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Jessica Aiken-Hall

Unleashing Secrets

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healing

We Only Have Time For Love

cemetery-2787610__340April 20, 1999 the Columbine High School was under attack by two students. They killed 12 students and a teacher, and then themselves. This day sticks in my head because I was a senior in high school, and it was the first time that I felt unsafe at school.

I remember going home and watching the news with my gram, and not understanding why they would do something so awful. As the names and pictures were shown on the news of the victims, I wanted to know why. I wanted to know why two boys, my age wanted to kill so many people. I wanted to know how the parents of the victims were going to live without their children, and how the parents of the two boys behind the murders were going to be able to live knowing their boys were capable of such hate. I just wanted to know why.

A month after the shooting, we were released from school early because of threats of a copycat type incident occurring. No threats had been made at our high school, but the school wanted to make sure we felt safe and allowed us to go home…just in case. I was relived to know that I only had a few more weeks of school left and the worry of dying at school would be behind me.

Fast forward to 2018 and I am a mother of three children who attend school. One in elementary school and two in junior high. It seems like everyday there is another school shooting on the news, and yet nothing is being done. I send my kids to school everyday and I wonder if they will return home. Parents do not have the luxury of being assured their child is safe while they are at school any longer. It doesn’t matter how many times we are told, “Don’t worry, it would never happen here.” There is no way to be sure of that anymore.

You can be the best parent on the planet, teach your child right from wrong, to love and be compassionate, but you cannot be sure the children they spend their day with have had the same. You cannot be sure that if given the chance your child might not do something you do not believe they are capable of.

We need to stop blaming people and start acting. If you see a child that needs help, help them. If you see a child that needs love, love them. If you see a child struggling, don’t ignore them. It just takes one person, one moment of concern to change someone’s outlook on life.

Love.

Don’t judge.

Listen.

This is our responsibility. We owe it to our children, to our friends, to our neighbors. We need the sense of community back. We need to stop categorizing people. No one deservers to be thrown away. No one deserves to be bullied or called names because they are not like you. The world has too much hate, lets take everyone by surprise and be kind. We are all too self-absorbed; take a moment to think about someone else. Look around. Things need to change, and the best place to start is with yourself. From the inside out we can make changes and it may just cause a ripple effect.

The world is so broken, and all we can do it argue over who is right and who is wrong. If we stood together, and put all of our efforts together, big things could happen. What are we afraid of? What are we waiting for?

Think about the fear our children face each day as they enter school. Maybe they don’t think about being killed each day they open the school doors, but I bet they worry about what is going to happen to them, or be said to them. Maybe they are laughed at because their parents can’t afford the newest brand craze of the month. Maybe kids make fun of them because they think they are bi or gay. Maybe they are called names because they are overweight, too short, too tall, too skinny, too pretty, too quiet, too loud…you get the idea.  No kid is safe from harassment or bullying. Today they are good, but tomorrow it might be their turn.

There is no time for blame. We need to act now, create safe havens for kids to go to, to talk to, to learn compassion and tolerance. We can fight about guns vs. mental health until the next shooting. We can debate on Facebook, send thoughts and prayers to the families and the victims, but none of that will change anything. Think about what you can do now. Don’t wait. This country is suffering and we are running out of Band-Aids.

The only thing stronger than hate is love.

 “The value of love will always be stronger than the value of hate. Any nation or group of nations that employs hatred eventually is torn to pieces by hatred.”

-Franklin D. Roosevelt

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“Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.”

-Martin Luther King, Jr.

2017: The Year My Dreams Came Alive

5954D43C-D01F-4EE8-95F3-A9634268D394A couple of weeks before 2017 came to an end, I started to reflect on the last few months. They happened so fast, and were filled with so much joy, and heartbreak. As I thought back to what had happened, I could feel the energy swirl through my body. For the first time that I can remember, I felt clear of negativity. It was such an unknown feeling, I almost did not recognize it. I just knew that I felt lighter—and free.

Freedom is something that I have been chasing my whole life. Freedom from the abusers I encountered throughout my life, freedom from my own negative self-talk. Freedom from the darkness. Sure, the light had always been there, but the weight of it always lurked near by. Depression is like that. Waiting to pounce when life seems to be going too well.

The months from 2017 replayed in my head as I allowed this new feeling to linger. January tested me in a job that went against everything I believed in, and it was Tom Petty that helped me see what I needed to do in February. “Can’t sell your soul for piece of mind.” Tom was right, he is always right. I walked into my job without a plan and quit. The money was good, but it demanded I went against my own ethical code and left me angry. I did not want to waste another day being unhappy.

Quitting a job with no backup plan was not something I had ever done before. There was no time to have a plan in place, I just had to jump and pray that I landed. A week of feeling sorry for myself and letting anger fester inside of me, I picked up my manuscript that I had received from my editor, Alice Peck, in September 2016. I dusted it off and began to go through it. There was a lot of work to do, and the thought of it was overwhelming, but I brushed away the fear and developed a plan.

February, March and April were spent reading, writing and rewriting some of the most painful parts of my story. Depression came crawling back as I sat alone in the living room remembering things I had spent a lifetime trying to forget. Each section of my story I became the age I was writing. I dropped myself back in time and relived each painful memory. Tears fell from my eyes as I typed. It was exhausting, but I was not going to let the pain keep me from my dreams of being a published author.

It had also been almost a year since I had the attunement for Reiki II, and I felt that I was ready for the Master training. I reached out to SaliCrow and asked if she was able to offer the training. She had a Reiki II class coming up at the end of the month, so it was perfect timing. I spent some time studying and making sure I was ready.

April came with the anniversaries of my gram’s and my mom’s death. Year eight for Gram and the first anniversary for Mom. Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers’ 40th Anniversary tour began on April 20th—the year anniversary of my mom’s death. I sat in my car listening to Tom Petty Radio talk about the beginning of the tour, and read comments from friends on Tom Petty Nation talk about the meet ups and the shows they were going to. Most of the friends that I had made in Tom Petty Nation were going to the show in Nashville, TN. I remembered how badly I had wanted to go the year before for the Mudcrutch tour so I could meet them.

A thought popped into my head, as though it was a message from my mom. You have to go. There was no way that could happen. The show in Nashville was five days away. I’d need a plane ticket, a hotel, transportation once I arrived, a ticket to the show, a place for the kids…these thoughts tried to talk me out of going. There was no way it would work, but the voice telling me I had to go was louder than the others.

When I got home I told George about it. A familiar phrase came from his lips, “You have to go.”

But how? How could I pull it off? It was now just four days before the show. I went onto an airline site—tickets were available. I stated looking for a place to stay…but I didn’t even have a ticket to the show. I searched for a ticket…the only ones available required me to buy two. Maybe this wasn’t going to work out after all. Discouraged, I went back on Tom Petty Nation and asked if anyone had one ticket they were looking to sell, and let the others know I was thinking about going. More people told me what George had said, “You have to go!”

Messages began coming in. An offer of a place to stay and a single floor ticket gave me hope. Maybe this could happen. I went back to the airline site…tickets still available. I let George know it really could happen. When I couldn’t get him to talk me out of it, I purchased the plane ticket and made plans to buy the concert ticket at the meet up and confirmed that I would have a place to stay.

With three days to spare, there really was no time to be nervous. When I drove myself to the airport I was only hours away from meeting a bunch of people I had been friends with for years online who love Tom as much as I have. Only my second time flying I was a little afraid of what might happen, but I had to do this. It might have been the reminder that life is short, or something else leading me there, but everything lined up just right to make it happen.

When I arrived at the arena I learned the floor ticket I had bought from another TPN member was seventh row…center. The show was magical, and like always, it felt like Tom was the only one in the room. With less than twenty-four hours in Nashville, there was not too much time to explore, but I was able to meet a bunch of amazing people who understood my love for Tom and my connection to the music.

After the show I went back to work on my manuscript and prepare for my Reiki Master training. On April 30th, I became a Reiki Master. Still unsure of myself, I felt something pushing me along. I was moving forward, and maybe not on my own. I felt that I was on the right path.

After completing the Reiki Master training I had more time to think between writing. While I was thinking, something told me to look for front row seats for one of the upcoming Philadelphia shows George and I were going to. I found a pair right away, but the price almost stopped me. I logged out of the site and went back to writing. It was a crazy idea. The mouse clicked on the ticket site again and I added them to my cart. I watched the time tick away before they were thrown back to be sold. I closed the screen again and went back to writing.

What if this is my only chance to ever meet Tom? What if I never get the chance to see him front row again? I’d spend the rest of my life regretting not doing it. I went back to the ticket site and added the tickets to my cart again and made the purchase. They were going to be a surprise birthday gift for George, but when he got home I could not keep the smile off my face. I needed to tell him the exciting news, but I wanted to surprise him. When I couldn’t stop smiling, I spilled the beans. “Guess what I did today.”

“What did you do?”

“It’s an early birthday gift to you and me…we are going to see Tom front row!”

He was as excited as I was, but the only problem was it was a two month wait. How could I wait that long? The excitement filled my every thought, but left just enough room to continue on with my rewrite. Tom’s music filled the quietness of the room as I wrote. His voice kept me grounded as I relived abuse and betrayal.

By June my rewrite was complete and it was sent off to a new editor. Now that the manuscript was out of my hands I had plenty of time to think about the upcoming shows. As I waited for the tickets to arrive I became increasingly anxious…what if they were not real? What if someone just took my money and I won’t even get the front row tickets? I held back the excitement enough to not be severely disappointed if it did not turn out as I hoped. No tickets in hand until two hours before the show. The excitement did not return until we were sitting in our seat. This was real. Tom Petty was going to be feet from me. An impossibility was becoming reality.

As Tom and the band walked on stage I felt warmth radiate throughout my body. A smile so big that my cheeks hurt. I couldn’t jump and shout…I was too much in awe of who was in front of me, and who was beside me. Tom made eye contact with me a few times, maybe my smile got his attention. I knew he could feel my gratitude. I sang along with him and continued to smile. At song number seven he walked over to where we were standing and finished playing “Free Fallin’” right in front of us. At the end of the song, he looked right at me and tossed his pick to me. George was taking pictures and did not see this happen. I started to cry. Tom saw me, and he knew. He knew that he mattered to me, and that was as good as meeting him.

It was like a dream. I couldn’t even talk about it right away. It was unreal. Stuff like this didn’t happen to me. As we looked through the pictures when we arrived home we saw it. George had captured the pick being tossed to me. A spilt second caught on camera to cherish the moment forever. There was no denying what had happened now. My heart was full.

The month of July was filled with three more concerts. The first night in Boston a TPN member told me Ron Blair was in the hall talking with people. I quickly walked out…and there he was. I went up to him and shook his hand and walked away. What just happened? I found George and told him…he followed me back out to where Ron had been and another TPN member, Brien was there standing next to Ron. George convinced me to ask Ron to take a picture with me and he and Brien took some pictures for me.

The next night we had not planned on going, but after the night before I looked for tickets and found front row tickets marked way down. We were both exhausted, but George told me we had to go. Less than twenty-four hours later and we were back in Boston. Dana Petty came out to dance while Peter Wolf played, but it didn’t look like she was able to see. When she came closer I offered for her to stand in front of me so she could enjoy the show. She smiled and thanked me but continued dancing where she was. Then one of her favorite songs came on and she came over next to me and danced. It was so great to see her enjoying the show, and be able to be a real fan without a bunch of people bothering her. At the end of the night she came up to me, thanked me, gave me two picks and hugged me. What was happening?

The next show was back in Philadelphia, this time third row. I was a little sad this was going to be our last show of the tour, but so grateful for what had already happened. I was also a little nervous that this might be my last time seeing Tom live in concert. After all, they had said this was their last big tour. I left that night with a little sadness in my heart. Something deep inside me told me we were driving away from the last show. I tried to brush it off. What a great time we had, and I wanted to keep that euphoria alive.

In August I was offered a job after spending a few weeks looking for a good fit. At the interview everything just felt right. The people were nice, it was a job I had done before and I knew how to do, and best of all, the stress level was nonexistent. Things continued to fall into place.

September came and I had my manuscript back from my editor and it was ready for me to go through one last time. My cover had been designed and everything was almost ready for my book to be published in October for Domestic Violence Awareness Month. On September 8th, The Monster That Ate My Mommy went live. I panicked as I realized what happened, and had no time to prepare for my story to be live in the world, but felt there was a reason.

Mary-Elizabeth Briscoe’s book, The First Signs of April  had been published on September 5th, and because of the closeness of their publication we were able to have a couple of co-author events. M-E helped push me on the path to healing, and beginning this journey with her was serendipitous. The first event was planned for October 20th, to honor Tom Petty’s Birthday, as well as the anniversary of my protection order.

I spent the next few weeks preparing for the event. I picked three pieces to read, one about child abuse, one about domestic violence, and the last, a happy one, about my first time seeing Tom Petty in concert. The chapter about Tom was the saving grace; the only piece that held any happiness. Until October 2nd. That awful day that the world learned of his death. The pain of this loss was devastating. How could losing someone I didn’t even know hurt so bad? That’s where I was wrong. I knew him, I had known him for years. He was a dependable friend. My only source of constant joy for the past twenty-two years. His words had gotten me through so many tough situations. Healed so many broken hearts. Gave me joy, and hope, and happiness.

I tried to practice the chapter, and as soon as I saw his name on the page I could not see past the tears. I was ready to give up, to quit this dream, but I knew I couldn’t. His songs gave me the strength I needed and pushed me forward, just as they always had. Tom was gone, but he left such a beautiful legacy behind, and I wanted to do the same.

Just a week after my book went live, I started the End of Life Doula program at UVM. I completed the online course in November and received my certification. All the pieces I had been missing were coming together. The picture to the puzzle was beginning to become clear. I need to use my skills to help others, to heal others.

The rest of the year found my book seventy-one reviews on Amazon, most all 5-star, and the others 4-star. Readers were saying incredible things about my book; about me. I was getting messages from people who read my story and thanked me for sharing so honestly, and helping them see things differently. That life of darkness I thought I had lived was now a bright light, helping others see the way.

As I went through the year’s accomplishments with George, I told him how grateful I was for all that had happened. I told him how, for the first time ever, I felt at peace, as though I am right where I should be. Calm. Peaceful. Right. All unknown feelings, but the freeness of them felt so in sync. He told me, “The year is not over yet.”

Hours into December 24th George asked me to marry him. Knowing I get to spend the rest of my life with someone who treats me with love and respect, and who builds me up and encourages me to follow my dreams is what I have been searching for my whole life. Until I met him I did not believe such people existed. I thought all the movies lied to us and set us up for disappointment. George showed me love is real, and love is true, and best of all, love is returned. For the first time ever, life is as it should be. The freedom from negativity is overwhelmingly present.

As I think about all that happened in 2017, all that I accomplished, all that I lost, all that I gained there is no room for sadness. No room for sorrow. The sun is shining, even on the darkest of days. There is hope in each day. Maybe there always has been, but my blinders are lifted and I can see. I can feel. Only goodness to come.

Tom was right (he always is), “Something Good Coming.”

Spring 2016 855In Memory Tom Petty and my second father that were lost in 2017. May you Rest In Peace, play a little music, cause a little trouble and feel all the love we send your way. Thank you both for your part in rescuing me.

Worth Waiting For

 

summer 2016 012.JPGWhen I was twelve years old I remember waking up from a dream and feeling safe. For me, feeling safe was an unusual feeling. I laid in my bed, under the covers and thought about the man I had met. As I walked along a path in the woods I came to a small stream. In the stream was a large rock, covered in moss. Upon the rock sat a man with deep brown eyes who stared into mine. When he began to talk to me I felt at ease, as though we had spoken before. As he sat on the rock, looking into my eyes he told me that he loved me, and he would wait for me. He said that it would take me a while before I found him, but I would and he would be ready and waiting for me.

I often thought back to this dream, to the man on the rock. I thought about the possibility of finding love, a love that was comfortable and safe. I tried to talk myself out of the existence of this man, but my mind and heart would bring me back. When I got older and began dating, each boy and later man who I would date was never him. Their eyes were never the eyes that had connected with mine in that dream. As the years passed I gave up on the idea of this perfect for me man waiting for me. I summed it up as a silly dream and gave up on finding the feelings I had woken up with that morning so long ago.

Each relationship I entered I soon knew I did not belong. Some held onto me longer than others. Some hurt my soul deeper than others. Some hurt my heart, while others hurt my whole existence. I was trapped in a cycle of toxins, released with every hurtful word, every raised fist. The deeper I got into the toxic spiral the more I felt I would never escape. The man on the rock still haunted my thoughts, as though he was reminding me to never give up on his promise. To keep looking, keep searching for him. I pushed the idea that there could be a man like him waiting for me out of my head. I felt that I was destined to be unhappy for the rest of my life. I felt that I did not deserve a love that was pure, and real, and safe.

Little by little I began to die inside of myself as I allowed the damage by others to slowly destroy me. Until one day. One spark of light came in and lit the path for me. It led me to freedom. It led me to safety. As the light lit up my darkest corners the man in my dream came to me. In my darkest hour, in my weakest state I was given the gift of love. Of safety.

As I looked into his deep, brown eyes I knew. I knew I had seen them before. I knew I had felt this way before. I knew that we had met before. I knew that he had waited for me. As our eyes connected mine filled with tears. Tears of love, tears of relief, tears of trust, of safety, of belonging. I knew in the instant that our eyes connected that he was the one that I had been longing for. He was the one that I had been waiting for; who had promised to wait for me.

I didn’t know if he knew of the connection too, but I trusted he would remember. I trusted that we met again for a reason. I trusted that the universe aligned so our paths would cross. For the first time, I just trusted. I worried that I may not measure up. I worried that I may not be enough. I worried that I may not earn the love that I had been longing for my entire life. The thoughts came and went and circled inside of me. I had been told for so long that I was no good, that I was not worth anything, and those thoughts stuck with me. But he never once gave me reason to believe them again. He never once made me feel like I was less than.

As I tried to find a reason why he may leave me, why he may see what others had seen, he always gave me reasons to believe I was wrong. When I was unable to love myself, he loved me enough for both of us. He stood by me, and my kids when our world shattered. When things became a nightmare he never left. He stood by us and waited. He shielded us with safety and provided love and support. He never left. He kept his promise from twenty years ago.

For the first time in my life I am not called names or hurt. After three years he has not once called me a name or put his hands on me in anger. For the first time I can see, I can feel what it is like to be loved. I don’t have to chase it, I don’t have to beg for it; it just is. To be loved and only be expected to love in return. I never thought such a thing existed. I was wrong. All those years of hurt, sadness and abuse are over. They are over. I never thought I would be able to say those words; but they are over. Never again will I allow anyone to treat me the way I had been treated. Never again will I question if love is real. I know. I know without a doubt. I feel with all that I have that love is the only real thing out there. Love is all around when you allow it in.

To the man with deep, brown eyes; thank you for all that you are, for all that you do, and for waiting. I love you.

 

What is Luck Anyway?

sky

It had always seemed to me that luck has a lot to do with how people have the lives that they have. For the majority of my life I felt as though I was unlucky; in every single aspect of my life. I would look at other people and think “why can’t I have a life like theirs?” I would look at other families and long for the love and connection that they shared. I would ride past homes and wish that was my house, where a family full of love was waiting for me. I did not understand what I had done to be stuck in the life that I had. I felt that I was being punished but I was not sure for what. I just did not understand. I was just unlucky; a constant dark cloud full of rain always followed me, and I hated it. If it could go wrong, it would go wrong. I would watch others who appeared to always be happy. I would get angry, and then sad as I watched everyone else live the life that I wanted. How could this be fair? How could life be so great for everyone else? How come I had to live this way?

I dwelled on the fact that I was unlucky. I was overcome with depression as I thought about how much effort it took to live. It hurt to even breathe some days, all because nothing ever went the way that I expected it to. Happy occasions would end with tears or sadness when it was not what I had thought it would be. The excitement would build as I thought about how it “could be”. I thought about the way it was for the people who always smiled. I thought about how it happened on TV. I thought about everything, anticipating that maybe this time it would be my turn for life to go as I thought. For once it was going to be my turn to smile and be happy. Time after time, my time never came. A happy event would end as the next dive into depression began.

I was seen as the “Eeyore” amongst my family and friends. I saw the glass as half empty; at times I saw it as completely empty. I held my head low, hid behind my hair and did all I could to not stand out. Life was hard enough without calling attention to myself. I was pessimistic, gloomy, dark, depressing, melancholy, blue, and just plain miserable. I lived everyday thinking negative thoughts. I knew deep in my heart that I was destined to be doomed. Forever. What did I have to give the world when the world had nothing but problems to give to me?

Every single thing in life let me down. Every single person let me down or hurt me in one way or another; with exception to my maternal grandmother. In a world like this, it was easy to see how negativity could take over everything. I became a slave to the negative thoughts, thinking that I was unworthy of anything “normal” or “good”. I just accepted that this was how my life was going to be. Life is not fair; that was a thought that repeatedly came as one more thing would happen. One more bad day; one more awful person; one more painful experience. I was vulnerable and I was open to the pain because I was always searching for that one chance at changing how it was going to be. Little did I know then that everything that ever happened was changing me. The big picture was not completely drawn at that point; it never really is.

With an outlook like that it was no wonder that life continued to go the unlucky way. Looking back I can see how special events never turned out the way I had imagined. If I dwelled there, in those moments I can see how more and more of my life would be the same. I am not sure of the exact turning point where this changed for me, but I slowly began looking at life differently. I started taking the power away from the negativity and I started to look for the benefit from each situation. Was there a lesson that I needed to learn? Was there something better waiting for me? Changing these thoughts helped change my life.

Thoughts like this were not productive. Thoughts like this took time away from enjoying the good times or even acknowledging that there were good times. There was no way that I could have been brought into this world to live this way. There was just no way that this was my life; this was not the road map I was meant to follow. It took a long time to see that there were other routes in life; that just because I was on this road did not mean that I was stuck there. Realizing this was life changing. It did not come to me suddenly; but as with everything in my life it started building slowly and one day I saw it; I saw the light in the distance from my darkness. I would not have to live this life any longer. And I chose not to. Life is all in the perspective. You can look at life any way you want to and interpret it any way you chose; ultimately the choice is yours.

Beginning to believe that I was worth the change was a very hard process. So many years of darkness kept bringing me back to the old space that was my life. Darkness can have a hold so strong that it is hard to fight back. It is easier to give up and just let what is comfortable happen. Comfort is not always good. Sometimes comfort is toxic. Sometimes comfort is abusive. Sometimes comfort is lethal. And sometimes it is wonderful. It is a balancing act going between lethal and wonderful is mesmerizingly exhausting. Like Alice in Wonderland there is mystery behind every corner, not knowing who to trust and what to believe. Our minds are good at telling us stories. We just have to become better at rewriting the story that gets told to us in our quietest times. It is in those moments that make up how we see ourselves. It is in those moments that we have the chance to change how we fit into our world.

Every day is a struggle; believing that the unknown will be okay and that we are strong enough to get through anything that comes our way. Trusting that what happens is what is meant to happen. To learn how to walk away feeling joy and not feeling let down when perfection does not come. Learning that perfection is only what we make it; our own perspective. If you expect everything to be flawless you miss out on what really is happening. In reality perfect is not obtainable, you just learn what your perfect is.

Luck is an illusion. Learning this helped change my expectations. Understanding that I am not the only person that has felt consumed by bad days and gray clouds was the first step at understanding that it is not always as it appears. On the surface it may look like everyone else has all that they need or that they are loved and feel safe, but you really never know what another person is feeling or thinking. To an outsider it may appear to be just right; but to the person that it matters most to, it may be all wrong. Terribly wrong.

An outsider may think that my life was perfect. They may have thought that I had everything that I needed. They may have thought that I was loved by many. They may have thought that we were happy kids. But they were wrong. Most of the time what we think about another person or situation is wrong. Jealousy gets in the way and we start wishing that our life were like theirs or wish that we had what others have. Jealousy comes with a price; the price of peace; the price of happiness.

Luck is merely what you make of it. Maybe I did have all that I needed. Maybe I was loved enough. Maybe I just wanted too much. When I stopped looking at what others had and focused on what I had life began to change. I do not call that luck. I call that life experience. When you learn about others and see that there are people who have nothing and are the happiest people you have met while others have what you consider everything and they live lives of despair. Luck is knowing that happiness matters. Luck is knowing that something is better than nothing. My nothing is someone else’s something.

Maybe I did not have the best of everything. Maybe my life was not a fairytale. Maybe I had more than my share of hardships. I learned to stop questioning it and learned to start being grateful for what I did have. Finding the light within the dark spots was my luck. My luck came when I understood the value of my experiences. No one could take away from me what I went through and what it taught me. What happened to me is something that I will own forever. Everything thing that I saw as a hardship before is now seen as a lesson. Life has been my greatest teacher, and understanding that is what I consider lucky.

 

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