For the past year, I have been listening to music with no lyrics because I couldn’t take the unintended triggers music I like was causing me. I made a new playlist today. If it doesn’t work, I will go back to the nice playlist a pirate friend of mine made.
Author: Irene Page 30 of 48
Here is the top of my desk, nice and neat. Maybe I can get some work done now.
Over the past year, Paul and I have made many changes, which we put off for far too long. We have begun purging our home of stuff that we no longer need or never needed in the first place. We’ve eliminated clutter – physical and mental – that have bogged us down for so long.
Every 40 seconds, someone dies by suicide. That’s a staggering number. I’m not writing today to fill up space with facts and figures. We all know about suicide and its devastating effects. We know we need to be kinder to one another. I’m not writing today to the people who already do this and who raise awareness to try to reduce the numbers of suicides. I’m writing to the person reading this that has felt low enough to consider completing suicide. I know how it feels.
Two hours after starting our hike, the fog has mostly cleared and Chimney Rock can now be seen.
I have written about how the day after Labor Day is the worst day of the year for me, so my friend, Sandra, offered to take me on a hike the day before to try to create some happy memories around this time of year.
When you hear the name Crazy Horse, many people conjure up images of the Oglala Lakota war leader fighting at such places as the Battle of the Rosebud, Battle of the Hundred-in-the-Hands (Fetterman Fight), and the Battle of the Greasy Grass (Battle of the Little Bighorn) to retain the Lakota way of life.
I’m sitting at work watching a marathon of Star Wars movies. It’s quiet at the youth shelter on the overnight shift and I can get a lot of things done. My only real distraction is the ticking clock on the living room wall. Clocks should be made to be silent, but it’s not my home and it’s not my clock, so I try to shut the noise out as best I can as I continue to think about the direction my life is now headed toward and how I’d like to get there.
Photo by Sandra Reddish
The first visitors to the area called the sandstone slabs resting upon their clay pillars, toadstools. The name stuck. Each year, thousands of people are drawn to western Nebraska to see the unique landscape known as Toadstool Geologic Park.