He’s Back

I so enjoy birds in my backyard. If you are on Instagram, you may enjoy my nature feed.  Here is the link: My instagram or https://www.instagram.com/alesiablogs/

I Wish I had A Tractor

I wish I had a tractor 2 weeks ago when I decided to drag my family out to the old Jenkins Cemetery in Caldwell county,  Kentucky.  Many of you may not know, but my most popular post was on finding a haunted cemetery.  It has been a top 10 google search especially during halloween.  Go check it out: The Haunting .

However, if you want to come on this adventure just keep reading.

The Check’s Been Paid

Sometimes I get scared. I wonder though about that weakness of fear and actually

Fitting In

https://alesiablogs.wordpress.com/about

Yes. That is me–over 40 years ago!!!

I hope you will take a moment and find out why I started to blog initially and answer my question below. My blog has evolved tremendously in 2 years. If my words only assist one person to feel better about themselves, I say that one person was worth me writing for.

I am looking at writing more about a few issues and I wanted to share those with you and ask for your help in what you would like to see more from me. Here are the choices:

1. Medical Advice or commentary on medical issues from the perspective of my 30 year career as an RN.
2. Autism ( My 21 year old son was born with moderate to severe autism).
3. Cancer and my own medical story/Journey and how I have coped with my health.
4. Genealogy and my international roots I have uncovered on American soil as well as International soil.
5. Photography of nature and my take of life through photos.
6. RETRO 70’s post making fun and light of my childhood…( OK I must admit I love doing these kind of posts! )

Thanks for your input.

Southern Nights

On the beach somewhere in Florida! Chillin’ out after passing Nursing School and the Boards I suspect!

Have you ever felt a southern night? Growing up in Alabama, I had the distinct privilege of touching, feeling, smelling, and living it. Back roads run through my blood. I travel along those rural roads that lead me straight to family and friends. Bringing back a simpler time, but also a mysterious time. What did my life have for me to hold? What was my particular destiny?
The mind is a powerful thing. It is unlimited. It is pure if you let it be. That is what is so beautiful about it. In Greek studies, reason was looked upon as divine. It was the glue and the influence to today’s thought processes on God and theology. Greek thought may have had some quirks, but it did help lay some foundation for where we are today.
My first big life choices evolved a southern night. Good thinking tends to happen when life itself is looked upon in simplistic fashion. It does not mean you do not weigh all the facts you have, but rather you include your emotional state in that equation. Logic may not always win. In my case, I can see mostly decisions based on logic, but those decisions were based on good people around me giving their share of praise to me and allowing me to feel a sense of purpose in my life.
Once I was on the back-end of a decision made by my superiors when I was employed at a hospital. The hospital leadership decided that all the nurses needed to rebid for their positions. This was a scary time for everyone because many nurses thought they were going to lose their job.
For whatever reason, I was concerned, but not overwhelmed by this crazy tactic being utilized by my employer to get rid of employees. I had a lot of seniority and it is what kept my position intact. Why do I bring this up? Essentially because a good leader would never do this to his team of employees. He would bring everyone on board so that folks do not think they have been hit over the head with a two by four.
This brings me back to my southern nights. It was those nights that brought me back down to reality. The memories of that simpler time reinforced my sense of purpose. It brought me rest and peace in my mind when all hell seemed to be breaking out in front of my eyes. Those southern nights have served me well. I hope you too can find your “southern night” and let it be an important part of your thought processes. It is no fun to be out in the dark and left without inspiration.

Light Coming Through

Hiding Behind the Façade. Have Wig Will Travel!

Alone. Searching for the words to say something. Anything. To Who? Radio on. No need to talk. Driving from the mall on my way home, my eyes are blinded by the sun. Visor down to help, but it still does not block the intensity of the sun beaming down on the windshield. The only answer is to slow the car to a crawl and put my hand up to the sun coming in. Finally I can see to drive. Light still coming through though.
Giving up. I am home. Sitting in my car. Alone. Waiting for the garage door to open. Driving in. Engine off. Searching for something to say. Why? No one around to talk to. Still searching for something to say. No reason to. Getting out of the car. Door opened by my gloved hand and my dog to greet me. Thank God a familiar face. Happiness. Tail wagging.
No pressure now to say anything. Alone. Going to the back of the house. Light is shining through the window. No need to block it anymore. Enjoying the light coming through now. Searching for words to say. None comes. See only the light. No ghosts to worry about. Just me. Tiny body pressing against my lower legs reminding me I am worth something.

Whispered Story

I am now talked about in scattered ways. A true story whispered across the table about the break up. It is being alone that is not spoken of. Instead it is the sustaining half-truths played out by those who do not know.
Some of my life is well worn in my mind like coming out of anesthesia. You feel distance yet you know you are in the same room. “Help me!” I said struggling with pain during one surgery two years ago. “Oh, honey, I have some medicine and I am putting it in your IV now.”
Suddenly you wake up more and do not say a thing at all. You know you need that nurse to help you and he does. He knows exactly the right medicine to administer. You drift back off to sleep.
Hi. My name is Alesia. That pain is not so bad anymore. Two years have gone by and I am now experiencing a whole new kind of pain. A kind I did not expect. It is the end of an almost 23 year relationship. My partner in life has made a choice to move on. I still do not know if the move is permanent. It is what it is for now. The details are not worth the read, but it is the cracks in it that are compelling.
Choosing to not dwell on the details, it seems better to talk about my state my mind and the emotional impact of this loss. With the Christmas season especially, I am reminded of not only my hurt, but also the suffering of many of you. If you sat at home alone on Christmas knowing the season should be enjoyed with others-the harsh reminder of the heartache is painful.
But, tonight as the Christmas day comes to an end, it is hope I would want to bring you. Know you are not alone. I know your pain, but there is always hope. Tomorrow is a new day. God has promised us this through His Story that came through the birth of a baby called the Christ-Child. It is a hope worth pursuing.
Again, do not give up. Life is worth living. Think about the things you love. For me it is fresh flowers, birds in my backyard, watching a great movie, or listening to beautiful music. Life is also about touching others, being touched, and feeling loved. Sweet friendships that are rekindled or perhaps even ambiguous loss of love that gets rejuvenated awaits you and perhaps me one again.
Life is hard. Do not give up. Anesthesia may have worn off, but hope is always attainable.

Genealogy With A Twist

This is a special blog entry written by my son for a genealogy project and I thought you all would enjoy it:

The year was 2077. A special presentation was about to begin by an elderly gentleman who walked into an old-fashioned diner on a beautiful evening overlooking Lake Washington near Seattle. Inside the diner, the tables were full with school-age children getting ready to listen to this special old man. They knew he was a great story teller and the children were eager to listen. With great anticipation, the man excitedly stated, “Welcome to the unique stories a friend of mine shared with me about his life. This friend is Elijah. Elijah’s stories were told to me by himself so I galloped all the way here to tell them to you today.” The children clapped loudly for the action to begin.

Elijah’s stories began with a European ancestor on his father’s side. This man was Baron VanDorstan who was ruled by a German King almost 250 years ago. It has been told that the king became very furious with the baron because the baron felt the poor people were being taxed to heavily and he refused to collect the money for the king. The King therefore ordered Baron VanDorstan’s execution. The execution never happened because the baron escaped on a boat disguised as a homeless man. He eventually emigrated to America! WHEW! That was a close one.

As the elderly man shifted to the next ancestor in Elijah’s life, the children listened intently. The next story was about Elijah’s great-grandfather who was a semi-pro boxer in Chicago, Illinois.  His name was Alex.  Alex  had the opportunity to meet Babe Ruth, a pro baseball player, and he played catch with him.  Another interesting point about Elijah’s great grandfather was that he washed laundry for a living.  One of his customers was the infamous criminal, Al Capone!

As the time was passing, the elderly gentleman knew the children would want to know his identity, but he explained he wanted to stay a mystery until the end of his story telling.  The children grew with excitement, but agreed to wait.  It was at this point the man began sharing about another ancestor who was Elijah’s great grandmother on his mother’s side.  When Elijah’s grandmother was born in Berlin, Germany in 1939, Elijah’s great grandmother with her grandmother were forced to flee because of World War II and all the bombing going on during the war.  They walked all the way to the southern part of Germany to find  safety.  When they travelled they worried they would be caught by the Russians, but thankfully they were not captured and they did make it to their destination several months later.  Elijah would not be here today if they had been killed.

Another ancestor on Elijah’s mother’s side was great, great, great uncle Senator Kenneth Douglas McKellar.  Senator McKellar was born in Dallas County, Alabama in 1869.  He later moved to Tennessee where he became one of the most powerful politicians during the 1920’s-1940’s.  He assisted President Franklin D. Roosevelt in getting the money to build the atomic bomb!

As the evening was coming to a close, the elderly story teller paused to capture the moment in his mind of all the children looking at him admiringly.  The time had come to tell the children the truth about his identity.  He softly stated he was indeed Elijah and all the stories were about his own family.  The kids clapped loudly with this news, although they were flabbergasted.  It was a great night for all.

PLEASE note extra information/photos in regards to Elijah’s genealogy story above:

Babe Ruth  This photo was given to your blogger of Babe Ruth about 30 years ago.  I have treasured it.  This story my son wrote refers to the Babe whom his great grandpa met.

 

This photo depicts your blogger’s Oma and Mother. This story speaks of my mother and grandmother’s escape from WWII bombing.

Getting Inside Your Brain

My son was so proud of this new book he got. Are we as proud of our own blogs like he is of his book?

Good writing on my blog takes time. Actually the truth is sometimes it does not. Sharing of my own personal struggles with a brain tumor and having a son with autism typically make for interesting blogging. It has been easy to formulate my thoughts on these two subjects, and finding a niche in blogging and resonating with others has been a fascinating journey for me.

It has now been a year since Alesiablogs was created. Showing my various sides and moods has been prevalent throughout my writings. Thinking thoughtfully about a topic brings a richness to a subject. However, I have found my most popular posts ( if I judge it on likes and comments) can be the post that took me all of 20 minutes to write. Go Figure.

I am also keenly aware that my style of writing may be what draws someone in along with a subject that needs more light shined upon it. The crazy thing is that I am not an English teacher and have never done any formal writing.

Yet, I feel my voice makes a difference. IT is what brings me to your blog. It is your voice. It just recently hit me that I need to stop worrying about how many followers I have or views of my page. What does it matter? I am not trying to be commercially successful. In fact I could care less.

What do I care about then? I care about a life changed. I care about the young woman who has started to follow me because my words are helping her get through an abusive relationship. I care about the young man inspired by my experiences that is going through something similar like I did and is looking for answers.

I care about people.

So there is no catchy writing here for you to view most of the time. Many times I share from just the top surface of an issue so as to not get too personal about my problems, but it is in the depth I find you all. So depth I try to pursue. It is in these deep blog posts, that your comments flow. Realizing this makes me want to write even better. It makes me realize I am getting in side your brain.

So as I start my second year of blogging, it is my hope my writing would be worthy of you reading. I know your comments and your likes are all I have to go by for now. I value these, but wish there was another way to get graded. I need to clue you in on a little secret. I “like” my own posts routinely. After all I better like what I am sharing.

Bloggers And Their Words

Writing Tip: Be comfortable blogger while you writing.

The blogging world is like going to the movies. Some blogs are masterpieces. Others are full of such intelligent writing they bring pure joy. Occasionally there may be the dud. However my heart can be so glad for the reading experience dud or not because I am alive and learning.
Bloggers and their words can be absorbing. What does it take to be such a great blogger? Blogger if you are serious the first step is to stay in the game. Allow yourself to be taken away in your writing to make your dreams of authorship become reality. Make your writing a part of you so it becomes a memory forever that you have.
Bloggers and their words are important. The audience should not be taken for granted. Never is it good for writing to be like nails on a chalkboard. Perhaps that means in the seclusion of your home while you are writing, a newness and a freshness must be envisioned. Do not be afraid to share your heart. Opening yourself and telling your experiences is cathartic and possibly may be exactly what your reader needs. Bloggers and their words are powerful.