I wondered where I’d be when daily drops would stop or end,

Since they would slither down my cheeks without any notice and not cease

But just pretend.


Rainbows hadn’t stopped another inch of rain to fall or so I felt at first,

When alone and all around me sun rays warmed The Others’ cheeks…

Lighter days, in spelling out another Spring, the flowers burst for some who’d

passed beyond the storm and weathered havoc’s wreak


Slowly, months and years passed by and, on occasion, I would feel

A lonely teardrop left behind, in fact, its memory fairly leapt to mind!

A familiar scent. A touch. A church bell sound.

The paths we shared, why I could still have you in my very own surround!


Some comfort food, a glass of wine, and I’d tell myself I’ll not miss those days as

much or even yet again! In fact, I’ll only charm and laugh at new!

Repeatedly, in quiet voice and counsel, I hear Him tell me:

Despite my sorrow, I must teach what I have known.


A twinge of unnecessary loss and my soul questions again, Why?

Bright new things are mine to own.

It will take time. Those words lie fallow.

Here and there, another wince and silenced groan.


Sharing through my childhood lens, I’ll explain a bit; sometimes, too much.

For those seeking comfort themselves, keen eyes observe a scar split open.

Remembering my promise, I reach out; perhaps one more try, one more

touch. Before tomorrow, I must once more accept His Will be Done.


So that family, friends, loved ones all– might note with understanding pause

I take up again another day and accept when comes another inch of rain…

Just because.



Dear One:

These past few days and weeks I feel as though I should be in a Jacquie Lawson Halloween e-card as the unhappy, restless soul, cavorting around old haunts and still seeking others’ approvals by making them laugh or smile…

It is no small coincidence that one of my tag lines is “…the smiles are free…”  as I have so often been told to be grateful; I can still hear my father’s  repetitious “good enough” as an admonition that I should be thankful and not ask for anything more.  Of course, my mother was in agreement but she, like I, breathed a daily dose of fear; hers normally came from whatever might be outside our front door; my fears equally descended upon me , but could traverse on either side of the glass-paneled entry; some days they continue to do so.

It’s another out of control, merry-go-round demon that I am riding, flying along toward some horrendously HIGH maintenance levels, then feeling the cheap thrill of such soaring taking the saddle from beneath me and leaving me with a plastic mane to hang on to as I sink to ground level without warning –  unfortunately, these emotional highs and lows are all MINE.  Compounding the circular adventure are the insecurity and comparison default modes which always kick in; I feel inadequate. No second take;  I am DEFINITELY not measuring up to my own standards.  In this day’s changing, great land of opportunity, my personal demons have raised their ugly heads again.  What a surprise…NOT.

Add to this mental mix any associate’s professionalism, business manner, beauty, confidence and poise – all acquired skills and talents – and my personal sense of adequacy is completely turned upside down and on end!  I BECOME the ugly duckling, far from my finish line goals, retreating into any safe haven, where ever I may find it… then discover that in my busy-ness,  I have shorted myself of my own nesting needs and, thus, what should be physically present is ethereal and outside my reach.

Intellectually, I KNOW that I must daily believe in myself and trust my gut.  That my instincts are loud enough to catch my attention and remind me is rather comforting; so I focus on my “good student” persona.  I REFUSE to accept that I am so eroded by Depression’s weight that I cannot learn a new skill or pull a trick from my business repertoire.  I AM; and CAN BE; and HAVE BEEN:  a business woman.   I respond accordingly, as the confident- in- her- business- shoes, successful CEO woman.  Been there, STILL NEED TO…the first pair of shoes are long gone and were higher heeled; then,  I could run with those more educated than I.  So if true and proven – I have awards and plaques in my closet – what creature is this? This perennial Doubt that pops itself up and out through my matured swan skin, disbursing my confidence to The Winds?


If I could just harness my sensitivities as my Nazarene minister friend once told me, instead of letting them harness me, especially when my sense of financial security is threatened; all too quickly the occasional “backfires” start in again,  and my fearful perceptions and anxieties are heightened. 

Must I view my internal upsets on this mirrored page? Apparently I MUST, as it is not the first time that a pen or keyboard has exposed this reflection.  I rarely give myself permission to reflect or surround myself with quiet; my parental disciplines don’t allow such frivolity.  However, I allow a self-indulgent moment like this one as the inevitable crashes compel me to do so.  Again, I hear from childhood: all work and no play… and I realize I have emptied my vessel completely once again, performing the same habitual routine and expecting to emerge differently or (shall I say it?) , even a bit smarter this time around. 

Sadly, my dear ones around me only hear an incessant rambling of nervousness that is tedious and boring … if I am bored, just how trying might it be for them?  But they are not the first nor, will they be the last , to befriend this tortured soul. I am quiet and remain still enough to KNOW:  I am so very blessed!  Why, I am EVEN ABLE TO CRY, now.  The fork in the road has reopened, so I can take a couple of steps back, then move forward once again on the corrected path.  

Meds adjustments and hormones aside, I hope I have not made the friendships any more difficult than they should be.  I am trying to balance out my own years of experience and my deep-seated but intense Optimism that springs forth with excitement and a can-do spirit, conquering Doubt and burying him in the dust! 

I will never make it on any cheer leading squad, not with my timing! My step and beat are indeed to a different drummer.  Instead, God gives me moments wherein I can cry when writing a letter such as this.

At some hour, when it is meant to be, The Winds will return my confidence to me.  I shall continually prepare for that familiar moment!  By His Design, I will have constructed enough economic security to safely hold warmth upon my shoulders, and I will remind myself I needn’t carry such burdens any longer, and I will let drop the heavy cloak from my cramped hands. ..  

The Second Act

I felt compelled to speak up.  The pastor had asked for prayer requests and I was armed with my plea.  If any family needed a supporting hand or a familiar face in an all too familiar situation it was that family.  I was appealing to my fellow helpless to make a move.  Any move.  A phone call; a card; any action that might reach across to that family and bring them back into the daily stream; I’m sure I must have repeated myself that Sunday morning.

I couldn’t imagine a family sustaining so much hurt.  Our family had experienced the reality of one suicide; literally, one was enough.  Yet, this family was experiencing their third suicide within two generations – I was struck dumb. No words on any paper had yet described the feelings or alleviated the sense of wonderment; the never-ending, unresolved questions that lingered long after the act.

And while I was still struggling daily to grasp the message from my sibling’s death, I alternately slid from one hand’s reasoning — that his mental illness had affected his action – to the other hand’s logic — that a selfish streak in his personality had claimed the final victory.  I had gained no insight from my four year’s pondering.

Three decades later, I have become more pragmatic.  Yes, I still wince when I hear of a family’s experiencing a loved one’s suicide.  I have been left behind twice now; once by a sibling and once by a very special friend.  Having twice muddled through such numbing losses, I have culled from my grief a fickle sense of peace, restless and often at odds with my pragmatic side…


This pain is not sharp; nor does it come without warning.

It settles in for its intended stay and leaves only after its visit has become tiresome and of lesser value for the present.

But not before it has assumed a user-friendly persona, negating all things bright and beautiful, moments new and songs unsung.

Choosing instead to dwell on some things great, memories sad, and dark sides shared with none…

Thus, quietly… without attracting much attention, this pain runs its course, enveloping the nooks and crannies of mindful possibilities…and weaving a pattern of


Response-hurt/Less Response – Deeper Hurt

toward the probable

Final Response – No More Hurt.


Dear Reader,

I wrote this many years ago.  Why share it now, you ask?

Depression is a real illness. Even today, this illness can be overlooked, easily misunderstood, or even misdiagnosed.  People of all ages and from all walks of life are touched by it; it is extremely painful to watch a loved one suffer.

Successful treatments do exist!  Often, an individual only needs a professional, guiding hand.  Wishing you and your loved ones well —– the FrogHavenLady


There is No Why

There is no why to comfort the heart nor answer the soul’s despair.

One can press and be told how; one can push and be told where.

There remains, however, only a persistent when: the when that was

Seeps into your conscience, while everyone else breathes in the when that is…


Life’s happenings continue in spite of your earth seemingly spinning off its axis

As you pause, then find your footing to gravitate in the present once again.

Smiles linger.  Young hands cling.  Suicide is not death…it is a life sentence

For those left behind.