Journey of a Thousand Miles...

PTSD is a bitch! This is one of the few things I can say with complete certainty. I was diagnosed with PTSD when I was 19 years old. It has waxed and waned over the years, but in dealing with the rape, the loss of my dad and my miscarriage it has roared back into the forefront.  As anyone who has PTSD can attest, it is a very real and often a daily fight.  It is a fight that is seldom spoken about.  At least for me, that stops now. We who have PTSD need to start talking about it so those around us can understand that while we may look perfectly fine on the outside, we are wounded inside.  Those wounds need time and help to heal.  We need help and time to heal.  We need the understanding, patience and love of those around us and those who care about us to not only continue to fight this battle, but to win it. To explain a PTSD to someone who has never experienced it before is akin to trying to explain why there is a different sunset each eveni...

Butterflies are a symbol of rebirth and renewal.  A caterpillar, this weird looking bug, goes through a magnificent transformation, shedding everything that happened in its previous life, to become this delicate, graceful and truly stunning creature we call butterflies.   I love butterflies and all that they symbolize.  I have a few butterfly tattoos on my back, with each representing something or someone important in my life. My fourth one is in the works as a tribute to my dad.  I love butterfly art too. Before we had a house fire, I had paper mache butterflies hanging from the ceiling in my bedroom.   When I was in my sophomore year of college I hit the roommate lottery!  I lived in a suite with two of the greatest suite mates imaginable, Melissa and Carolyn.  We had were nothing alike at first.  I was the girl who was more comfortable in pajamas than anything else.  I liked WWE Wrestling, loud music and cursed like a sailor.  My ...