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Thank You For Leaving Me For Her

Dear A,

Thank you for leaving me for her. Thank you for setting me free from your abuse and constant mindfuckery. Thank you for making me a stronger woman than I ever dreamed of being. Because of you, I am the warrior queen that I am. Strong, beautiful, sensitive, passionate, and full of love.

Thank you for giving me the gift of motherhood. Because of you, I have the three most incredible sons and granddaughter that a woman could ask for.

Thank you for teaching me. Because of your hatred of me, I have learned how to love deeper than I ever dreamed possible. Because of your constant mindfuckery and coldness, I have learned how to be strong and independent. Because of the way you treated me and our children, you have shown me the kind of person that I NEVER want to be; bitter, hateful, cold, distant, unloving, and cruel.

Because of you constantly telling me that I’m disgusting I have learned that I can lose weight, workout, and have a better body. But external beauty rarely lasts. Because of your constant cruelty, I have a soft heart. A heart that loves and forgives.

Because you left me for her, I have learned just how committed I am to my marriage and family. I would have held on until the pain of holding onto you killed me. Thank you for leaving me for her and setting me free.

Because you literally replaced your wife and children with a new woman and children, I have learned the truth about just how sick and fucked up you really are. It’s only a matter of time that you will do the same to them as you did to me and the boys. If only they knew the kind of monster you really are.

Middle School Was Hell

My mother never cared about what I wore to school. If I liked the clothes I saw when shopping, she bought it. Even if it was too provocative for a teenage girl to wear.

I remember that in middle school I had a reputation as a slut. Even though I was a virgin. I was sexually harassed by the boys and body shamed by the girls. I had a very mature body for my age and I dressed quite provocatively. The boys were paying attention to me and not them. So naturally, they hated me.

I remember being spit on, having my hair pulled, being tripped, and pushed into the lockers just about every day.

Seventh grade. In comes Starr, the nightmare from hell. I remember in choir class Starr’s step-sister gave me a dirty look. So I returned the favor and shot her one right back. After class, just as I walked out the door, Starr shoved me into the brick wall and began punching me over and over in the face and chest. The principal came and broke up the fight. Starr was suspended and was supposed to leave. She didn’t. After school, my friend Kara was walking with me to the bus stop, Behind us was a mob of hundreds of students. And Starr was their leader.

When Kara saw them, she ran for help. Starr threw me into a telephone pole and began punching me repeatedly in the face and chest. Luckily my mother made me carry military tear gas, so I reached into my pocket, grabbed the can and sprayed Starr in the face, and ran. I ran to the only open door which happened to be my sixth-grade homeroom teacher.

However, I didn’t make it without being sprayed in the face with mace. Byt the time I got to Mrs. Cooney’s classroom, the principal was there waiting for me. I was taken to the office and my mother was called. She didn’t want to come to pick me up from school, so she sent the next-door neighbor. As I waited for her to come and get me I could hear dozens of students in the hall shouting, “Kill her! Kill that bitch! I’m gonna kill that fucking bitch! I’m gonna’ kill that fucking slut!”

After that day, the bullying only got worse and worse with each day. The death threats continued. I was constantly being hit, spit on, tripped and shoved into the lockers. It went on for months. I was becoming depressed and afraid to go to school. I was afraid to go to the bus stop alone. So I began cutting class and walking home. I can’t remember how far it was, but it was about a three hour walk.

One day, my mother was supposed to come to the school with me to talk with the principal about the bullying. We got on the bus and sat down. Then Starr and some of the other bullies got on the bus. My mother got off the bus and left me to the den of rabid wolves.

Eventually, Star was expelled. But the bullying never stopped. By the time I reached the eighth grade, I had stopped eating except for maybe a few bites of food each day. I was depressed and cutting daily. Each day I felt so sick and weak, I just couldn’t get up to go to school. Life was unbearable. My mother was becoming increasingly abusive, girls at school wanted me dead and the boys wanted nothing more than to torment me and beg for me to fuck them. I was hopeless that life would get any better. Everyone hated me and I wanted to die. Thoughts of suicide began to flood my mind.

That was when I met A. When I found out that I was pregnant, I was terrified to go to school. I was terrified that if I continued to go to school I would lose my baby. My baby was my only reason to live. I begged my mother to let me homeschool and she agreed. Finishing the eighth grade at home was the best decision we could have made.

Starting Over for the 100th Time

My weight and relationship with food has been a problem for as long as I can remember. As a child, I can remember being normal-sized until around the third grade. That’s when I started gaining weight. By the time I reached the fifth grade, I was wearing a women’s size 14.

I remember the summer before entering the sixth grade. I was so preoccupied with my weight. I told my mother that I wanted to go on a diet. I remember telling her that I was afraid that the boys wouldn’t like me or think I was pretty because I was fat.

My mother didn’t know the first thing about dieting. She never cared for her body, and she never taught me to care for my own. But she did her best to help me in my dilemma. She bought some SlimFast, and that is when I started dieting for the first time. I stuck to the habit of replacing meals or just not eating throughout my middle school years. I remember my mother being concerned about anorexia and took me to the doctor. Standing at five feet, eight inches tall, and weighing only 115 pounds, I was diagnosed as anorexic.

Becoming a teenage mom may have saved my life, but it was also the beginning of a cycle that would remain with me for the rest of my life. During my pregnancy with my first son at the age of 14, I gained 90 pounds. After my baby was born, it took me nine months to lose the weight. Then I got pregnant with my second son and gained another 90 pounds. This time it took me two years to lose the weight. I was eating pretty healthy and working out every day. I was fit and strong. Then at 18, I became pregnant with my third son. This pregnancy was difficult. I stopped working out and eating healthy. We ate at Burger King nearly every day. This caused me to gain a massive 120 pounds during my pregnancy.

This time, losing the weight wasn’t so easy. And my relationship with A was becoming even more toxic and abusive. He was constantly making hurtful comments about my body. I became depressed and started turning to food and candy for comfort. But the more A body shamed me, the more desperate I became to lose weight. So I began dieting with pills and meal replacements again. I would do well for a short time, but when I could no longer afford to pay the outrages prices for the products, all of the weight came piling back, plus some more.

I was doing pretty good for a short while, a couple years ago. But then my life really started to crumble and fall apart. My mother was diagnosed with lung cancer and A wanted a divorce. After my mother died and A left me for another woman, I went numb. I completely gave up on myself. This caused me to gain a ton of weight.

Let me tell you something. I am absolutely fucking DONE living like this! I’m sick and tired of feeling so ashamed and disgusted with myself. It’s time for me to take back my life and my health. I need to be held accountable this time. That is why I have decided to document my body transformation journey. And hopefully, my journey will inspire someone else on theirs.

I have been blessed to meet a lovely woman through Facebook. She is taking me under her wing and coaching me. She’s creating a program for me to follow, and keeping me accountable. She’s pushing me and motivating me to change my relationship with food and my body. From working on my mindset to working on building and awesome ass, she’s become my coach, my friend and my guardian angel.

Sleeping with the enemy


Absolutely NOTHING about the relationship with my ex was normal. It was toxic and abusive from the very beginning.

I was just fourteen-years-old when I fell in love with the boy next door. Looking back, I believe the reason I fell into this relationship is that I was desperately searching for a hero to save me from my miserable, fucked-up life. All of the abuse I had already endured. More abuse at home. And I was being bullied constantly at school. I was depressed and suicidal. I was desperate to be loved. I was desperate to be saved.

If only I had known the hell that awaited me.

In the beginning, all of the signs were there. Red flag after red flag. Yet, somehow I just didn’t see them. In a previous post, I explained how A would compare me to his ex-girlfriend while having sex. I explained a toxic pattern of him breaking up with me, and coming home drunk or high on cocaine begging me to take him back. I always did. I took him back EVERY time.

A had a problem with pornography. He also had a fetish for using toys, banana’s, and cucumbers on me during sex. I hated it, but he just didn’t care. If I didn’t comply, he would get angry and ignore me for days.

The first time A used a toy on me, I had no idea what it was. All I knew is that it wasn’t him. A had gone to the adult store without even bothering to consult me and bought a dildo. In his sick, twisted and demented mind, he reasoned within himself that I wanted it and I would like it. He became angry with me when I got upset.

For years, A would force me to watch porn with him during sex. A would demand that I look at porn, (often lesbians or threesomes) while he was at work. When he came home, he expected me to have something for him to watch just so he could be turned on enough to fuck me. He would constantly compare me to the women in the videos, making me feel ugly, disgusting, and completely worthless. This pattern of porn, toys, and items from the produce aisle continued throughout our entire relationship. A would often beg me for threesomes, but I refused. I just couldn’t bring myself to do such a thing. Of course, A became angry and threw a tantrum whenever I refused. He would always act as if was my duty and obligation to give him whatever he wanted sexually. He never once cared about how I felt. I was just an object to him.

It often seemed that the only time’s A ever wanted to have sex with me, was while I was either asleep, sick, or recovering from surgery. He would often rape me as I slept, or force me to have sex with him when I was sick or in pain. I was never allowed to refuse him. If I did, he would punish me with the silent treatment and withholding affection for days and sometimes even weeks on end. I asked him once why he did this. He answered, “I like to feel in control.”

He liked to feel in control. My feelings didn’t matter. I was just an object to be used. Not a human. Not even a woman. Just a rag doll used over and over and tossed aside.

I Fell in love with the boy next door

It was a crisp fall day. My best friend and I were sitting out on the basketball court watching my new next-door neighbors play a little one-on-one. That is when I noticed him. I mean REALLY noticed him. I turned to my friend and declared, “I’m going to marry that guy someday.” She looked and me and retorted, “What if he wants me instead?” I fired back, “What would he want a flat-chested little bitch like you for when he can have me?”

To this day, I still have no idea what it was about him that I was so drawn to. But somehow I just knew I was going to marry that guy.

When I was thirteen, my mom and I would babysit my younger cousins. Our new next-door neighbors would bring over clothes that their kids had outgrown for my cousins.

One day when I was sitting at the bus stop on my way to school when A approached me and introduced himself. Then he left for his English class. It was a game of cat and mouse over the next few months until my fourteenth birthday. I was standing outside in the freezing cold with my new pet iguana perched on my chest. I was waiting for my mother to come home. Just then, A was coming home. He stopped to talk to me for a minute before going inside. He was interested in my new pet, and a little shocked to see that green lizard perched so contently on my chest.

It was Christmas day when I decided I wanted to be nice and thank A and his cousins for the clothes they gave my little cousins. So I bought a card in Spanish and a single yellow rose. I tucked it carefully into A’s newspaper box, knocked on the door, and ran inside.

Later that night A came and knocked on my door. I stepped out into the cold December night, and he handed me a letter along with an amethyst necklace with a little man hugging the stone. Then he left and went to a party.

I went inside and read the letter. It read:

“Dearest Clara, I think this could be the beginning of a beautiful relationship.”

On that letter, A had drawn a picture of God’s hands putting a broken heart back together. On the bottom of the page was a rose with a scroll. Inside the scroll, it read, “I love you.”

Enamored by A’s declaration of love for me, I waited up for him to come home. When he did, I could hardly speak. So I handed him a little pink teddy bear holding a heart that said, “I love you.” He kissed me, then went inside.

The next day we were outside talking. A kept asking me to come to his room. When I told him “no”, he got angry and told me he was going to Lollipops, which was an under-age strip club. That was the first red-flag that I didn’t see.

Over the next several months, A would repeatedly break up with me, just to come back drunk or high on cocaine and beg me to take him back. Like a naïve and foolish little girl, I did. That was the second red-flag that I just didn’t see.

Over the next couple of weeks, A continued pressuring me for sex until I broke and gave in.

One time while having sex, A had the audacity to tell me that he was imagining me as his ex. The one who gave him blow jobs. The one he wanted to marry. I was crushed. Yet, I did nothing. I stuffed the hurt deep down inside and ignored yet another burning red flag.

Fast forward to our first Valentine’s day together. A wanted to spend the night with me. ALONE. He and my mother agreed that he would pay her $100 to let him spend the night with me, ALONE. One more flaming red flag that I stuffed down and ignored.

The pattern of break-up-and-make-up continued throughout our entire twisted relationship.

Born to Be Used and Abused

Is it fair that at fourty years old, all I can really tell you about my life is that my earliest memories are of being sexually and physically abused? Pretty fucked-up, don’t ya’ think? My entire life has been plagued by the memories of heinous and insidious acts of sexual abuse, as well as physical and emotional abuse and neglect. (CPTSD really fucking sucks!)

I was just two-years-old the first time it happened. I was an innocent and helpless baby girl, still in diapers. His name was Daniel. And he was a monster. I think he was my mother’s boyfriend at the time. I remember sitting naked in the bathtub with him. He was naked, too. I remember he was masturbating. He ejaculated into his hand. He told me it was candy and he forced me to drink the hot semen from his filthy hand. Then he proceeded to sodomize me. He told me that he would kill me and my mother if I ever told anyone what he did.

At just five years old, I was sexually abused multiple times, by multiple people.
There was Steven, my mother’s boyfriend. I have vague memories of being in bed with him and my mother one night. I remember him rubbing his penis all over me. That’s all I really remember about that incident.

There was Tammy. She was the daughter of a family friend. She was just a teenager. But she was sick, twisted and certainly not a normal teenage girl. I remember she was babysitting me one night. She wanted to “play doctor”. Her demented idea of “playing doctor” with a five-year-old little girl was laying me naked on a table. I remember her spanking my vagina with a tennis-racket-shaped coffee coaster and inserting a bulb syringe into my vagina and rectum. That’s all remember.

Then there was Samuel. He was about five or six years older than me. He was the son of mom’s drinking buddy and lover, Rosalie. Sam abused me several times. I remember one time I was staying with Sam and Rosalie. Sam and I were in his room. We were both naked. He kept running into me ramming his penis into my vagina. Another time, I remember mom and I were staying on the ranch with Sam and Rosalie. Mom and Rosalie were drinking in the trailer. I remember them giving me whisky mixed with eggnog so I would pass out. They made me sleep in the back of the truck with Sam that night. Everything went black after that. I don’t remember what he did to me. But I know he abused me that night.

Then there was Norman. Satan in the flesh. Norman was evil to the core. He was a convicted child molester and a drug addict. Mom knew that, but she let him move in with us anyway. I remember the night he raped me like it was yesterday. I was only eight. Mom was passed out drunk in the bedroom. I remember waking up in the middle of the night to the sound of the T.V. I went out to the living room and saw Norman on the couch naked and pretending to be asleep. I turned off the T.V. and went back to bed. A few minutes later, Norman started calling to me, “I want a hug, Clara, I want a hug.” So back to the living room I went. This time, Norman was masturbating. I did everything an eight-year-old girl could do to try to avoid what this demon wanted to do to me. I told him, “NO”, he retorted with, “Aren’t you going to do what your “daddy” says?” “I’ll tell your mom and she’ll be mad.” I tried bringing out every single one of my stuffed animals to introduce to him, to no avail. I told him that my legs and stomach hurt. He told me my panties were too tight and demanded that I take them off. He was getting angry and I was scared. I had no choice but to obey. I took off my panties. But that wasn’t enough. He wanted my nightgown off too. Then he started demanding that I sit on his lap. I didn’t want to. I tried so hard to stop him. Just as he was lowering me onto himself and starting to penetrate me, my mother woke up and came out to the living room. She yelled at me, “What the hell are you doing out here? Get your ass back to bed!” Then she took Norman to her bedroom and they had sex. Yes, you read that right. My mother fucked the monster who had just raped her little girl.

Ahhhh… my mother. She had an issue with pornography. I remember her watching R-rated movies with nudity and sex scenes that she would pause and rewind over and over, right there with me in the room all the time. I remember a few occasions where she sat me on her lap and showed me her Playgirl magazines and tried kissing me on the lips. It’s a far cry from normal for a mother to do that to her little girl!

This is what I remember from my childhood. My innocence was stolen right along side my entire childhood because my selfish mother chose to exploit me. I have no doubts that my mother knew what was going on long before I ever told her. But she chose to do nothing. Absolutely fucking nothing.

Despite my mother doing absolutely nothing about what these monsters did to me, I know that one-day justice will be served. Every one of these monsters will have to stand before God and face judgment for their sins. And because of that, I can have peace of heart and mind about what was done to me.

Can I Survive the Holidays SOBER?

I’m not okay. I’m drowning in my addiction to alcohol. And I’m hurting my family.

God, help me please! I feel so alone in this battle. I know this shell of a woman, is not who You created me to be.

I’ve been in survival mode for so long, unable to heal. Terrified of feeling my unbearably intense emotions, so I drink and smoke weed until I black out.

I desperately need to heal. I do not want to live like this any more. I know that I am not glorifying You when I am drunk.

I don’t want the disease of addiction to ruin my relationship with my kids and grandkids.

I need help. I cannot fight this war on my own.

Please dear God, help me to be the mother and grandmother my kids and grandkids need me to be. Help me to be a better example for them.

Help me God to give my son’s and grandkids the gift of a sober mom and grandma this Holiday season.

Help me to not only do this for my family, but for myself. Because I deserve to live a sober life just as much as my precious son’s and grandbabies deserve a sober momma and grandma.

In Jesus mighty name I beg of Thee,

Help me oh God,


Could This Be Love

It’s in the way he looks at me and smiles as he gazes deep into my eyes.

It’s in the way he holds me close and makes me feel safe and secure as I fall asleep listening to the sound of his heartbeat.

How could I be so crazy-lucky-blessed that God would give me another chance with this man?

We cared for each other then just as we care for each other now. But I was in such a deep dark place after losing my mother to cancer and watching my ex openly cheat on me, ultimately leaving me for the other woman.

I wasn’t myself, and I wasn’t ready for a new relationship. So I did the only thing that made any sense. I ghosted him!

Fast forward two years he shows up in my DM’s on the Tagged app.

It’s only been a few weeks. But with him, everything feels so different. So right. So good.

I definitely want more of this. I’m excited and open to seeing what the future holds for us. I’m so ready for love!

Baa Baa Black Sheep

All my life I have felt that I never really fit in anywhere. Not with family, not at school, not even at work.

For many years I have felt that the reason I have been shunned by family is for one, I have no biological relation to them. My mother was adopted by her stepdad and when he remarried, mother went with him, and his wife and family.

Two: I do not share the same religious beliefs. They are Mormon. I am a Bible-based Christian. They follow the book of Mormon. I follow the Holy Bible. My entire life they have tried to indoctrinate me and force me to convert. Clearly my refusal has them butthurt.

After my mother died and my nightmare marriage came to it’s end, I and my youngest son stayed with grandparents in Idaho. Family I hadn’t seen since I was a child came for mother’s memorial. They rallied around us and acted as if they actually cared.

But when we left Idaho to go back to Mexico, they were angry. I haven’t heard from anyone since

Last week my son nearly severed his finger chopping wood at work. We set up a GoFundMe for him. I reached out to my so-called aunt’s, uncle’s and cousins. No one responded except for one of my aunt’s whom I rarely ever hear from.

I’m not upset that no one donated to my son’s cause. I’m upset that no one cared enough to even inquire about the well-being of my son.

So after thinking on it for a few days, I decided that for my mental well-being, it was time to step out of the shadows of my so called family, stop waiting around for their genuine approval and cut them off for good.

Should I feel guilty for blocking them? Absolutely not! They are the one’s who have shunned me and my kids for years. They have shown us that we mean nothing to them and they don’t care about us.

So this is good riddance. I’m done begging for acceptance. I am done apologizing for being me. I am who I am and not who you want me to be. And for once in my life, I am NOT sorry!

The Battle with the Bottle

Never in my life would I have imagined writing a post like this.

My mother was an alcoholic. And every man and woman she brought into our lives and home were alcoholics too.

Growing up I witnessed the devestating effects of alcoholism.

The abuse I endured at the hands of these sick people still affects me today. I’m constantly tormented by flashbacks, and nightmares rob me of my sleep.

My mother put alcohol in my bottles when I was a baby so I would sleep and she wouldn’t have to deal with me.

She allowed me to fall off the top of a car when I was just eight months old because she was too drunk to remember I was there.

My mother allowed both men and women to sexually abuse me throughout my entire childhood.

She forced me to drink whiskey mixed with eggnog and made me sleep in the back of a pickup truck with a teenage boy who was raping me when I was just five years old while she and her lover were in the trailer drinking.

I witnessed my mother get beaten nearly to death twice by alcohol and drug addicted men.

These things will forever haunt me and torment my mind.

A was also an alcoholic. He would often discard me to go to bars and strip clubs. He would come home drunk begging me to take him back. This pattern continued throughout our marriage and damaged me and our son’s in inexplicable ways.

Controlled by fear and shame I did everything I could to keep alcohol out of our home. Yet my efforts were futile. As life at home continued to spiral out of control, I would often find alcohol hidden in the boy’s rooms. I often felt like a complete failure as a mother.

Now, I find myself facing my own struggle with alcohol dependence. A problem I once believed I would never face.

Over the last eight years I have been drinking rather heavily. Often to the point of blacking out and doing stupid and shameful things that I don’t remember.

So much has happened over these last several years and I just can’t seem to cope. I feel as if I’ve crawled into a bottle and now I’m drowning.

Never did I imagine myself admitting that I have a problem with the bottle. But I do. I’ve been turning to the bottle more and more hoping to numb myself when the pain of this life becomes too much to bear.

I know that this is not a healthy coping mechanism. And I know that this is not God’s plan for me. I know that my alcohol dependence doesn’t affect only me. It affects those around me; mainly my youngest son. And it eats me alive knowing how much my addiction to alcohol has hurt him.

Admitting that I have an alcohol addiction is the first step to healing. Finding support during my recovery is next. I figure I can join an online support group and AA, and once I get a car, I can find in person meetings.

To my children, I am so sorry for the pain I have caused you. You have seen me at my worst, yet you still have my back. I promise you, my best is yet to come!

How Owning a Pet Can Improve Your Mental Health and Wellbeing

Studies have also shown that owning a pet can increase lifespan and reduce the risk of heart disease. There is a large body of scientific evidence that shows owning a pet has health benefits. Studies have shown that owning a pet can improve mental health, increase lifespan, and reduce the risk of heart disease.

One study published in the journal PLOS One found that dog owners had a decreased risk of cardiovascular disease and early death than those who did not own dogs. The study looked at data from over 3.4 million people in Sweden and found that dog ownership was associated with a 33% decreased risk of death from any cause and a 36% decreased risk of death from cardiovascular disease.

Another study published in the journal BMC Public Health found that owning a dog could lead to a significant increase in lifespan. The study looked at data from over 3.8 million people in the United States and found that dog owners had a 23% increased risk of living longer than those who did not own dogs.

A study published in the journal Psychoneuroendocrinology found that owning a dog could lead to decreased stress levels and improved mental health. The study looked at data from 536 people and found that dog owners had lower levels of the stress hormone cortisol and reported feeling less stressed than those who did not own a dog.

A study published in the journal Scientific Reports found that owning a cat could lead to a decrease in the risk of heart disease. The study looked at data from 4,819 people and found that cat owners had a 40% decreased risk of heart disease than those who did not own cats.

There is a large body of scientific evidence that shows owning a pet has health benefits. Studies have shown that owning a pet can improve mental health, increase lifespan, and reduce the risk of heart disease. Pets provide companionship, love, and support, which can lead to improved mental and physical health in their owners.

Dogs are particularly beneficial in this regard, as they are known to increase physical activity, encourage socialization, and reduce stress levels. In fact, owning a dog has been shown to reduce the risk of cardiovascular disease and improve mental health in both young and old adults.

Additionally, research has shown that people who own pets live longer, healthier lives than those who do not. Pets offer unconditional love and support, which can be incredibly beneficial for those who may be isolated or lonely. Pets also provide a sense of purpose and can help reduce stress and anxiety.

There are a number of ways that you can benefit from owning a pet, including:

• Increased physical activity – Dogs need to be walked regularly, and cats need to be played with. This provides an opportunity for you to get some exercise, which is important for maintaining good health.

• Increased socialization – Owning a pet encourages you to get out and socialize. Dogs need to be taken to the park, groomed, and boarded, while cats need to be taken to the vet. This provides a reason for seniors to get out and meet new people.

• Reduced stress levels – Pets provide companionship and unconditional love, which can help reduce stress levels. They can also serve as a distraction from negative thoughts or problems, which can help improve mental health.

• Improved quality of life – Pets can make you feel happier and more content, which can lead to a better quality of life.

What do I need to consider before getting a pet?

There are a few things to keep in mind when considering getting a pet. First, it’s important to make sure that you are physically able to take care of a pet. Pets require regular exercise, feeding, and grooming, so you need to be able to handle those responsibilities.

Second, it’s important to find a pet that is compatible with your lifestyle and personality. Some pets, like dogs, may require a lot of attention and exercise, while others, like cats, may be more independent.

Finally, it’s important to consider the financial cost of owning a pet. Pets require regular veterinary care, food, and supplies, so you need to be able to afford these expenses.

How Petting Your Cat Reduces Stress and Lowers Blood Pressure

If you’re looking for a way to reduce stress and lower your blood pressure, consider petting your cat. A recent study found that petting a cat for just 15 minutes can reduce stress levels and lower blood pressure. In fact, the study found that petting a cat was just as effective as taking a stress-relieving yoga class.

Recent studies have shown that petting your cat can reduce stress and lower your blood pressure.

Petting your cat can help reduce stress levels, according to a new study. The research, which was conducted by the University of Minnesota, found that cat owners who pet their cats regularly experience reduced levels of the stress hormone cortisol.

According to a study by the University of Tokyo, petting your cat can help reduce stress levels. The study found that when participants petted their cats, their levels of oxytocin (a hormone associated with stress reduction) increased, as did their satisfaction with life.

Touching your cat can help to reduce stress levels, as shown by a study that measured the amount of cortisol (a stress hormone) in the saliva of 30 people before and after petting their cats.

A study from the University of Montreal has found that petting your cat can reduce stress levels by up to 33%. The study also found that men benefit more from cat petting than women do.

Petting your cat can help to reduce stress levels, according to a study by the University of Missouri. The study found that when people pet their cats, their stress levels decreased, and they also felt more relaxed and happy.

Research shows that petting your cat can help reduce stress levels. Stroking your pet can help send calming signals to the brain, which can help to reduce anxiety and promote relaxation.

A study published in the journal Scientific Reports found that owning a cat could lead to a decrease in the risk of heart disease. The study looked at data from 4,819 people and found that cat owners had a 40% decreased risk of heart disease than those who did not own cats.

So, if you’re feeling stressed out, take a break and pet your cat!

Living with Fibromyalgia and How to Cope with the Pain

If you’re living with fibromyalgia, you’re not alone. Millions of people around the world are living with this chronic condition. Fibromyalgia is a disorder that causes widespread pain and tenderness in the muscles and joints.

There is no known cure for fibromyalgia, but there are treatments that can help you manage your symptoms. There are also many ways you can adjust your lifestyle to make living with fibromyalgia easier.

If you’re just starting out on your journey with fibromyalgia, here are some tips to help you get started:

1. Learn as much as you can about fibromyalgia.

The more you know about fibromyalgia, the better equipped you’ll be to manage your condition. There are many great resources available, both online and in print. Start by reading up on the basics of fibromyalgia, and then explore the specific symptoms and treatments that affect you.

2. Find a support group.

Living with fibromyalgia can be lonely and frustrating at times. A support group can be a great way to connect with other people who understand what you’re going through. There are many online groups and forums, or you can look for a local group in your area.

3. Educate yourself about fibromyalgia.

The more you know about fibromyalgia, the better equipped you’ll be to manage your symptoms. There are many great resources available, including websites, books, and support groups.

4. Find a doctor who understands fibromyalgia.

It’s important to find a doctor who understands fibromyalgia and can help you manage your symptoms. Some doctors are better than others at treating fibromyalgia, so you may need to shop around until you find the right one.

You can ask your friends and family for recommendations, or search for doctors near you on the American Academy of Family Physicians website.

When you’re looking for a family doctor, it’s important to find one who is a good fit for you and your family. Some things you may want to consider include:

Do I feel comfortable talking to this doctor?

Do they seem to know a lot about family medicine?

Do they have experience treating the health problems I am most likely to have?

Do they have a good reputation?

Do they accept my insurance?

Do they have convenient office hours?

Do they have a location near me?

Living with fibromyalgia can be tough. The pain and fatigue can make it hard to do the things you love. But there are ways to manage the condition and live a full life.

Here are some tips for living with fibromyalgia:

1. Get enough sleep. This can be hard when you’re in pain, but it’s important to get enough rest. Consider taking a pain reliever before bed so you can get a good night’s sleep.

2. Exercise. While it may seem counterintuitive, exercise can actually help ease fibromyalgia pain. Just be sure to start slowly and build up gradually.

3. Eat a healthy diet. Eating nutritious foods can help your body feel its best. Avoid trigger foods that may make your symptoms worse.

4. Relax. Stress can make fibromyalgia symptoms worse. Try relaxation techniques such as yoga or meditation.

5. Connect with others. Join a support group or online community to connect with others who understand what you’re going through.

Living with fibromyalgia can be difficult, but there are ways to cope.

If you are living with fibromyalgia, you know that it can be a difficult condition to manage. There are ways to cope, however, and by finding the strategies that work best for you, you can manage your fibromyalgia and lead a relatively normal life.

Some ways to cope with fibromyalgia include:

1. Find a good doctor who understands fibromyalgia and can help you manage your symptoms.

2. Create a fibromyalgia treatment plan with your doctor that includes a combination of medication, exercise, and self-care.

3. Take good care of yourself by getting enough sleep, eating a healthy diet, and managing stress.

4. Exercise regularly, even if it is just a low-impact activity like walking or swimming.

5. Join a fibromyalgia support group or talk to others who are living with fibromyalgia to share tips and strategies.

By following these tips, you can live a full and satisfying life despite fibromyalgia.

Living with Hashimoto’s Thyroid Disease

Hashimoto’s thyroid disease is a serious and often debilitating condition that can significantly impact a person’s quality of life. However, with the right treatment and support, it is possible to manage the disease and live a full and productive life.

If you are living with Hashimoto’s thyroid disease, it is important to seek out the help and support of a qualified healthcare professional. This person can help you develop a treatment plan that is tailored to your specific needs and help you manage your condition.

In addition, it is important to connect with other people who are living with Hashimoto’s thyroid disease. These people can provide you with support, advice, and information about how to best manage your condition. There are many online communities and support groups for people with Hashimoto’s thyroid disease, and these can be a great resource for finding information and support.

If you have been diagnosed with Hashimoto’s thyroid disease, you may be wondering what this means for your health and life going forward. Hashimoto’s is a chronic, autoimmune condition that affects the thyroid gland. While there is no cure, it can be managed with medication and lifestyle changes.

Living with Hashimoto’s means being vigilant about your health. This means monitoring your thyroid hormone levels and working with your doctor to make sure you are on the right medication and dosage. It also means eating a healthy diet, getting regular exercise, and managing stress.

While Hashimoto’s can be a challenge, it is important to remember that you can live a full and healthy life with this condition. By working with your doctor and making lifestyle changes, you can manage your symptoms and live a healthy life.

Living with Hashimoto’s thyroid disease can be a challenge, but there are ways to manage the condition. Some tips for living with Hashimoto’s include keeping a journal of your symptoms, eating a healthy diet, and getting regular exercise. It is important to work with your doctor to manage Hashimoto’s thyroid disease.

The Struggle to Love Myself As I Am

Loving myself is a foreign concept to me. Growing up I never had anyone tell me that I’m supposed to. I was never taught to eat right, work out every day and take care of my body.

As a child, my mother would send me to bed hungry for any perceived misbehavior. And she taught me how to numb myself with food, sweets, and alcohol. This lead me to struggle with lifelong patterns of disordered eating. And my relationship with food has been an endless battle.

In my marriage, A would constantly criticize my body, my weight, and everything I ate. He would compare me to his past girlfriends, women on T.V, and porn stars. He would complain that I didn’t work out enough.

Eventually, the love I had for lifting weights and going for long walks with my dogs faded away as it slowly began to feel like a punishment for being fat and disgusting.

After losing my mother to cancer and my nightmare marriage finally ending, I became so numb, that I completely gave up on myself. And it has been so hard to pick myself up piece by fucking piece.

I struggle with consistency and self-sabotage. Self-discipline is something that I am wrestling with at the moment.

Most days I feel like I’m failing myself and everyone around me.

But I just keep moving. I keep pushing myself and reminding myself that this journey is about healing and transformation. Not just acquiring a sexier body and looking good naked, but becoming stronger than my abusers. Not just physically, but spiritually and emotionally as well.

It’s about being compassionate and forgiving with myself. Accepting myself completely where I am at right now, and appreciating my mind and body for what is been through and survived. Learning to love myself and my body not for what it looks like on the outside, but instead loving it for just how strong it is right now and how much stronger I will become.

But it’s so much more than building physical strength. It’s about healing my mind and spirit and the insanely hard work that it takes to get up off my ass and show up for myself each and every day.

It’s about not putting up with less than I deserve and not letting people take advantage of me.

It’s not about building walls, but boundaries.

It’s about declaring that I am beautiful and confident in myself and my gifts and abilities.

It’s about shining brightly and unapologetically every damn day no matter what!

I may not be where I want to be just yet, but I am not the woman I was a year ago. And I won’t be the same woman a year from now that I am today.

I really do love the incredibly beautiful and strong woman that I am becoming!

Healing the Mind and Emotions Through Movement

Movement is medicine for the mind and emotions. It is a powerful way to heal our inner selves. When we move our bodies, we move our energy. This energy can help to clear our minds and open our hearts. When we move in a way that is authentic to us, we can connect with our true selves and find healing.

Moving our bodies can also help us to release emotions that we may be holding on to. When we move in a way that is expressive and true to our emotions, we can let go of the emotions that are no longer serving us. This can be a powerful way to heal our emotional selves.

When we move our bodies, we also open ourselves up to new experiences and new possibilities. When we move in a way that is true to our hearts, we can connect with new people and new experiences that can help to enrich our lives.

So, let’s move! Move-in a way that feels good to you. Move-in a way that is authentic to your emotions and your true self. Move-in a way that opens your heart and mind. Move-in a way that brings new experiences and possibilities into your life. Move your body and let the energy of movement heal your inner self.

When it comes to our mental and emotional health, it can be easy to forget the importance of movement. We often think of mental health in terms of our thoughts and emotions, but our physical health is just as important. Exercise has been shown to be one of the most effective forms of treatment for depression and anxiety, and it can also help to improve our overall mood and well-being.

Movement can help to release endorphins, which have mood-boosting and pain-relieving effects. It can also help to increase our levels of serotonin, a chemical that plays a role in regulating our mood and sleep. Exercise can also help to reduce stress levels, improve our sleep, and increase our energy levels.

Making time for movement, even if it’s just a short walk around the block, can make a big difference in our mental and emotional health. So next time you’re feeling down, try to get moving and see how it makes you feel.

Movement is a powerful way to heal the mind and emotions. It can help you to release pain and stress and to connect with your body and your inner self. If you are feeling stressed, tense, or have pain, movement can help to release those feelings.

Movement can also help to connect you with your body and your inner self. This can help you to feel more calm and peaceful. Simple yoga poses or stretches can help to promote relaxation.

Walking is a great way to reduce stress and connect with your body and inner self. Walking is also a great way to improve your mood. Researchers have found that walking can help to improve moods and reduce stress. Walking can also help to improve thinking and memory. Walking can also help to improve heart health. Walking is a great way to get exercise, and it is a great way to reduce stress.

Life After Abuse

Olivia Lucie Blake

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