worthwhile:)

In the course of our conversation she was telling me how she keeps putting taking care of herself last and that she cannot seem to commit to a schedule for getting her cardio done etc.  She has 4 kids and more often than not puts herself last as I know MANY of us do.  That has got to STOP.  If you go down then everything comes to a halt, so it is well worth you MAKING the time each day to take care of yourself.  Your health is not something to screw around with, trust me…I am watching some friends and family members suffer the effects of years of not taking care of their psychical well-being and their quality of life is not as good as it could be.

Watching what you put into your body and making the time to walk or workout or do yoga or pilates or SOMETHING will pay off for you in SPADES as you age…PLEASE people start making yourselves a PRIORITY.  You are a warrior and in order to keep pushing through the bullshit that comes at you daily you MUST take care of YOU!

-XO, Noelle

An Omission Turned Admission

I was sitting on my living room floor folding laundry. Miles of piles of tipping laundry and unmatched socks sat in front of me. The kids were playing independently and the house was otherwise quiet.

Just me and my thoughts. A dangerous thing.

And suddenly I felt sick. Literally, physically sick. It occurred to me, the omission I keep making.

I will allow myself to feel this for a fleeting moment. I need to, so that I can continue to heal. This is just the beginning. I know this. I resent this.

I am so angry.

I am so sad.

And I am so lonely.

I catch myself looking at everyone’s left hand. The ring finger of even the 70-year old in the grocery store checkout line is not excluded.

Are you married? Are you happy? Does it feel good to sleep next to someone every night? Is it nice to have someone to call when your day is shit? How does it feel to hug someone tightly when you cry or even better, when you have the best news to celebrate? Do you feel a sense of security knowing they will be there day after day, night after night?

I hate everyone’s happiness. I hate the people who have someone to go home to. I hate all of your wedding rings and I hate all of your family pictures. I hate all of your smiles and I hate all of your photos of flower bouquets and sandy beach vacations.  I hate your Facebook questions about an anniversary dinner spot to reserve, or whether you should have another baby.

My wedding dress sits in a box in my attic. My rings, were so beautiful, and they sit in a safe that isn’t even in my own house. My wedding albums sit on a shelf. My dream of another child dashed.

There are two photos of him still in the house that just feel like too much energy to change out of the frame. His mail still comes to the house. I want to burn it.

I want to just sit and cry until I can’t anymore. Especially when people who don’t know, who will never know, hear that I am getting divorced and optimistically say “Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that it didn’t work out.”

Didn’t work out?

It didn’t work out?

You must be f#%@*ing kidding me, right?

I gave everything to this man, and then some. A thankless, unselfish kind of love he will never, ever find again. And I got screwed, sideways, backwards and up the street. I was emotionally abused, abandoned, and ignored.

In return I have two, beautiful, healthy, awesome children.

I learned I have the strength of a warrior and an infinite capacity to love through hurt, betrayal, and loneliness.

But as I told him, so many times, I am not unbreakable. There is an end to my ability to bear the weight.

I am grieving the loss of what I thought my life would be. I am grieving the loss of love, a husband, and even a father to my children. I am grieving failure.

I gave it my all and I failed. I don’t fail. I don’t quit. And at this, this most important thing, I couldn’t fix it. Singular effort in a dual partnership just does not cut it.

A few months ago, he made a point of it to hurt me and tell me: “You were not good enough.”

It hurt to hear him say it, and his intent behind it. I know this is not true. But it doesn’t mean that it doesn’t sting. It doesn’t mean that it doesn’t get replayed in my head in the quiet of the night. In the quiet of folding laundry on a Tuesday afternoon.

There is still an indentation on my ring finger. I find myself reaching to spin my rings less and less. But my finger still feels naked, and so do I. My flaws feel exposed, my emotions feel heightened, my hurt feels raw and misunderstood. My trust and my belief in people…broken. I am sorry in advance that I will not believe you will follow through. I will always wait for you to be the one to break my heart.

I feel like I will never be as important to someone again, as he was to me. I grieve the idea that there is a possibility that I will never be loved that way that I love. That is real, that is honest, and that is heartbreaking. It may not be true, but right now, it is the truest statement I can make about what it feels like inside.

Everything hurts. And no one, not anything but time, will make it better. Please hide all the clocks and wake me when it’s over.

-Jessica: Awesome Single Mama

Depression…The High, The Hurt, The Shine, The Sting

Depression is like the ocean.  A riptide.  Dangerous currents that want to drag you under even when you can still see the shore.  That shore may be within swimming distance but it might as well be in another world.  That’s what depression is.

A couple weeks ago, we saw suicide hit the news again and I thought about blogging then.  It’s a subject that’s always close to me.  It’s my lifelong companion.  My truest friend.  I used to blog about funny things, though.  I used to be funny.  I didn’t want to blog sadness anymore.  I wanted to make you laugh.  So I didn’t blog.

I guess one thing that my children may never know is the hardest thing I have ever done is stay alive for them.  They have seen me work, sometimes more than one job at a time.  They have seen me prepare meals, wash their clothes, run around trying to find what they’ve lost.  They’ve seen me mourn, they’ve seen me struggle, they’ve seen me tired.

They’ve never seen me stare at a bottle of pills.  They’ve never seen me daydream about turning the wheel when I’m driving alone and the perfect drop off appears.  They don’t know that in my mind there is such a thing as the perfect drop off.

I don’t want to be this person.

I want to be happy.

I want to be carefree.

My happiest moments are with my babies.   But they are growing up.

My mom can no longer carry on a conversation with me.  My dad is dying.

I’m just so tired.

My ex and I briefly tried to get back together.  See, things were confusing.  It’s hard when that person is still your best friend, or supposed to be.  He was telling someone else everything he was telling me.  He was scheduling vacations and applying for jobs 1,000 miles away.  He was promising to move if only she would stay.  He was making plans that would effect our children and I was sitting here blindly letting our child think we were becoming a family again.

I don’t think that I can forgive myself for that.  I should have known better.

He will be so mad at me for saying that.  He never wanted me to air the dirty laundry.  I didn’t want to either but our reasons were different.  I wanted to be mature and also, I was embarrassed.  He didn’t want dark actions brought to light.

Depression is a black cloud.  It’s a swarm of bees.  It’s loud.  It gets in your ear and it just. won’t. stop.  It tells you that this is it.  This is all it will ever be.  You, always chasing things that fly away.  You, getting the courage to leave and those little mosquitos coming back for another round of blood.  You being everything.  The ripest peach that they can’t stop taking bites of and the bruised one that is no longer appealing.

Depression tells you that it’s okay if you finally just go to sleep.

What I really wanted to blog when suicide hit the news was different then.  I kept reading comments about how suicide is selfish.  I kept thinking that survivors were reading that and they were reading painful lies.

I’ll say again what I said before.  My children will never know that the hardest thing I have ever done for them is stay alive.

If someone you love lost their battle, that decision was gut wrenching and agonizing and not fully thought out.  That decision was coated in a dust of grief and pain and disillusion.  That decision would not have stood up in a court of law.  That decision was breathless.  That decision might have been a weakness but I can promise you that it was one out of a million moments of inhuman strength.

I added a new medication to my regimen in hopes of getting my fibromyalgia under control.  In doing so, I have noticed the suicidal thoughts creeping back in after months of sitting in the light.  I will be diligent in having my meds adjusted again until I’m back in my sweet spot.  I will do it for my kids.  I only wish that I was doing it for me.

“Depression is living in a body that fights to survive with a mind that tries to die.”  — unknown

Depression is your friendly, funny, 40 something soccer mom who loves Pinterest and Krogering.

Depression is someone just like me.

<3 LA

You can read more from LA at https://sweeterinthesouth.blog/

Respond…Instead of Feeding Into A Reaction…

Respond, don’t react.  This is something that I have talked to you guys about more than once and in fact I believe it is even a chapter in the new book that came out last November.  When we are in the middle of an argument or faced with a stressful situation or in the midst of an emotionally charged situation we are “in a reaction” meaning that we are upset, without our equilibrium, feeling unsettled, have temporarily lost our bearings etc, etc—just sort of in the center of a shit storm.

This is NOT the time to make decisions!  Any decision made in the middle of a reaction will not be a fortuitous one. In fact it will likely be a regrettable one.  This I know from experience:)

Reacting is automatic, it is never measured or thought out…reacting is yelling, slamming doors, walking out, speaking before you think it through…you guys know what I am talking about, we have all been there, done that.  Nothing good ever comes from allowing yourself to get lost in a reaction.

When you find yourself in this state the biggest favor you can do yourself is to STOP talking, take a breath, leave the room, walk away for a moment…whatever it takes to give yourself a chance to hit the ‘reset’ button.  Once you have composed yourself and calmed down, you can think about how you want to RESPOND.

Responding takes a conscious effort, it allows for an action appropriate to the situation at hand.  There is an immense amount of power by responding in lieu of reacting.

Reactions bring drama and nobody needs more drama…

Responding means that you have to know when to walk away and take a moment, meaning that you may not get the last word or you may not get to hammer your point home…and you may not get to be ‘right’—responding means acting like a grownup which is always a good thing:)

 

 

Is Being Strong Really A Strength?

Being strong…

Two weeks after I graduated from high school, my dad had a heart attack. I remember the day vividly – I remember my mom waking me up and asking me to sit with my dad while she got ready, I remember going to the hospital and sitting in the waiting room, I remember leaving to go home to get a few things and going in to see my dad, I remember that being one of the only times I can recall that he said “I love you” to me, I remember sitting in a room after his surgery with all of our friends and feeling like I was having an out of body experience, I remember the doctor telling us that he had passed away and I remember sitting outside the hospital with a couple of my friends talking about how my dad would never see me graduate from college, get married or meet my kids.

My dad was a pretty healthy guy – he had just played in a tennis tournament the weekend before, so as you can imagine, we were shocked and devastated. My mom was completely torn up and I remember as family friends would come to visit, they would tell me that I needed to be strong for my mom. Over and over at the funeral, friends gave hugs and condolences and again, told me to be strong for my mom. Didn’t they know I was only 17? I wasn’t even an adult yet. Who was going to be strong for me?

Maybe that’s where it all started…

Lately, I have been thinking about what it means to be strong. Growing up and even as an adult, I felt like it meant not showing your emotions, that even when things are really hard, you stuff your feelings down and just keeping going on like it’s a normal day. I’ve done that for years. I may get upset and cry, but most likely it’s at home by myself or alone while I’m driving in the car, but when you see me at work or at the grocery store or at my kids’ school, you see what you would expect to see – a seemingly happy, friendly person.

When problems were happening in my marriage, most people had no idea. I was strong on the outside, even if I was falling apart on the inside. There were a couple times where I slipped up and started crying at work, but I quickly pulled myself together and kept moving ahead the best that I could. Even now, three years later, I still have my days. Days when I would like to just curl into a ball and stay under the covers for a day or two and cry the tears that I’ve been holding in for months. But, I don’t have the luxury of doing that; I have two girls who need me – they need me to drive them places and make them food and help with homework and comfort them when they have a problem. Sometimes, all I want is to be the one with the problem and have someone comfort me and tell me that everything is going to be ok.

My friend and I talk about this topic a lot. We are both similar – we don’t wear our emotions on our sleeves, we listen to other people’s issues and we find ways to fix them, we don’t like to dwell in negativity. We are considered strong by others, but that also means that people don’t think we ever have a problem or have a bad day and that’s just not true. The truth is, we are both sensitive and take things to heart; we may just not talk about it openly. Thank goodness we have each other; she’s the one I call when I need to talk about a bad day and she’s the one that I can cry to when I’m frustrated or down.

The more that I think about it …. I don’t know that being strong is a strength, it’s more like a mask of your true feelings. Over the last few years, I’ve learned that it’s ok to be vulnerable with the right people and that being vulnerable is more courageous than being strong and holding your feelings in.

That’s part of the reason I started this blog; much of it is for me and to get my feelings out, but it’s also to hopefully help someone else who might be feeling the same way. I hope they can understand that their feelings are valid and it’s ok to talk about them instead of stuffing them deep down inside and that they’re being extremely brave and courageous by doing so.

~Laxmi~

You can follow Laxmi at her blog, https://onedesigirlsjourney.wordpress.com/.