In order to heal something you have to actually be able to see it first.  Otherwise you don’t even know the sucker exists.  Consciously at least.  Because it’s there… destroying your life.  But you have no idea.  Kinda like an ominous presence in a Stephen King novel…there’s something out there lurking in the dark, creating trouble, but you’ve no idea why.  Till one day during your healing process a Boogie Man jumps out of the dark, scares you half to death, and swipes it’s claws at you.  Wide eyed you stagger backwards, your heart pounding, and you keep repeating, oh my God, oh my God, that can’t be real.  Will it hurt me?  Should I run?…

The worse thing you can do is run.  You have to hold your ground.  You have to get a good look at it in the full light of day while you have your chance.  It’s where you can see how to kill it.

For years I’ve kept things that happened to me sealed up
and stored deeply at the back of the forbidden dark tower of my memories
and in the recesses of my bowels.
Things that happened and how I think and feel.
This is what you do isn’t it?
Your mother teaches you it’s wrong to hang your family’s dirty laundry
out for the whole world to see.
You keep family secrets.
You don’t even speak of them to each other.
It’s a shameful thing.
It’s the ultimate betrayal to so much as utter them alone in the dark of night…

Instead you keep them hidden… in the blackness.
Where they rot and fester.
Where mice infest and they leave stinking excrement everywhere and make nests out of the “dirty things”.
You learn to live with the filth.  The infection that sets in.  The fog in your thinking.  The demons that lurk and shriek sending your emotions out of control when you least expect and steal you of peace and happiness.

I’ve been finding powerful healing through my life couch sessions and classes.  The problem has been that I’ve dug deeply into the depths of unconscious and memory all the while either partially revealing or keeping a safe distance from certain “shut away things”.
Till the !BLAM!…
That’s when I let the vomit fill my mouth and evacuate my gut.
To purge the putrid rotting, infestation.

This tore at my stomach and sent a shutter throughout my system unearthing a good many Pandora Boxes from far reaching hiding places.  These boxes were left on the edge of my conscious and shook with the roar of the monsters that held them.
Their presence has been so frightening that I’ve no choice but to drive myself to find the key to open and unleash them into the world so I might see them for what they were and free myself.

This “drive” produced yet another !BLAM!ming however this time my mother didn’t hear it.  It was urged on by my life coach when he heard their roar.  He knew how to unleash at least some right then… I needed to say things that I hadn’t already.  He encouraged me act as if she were there and this time to call her names.

I tried.  But at first the words stuck firmly in my throat.  I stopped and said, “This is ridiculous I can swear a blue streak when I’m mad and even if I simply choose to, but without my mom even present I can’t do it. “So I took four slow deep breaths, closed my eyes, and tried again.  The words came out slowly, as if trapped by the bowel cramping the proceeds explosive diarrhea.  Then they released and poured out unable to be suppressed.  I called her every name in the book and let her know what I thought of her.  I was surprised to hear some of what I said.

I left feeling better.

But there were more boxes lying there, thundering with the earth shattering anger of the monsters they held…
That’s where I’ll pick up tomorrow…

Night, love ya,
Theresa Jane

I would like to make it clear to everyone who reads my blog that I’m not “blaming” my parent for my issues.  But I do !BLAM! them for their personal-living-hell they dumped on me when I was an innocent child.  Again, to !BLAM! is NOT to blame.
!BLAM! stands for:
B: Birthing
L: Love
A: Affection
M: Mercy

Anyone that responds in the manner that I’m blaming my parents, I say those individuals who think such, you are carrying a ton of guilt for what you’ve done against your children and/or you want to continue to carry your parents issues and will continue to dump them on your children and others.

My work and mission in life is to bring healing between America’s youth and their parents.  For anyone who would like to have a clearer understanding of what it means to !BLAM! their parents go to John1′s blog (my business partner and friend) at: www.journeytotruefreedom.com and his web site, click on the video tab and view my video.  You’ll find two of me there and for now I recommend viewing the 6 or so minute one as we are having buffering issues with the longer one, we’re working on the problem and hope to have it running soon.

I trust that the majority of you have my same sentiments which is, we parents must help American youth to overcome their bad habits and addictions.  In doing so this is a way we can participate in making our country a better place to live.  Which will ultimately set a shinning example for other countries to do likewise.  Please join us, John and myself, in creating peace and love between children and parents.

Night, love ya,
Theresa Jane

When I went home to seek resolution with my parents a few years ago, my step-father was remorseful and changed…
So WHY did I !BLAM! him as well?

Well, as I said in my video I side stepped a lot back then, swept it under the carpet if you will.  I didn’t want to shove the past in their face, make them wrong…  All I really asked was that they admit that I had a reason to have cut them off for all those years because:  the past was horrible.  A nightmare…  And I asked that because my mother has always continued to be upset, and held it over my head that they were cut off for all those years and claimed cluelessness about the reason–God, sometimes my mother makes me roll and squeeze my eyes shut and my stomach to cease in knots . . .

Since then I have come to see that by not bringing everything out, my childhood pain and fears, the adult fears and pains and lingering effects… I stopped short.  Far short.  Which kept me carrying the burden.  A participant in hiding the past.  Protecting the awful that it was.  And although my step-father was remorseful and has changed, I really was left needing to express to them the searing pain and lingering effects I have suffered from their hands.
Get it out of me…
Bring to light what was in the dark…
Give the burden back to them…
Facing the awful makes it real.  Validates it.  And allows the person/people to become free.
Therefore when I called to !BLAM! it really needed to be to them both.

Night again, love ya,
Theresa Jane
-who just senses unasked questions  and wonders who is holding a question that they want to ask?  I say, ask away, I’m an open book and love questions

I have experienced two DIFFERENT reactions from my parents since the !BLAM!.
One positive and one negative.
I share to encourage others…
I share to say I understand…

My STEP-FATHER on the one hand has been a broken man since the !BLAM!
(Click here to read how remorseful he has been since the !BLAM!)
I also want to add that his change really began nearly 3 years ago when I went home and did, shall we call it, a very minor !BLAM! before I even had this concept to work from.  I went home to try to form some semblance of peace with my parents and I mildly faced them with the issues of the past. (click here to read that post) As I shared in that post… both back then and again (and more so) since the !BLAM! he has:
Asked for forgiveness,
Been incapable of understanding how I could ever forgive him for all he did in the past.
Taken the full burden of what he did.
And just as important and necessary he has completely changed in a positive manner towards me.
The control is gone.
The hooks are gone.
The power plays are gone.
I’m respected as an adult and much more.
Has his change been perfect?  No, but I’ve sure seen a turn in the opposite direction.  That gives me reason to believe he’s working on what little’s missing.  And honestly the little that’s missing tends to be due to him getting caught by my mother in one of her fire storms and taking her side.  That is a difficult situation I understand.  He has to live with her.  Try to maintain peace with her.  His health for the last 7 or so years has been in a delicate place and he has to rely on her.  So again this is a sticky wick.

My MOTHER on the other hand, sadly, is a hard woman who continues to refuse to except responsibility, or to change. 
Both since I went home and since the !BLAM!.
So far she’s made no verbal reference to me regarding the !BLAM!, but there’s been plenty of actions. (go back and read prior posts)
She’s angry, and she’s been showing me she is.
It’s apparent that she wants to hurt me.
Her treatment of me has been in a manner where she’s showing that she’s not giving and she’s still exerting her old, “I’m the mother you’re the child” tricks to attempt to control me.
There’s not been remorse.
There’s been no owning what she did.
From what others have been telling me she’s saying, I’m lying about the past.  I’m making her the wrong one.  It was all dad’s fault and yet I blame her for everything…she’s done nothing wrong.  Troubles that we’ve had between her and I, in my adult years, have been because of me, I want to hurt her.  I’m mean to her.  I’m disrespectful…

With that shared let me hasten to say, I understand why my mother’s upset and has for all these years continued to hold on to her position that she didn’t do anything wrong and she’s innocent.  I can only imagine that she’s living in turmoil.  The “best” that she did when I was growing up, obviously came out of her own problems that she suffered at the hands of her mother and father.  I understand that she, just as my step-father, did the best that they could when they raised me and I sympathize with them both in this area.  But their “best” caused a whole lot of suffering and pain in my childhood and long term effects to my adult life.  Therefore, I hope and pray my mother will come to see and understand what she has done.  Not only do I hope she comes to see and truly/sincerely own what she has done, I hope she can change her ways towards me.  If and when this happens my mother and I, the lion and the lamb, will lie together in peace and love.

Hopefully my mom can come to see all this and make some changes in order to free herself up from her personal-living-hell.

And I ask that you, my friends, keep my mother and I, our healing our relationship, in your prayers and mediation.

Night, love ya,
Theresa Jane
-I’m wondering, do you have a story to share??   -OR- Has what I’ve been sharing been helpful to you?  Please share in my comment section . . .

For years I’ve pretty much been doing the same thing over and over again with my parents and expecting different results.  !BLAM!ming them was doing something different.

By not ever dealing honestly, openly, and calmly with the past and being straight up with them I swept everything under the carpet.  The result was I continued to get walked on and held responsible for their guilt and pain.   This allowed them, but honestly mostly my mother to continue with a lot of her/their hurtful ways.   The most recent examples: the card and phone call to the hospital mentioned in the prior posts.

She’s been bullying me my whole life in similar and much, much harsher ways.  She’s made me responsible (and her husband and son) for her wrongs and guilt.  I finally came to a point where I felt no guilt for what she had done in her life, or to me, or what she ever would do.  I decided that I was giving the guilt and pain back.  I had been bullied long enough…So the !BLAM!

Once I did this I set myself free.
Since I’ve been experiencing freedom, more self-confidence, much more clarity.
Some of the clarity has come in the form of being able to see myself clearer.  Remember my posts on “Peering Down the Rabbit Hole” and I talked about feeling worthless most of my life?  And how now that I see it I can 1) heal it and 2) must to be on the look out for slipping that mask back on?  Well after the hospital phone call I discovered that when it comes to my mother I tend to put that mask on right away.

She hung up on me and I felt worthless.  Unvalidated.  Wrong. Wrong for telling her she hurt me.  That it was wrong what she/they had done to me…  Typically in the past I would have gotten angry and spewed it out.  This time however, when I felt these feelings rise up I stopped.  I began to observe…calmly.  And that’s when I got in touch with “something different…”  I saw the little girl inside me.  She had backed into a corner, drew her knees up to her chest, put her face between her legs, and hid. 

I continued to watch.  She didn’t know how to come out.
I’m 45 for heaven’s sake and I’m reacting as if I’m a child.  Good God who knew?
…Later, the little girl was still in charge and was nervous on the phone with the man in her life that’s showing her love, kindness, and acceptance and hasn’t a problem in the world with her, yet she felt he did and she began to say things that questioned this.  But this time I/the adult saw what I/the little girl was doing.  I/the little girl was creating a situation where he would get upset with her/me, thereby proving to her/myself that I was indeed worthless.  Worthy of the worthless mask.

Once I saw it I countered it by being honest and admitting exactly what was going on, that I was going to do all I could to overcome this illusion, and I needed help.  And I received it    I received love.

Since I have wobbled around coming out of the corner.  But I’ve been observing. Learning things about myself.  Healing and growing and creating new realities.  Happily I haven’t created a mess with him, my children, or my ex as I would have in the past and wondered how it happened.  Instead I have dealt lovingly with myself and strove to not let the past effect my present.  I’m an adult, my mother can’t hurt me this way anymore.  I have value.  I have worth…

Night, love ya,
Theresa Jane
-whose finally leaving the past behind and beginning to really live in the present    because I did something different… I !BLAM!med…

CONTINUED from yesterday, I said there was more that has opened for me…
The day before when I was writing about my thoughts on “The !BLAM!ming” (click here for the post) and stated that I was like a war vet suffering post war trauma, the strangest thing happened.  There were visions in my mind, like the Ghost of Christmas Past had taken me to when I was a child… I was watching scenes of myself in my parents home.  I was able to observe “this little girl”.  Bad things were happening and she was frightened.  Many scenes flashed as we moved through the years.

As I observed something came vividly clear…

I was able to see the connection between me and the war vet. People go to war healthy mentally and can come home very different.  They can’t help it.  They lived through horror.  They can’t stop the psychological traumas: The flash backs.  The fears.  Living on edge.  Waiting to protect/defend.  Watchful.  Suspicious.  And everyone including themselves know why they changed from the great person they were before they left… the effects of war.

This experience broke open an understanding why “the little girl” in the visions became the way “she” had.

How much worse for “her” then the vet?

She was 2 1/2 when her mother married “her” step-father. “She” was just a baby. Never even had a chance to develop healthy mentally. Her brain was forming. Her experiences with life were taking shape. The networking being laid was hard wired with traumas: fear, jumpy, hide, go outside…run, protect, shut down, defend, stop listening, be suspicious, be watchful, lie, keep to herself, no one loves her, no where is safe, stop feeling, don’t express “herself”, shut up, go away, do as “she’s” told, don’t question, “she’s” worthless, who would want to love “her”, look for others to hurt “her”, be: depressed, suicidal, pull away, ice over, protect, feel worthless, shut down, survive, defend, argue…

“She” suffered the effects of “war”/horror/violence inside “her” home. It’s all “she” knew. “She” couldn’t help it.  “Her” brain’s beliefs and patterns took over and “she” was stuck there.  In that past.  Hopeless… unless someone helped “her”.  Everyone, including me, should have known…

But I didn’t know.  I didn’t cut myself an inch of slack. All through my life I have been destructively self-judgmental and just plain self-destructive.  I curse myself. Put myself down. Call myself names. I’ve had no patience with myself. Couldn’t receive compliments.  No acceptance of myself unless I was perfect and my bar was so high I rarely, if ever, reached it.  And certainly never accepted my failures.

The !BLAM!ming freed up a ton of bottled up energy that I used elsewhere…

The other day was the first time I connected with the small child inside. The one that was hurt and scarred.  For the first time in my life I was able to understand “her“.  Except “her” faults.  Feel compassion. I wanted to pick her up, sway side to side, stroke her hair, and tell her, “It’s okay, I’m here now.  I’m protecting you.  I understand.  I’m going to keep you safe.  I’m taking you out of here to live with me.  You don’t have to stay.  You can leave with me.”  And walk off with her in my arms and not stop till we were in my apartment.

You know what?  That’s exactly what I’m going to do right now.  Spend time with the “little girl”.  Let her know she’s safe…

Night, love ya,
Theresa Jane
-Tomorrow… what the response from my parents has been so far.

B-birthing
L-love
A-affection
M-mercy

The whole intent of the process is for relationships to heal.  Families to unite.  And if that isn’t the result, well then at the very least the one !BLAM!ing will experience healing.

Love ya,
Theresa Jane

Christmas bells are ringing, for me!

It’s been a week and two days since I called my parents and !BLAM!ed them. (click here for video) I took control of my life.  Stood up, as an adult and said, “Wait just a minute here…” and the results are continuing to be astounding.  Since I hung up it’s been a new experience.  My healing has taken off at warp speed.  Even John1 mentioned it today…

It’s all been soooo dramatic I must tell you, from the beginning:

After ending the call I cried.  I sat down on John1′s couch and became a blob of human flesh, exhausted and staring at his TV as characters danced around in the “White Christmas” movie.  Pain pierced at my temples and in the middle of my forehead.  I felt drugged.  Almost listless.  My brain creeped just like during “the drug days” when creepy crawlers moved along the surface of my brain.  Except this didn’t end and it covered my entire brain.  I felt the entire networked surface of my brain.  Front to back, side to side.

About an hour later I staggered off the couch.  Went to John’s office where he was working on rendering the video of me !BLAM!ming into the computer, told him I needed to go.  Slid into my coat and drove home.  As I drove paranoia crashed over me.  When I was young I had became paranoid a lot.  So this made sense.  I had stood up to my parents and the old brain patterns took over and old fears struck out at me…

In my apartment I was stir crazy, fighting paranoia, almost afraid to be alone.  I kept telling myself my childhood mantra: “Everything’s okay.  I ‘m going to be alright.”  I couldn’t even watch TV anymore.  John1 called to check on me.  He helped me through it till I was finally able to woo my body to relax and sleep.  Then I slept.  Like a rock.  Till 12 pm the next day.

Woke feeling like I had cried the whole night through.  Honestly?  I think I had.  In another state of consciousness.  In another plane of reality I spent the night griving and releasing.  Finally totally facing the fact that I never had a childhood.  I never had a family life.  It was like someone had sat me down the night before and said to the small child inside me, “Theresa your parents were killed in a car wreck.  They’re never coming home.”  And that little girl cried and cried till she was dry of tears and when she awoke she was ready to face life with the reality that she was parentless and needed to move on.

I awoke a bit fuzzy headed.  Eyes, head, and body heavy from the all night cry.  But inspired.   Excited.  Too excited to sit at the computer and work.  I wanted to spend time with my daughter Grace.  So I went to her school, intercepted her before she boarded the bus for home, swept her off to see “The Christmas Carol”,  then went C. shopping.  Great fun.  Great mom daughter time.  Our best ever.

Came home wrote my blog and was feeling nostalgic so that’s what I wrote,  a good childhood Christmas memory mixed with the day’s events. (click here for this post)

From that day to this I have noticed a very different me.  Freer.  Happier.  Stronger.  I walk straighter.  Feel confidence growing.  I’m looking people in the eye more.  I am speaking my mind.  Laughing freely.  Being playful.  Oh it goes on and on.  It’s been the melting of the Ice Queen, me, to an unrecognizable puddle.  Thank God.
Who could ask for more?  Well…there is more.  A lot and it’s wonderful.  And that’s tomorrow.

Night, love ya,
Theresa Jane
-who catches herself smiling for no reason    that’s the greatest present of all…

Thoughts since the !BLAM!…

A great metaphor for the forgotten child.

!BLAM!ming my parents was one of the best things I’ve ever done.  I feel so different inside.  I’m experiencing transformation daily.  I let my parents know that I was a forgotten child in all their violence, drama, and destruction.  And I did it calmly.  No screaming, no yelling, no my parents yelling back…  I let them know in a controlled, clear adult manner that what they did effected me.  That I’ve never stood up and said.  I had always basically summarized: “You and dad were terrible.  You were out of control…”  This time I let them know what they did hurt.  How I felt.  How I was effected.  That I remember what they did to each other and me.  It was REAL.  It happened.  It destroyed me.  I’m tired of it not being acknowledge and them expecting me to just go on as if, to quote my mother, “We were just a family who had problems”.   Good God, it was more than that.

I grew up in that mess.  I was a child.  I had to find a way to survive.  Through my private sessions with my couch/therapist… I discovered that I never came out of survivor mode.  Possibly the best way to describe it would be to say, I functioned like a vet who suffers with post war trama: flashbacks/jumpy/edgy/suspicious/on alert/ready to protect and defend…

Not me. Just a great pic for here

I have lived on “survive mode” since I was a child.  It has only been until the last 7-8 months that I can say I am finally, really, really coming out of that state.  Out of the “training” I went through at home, when I grew up and my brain was forming.  The way I processed life, my psychological state of being, formed and letting that go and even seeing some of it was a very difficult thing to do.  A very tough row to hoe.  Those ways of being were what allowed me to survive what I lived through.

Letting go took two things: A committed couch who wouldn’t give me any way out and my unwavering commitment… leaving appointments with swollen red eyes or swearing a sailors stream of cus when it came to the session I just left, “what did that son of a bitch know about anything…”

Since leaving home I have searched for my healing.  Tried many things.  So I could live normally.  Feel normally.  Like other people.  It wasn’t until 6 years ago this January 2nd that I really found the source of my healing.  That’s when I found my life couch and he had a system (birthed from the book he had been writing: Red Book and Cotton) and through it I found the way out.  However it’s taken a lot of work and it wasn’t until the last 7-8 months that I can I say I have had the earth shattering break throughs that could allow me to say, “Now I’m really starting to live my own life.  I feel it.  I see it.  The lingering effects are falling off in chunks… finally.”

That’s not to say that through the years I haven’t seen major changes in my life, emotions, reactions, how I deal with life around me.  It’s just to say that all that work finally added up to the “Wow” I see and feel in me today.  And the !BLAM! rocketed me.

I know I’m not done.  I have more work to do.  And I will, “Sell all I have in search of the pearl of great value”…that being my wholeness.  I have to be whole.  I have to feel like a confident adult who has value and worth.  I have to be happy from the inside and not from what happens on the outside to “make” me happy…  So I’m not stopping…

Love ya,
Theresa Jane
-if you are clueless about what I’m talking about when it comes to what I did when I !BLAM!med…

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P3dcbzTwu7Y&hl=en_US&fs=1&]

Who knew that the project/business John1 and I started in August was going to go in the direction it has?  Not me.  Not him.  This is truly an organic process.  We followed a white rabbit and the hole keeps getting deeper, a little unnerving even, but we’re determined to keep up…

Here’s the end at the beginning…

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P3dcbzTwu7Y&hl=en_US&fs=1&]

So why did I do this?  !BLAM! my parents.  Here’s a little history to get to you there.  Sorry it’s so long.  But how do you condense 21 years any tighter?  Beats me, because I tried.  Spent about 2 1/2 hours getting it to where it is…

I have mentioned that the home I grew up in was a violent, scary place.  A war zone where I was robbed of any real childhood.  With a decision, initiated by my ex, we cut my parents out of our lives and asked that they respect us in this decision.

For 19 or so years we had nothing to do with them. (there’s a little more but I decided to cut it for space, basically my mother forced phone calls on me several years ago.  She called every few months.  When I took the call they were tense.  She was controlling.  Nosy…  I was reminded, “She is my mother…”)

About two and a half years ago, after years of work on my healing, I flew home to see my parents for the first time in about 22 years, to seek peace.  This I initiated.

Within minutes I nearly walked out on them because my mother said, “I don’t appreciate you not coming to our home and having to come to your aunts house.  I haven’t been in your aunts house in years,” she said scanning the house disgusted, “and here we are now because you won’t come to our house blah, blah, blah… I don’t even recognize you.  You don’t even look like yourself…”

My step-father said very upbeat, “Oh she looks just like Theresa.”
She glared at him.
It took all my healing not to end everything right there.  It was only my determination that this part of my life needed peace if from nowhere else but on my part.  So I stayed.  I told them I wasn’t there to make them wrong about the past, but I felt we needed to be honest and at least acknowledge that there has been a reason why they were cut out of our lives 21 years ago.  I was brief, but blunt…  Then I added we had no family to speak of.  Therefore no foundation to build from.  We needed to build a foundation.  That was what I wanted.  Not pretend that there was more than there was… let’s form a friendship. Go from there.

I apologized for how difficult I had been in my teens and asked them to forgive me.  My step-father broke down and cried.  This I only saw once, maybe twice before.  He said, “Of course I forgive you.”  Then his tears flowed, “I only hope you can forgive me.  I was awful.  Absolutely horrible to you.  I made a mess of everything and was terrible to everyone.  It was all my fault.”

I was amazed.  This was a basically a first.  I started to cry and told him I forgave him and it wasn’t all his fault.  My mother sat there.

I didn’t press her.  I started talking saying how we each played our role in the past…  she expressed disgusted I had been so forgiving to “him” when he had ruined her and her children’s life.  I pointed out that dad wasn’t the only problem.  She hadn’t been a silent lamb.  She was just as bad… she said, “I know, I was a terrible mother and cried.  Now, this is what my mother had always said.  It’s all she’s ever said.  And you have to hear her to get what I am saying… her sincerity is sadly lacking.  It’s like she’s forced to say something.  Like she wants pity.  She never says she did a thing to cause hurt or pain.  She was always a victim…I just want to hurt her, make her wrong…

Since the meeting a little changed.  In the beginning.  Shortly there after she started back to where we she was with me when we were on the phone…constantly reminding me I’m her daughter, she’s my mother, those are her grandchildren…  She gets testy, pushy, insulting, probing, wants me to live her way, I need to get back with my ex, the divorce upsets her so, am I seeing the children, it’s important that I do, if so when, “That’s all? How come not more…”, (for new readers, my children live with their dad, I see/have my children with me 4-6 days a week I have three right now, Caleb’s been with me since Thursday.) everything is about her…  I rub my temples.  I do all I can to be nice.  Ignore.  Not attack.  At times I’m direct.  Others we bicker.  She can get my father on the phone to “protect her from me”.  I was wearing thin to the bone.  I wanted to tell her that I didn’t want to talk with her anymore.

Then John1 suggested I try !Blam!ming them.  I had my doubts that it would work.  She never wants to listen.  She’s always defending.  Insulting.  Talking over me.  Accusing me of not letting the past go… and “John look what I had already done…”

But I decided that the business/project John1 and I were in had taken us here for more reasons then we had seen.  I needed this.  I had tried everything to gain peace.  To be respected.  To have peace.  To really heal inside when it came to my parents and well, it didn’t seem to be working most esp. with my mother.  I decided to try.  The above video is the super condensed version of me !BLAM!ming my parents.  When I first posted it it was at the bottom.  I re-thought it and decided it needs to be right there at the top, then give the history that accompanies it.

Night, love ya,
Theresa Jane
-long, I know, but it’s Sunday, even the paper is bigger, and I really couldn’t figure out where to split this. If you know what I could have said…it would take a book.  Oh yeah, I’m writing one!    (Also: John1 is so named because I have son named John and he works with us.  So John1 and John2:my son)