Barefoot, Brave, and Bold

03/20/2026

It’s coming up on the 5th anniversary of my mom’s death. She died as Covid was “wrapping up,” after spending several years in the local nursing home and the last year, without visitors, due to Covid rules. The day she died, April 16, 2021, early in the morning, I felt……..

…. Completely different than you might imagine. I felt extreme…. Relief. My dear mom had, over the course of more than a decade, lost herself due to the relentless disease of dementia. A bright, articulate woman had become slowly, obsessed with the same stories over and over. Some were true (stories of her mom and her daddy, who died when she was just 9). Others were imagined in her mind (a bad man trying to “get her” in the nursing home).

I had grieved my mom, as she slipped away, like sliding into the ocean, inches at a time. During that time, as I watched her “lose herself,” I was simultaneously losing myself. My identity had been shattered by an increasingly toxic marriage occurring at the same time. My brain was foggy every minute of every day as grief upon grief tortured it. I’d also launched my children into the world and had war declared upon me by my sibling. I’d grieved my dad, who had died suddenly 5 years earlier. There was more grief than I could hold and more loss than I could face. I felt buried in it.

And then she died, with a brain that had completely betrayed her and a stroke that finished off her mobility more than a month before her final breath. Honestly….I didn’t just feel relief. I felt joy. According to my faith and hers, she was no longer trapped and lost. I cried the day of the funeral, and I probably haven’t cried about her death more than 5 additional times in those 5 years. All my tears for her had occurred while she slid away. I was still lost at that time… divorced then, but far from healed of the trauma….my identity stripped and my peace non-existent… except for the fact that my mom no longer suffered.

What I didn’t know was that my own healing was actually around the corner. Just 5 months away, till I would recover my my own sense of hope, identity, and ongoing belief that life was worth living and that I could be whole again. Some would suggest that my mom helped that along from her heavenly vantage point but that doesn’t fit with my personal beliefs. I believe God alone orchestrates the events of the universe, of life and death.

I miss her, yes…. But I continue to be joyful that she no longer lives, muddled and confused…. ♥️ so very thankful.

03/17/2026

It gives me goosebumps, to read the line in the book, “Healing is a Choice,” by Stephen Arterburn.

He’s talking about feelings… the hard ones… anger, rage, pain, fear, anxiety. The ones that propel us into places we don’t want to go. The deep hurts that we aren’t sure how to survive. Then he addresses the fact that many times we hide those feelings, either because they are too painful…. Or maybe we’re afraid of what they look like to others. Then comes the goosebump line:

“But we don’t bury them dead. We bury them alive.”

Alive. Those feelings are alive… but they are too much, so we bury them anyway. Burying anything alive seems so… gruesome.

My own tendency is different with regard to emotions but I’ve known many who bury their feelings alive… people I care for profoundly. And that has caused me great angst. I know they carry a wound that festers, often triggered out of the blue. I know they use emotional energy they could be using instead to grow and enjoy life, just to push the deep pain down. I know they avoid me… because I talk about feelings openly.

What I’ve done, esp in the past, has been harmful too… I have ruminated and obsessed over my feelings, fueling them and creating a fire from a little spark. My anger about a man that just needed to “act decent and treat his family as well as he treated everyone else” was fueled into an inferno as I spent hours a day obsessing about it, more so after I was out of it than inside it.

Burying emotions alive doesn’t bring healing.

Fueling painful emotions doesn’t bring healing either.

What does bring healing then? For me, it was sorting them, challenging and adjusting my thoughts about them. I needed to understand that I could choose my feelings by repeatedly choosing my thoughts and owning what I focused on. I was never one to shove them away, but instead of burying mine, I just let them surround me like an aura. They literally created a fog. Sometimes, it felt like it was almost visible to others and it greatly occupied my brain.

I had to decide, on purpose, that someone else’s actions could NOT control me. I had to practice that. I didn’t understand at the time, but I was rewiring my brain… training it to react differently… to not fan the flame. I had to decide that I’d bowed to my feelings long enough (most of my life/ marriage) and I was now in control. I COULD regulate what I felt.

Along the way, I actively chose two feelings on which to focus: joy and peace. I chose joy in small things…. And I began to “fuel” that with gratitude. I chose peace by letting go and surrendering my “need” to be understood by people committed to not understanding me… or maybe just too tired to do that. Or even who “enjoyed” hurting me. In a sense, joy and peace were replacement feelings for the anger and pain, but it wasn’t quite that simple. It was incremental and it took me 4 years to accomplish. It was really slow. It was intentional, but subject to many setbacks.

All I can say… it was totally worth it. It’s NEVER too late to learn to regulate emotions, rather than bury them alive, or fuel them into fire.

03/12/2026

**FOR THE LOVE OF SLEEP**

I’ve been thinking about writing about “sleep” for a few days…. Then this morning, this quote popped up on my fb feed. I really enjoy this author as he writes about a wide variety of topics… success, leadership, relationships, growth, self-care and more. Sometimes i disagree with his quotes but never in an intense way… I feel he pushes me to think critically… and he writes about topics I care about too. I love an author who can challenge me, inspire me and with whom i can agree with AND sometimes disagree.

So… on to the topic of sleep. I wholly agree with this quote. Like 1000% (for silly emphasis). And, sleep has been an “issue” for me MOST of my life. Left to my own devices, i sleep very poorly… and walk around like a zombie. When I used to teach (adult education), i developed a class on sleep hygiene. I have tried every trick in the book. Lack of sleep (I NEED 7-8 hr a night) is like slapping me across the head a few times… and then i try to get on with my day. It’s not good.

I don’t even want to be around me when I’m short on sleep. I think much of the struggle came from the chaos, hyper-awareness, anxiety in my marriage. Shutting it off was so hard. I was in constant “over-thinking mode.”

Now… on to the possibly VERY controversial part. It could upset some people… but…
With a dr’s supervision, i use sleep meds regularly as my sleep is still very erratic and my nights leave me exhausted, if I rely on the “natural process.” And as a result…I sleep well. I feel good. I don’t feel like a zombie. My doctor knows me very well… all my PTSD, all my years of tormenting depression. Together, we decided to help me sleep. It is, for me, a god-send and I’d rather do it with a perscription and a dr than using an OTC med.

I’m NOT AT ALL recommending this or encouraging it. Only a patient and dr can decide if it’s a good choice. I know every med carries side-effects. I’ve decided for me, the risks are worth the benefits. It’s legal. It’s given me quality of life I couldn’t possibly enjoyed otherwise. It’s what some would call a vice. But I’m so grateful for the sleep that leaves me refreshed most mornings and ready to live my life instead of drag myself through it.

** disclaimer- I’m not encouraging this for any other human. Only you and your doctor can decide if it’s right for you. I am not a medical professional, or attempting to portray one. ***

03/11/2026

FRIENDSHIPS- sharing to help you think about how your friendships have changed during major life transitions.
******
Ask any woman who is divorcing or has, and I suspect they will tell you that the process brought major shifts in friendships. ‘Might be some rare exceptions. I didn’t anticipate that… but then I laugh at myself for even saying that. The truth is…. I didn’t anticipate (with any clarity or cognitive skill) ANYTHING well, while in those “survival years.” It took all I had JUST to survive.

Now, I can do a rear-view mirror version.

* My bestie stuck by me every step of the way. That is hard to find words for… the deep gratitude I have for that level of loyalty. She had a LOT going on in her life too, but without her, I doubt I’d have “made it.” ♥️

* several long-term (20-30 years of close bond) friends “backed away.” But to be 100% fair, I think I bear at least half or more of the responsibilty and actually pushed them away. I knew they were battle-weary of my depression and endless stories about the mistreatment of my ex. That wears on a soul, hearing about it endlessly. They are all “helper-types”…. And they couldn’t help. They’d walked through my years of depression and tears with me. I felt they didn’t think I was “helping myself” (probably right but in survival mode, one usually doesn’t know how). Today, I love them in more of a casual friend mode… and it is OK. 🌷

* Generally, the toughest for me to sort out were many (not all) of my church friends (though the above mentioned gals were also church friends). A few were fiercely loyal and and a couple were leading a “Divorce care” group. They shored me up more than they know. 💕 Most in my church NEVER checked in to see if i was OK. I was hurt deeply by that… and realized… abuse and divorce are still pretty taboo subjects in many churches. 😢

* I now have several new friends… people whose lives I share and paths I crossed SOLELY because of our respective divorce journeys. People I’ve agonized with, healed with, grown with… mutually. After 8 years, many of these friendships remain… and enrich my life. Some are deep, some more casual, all valuable.🌸

Changes in friendships happen for a multitude of reasons, through the seasons of life. The angst that fact once caused me, has settled into an accepting and peaceful place. It’s one of the ways I can validate that I have experienced true healing and growth. 🙌♥️

03/10/2026

I love talks with my son… (and I would love if my other son would talk with me more 😢 ).
He’s a deep thinker and employs both logic and emotion, along with spiritual principles. He sees beyond face value and digs deep. He has a heart of gold but understands the beauty of appropriate boundaries. (I kinda think I raised him… and he “got it” more quickly than i did 😉).

In a recent discussion, we were talking about young people with “big dreams.” And then I thought… it’s not just young people… it’s anyone with a dream. We talked how we wouldn’t want to squelch their dreams or even necessarily imply they weren’t realistic (like becoming an astronaut but you barely passed science in high school).

But…. We concluded, nearly simultaneously…

***Dreams don’t materialize from dreaming big. They materialize from the actions and many choices that we make.

Perhaps both are needed… to set a big dream and to exercise effort… but clearly… without ACTION, the dream won’t ever get “off the ground.” (Pun intended).

After we hung up the phones, I thought… “what ACTIONS have most changed my life?” There were many, in different eras. As for the here and now, of what I experience daily, some of the actions that have moved me to my dream of a mostly peaceful life are:

* Choosing my own mental health over other people and things, even as a total empath
* developing better sleep, eating (sometimes exercise), and thought patterns
* taking the risk to buy my home
* becoming more grateful each day/ choosing to know I have all I need
* trusting God enough to “let go” of my need to fix others or sort out their lives…Let go and let God.

What are some of YOUR actions that have moved you to your dreams?

03/10/2026

I’m going to put some various “older posts” on here from time to time, as a lot of new people have joined the page. This is the first one I ran across.

03/09/2026

I’ve had so much on my mind lately… and so few words for paper or screen. I have been changed (or maybe impacted is the right word) by leading the group for women healing from abuse.

I cry more. I question more things. I remember my own healing… and know that “rushing” won’t get them to healing. I find myself really looking at my own healing… and seeing a few holes I still need to tackle… and a couple of them are really promising to make me sort out some distressing issues. And I am working on it….

This is what I don’t think I was prepared for:
I knew that my own pain from years of abuse and trauma was vast, confusing, and an ache that went to my inner being.

***I don’t think I accounted for what it would be like to multiply that times 8, all in one room. I hope I won’t be misunderstood. I’m NOT sorry I’m doing this group… not one bit… but the amount of pain that arrived in that room… the first night especially, when everyone was new and not yet acquainted…. It was a canyon miles wide, and enveloped in thick fog… all in a little 10’x 20’ room. ***

Abuse attacks personhood. It splatters our dreams. It intentionally aims for our most vulnerable places… where we already have doubts about our worth. It betrays deeply, unexpectedly and harshly, like being thrown into a gigantic waterfall, disoriented and suffocating.

And abuse can go on for years…. before we even realize it’s abuse. (True for me). When ours eyes open to that, instead of being grateful for the insight, we often feel that WE betrayed ourselves… for not knowing, for not acting on our own behalf to stop it/ get to safety. But we were just surviving all that time.

So…. With my absence in writing much lately… that’s what I’ve been contemplating.

For all on healing journeys— keep going, you only lose if you stop. I truly wish you healing and peace!

And today is my 7 year divorce anniversary🎉

03/06/2026

Have you ever noticed that when watching comedies, much of our laughter comes from scenes where chaos reigns? Let’s take an OLD movie like “Bride’s Maids.” There are several chaotic scenes in it:

* when the ladies are trying on dresses and (a-hem) get a very sudden encounter with food poisoning. You don’t need much imagination to know those dresses will NEVER look (or smell) beautiful again.

* At the shower… lots of one-upping, until anger flares and the huge cake is destroyed along with the entire elegant back yard venue.

* when the sister-in-law with NO boundaries, takes home 9 puppies (which were “shower guest gifts”).

Depending on our humor, we may crack up at those chaotic scenes. They are designed to tickle us… and perhaps be grateful we don’t have chaos like that in our lives.

Or do we? If you were in a DV/ abuse situation, you probably had days/ weeks/ months and even decades of chaos. I certainly lived that. Crises were “created” and then used to fuel anger, blaming and name-calling. A springboard for a heated argument, his favorite sport.

Tools, clothes, half-finished projects were left strewn in the house, garage, yard, vehicles. Not just a sloppy guy… a guy that seemed to feel more in control… in chaos. And a guy who knew I felt out-of-control (out-of-sanity, really) in a chaotic environment. **note- some abusers are the opposite… everything down to particles of dust have to be in their proper, appointed place and their slave (child, spouse) is to make sure it stays that way. That creates angst and “mind chaos.”

Is it any wonder that abuse survivors CRAVE peace?!
Quiet
Tidy space but not perfection
Softness

I’ve often focused on “protecting my peace.” It took a while to connect the dots, understanding why that was such an intense compulsion. I honestly have very little capacity for chaos now… and I don’t apologize for that. But I can still enjoy and laugh at “chaotic funny” movies.

03/01/2026

Old habits seem to die hard… or maybe re-emerge when you let your guard down. Here I am in my 60’s, and AGAIN, adjusting and processing to make sure I don’t…. lose myself. I’ve been wrestling with this for quite a while…. Thus being fairly quiet. Truthfully, writing usually helps me sort things in my mind. But that’s, again the problem with “old habits.” I also tend to “retreat” when I’m confused or scared… or think any part of “me” has been compromised, purposefully or not.

By the time I left my marriage, I didn’t even own an identity any longer. I’d been in survival mode for so many years, that I didn’t give thought to the “identity” questions…. Who am I now? Do my life/ actions match my values? What makes me feel whole? WHOLE??? That was beyond laughable, if it hadn’t been so soul crushing (which it was). I hadn’t been whole in years. I’d been splattered into a pulverized pile of broken, unrecognizable pieces, scattered to the winds. I thought I was broken beyond repair.

But, somehow, over the course of years, I labored to rebuild. What eventually emerged wasn’t the old me (before trauma), but there were remnants of that woman. The woman who adored her children… wanted back in… and I granted that, no questions or apprehension. The woman who wanted to create unconditional love with a man and devote a life/ marriage to that endeavor…. I never wanted to see her again. I can commit but i can’t set myself up for prison again. I remain a “pro-marriage” person, who absolutely PERSONALLY, will never take that very shaky chance again. No way. Not after I found out how easy it is to be duped.

I’m still friendly and open…. But need a MUCH smaller circle of friends than I once did. I’m still a woman of faith, (which is actually a true miracle) after being emotionally abused for years by a “devoted (appearing) man of God.” I’d never put my blanket trust in a “man of God” again, even in casual relationships. They are suspect until I can be convinced they have good intentions, not just desirous of a “good image.” That could take years.

The new woman who emerged is still a helper… but not a fixer. That’s probably the best part of this re-imagined woman. Ask me for help, follow through with your part (which is the major part) and I’ll be there. Expect me to carry the main load or…. refuse to take ownership of your own responsibilities?? I won’t beg anyone to fix their own life. I have plenty to do to keep mine in check.

Sounds harsh, perhaps. My bandwith no longer allows for doing for another what they could/ should fo for themselves. So the goal now, is to be sure I’m not doing that, that im staying in my own lane. And to make sure I never lose my voice again. I’d rather be “softer,” but I can’t afford to… and this version works fine. When you rise from ashes, you choose some new ways of “being.” I’m good with that.

02/25/2026

There’s been a lot of books released recently and a bunch of memes posted on “self-abandonment.” Most are aimed toward women, though I think both men and women engage in the behaviors that cause it.
These are some of the themes and on the surface, they sound like caring, kind, dedicated women:

Love harder
Make the extra effort
Don’t take offense easily
Devote yourself to your spouse/ family
Pray more
Get more organized… so you can do more
Listen well
Communicate effectively

And I did all of them…. And I bet many of you did too. It is my very nature to care for others and to be in pursuit of a daily life of service and kindness. I don’t want to just NOT do/ be those things. Yes, I got something back from being “that way” and some of it was really satisfying. It still is.

Somewhere, though I lost myself. I became so good at doing things for others, including my (ex) husband, that I lost sight of what I wanted and how to say what I wanted/ needed without feeling guilty. I put myself toward the back of the list…. Until I resented it immensely. When I said it (what i needed to change), it wasn’t met with enthusiasm. It was met with sarcasm and anger… so I eventually quit saying it. More self-abandonment.

I realized finally, that I was loving a man who was singularly focused on his public image, not love. I was making efforts that were beyond my capacity (time-wise particularly). I was ignoring offensive behavior so I wouldn’t rock the boat. I was devoted to the point of exhaustion. I listened and communicated with unmatched effort. And in the process… I barely existed anymore. I had self-abandoned… and I felt desperately lost, hidden, and unvalued.

As I healed, I vowed not to do that again. I fought hard to create a manageable load of responsibility, to speak up about issues that bothered me…. And to do self-care in meaningful ways.

Even so, the old habits crept back in. I recognize them sooner now. I act upon them more quickly. Sadly, I still feel “guilty” sometimes for choosing my own best interest or my own wants.

In the last couple weeks, I’ve addressed two issues of my needs, both knowing the other person might not like my stance. Both times I waited too long. But I did it…I directly addressed both situations with clear boundaries I intend to keep for my own welfare and… and I count that as a win.

02/24/2026

I got married in the morning. Up till then, I’d known no one else to have a morning wedding, though in following years, 2 of my closest friend also had morning nuptials. I thought it was “special” and chose to have “Morning is Broken,” a very fitting (I thought) lovely hymn as a congregational song. To this day, I adore the words, tune and meaning of that song. And at this stage of my life, it is really the only positive memory I retain from my wedding day, though i dont associate it with my wedding, really at all.

Thirty-one years, six months, and 3 days later, also in the morning (slightly earlier than the wedding), I was granted a divorce. That was 7 years ago today, on March 8, 2019. Though I didn’t feel happy that day and actually felt incredibly disappointed that my life had “ended up” that way, I now see it as the beginning of the end of misery endured for decades.

The healing could continue. The reclamation of my identity, (started 13 months earlier when I fled), could take center stage. Maybe even the “death in my soul” I felt at each waking moment for years/ decades, could be resurrected. Chaos no longer got to thrive in my midst. I no longer had to endure being called horrid and demeaning names. I didn’t have to watch the image fakery that I’d witnessed repeatedly, one type of behavior in public and opposite behaviors in the home. The utter sense of feeling crazy from the constant covert behavior that made no sense could begin to soften. Maybe… just maybe, I could be content in life again, as I’d once been, so long ago, before being systematically destroyed.

March 8, 2019…. morning has indeed broken, like the first morning.

“Mine is the sunlight, mine is the morning
Born of the one light, Eden saw play
Praise with elation, praise every morning
God's recreation of the new day.”

It was re-birth. ♥️

02/16/2026

Yes, I am still here.
Still dancing. ♥️

There was a time when I treated my regrets like evidence. They were proof that I had failed, stayed too long, trusted the wrong voice, silenced my own.

When you survive control, every memory becomes a courtroom. You replay the scenes, cross-examine yourself, and ask how you didn’t see it sooner.

Some of my regrets still ache when I brush against them. But they no longer accuse me. They bear witness to the fact that I made it out.

So yes, sometimes I gather the almosts and the red flags I once called love, and I throw them into the air like confetti,
and I dance.

Not because it didn’t happen.
But because it did.
And I am still here.
꩜ Ella