IntrinsicTina

I love my husband. You are supposed to love your spouse. But I'm fortunate enough to really know that I love him through thick and thin, sickness and health. Our love has been sorely tested. Love gets tested from many directions. Fidelity, finances, and children are the biggies. And we were no different. I lost a marriage, a lifestyle, and financial security when my first marriage dissolved due to infidelity. His history bore the same scar. We both had a single daughter from our first marriages that we saw only sporadically thanks to custody battles. We were mirror images on many levels; our children, hunger for a monogamous relationship, our emotional scars, our Harley Davidson motorcycles, gainful employment...What more do we need? How about love of God and compatibility? Sobriety? About God, we both classified ourselves as believers. We weren't church attendees, nor did we belong to a congregation. If we did, we may have had some issues. But our church avoidance was an...

I'm listening to the audiobook Toxic Parents: Overcoming their Hurtful Legacy and Reclaiming Your Life . I've known for years that I had toxic parents. Thanks to Alcoholics Anonymous, I was able to identify, determine my part, if any, and move to acceptance and the amends process. I love and accept them today but they perpetrated many injustices upon their children. Additionally,  I don't kid myself into thinking my own daughter escaped the cycle of abuse unscathed. I can think of a half dozen examples she probably carries with her. I regretted the actions at the time and to this day. I'd like to think I made the appropriate amends to her but you would have to ask her. My own charming mother employed the use of wooden spoons, belts, and hangars to beat us for infractions. I remember being pre-K in the middle of a thrashing with a belt and, stubbornly, deciding not to give her the satisfaction; I turned my head to say Didn't hurt. As you can imagine, it infuriate...

My husband asked that I write about my experience as a patient in the skilled nursing facility, Lifecare Center of Federal Way. It's a difficult endeavor due to my many traumatic experiences and the impact of fear and anxiety it left upon me. I hesitate because I don't want to insult the few good souls who made it bearable.  One may wonder why I did not document issues as they occurred. At first, I was unable to write due to the progression of ALS. Although, I owned a speech generating device, it was new and I was unpracticed. Additionally, I was having issues dealing with either frontotemporal disease (FTD) or PseudoBulbar Affect (PBA). My emotions were raw and I was laid open to impulsivity and acting rashly. (It's important to know what these conditions are NOT. They are NOT dementia. They do NOT effect cognition.).  I mention these deficits, not to evoke pity, but to gain understanding. Finally, I was intimidated. Fear of reprisal was more than a vague fear, on at lea...

"If I don't tell my truth then the world has naught but lies to believe about me. "     ---Tina Flink I have another FaceBook stalker. Surprise surprise, it's my biological sister's best friend doing the same thing she did last year.  Verbally bash me on my FaceBook wall. She has taken over where my abusive sister left off. I had to remove myself from my sister's life for the same behavior earlier this year when I was in the medical ICU and a mere two days after dodging the final bullet. There is no excuse for that kind of no class behavior to another human being. In the interest seeing where I may have first harmed her, bringing this hatred upon myself, I have sat down in quiet contemplation, asking God to direct my thinking. The following is what I came up with: The following is what I came up with:   She's never been my cup of tea but I always granted her the right to be her tacky self. After all, we are all different and she was a great match for m...

I remember catching fireflies,  putting them in a jar, as a girl of five. I picked pears off a tree that overhung an alleyway on my route home from school, then enjoyed the forbidden fruit. .I had a golden cat who chased a gray mouse through our living room sending my mother, 3-year old sister, and me screaming atop the sofa and chairs. We lived in a farmhouse and I watched Romper Room. A daddy longlegs skittered across my dirty kid legs as I teeter-tottered on a broken kitchen chair back. I played grocery store and laid out a bedroll for group nap time in preschool. We lived in an apartment attached to a bakery. My maternal grandparents visited and a photo was snapped. Grandma held Dawn and Grandpa held me. I held Grandpa's chin. Walking through the back of the flour-caked kitchen, I saw scrumptious pastries and colorful toys stuck in the cupcakes with my hungry kids eyes. We lived in a two-story apartment building next door to a large farmer's field.  That field was my...