Remember me old friend....

Characters are interesting, the creating, the becoming. Physically, emotionally, mentally, spiritually you become every character in the making. What is your motivation? Your beliefs? How do you move, speak, react in certain situations?
I dream of that place, my own personal space, where I can create.
A pen in my hand and and attitude of "stop at nothing". Be your character, be your worst fear, feel the emotion that scares you to death. Involve every aspect of your personality, your heart.
Writing is sometimes upsetting. It draws up an old memory/feeling and putting it on paper hits the sensitive spot again. All comes back like a slap in the face. I am in that place long enough to write the experience.... then I pull myself away.
It is physically and emotionally exhausting, but worth being able to reach out to the part of my heart that needs healing.
How something good can come out of something so bad.
I talk to the one's involved, the people in my life and I try to understand.
How does a woman so brutally abused by words, the scars of a lifetime so deep. Penetrating deeper and deeper. How does she go back? Again and again and again.
She believes there is no hope. This was her plan. She feels that she does not deserve better. This is all she has, so she spends her time convincing herself it will work. She loves him, she supports him, while losing her support. She is empty. She has nothing. She gave everything and lost everything. I saw the suffering, her struggles to please. When all she needed was love. Someone to say, "You are a good mother"
"You are beautiful, talented and able to do anything your heart desires."
"You are worth so much, you deserve to be treated right. With the utmost respect, because without you nothing would be the same."
She was tired, she worked hard, she was empty.
Our relationship was tough love. I trusted her, I loved her like a mother and I hated her for taking him back. He, the abuser.... again and again. No longer was she a victim but a volenteer. I never understood her motives until I felt her pain in a relationship of my own.
My heart ached and I prayed that he might change.
He was angry, above everyone, and a slave to his addiction. Yet I stayed. Why?
He was my first love. Twenty years I waited and wasted on a man who could never love.
His heart cold, bitter, jealous, so full of hate.
There was no empathy, no compassion, that the only person he cared for was himself. Yet I stayed. Why?
I thought things would get better. I fantasized a life with him that would never be.
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I read the above to the woman who inspired it all. Funny thing is I wrote it on her birthday, which I had completely forgotten about. (June 19th)
I wrote it, and I knew I had to read it to her. I did.
I got to the part, "I never understood her motives, until I felt her pain for myself in a relationship of my own." I stopped reading and cried. Trying to collect myself for the next paragraph. I turn the page, view what is left to tell her & push myself to the finish line.

I think my reason for being there was to give her a message that she would never forget & saying goodbye to that part of my life. Remember me old friend...
Do not forget all those things I said. I meant every word.
Let this birthday change your life. The decisions are yours be wise.
Your friend,
Chelle

The mystery behind the movie

Our trip to Detroit; Michigan, our last stop before heading back over the boarder to Canada. "White Castle", who would've thought it actually existed??? It does.... It does!!!
My boyfriend Dave and I were so thrilled we had to take a picture!!!

Happy Birthday Cindy