Wildflower Writes

Finished with my business at the hospital, I pushed open the massive door with the pretty green EXIT sign above it. I started heading down the three floors I had until I reached ground level. On the third step or so, my heel wobbled and I had to grab the handrail to steady myself. My imagination ran away with me. What if I had fallen? What if I had tumbled head over heels until I landed against the door of the third floor? How long would it take until someone came down that particular staircase? How long would I lay in a pool of my own blood, slowly dying? Or if I were able to make it out into the hallway, crawling on my hands and knees, dizzy from the concussion and dragging my broken leg behind me, would someone help me? With all the nurses and other hospital staff roaming the halls, would anyone stop? Or would they be too busy? Would they think I was being strange and call security? Would they stuff me in an elevator and send me to the ER? Or maybe just kick me down the...

I picked up an oldie but a goodie this week: “Boundaries” by Henry Cloud and John Townsend. I like to be inside people’s heads anyway, but to see how so many conflicts and emotional trauma could be avoided by the simple concept of boundaries is astounding. I am what the good authors would call “compliant.” I have trouble saying the word “no.” It’s a perfectly good word, useful in many situations, but for some reason it’s hard for me. I don’t want to make waves; I don’t want to let anyone down. I want to do the right thing; I want to help people. Did you know that it’s okay to say “no” if you don’t want to do something? I didn’t. I thought feeling guilty was an acceptable reason to say yes, even if I didn’t have the desire or the time to do it. For some strange reason, living by everyone else’s agenda leaves me a little hollow, and a little resentful. Yet bad feelings is what I’ve tried to avoid. I don’t want other people to think I’m selfish. I want to avoid the potential c...

Continued from 5/15 post… Just as Wendy was trying to figure out how she was going to open the door when she reached the third floor, the door swung open.  A tall young man with curly brown hair, dressed in scrubs, jumped a little when he realized his path was blocked.  He held the door open while Wendy wheeled her bike through.  He cocked his head for a moment, a touch of amusement playing on his lips.  She gave a half smile and shrugged her shoulders.  She knew she must look ridiculous.  She found a family lounge area and wheeled her bike into a corner.  Surely no one else would be dumb enough to take a bike down stairs.  It was probably safe.  Wendy took a deep breath, and wiped her hands on her shorts.  She counted the room numbers, and finally ended up in front of 406.  She walked slowly into the room.  She looked for her mom, but no one was in the room except someone’s feet covered in white sheets to her left. ...

What makes you happy? Since I have a Bachelor’s in psychology, I could tell you that nothing can make you feel a certain way.  You choose to perceive the circumstances around you and interpret those thoughts into feelings.  What fun is that? Julie Andrews sang about “My Favorite Things” in the movie, “Sound of Music”: Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens Bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens Brown paper packages tied up with strings… Cream colored ponies and crisp apple strudels Doorbells and sleigh bells and schnitzel with noodles Wild geese that fly with the moon on their wings… Girls in white dresses with blue satin sashes Snowflakes that stay on my nose and eyelashes Silver white winters that melt into springs These are a few of my favorite things I’m not quite as poetic, but here a few of my favorite things: May sunshine, warming my face and arms Rich dark c...

Andrea Tannouri of http://www.twittertango.com/ says, "Take the word victim off of your person—out of your vocabulary. It reeks with the old energy and does not suit your magnificence.” Now, I’m not sure about old energy or how magnificent I am, but I do agree with trashing the victim mentality. Victimhood results from someone with an overdeveloped sense of rights, and an underdeveloped sense of responsibility. If I believe I have the right to health, prosperity, and the pursuit of happiness, yet don’t take responsibility for making it a reality, I will feel victimized. After all, it’s somebody’s responsibility. Who is letting me down? Who is keeping me from being healthy? Who is mis-managing my money? Who is determining my feelings and not giving me what I want? The “rights” we receive are privileges granted by God and our country. We don’t automatically have a right to anything, except what is dictated by laws and social rules. We don’t have a right to housing, or employment, o...

As a child, I remember fighting with my siblings to get my fair share. In those times, one of my father’s favorite sayings was “It’s not all about you.” While often said with force and intended to end the argument, the underlying message remains. Life is not about self or what you want or what makes you happy. Life is infinitely richer than the narrow framework of self. It involves interacting with and caring for other people. At the early stages of a child’s life, the parents make a choice to pander to every felt need of that child, or at some point communicate to him that parents are people too. When a toddler is told “no” he begins to realize he is not the center of the universe and is not entitled to have all his desires met. He learns some actions are unsafe and others are not kind. Compassion is also taught in parental response to their children in times of pain, sadness, or fear. An attentive parent learns to distinguish the types of cries. A child needs to know that her parent...