Scar or Wound?

Cone of Shame Alternatives | PetMD

How we look at our scars is entirely up to us. We get hurt, and when we heal, what’s left is a mark -inside or outside. As many of you know, my husband had open-heart surgery just two years ago. Whenever I look at his naked chest I shudder and wish somehow I could have prevented it, but it only lasts for a few seconds, then I am grateful. He looks at his scar with joy. He was spared a heart attack and considers himself the luckiest man alive.

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Message From the Scum of The Earth

In school, we got tormented with Latin phrases, many I learned and forgot but some I still remember to this day.

Fortes fortuna adiuvat – Fortune favors the strong/brave

Being strong or brave often means taking a risk. No risk -no fun! Will the brave not just have luck but also be entertained? And what makes us strong? Pain? Love? Hunger? The knight in the fairytale is willing to slay the dragon, and in exchange, the king will allow him to marry the princess. Is it insanity or bravery? Perhaps a mix of both? Maybe the promised reward affects our courage more than anything. If the princess is pretty enough and the kingdom is a nice one, it might be worth risking your life.

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A Letter To The Scum Of The Earth

All we needed was THE ONE PAYCHECK people always talk about. The one that can make the difference between being homeless and having a place to call home. We had fallen off the cliff, and now we were trying to climb back up. We were ready to move mountains, and desperate enough to jump into the unknown -blindfolded. All we needed was one chance to make it all happen.

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The Scam Artist

We had been eagerly waiting to get the rental agreement for our new home. Finally, late at night, there was an email in my mailbox and it showed an attachment. When I read the email and opened the contract, I got a bad feeling. The original plan to meet at the house the day we would arrive had now been changed to Please transfer the money, I will send you the keys. He explained he was too busy.

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Ash Crosses and Dream Houses

Mardi gras was over, Lent, the time of fasting and sacrifices before Easter had begun. Just like every year, my friend hauled me to a Catholic church on Ash Wednesday, and we left with an ash cross on our foreheads. Remember that you are dust, and to dust, you shall return. I didn’t need that reminder. We had just hit rock bottom, and I felt lower than dust or dirt.

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Karma and Champagne

It was the first time we openly shared the fact that we were broke -it felt odd. Part of me was relieved, the other part felt ashamed. Later that evening, we told him OUR STORY, not for pity or sympathy, but because we needed to confront reality. We had been so sheltered and comforted at my friend’s home, we had been so busy, it almost felt like we had been hiding from the harsh truth that we still were homeless (house-less), and had nothing but debt to our name.

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Frozen, Stepping up!

She sat outside in the cold on the kitchen steps, smoked a cigarette right under the new quit-smoking sign we had now taped to the entry door. Our health inspection had gone well. We only needed an exit sign on the side door, like it would be possible to overlook a double door in a building that’s only 26’ x 20’. Minor complaints, easy fixes, and we passed with flying colors.

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