God Bless America

My husband and I sat in the town diamond of Ligonier, Pennsylvania as it was set up for a brass band concert. Along with all the others, we carried our lawn chairs to be set up all over the sidewalks and streets near the town hall. I observed people talking and laughing with one another. I observed camaraderie and pleasantries being exchanged. As I looked around to all the quaint, charming shops nearby, I thought, this is what bliss is for me. An old-fashioned setting, and old-fashioned ways.

What really caught my attention, is the fact that nobody was on a cell phone. Nobody ignored another by being coldly impersonal with an electronic gadget attached to their ear, or their fingers furiously working the screen of the newest I-phone or gadget. It struck me in its simplicity that this is the very thing we lack nowadays. And this is the very reason I'm writing my futuristic tale about a society where we no longer communicate by speech.

The brass band began practicing their notes, warming up for the patriotic Fourth of July weekend concert. Smiles emanated from every member of their team. You could tell they loved what they were doing. Local cops came by and closed off the road from the rest of the world, and I felt like we were in a cozy cocoon of peacefulness.

Right before the concert, a pastor approached the microphone. A handsome, older gentleman with twinkling blue eyes. I could see by his face that he loved a good laugh. I could see by his demeanor, he had something important to say. He began by telling us all that he was there to give the invocation. He explained that prayer is so necessary in our "new world." God has been taken out of the equation all over our country. And he, the pastor, is one man that is not ashamed to stand up for his beliefs and not afraid to speak the name of God out loud in our society. He prayed for us all, and for our world. He spoke bravely from the heart and you could have heard a pin drop. Applause resounded all over when the man was finished, and as he walked back to where he was going to sit for the concert, many of us wanted to reach out, shake his hand, and tell him just what his words meant to us. I couldn't help but think once again of the dystopian world I'm writing about. How one brave man isn't afraid to speak out in a society which has outlawed words, privacy, and even religion.

I sat in awe as the band played marching tunes, patriotism abounding. Songs with God's name proudly uttered, and a feeling of pride in who we all were at that moment. It is an evening I will not soon forget. Let's be so brave. Let's not allow today's society to take away all that we hold dear. Let's continue to fellowship with one another, boldly proclaiming the name of God. Let's put aside the latest gadgets in hope of reaching out to another human being. What if we change the world one person at a time?

 Yes, God bless America! Please...

Sci-Fi author guest post

I'm so fortunate to meet really great people in the writing community. People I never would have had a chance to meet otherwise. Today, I'd like to introduce you to Charity Bradford who sounds like she's had a most interesting life. It's wonderful to see someone pursue their dreams, and it appears Charity certainly has.

Charity’s childhood was full of adventure. From the first grade on, she moved from Kentucky to Alabama to Kentucky to Alabama to…well you get the idea. Although the moving didn’t help her grasp of mathematics, it fostered a deep love of books since those were the friends she could always take with her. Her family settled in Tennessee about the same time she started Jr. High.

The small rural community provided life experiences that she often wishes she could give her children. She ran wild over forty acres and learned to drive at the age of twelve. Between books, she shot b-b guns, stacked firewood, worked in a garden, hauled water (because they didn’t have running water!), and decided that one day she wanted to see her name on a book in the library.

In high school she started writing stories, but never managed to finish a full-length novel. She put her writing dreams on hold, finished HS and headed to Brigham Young University where she finally filled those gaps in her math knowledge with a degree in Elementary Education. A year before graduating, she married her high school sweetheart. They started their family right away. By the time her hubby finished grad school, they had three kids with one on the way.

Having lived more life, suffered heartache and a near death experience, she decided it was time to make that dream of becoming a published author a reality. She started writing and entered the blogging community to learn all she could about the craft and industry. In the end she learned that the best rule for writing is to follow your heart.

Charity lives in Northwest Arkansas, loves to dance, camp, hike, bake and eat. She loves to eat so much that she started running after her fourth child was born. She has now run five 1/2 marathons and multiple 5ks. She also enjoys cake decorating.

She currently has two novels, a short story collection and an anthology from her annual high school short story contest (Bold New Worlds) available on Amazon. Her style is a mix of character driven science fiction mixed with fantasy.

Her first novel, THE MAGIC WAKES was published by WiDo Publishing in 2013. It’s the first book in a planned four book series. Book two is currently being reviewed by her publisher. The short stories and FADE INTO ME are self-published. She’s decided it’s nice to have a foot in both worlds.

Links:
Website—http://charitywrites.com
Facebook—https://www.facebook.com/CharityBradford.SendekSaga
Twitter—@charitybradford
Goodreads—https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6542670.Charity_Bradford
Amazon Author Page—http://www.amazon.com/Charity-Bradford/e/B00FA3QRKO/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_2?qid=1434846296&sr=8-2
Bold New Worlds Information—http://boldnewworlds.blogspot.com

Book Blurb for FADE INTO ME:
Aliens live among us. Their purpose: to protect and nurture their greatest mistake—mankind.

Caeden Frey doesn’t believe humans will evolve to see the magic, much less control it. Even so, he has two months to marry a human or face the wrath of the High Council. Bitter about a responsibility he thinks prevents him marrying for love, he figures any human girl will do. He’s ready to propose when his soul mate stumbles into—and right out of—his arms.

Human, Ryanne Killian might be Caedan’s one shot at happiness while still fulfilling his duty. Unfortunately, she guards a dark secret. She’s determined to push Caedan away to protect him from her past.

Caedan must convince her she’s worthy of his love before a rival family puts an end to his wedding plans. If she can see her own worth, she just might save herself and his people.

http://www.amazon.com/Fade-Into-Me-Charity-Bradford-ebook/dp/B00SJJHT1W/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1435507696&sr=1-1&keywords=charity+bradford

Links to her other books:

http://www.amazon.com/Magic-Wakes-Charity-Bradford-ebook/dp/B00BB0FTMM/ref=asap_bc?ie=UTF8

http://www.amazon.com/Stellar-Cloud-Charity-Bradford-ebook/dp/B00F9ICQ1E/ref=asap_bc?ie=UTF8

I'd like to thank Charity for participating and wish her the very best of success.

Let's not come to this

Since I was a very young girl, I'd always wanted to be an author. I envisioned books that I'd write, and hundreds if not thousands of people who knew me and loved my works. With so much seriousness surrounding me as a little girl, fantasy and books, imagination and writing were all very good ways to escape. And when I grew older, my vision was put on hold, but never died. Always in the back of my mind were stories begging to be told. When finally, five years ago my dream came true and I became a published author.

I'm still waiting for adoring fans, yet I've found a small following in people who believe in me, or some who have reached out to me and said, "your book really resonated with me, it really touched me." Or, "I, too, went through something like that. Thank you for bringing this to light."

I may write mostly inspirational fiction, yet each book has a truth element to it. Many of my characters come from dysfunctional backgrounds. Many of the issues I write about, alcoholism, abortion, mental illness and such are things we all have gone through and I hope to convey that a person is not alone when they've had to deal with such seriousness in their lives.

My new book is completely different. It's been a labor of love for well over a year now. It's only a short e- book at this time, as I am writing two other installments as of this moment, but in some ways, I feel it is the best writing of my career. It's totally out of my comfort zone, dystopian/sci-fi. The idea came to me watching families of four at restaurants, all sitting there, each one engrossed in their i-pads, smart phones or games, nobody talking or conversing, no true warmth whatsoever.

What if...I thought. What if there was a society like this in the near future? Perhaps it will be true, who knows? 

Here is the premise of my book Sound of Silence.

One small mistake. One dire consequence.

What would happen in a world without speech, a world where only electronic, texted conversing was permitted?

Ray Warren does the unthinkable. He seals his fate by speaking out in a moment of kindness in an era where speech has been outlawed. The year is 2050. Due to a lethal rise in terrorism and a powerful politician's decree, officials now monitor all spoken and written communication. Military police exercise full control of any disobedience. Children born into the new world are implanted with a special surgical chip which renders their vocal chords paralyzed. Ray, one good man, makes a bold gesture and in doing so, condemns himself and must leave the family he loves to ensure their safety.

I hope it doesn't come to this. I pray it doesn't come to this. Perhaps we have the chance to make changes in our world right now. Turn off the electronics for a day or even a few hours. Let's pay attention to our children, husbands and families once again. Let's bring back the warmth that only spoken words can convey. If not, then the question I ask may be possible....What if?

Here is the link at 99 cents on Amazon if you'd be so inclined to check this story out. Let me know your thoughts.

http://www.amazon.com/Sound-Silence-Part-One-Book-ebook/dp/B00ZSOUMFQ/ref=sr_1_5?ie=UTF8&qid=1434622309&sr=8-5&keywords=karen+malena

Here is a review from one man:

 I highly recommend "Sound of Silence" as an all too plausible dystopian work. If you've ever had an older relative try to teach about the way things were and how downhill things have gotten, you'll find yourself on a platform spiraling down at dizzying speed, with your stomach pressed against your lungs in a breathtaking ride toward a shocking but perhaps not unexpected "future." Vincent Alessi Telecommunications Procedure Writer and dystopian fiction fan.

 

 

Grace

I've reached a time where bones hurt and aches and pains are prevalent. My aging parents weigh heavily on my mind and sometimes the sins of my past come back to haunt me in wicked ways. I think of ups and downs, triumphs and failures. I've made mistakes in marriage, hurt people with my words at times, but hopefully have been a blessing as well.

Have I raised my son well? Am I a good daughter, wife, employee, friend? I wish I had the answers. There are days I'm fresh and ready to face most anything. And then there are others that threaten to crush my spirit, leaving me hollow and aching, forlorn and almost hopeless.

I could never have faced the difficulties of this life without my faith. As a young girl in Catholic school, a teenager who watched every religious movie ever made, and an adult who finally found peace in a non-denominational church. The road of my faith was bumpy, filled with rocks and pebbles. Guilt was such a big part of growing up Italian and Catholic at the same time. I was never quite "good enough." Never measured up to someone, anyone who was better than me, smarter, kinder. Oh did I waste a lot of time.

I never understood grace. I thought I had to work my way to heaven, buy my way in with the ticket of perfection. Not until about six years ago and finding a church home which changed my life, did I realize that grace, perfect love of a perfect God is all I need. That's it. I don't have to be better. I'm good enough for God's love. I am His beloved and have felt the Holy Spirit stirring strongly in my life.

When those days come, the days that pull me down, reminding me how far I still need to go, or tickle at the outer corners of my mind with their lies of being worthless, I remember grace. Someone died for me. His blood, His love poured out for ME. No matter how imperfect and pain-filled my body is, how thoughts of past failures plague me, He loves me unconditionally. And nobody will ever take that away.

Bask in the thought today. Surrender to grace.

Mother's Day

She was once a little girl. A daughter, a child. She had hopes and dreams. She knew laughter and fun. She also had hard times, worries, fears and tears. She was born in an old-fashioned era and knew hardship and lack. Yet she pressed on and fought the good fight in her life. She's my mother, Eileen, and I'd like to tell you a little about her.

 Mom had been such a stable even though she had her own adversities. A child of an alcoholic father, Mom grew up with fear as a constant companion. A father who would gamble away the last of the grocery money, a father who was unkind to his wife. And that wife, who took out on her children what she could not on the man she married. Little Eileen wanted so much more. She wanted to play piano, sing, soar. But tough times didn't permit her dreams to come true.

She married young, at nineteen years of age to my father, Richard, a man six years her senior. A good man, a loving man, someone who stood by her through good times and bad. Though nervous issues plagued my mother for many years, she found stability and tenderness. She fought her way through these times, these confusing times when the mind would play tricks on her, threatening to tear her apart. And she would come out on the other side stronger and better for it, with a heart so filled with compassion for others, that many lives would be touched by her.

A pregnancy came in later years after Mom lost two other babies. A doctor warned her to terminate the baby due to health concerns. But this strong woman, my mother, said words that have stuck with me all my life: "I'll have this baby, or die trying." And nine months later, my brother was born, a true blessing in our lives.

Mom ran several antique businesses through the years, enjoying the challenges they brought. But her biggest accomplishment to many of us was owning a small mom and pop store in our little town of Ambridge, Pa. The Eighth Street Dairy was a quick stop for kids after their long school days. A place to play a video game in the early 80's, and purchase bags full of penny candy, Swedish fish, gummy bears, gum balls. Nothing was more important to her, however, than her daily talks with the people and kids that walked through her door.

Some folks came daily for a newspaper and cup of coffee. They'd share stories with Mom of their lives and problems. Like a therapist, my mother would listen and occasionally give advice. And as for the children who came through the door after school hours, Mom would have a listening ear and

show by example, kindness and patience to all, qualities they may not have seen in their own homes.

Years later, many of the young people, now grown, would approach Mom if they'd see her somewhere. They'd tell her just how much she meant to them in those earlier years, the time she spent talking with them. A few have told how their lives have changed from knowing her. One man said, "If it wasn't for you, I don't know where I'd be. Every time I thought about getting into trouble, I'd think of you, and just stop what I was doing."

As for me, I think back to a lady who stood by me in one of the darkest times of my life: my spinal surgery for scoliosis as a teen. I don't know how Mom was able to keep her strength as she watched me go through such a difficult time in Children's Hospital. How she kept my spirits up and told me it would pass.

I've gotten my heart from my mother. My sense of humor. I've gotten a love of movies, books, and imagination from her, a spirit of creativity. I've gotten compassion, a love of animals and underdogs of the world. I've learned about faith and God from Mom.

I think my mother didn't realize just how many lives she impacted. And when her golden years came upon her, I reminded her: The world is a better place because of you, Mom. So many of us wouldn't be who we are without having known you.

Here's to Mother's Day, and the blessing, the great blessing my mother was to me. Happy Mother's Day, Mom. I love you with my whole heart.

Remember When

Lightning bugs winking into the night. The last rays of sunshine on the horizon as a mother calls out for her child to hurry home. Skinned knees, the clean  smell of a Bandaid. The cure for every ailment.

 The tangy taste or Orange Crush pop. Telephones with curly cords and rotary dials. A shiny red Schwinn bike, and the first time ridden without training wheels. Drawing on a cement sidewalk with a rock. Pulling vivid yellow dandelions, the bouquet clutched in a tiny hand, a present for a mother.

 A grandfather's wine cellar, the coolness in the deep dark, and the smell of crushed grapes. Sunday dinner at one o'clock sharp. The clinking of forks on plates, the taste of veal cutlet and homemade noodles. Dishes washed with cousins, laughter, talking, fun,

 Easter baskets filled with shiny plastic grass. Solid chocolate bunnies, fingers licked with the remnants of melted goodness. Christmas bulbs, glitter, tinsel, The Grinch. A new vinyl baby doll, her face, sweet. The smell of candle wax in the stillness of a darkened church. Bags of Halloween candy, plastic princess masks, their smiling faces "frozen" for all eternity.

A snowflake falling, falling. Warm, wool mittens on tiny hands, fingers outstretched. A snowman melting on a warm day, his carrot nose falling to the ground. A wooden sled is put away for a long nap to return again.

New comic books, super heroes to become. Imagination.

 Nostalgia. The scents, sounds and feeling of times long past. Memories that never quite fade, but only grow more vivid with age sometime. Savor them, but never tarry. For time marches on, and though the new drummer beats a rhythm that we sometimes may not like, we must press ever forward, not living in the past, only stopping by for a short visit as we journey through our life.

Someone Was Praying

My heart sports a fragile crack as I look at the face of true love. My parents, Rich and Eileen. Two people who have weathered true storms in their lives. Two people who have beat many odds. Two people who truly know what it means to love one another with all your heart.

My mom grew up in an abusive home. Her father drank and gambled, taking out his frustrations on his wife, who in turn, took out her own frustrations on the children. From an early age, my mother was told she wasn't wanted, she was an accident, a mistake. From an early age, Mom learned what it was like to crave love and not receive it. She would grow into her teen years, the beginnings of depression creeping up on her, food, sometimes her only solace. 

Dad grew up a little differently. Though his father was a drinker, there wasn't any violence in his home, and his mother, my Nonna, was a rock and pillar of strength and goodness. Qualities which would become such a part of my father as well.

Mom and Dad married young, she was only nineteen at the time, and he was twenty-five. That sounds like little kids to me as I look back now. I realize, however, marriage may have been an acceptable escape for my mother, and the handsome man promising a wonderful future, a true knight in shining armor to her.

Abuse and neglect take their toll on a person, and no matter how much love you finally have, they aren't easily shaken. Mom fell into a spiral of mental issues, thoughts that would plague her and shake our family to the very core. Hospitalization would follow, and my father, the rock of our family would remain by his wife's side, loving her gently, caring for me, his little girl, and holding a full time job.

There were times when I, as a child, would wonder if life would ever return to normal. If my mother would return to us whole and well. 

Someone was praying. I never knew this as a little girl, but the power of prayer was working behind the scenes. My grandparents and father prayed. I know there were others praying as well. In my little mind I never understood this concept, couldn't wrap a child's mind around it. Though I eagerly "wished" for good things, God heard it all, and in my early teen years, Mom was restored to us.

Tests of fire would continue in this rock-solid marriage though. Major surgery would befall me, their little girl, as scoliosis ravaged my body. And a late pregnancy would surface, causing one doctor to advise an abortion for my mother, claiming her health was at serious risk. Not one to falter any longer, this brave woman would say, "I'll have this baby, or die trying."

Someone was praying. Once again, God was there. My surgery, though difficult, went well. My brother was born, and Mom remained healthy through it all. Prayer would sustain this family and many good years would follow.

Perhaps nothing is as beautiful as love in the golden years. Once again, as my heart cracks a little more, I am reminded of strong bonds of love. For two people who remained by one another through moments of true catastrophe. Dad would become a heart patient in his retirement years. Several times, we almost lost him. A quadruple bypass and a defib/pacemaker would be a new part of his world.

Someone was praying. This time, it was me. Not only me, but many others as well. But this time, I learned the true, powerful answer of prayer. As I put my trust in God, He never failed us. Dad came through many years of congestive heart failure, hospital visits, and this time, it would be Mom who had to be strong.

And now, the love of almost sixty years of marriage. Dementia, health issues, an old house falling apart. Sometimes never enough money, yet always just enough. Mom's forgetfulness and Dad's health scares. So many things I just want to run and scream sometimes. Just two weeks ago, Mom was in the hospital. As anyone with a loved one suffering from dementia knows, this is devastating to them. A very confusing time. A week later, Dad would be hospitalized. And though it was very difficult, Mom found a way each day to sit by his bedside, waiting, praying, for his return home. Our family bonded together in a major way, and once again, these two people are reunited with one another in the little old home they've shared for so many years.

Love can withstand the test of time. The fires forged, the uphill battles waged and won. Love is everything and so much more. It's gray hair, wrinkles, arthritis and gout. It's pill containers, oxygen tanks, hospital stays and doctor visits. It's seeing the young beauty you once married, the handsome prince he was. It's all of these things. Mostly, it's the love of God, cementing commitment, trust and patience in two people willing to work at it. 

Someone IS praying! Let that someone be you and me. Let's pray for strong marriages, for a love that lasts a lifetime and beyond. Let's pray for resilience and strength, and an eye to see our spouse as they once were: beautiful, young, innocent and good.

Here's to my parents, Rich and Eileen. For all you've both taught me. For all the years of love. I love you both.

Birthday Cakes and Snowflakes

Childish wonder. A cake, all sparkles and rainbow colors. Dozens of candles flicker only to blown away moments later. A little girl dreams, then becomes.

When did we lose the sense of wonder? Why must it fade as we grow older?

I watch my niece, Elena, as she shakes a favorite blanket in a sunlit living room. Hundreds of dust motes glisten in the air, and she exclaims, "Look! Snowflakes!" She tries to catch them in chubby, outstretched hands, her face aglow with the innocence of childhood and imagination.

I, too, once imagined. Grape crates my grandfather had for the wine he made became a magical transportation device for my cousin and I. We saw ourselves whisked away to the legendary place he and my Nonna always spoke of: The Old Country.

Playground sliding boards became mountains to climb, as a beloved friend and I had make-believe adventures, running from pretend villains. Buttons, toothpicks, and countless cutouts from the paper became "people" and had marvelous scenarios to be played out.

Oh yes, I can remember it all, and I long for it once again. Perhaps that's why I love to write. For I can pretend in my mind for a short while. The worlds of heroes, villains, good and bad all come to life on a page. Talking cats and mice, love and happily ever after become a reality in my world as if I, too, were a small child watching with wonder as it all unfolds.

Oh, to be younger. To have a whole life before us once more. Never underestimate the gift of imagination and pretend. Play with all your heart with a child, grandchild, niece or nephew. Become, one more time, a princess, fairy queen, wicked stepmother or even a frog. Then you, too, can happily dream of birthday cakes and snowflakes with outstretched hands and hearts.

A Day To Treasure

Okay, I'll admit, this isn't the exact way this past Sunday looked in Ligonier. But the temps were bone chilling and the wind whipped about. Yet so many amazing people came out to have a little fun and show support of the town they love, and the town I'd like to adopt.

You see, back where I come from, Beaver County originally, we close up shop over a few snowflakes. We cancel everything and then some when the weather turns on us. Not true Ligonier folks.

My book launch party which was held at Thistledown at Seger House went on as planned. And it truly was an incredible turnout. We had homemade cookies and hot cider, punch, gifts and giveaways. We had a speaker who told us about the history of the inn, and another who told us about history of the town. When I spoke about my writing journey, everyone was courteous and receptive.

No matter what time of the year my husband and I visit this town, we've made some new friends in the different shops. My book actually uses several real Ligonier locations at the owners permissions, and I felt as if I was a character in my own book, a very surreal feeling, as we introduced ourselves around this past weekend

Ligonier has been home away from home for my husband and I. the perfect getaway for the long hours he puts in at work. The time out so necessary from our hectic lives and living in the large, busy town of Monroeville. And every nook, every storefront is a writer's delight. My vivid imagination runs wild when I am there.

When visiting recently, I couldn't contain my excitement. For everywhere I looked, I saw scenes of my book as if they are true events and really occurred. There are two distinct chapters about the town, and I hope to convey not only to the people who love Ligonier, but to outsiders, what a wonderful place it is.

If you haven't had a chance to read the book yet, it is available at the link below on Amazon in e book format and paperback. Second Chapter Books of Ligonier also has a few autographed copies.

In closing, I want to thank you all again, those of you who turned out for the event and made it such a wonderful day, and thank you all for making outsiders feel a sense of belonging, if only for a weekend here and there.

http://www.amazon.com/Love-Woven-Time-Ligonier-Romance-ebook/dp/B00S1K1GX6/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1424302321&sr=8-2&keywords=karen+malena

Fifty Shades of Wonderful

Love yourself unconditionally.

I'm not going on a rant. I'm not going to lecture anyone. This isn't your typical "Fifty Shades" bashing.

I've read many books and seen many movies. I've thoroughly enjoyed horror, love, literature and other types of reading pleasures. One of my favorite series is Diana Gabaldon's "Outlander" books. There's plenty of everything in these books, yes, sex too, but I think we are all missing the point here.

I am no one to judge. Please carry on with your day and feel no regrets. I'm speaking today to our young girls. In that category I mean our very small children and young teens. In today's society, they are exposed to so much more than I was back in the dinosaur era. I grew up with television, movies, records and books. And yes, some of it influenced me very very much. Especially the lyrics to many songs. I became curious and began to wonder about such things that were extremely explicit at the time.

The main problem with "Fifty Shades" is simply this: it's teaching young ladies that it's okay to let a man dominate you even to the point of telling you how much you should weigh and how your body should look. I read a few chapters of this book at the suggestion of a friend, waiting for the love story that eventually blossoms. But as someone who has been in verbally abusive, controlling relationships, it sickened me. I cannot for one minute advocate a man telling a woman she MUST work out, she must be a certain "type" if she's to be with him.

Our poor young girls have enough with the razor thin models gracing the covers of our magazines and blatantly pasted all over the internet and television. So now they must believe that the only way to "get" a man and keep him is to totally obey him? Especially where it comes to looks?

Give me old-fashioned values and manners. Give me conscience and morals. Yeah, I've messed up, perhaps a lot in my life. There are times I'm not proud of and relationships I wish I could erase from memory, but please, young people, open your eyes. I'm not just another grandma lady preaching at you. Love yourself for who you are. Love your weight, your face shape, your eyes, your nose, your ears, whatever it is you think needs changed or worked on. Be content with who you are, who God made you to be. And never let a man abuse that confidence.

In a marriage in my early twenties, I was with a "pretty boy" who constantly made me feel less than. When we'd first met, it was all compliments and love. But a change began to occur. I had never known at the time what a manipulator he was. I hadn't known that there were multiple affairs and women calling the house, hanging up. I hadn't known he'd eventually leave me in the dust for someone "better looking." Oh yes, it happens every day.

My self-esteem suffered for years because of this. I never lived up to the distorted reality of what I should be, or what I should look like. I punished myself for years thinking I deserved this, and it was my fault, and if only I was prettier, thinner, whatever. I wasted precious, valuable time with this lifestyle.

The bottom line ladies is this once again. Love yourself. Be proud of who you are. Find healthy relationships with men who adore you, who want to see you grow. Don't let anyone make you feel less than. You are God's beautiful masterpiece, and remember, He doesn't create junk. You are who you are for a very special reason. And that is fifty shades of wonderful.