The Portal.

**Note: The below post was written by the late, great, author Shellye H. Townsend at an earlier date and found today March 24th 2017 by me, her surviving husband Doug Townsend. I found this while looking through some of her blog posts on her site. She had always given me her passwords to all of her sites and accounts so I am not hacking her account or anything like that. This is just an unfinished work by her and was saved as a draft but there was no date that it was written. I believe she wanted to release this to her fans but just hadn’t finished it. This is such a great example of her writing talent and I really wish I could properly take over all of her work but I do not have that talent at all. I do hope to one day find someone who could take over all of her stories and ghost-write the remainder of her work to be published in her name. Until that time please enjoy her wonderful writing and this unfinished story that has never been seen until now.

Thank you,

Doug Townsend



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This is probably the most honest post I’ve ever written and ever will write.

If you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go? Is it a real place or is it a fictional place? What would you do there? Who would you want to meet? Are they real people or fictional characters? I know it seems like I’m interrogating you, (Where were you on the night of July 24th, 2013?) but I really want to know.

There is only one place I would go, my book series. I dream about it all of the time. I’ve even prayed to God about it. After all, His word says, “With God, ALL THINGS are possible.” I take that scripture seriously. I’ve fallen madly in love with my fictional characters. Their world isn’t perfect, because I write realistic fiction. They experience some of the same problems that nonfictional people experience, but I want to go there nonetheless.

I asked my husband if he thought I was going mad. This is not normal, healthy behaviour, at least I don’t think so, but he keeps assuring me that this is normal for a writer to experience, but I have yet to find a writer who feels the same way. Why do I always have to be the weird one? Why can’t I just be happy with what I have?

My life is good. I have a wonderful husband, wonderful family and friends, a good church, a home, two kitties (my boy kitty is in his fourteenth year and my girl kitty is in her sixth), clothes on my back, food in my tummy, a home, a bed in which to sleep, and the career of my dreams. I love being a writer. I work from home. I’m never lonely, because I’m always with fictional characters. I get to travel without leaving my desk. I can be anything I want to be and do anything I want to do through my fictional characters. Even if I’m living vicariously through my fictional characters, it still fills those basic needs in my life.

While my life is good, there are still some things about it that I would like to change, and most of those things I would change are about me. I’m too comfortable being alone. I crave solitude. I’m happy to go off in a corner by myself while everyone around me gathers into their little cliques and groups. I don’t mind. I rarely feel left out. If I’m not invited somewhere, I don’t get upset. I think, “That’s just more time I can be using to work.” I do have my moments, but they’re few and far between. Too much solitude is probably not healthy. That brings me to my next point. I probably crave solitude due to social anxiety issues. I’m fairly sure I don’t need to elaborate there. I probably neglect my husband and my friends way too much because I’m a workaholic. I’m too much of a workaholic. I get so caught up in my work that I often neglect not just the people in my life, but myself and my own needs.  While I love my job, as of right now, I don’t bring in any money. I will bring in some sort of money when I get published. (I just need an editor, because my editor is having family problems that need immediate undivided attention, a publisher, and a metric crap ton of help on making these things happen. That’s all. No big deal. *freaking out*) We could definitely use more money, I don’t know anyone who couldn’t, and if they say they couldn’t, they’re lying. There are people who don’t need any more money. There’s a difference between needing more money and using more money. That’s another story for another time.

Recently, my life took an unexpected turn.

I will try to explain this as clearly as possible, but I’m still not quite sure if this is a dream or if this really happened. Whatever it was, dream, vision, something, it happened last night. My husband and I got into bed. I was beyond the valley of exhausted, and I fell asleep the moment my head hit the pillow. I was hoping for a good night’s sleep, but I was awakened around half past two. I had to piddle. I am constantly thirsty, so this isn’t a new development. I assumed that I would get up, use the restroom, and crawl back into bed. So I did my business, washed my hands, and headed back into the bedroom, I was about to get back into bed, but I noticed that my laptop was on. That’s odd. I thought I turned my laptop off before I got into bed. I shrugged and walked over to my desk. I pulled out the chair and sat down. I was shocked to see that my word document opened with one of my twenty-four books. I shut down the computer. Maybe it didn’t shut down. The, “Save Now” message was on the screen. Did I want to save it now? I suddenly cannot remember the last thing I wrote. I hit cancel and scrolled down to review the last paragraph that I had written. Satisfied, I hit the save icon. Words began flying across the screen.

“No, no, no, no, no! OMG, what’s happening?!? I can’t lose my work, I can’t,” I cried.

Behind me, my husband moaned in his sleep.

“Wake up, my computer’s gone crazy,” I called. “I may have lost everything!” I stopped. My husband turned into a pile of words and they began falling off of the bed. I gasped. What was happening? My first thought was, “God said…” It’s right there in Genesis. “And God said let there be…” He spoke everything into existence, including us. We are made of words. As I contemplated this, everything continued turning into words. They were swirling around me, and I was afraid. I didn’t know what would happen next. I felt myself falling, quickly at first, and then I slowed down. It was more like floating, but on what? I heard paper rustling as I continued to gently float downward. I stopped abruptly and found myself in a white room. I looked around.

“Hello,” I called. “Hello?”

There was no answer. I looked around. I heard what sounded like typing, and words appeared on the screen.

“Step inside,” the unknown writer typed.

“How,” I asked aloud.

The words began gently dropping down from the screen. I moved out of the way. After all, words hurt. But none of them dropped on me. The words began forming something. As they took shape, I realized they were forming a book. Before my very eyes, twenty-four books were formed. The title to each one was obscured. Just my luck. I have twenty-four books and no titles, and I STILL didn’t get any insight as to what I would call each one, but here they were, lined up in front of me.

“What now,” I questioned.

One of the books opened.

I walked over. I read the copyright information and the year, but the title was still obscured. I turned the pages slowly and carefully. I heard music. Where was it coming from? As I turned the page, my hand went straight through it. I gasped and tried to pull it back, but instead, I fell, hard, onto a carpeted floor.

I looked up. I was in a lavishly decorated church. I gasped. Someone reached down to help me up. I recognized his hand. He had wide, short fingers. His was calloused from all of the hard work he did as a young boy. He gently pulled me to my feet.

“You’re Paul Harris,” I managed.

Paul smiled. “In the flesh,” he replied. “Are you okay?”

I couldn’t speak. I just stared at my fictional character. He was everything I had pictured. He had straight red hair that was neatly combed, bright green eyes with that twinkle of mischief lurking within them, and his smile, I could see why it drove Tallullah Wallace so crazy. My heart started pounding.

“Don’t just stand there, say something,” Paul begged.

I looked around the sanctuary. I noticed more of my fictional characters. I saw Paul’s wife, Tallullah. She was standing at the front of the sanctuary, waiting to see what would happen next. She was even more beautiful that my imagination had allowed her to be. She had porcelain skin. Her chin length, jet black hair was tucked behind her ears. She wore a black pants suit and red heels, which didn’t surprise me. She was a lot like me in many ways. She wasn’t the type who liked to wear dresses. Her dark blue eyes were the color the bluest ocean. They were filled with concern as she waited.

“Tallullah,” I stammered.

Tallullah walked over. “Is she okay?”

Paul turned to her. His boyish grin had faded. “Maybe you should have Steve take a look at her.”

“Steve’s here,” I asked.

“Who are you,” Tallullah demanded.

That was one question I did not know how to answer. I struggled to think of a fake name. I could be in real trouble if they found out I was the writer. I knew that Dr. Leah Wallace-Tenenbaum would punch me dead in the face. After all, I wrote that she and her husband, Ryker, had two sets of twins. I should probably punch myself in the face for that.

“We’re waiting,” Paul urged gently.

Tears welled up in my eyes. “I don’t know,” I lied.

“I’ll get her something to drink,” a familiar female voice offered. She took off out of the room.

I turned in the direction she went and waited for her to return. I knew the voice was familiar. It was my character, Daisy. She was stunning. Her waist length raven hair was down and hung in gorgeous waves that flowed down her back. She was dressed to the nines in a belted maxi dress with navy blue and white chevron print, A white cardigan and red Prada heels completed her look. She ran over and handed the bottle of water to me. Her bright blue eyes scanned my face.

I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

Daisy reached up and tucked my hair behind my ear. She put her arm around me and guided me to the front. “Sit right here and drink your water,” she instructed. “When Steve comes back into the sanctuary, I’ll have him look at you.”

I nodded. I took a few sips of the water and tried my best to calm down. I had no idea how I got there. I was sure I was dreaming, but everything felt so real.

Daisy sat down next to me. I glanced over at her a few times. She was incredibly beautiful. She looked over at me and smiled. She had her mother’s smile. I smiled back.

Tallullah made her way back to her seat.

Paul returned to the platform. He told the choir to sing their next song.

Steve walked into the sanctuary. He approached Daisy. “Sorry I took so long. Ashtyn wanted me to stay with her for a few minutes.”

“Is she okay,” Daisy asked.

“I think she’s missing Declan,” Steve replied.

“I know I am,” Daisy admitted.

“Me too,” Steve agreed. He turned his attention to me.

I recoiled. Steve was my favorite fictional character. He was the perfect man, just completely perfect. He was 6’1. His wavy, light brown hair was perfect chaos. His gray eyes looked like the perfect storm brewing on some windy evening. He was beautiful in every way, especially his hands. He had long, skinny fingers. His hands had performed surgery, and that made them even more attractive. He was very intelligent and a hyperpolyglot. (He spoke seven languages fluently.) He had on a navy blue suit, white button down shirt, and navy blue and red diagonal striped tie. He had on black Italian loafers. I just kept staring at his shoes nervously.

“She passed out. She doesn’t remember her name,” Daisy began.

“I’ll go get my bag,” Steve said.

“Can I go with you? I need some air,” I managed softly.

Steve reached his hand down to me. I was afraid to take it. What if it turned into words and disintegrated? I reluctantly took his hand. He helped me to my feet and escorted me into the narthex. He stopped to open one of the ornate double doors.

My breath caught in my throat. What would happen when Steve opened the doors? What would happen when I stepped outside? Would I return to the real world?

Steve opened the door. Sunlight flooded the narthex. I cautiously peered outside.

“What are you waiting for? You said you needed some air,” Steve reminded me.

I nodded. I followed him outside. It was cold. I crossed my arms, shivering as the wind whipped around me. I looked down at myself and realized that I was in my pajamas. I was embarrassed. I took in my surrounding, looking at the barren trees. It had to be winter.

Steve turned to me. He removed his suit jacket and approached me. He draped it around my shoulders.

I hugged the jacket to me. I caught a whiff of his cologne, that clean smell. It comforted me and scared me at the same time.

“You look absolutely panic-stricken,” Steve observed.

“I am,” I admitted.

Steve smiled sympathetically. “Everything’s going to be fine.” He turned and headed for the parking lot. “My BMW is over here.”

I followed behind him.

Steve got into the car and retrieved his bag. He hit the lock button and turned around. “Let’s get you back inside,” he said. He guided me back toward the church.

When we stepped back into the narthex, Paul was standing there, waiting for us. “You can take her into my office.”

“Thank you, Paul,” Steve said gratefully.

Paul nodded. “Text me and let me know how she’s doing.”

“I will,” Steve promised. He turned to me. “Follow me, please.”

I followed Steve through the narthex, into the hallway, and to Paul’s office.

Steve opened the door. “Ladies first.”

I stepped inside. I was scared to death. My heart started pounding with a mixture of excitement and fear. God had answered my prayer. Here I was in the midst of my characters, and I had no idea what to do.

“Lie down on the couch,” Steve instructed.

I stretched out on the couch in Paul’s office, placing one of the pillows underneath my head.

Steve got into his medical bag. He began checking my vitals. “You have absolutely no memory of what happened?”

“I don’t even know how I got here,” I informed him.

Steve looked at me. He raised an eyebrow. “Where were you before?”

I cringed. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

Steve’s eyes met mine. “Try me.”

I sighed. “I was at home, asleep in bed. I woke up around two. I saw that my computer was on, so I went over to turn it off. That’s the last thing I remember. Then I fell on the floor right in the middle of service.”

Steve’s gaze was fixed on me. “According to your vitals, you’re telling the truth, at least your body believes you’re telling the truth, but that can’t be possible. There has to be an underlying cause. Maybe you experienced trauma and you’re blocking it out. It’s a crazy world out there.”

“You can say that again,” I remarked.

Steve finished checking my vitals. He put his equipment back into the bag. He pulled out his phone.

“Who are you calling,” I asked nervously.

“Dr. Sheffield,” Steve replied. “He’s the top neurologist at Wallace Memorial Hospital. A CT scan and an MRI couldn’t hurt. Maybe he can help figure out what happened to you before you got here.”

“That would be great,” I lied. I already knew what had happened, but I couldn’t prove it.



Once again, I apologize for my lack of posts. I’m a boring writer with no social life and nothing nonfictional to say for the most part. Therefore, I often run out of nonfictional subjects on which to post. I sit at home all day. I spend time with fictional characters until my husband gets home. I go upstairs and spend time with him and our newly acquired son. (You can read about that here.) Then I go to bed and fall asleep watching a certain animated show on Hulu.

That’s my boring life, and I’m okay with it, although sometimes I wish it were more exciting. (I’m getting too old for excitement and adventure to be honest.) Anyway, on to the real reason why you’re reading this post, the updates!

I know what you’re thinking…

Let’s go back to September, where the real action began. (July and August were slow, aside from our fireworks extravaganza with loved ones.) September was the Perry Stone Conference. I look forward to that every year. This year, however, I was rather disappointed. Before I continue with why I was disappointed, I just want to say that Perry Stone is my favourite person ever. I love what he has to say, and I agree with a great deal of it. I always learn something new, and I love learning, which is one of the many reasons why he’s my favourite. This conference, however, was a disappointment.

First of all, during the first morning service, he contradicted himself concerning what he had said about Barak Obama during the 2008 Prophetic Update before the man ever became POTUS. He said, “Obama has a teachable spirit.” Perry Stone has never told us who to vote for. He simply presents the facts. That year, he had very little to say about the Republican candidates, which were McCain and Palin I think. (I care so little about politics that I almost pass out any time someone mentions them.) 

The first morning service of 2015, he said he told us that Obama would destroy this country if he was elected in 2008. He NEVER said that, not at our church, and at least not in 2008. I’m seriously considering sending my notes from the 2008 conference along with the notes from the first service and asking him about it.

Secondly, the entire conference, all Perry did was sing the praises of Kim Davis, the circuit county clerk who refused to issue marriage licenses to ANYONE, not just homosexual couples, but heterosexual couples as well. The news stories did not give out that piece of information. They made the focus on her refusal to give out marriage licenses to homosexual couples. Perry Stone kept singing her praises and talking about how she chose Jesus over the law. I disagree. I think this woman may have started out with the issue being her convictions, and I applaud anyone who stands up for their convictions, but in the end, it seemed more like she wanted her fifteen minutes of fame, and what’s worse is that people kept giving it to her. Unfortunately, the last I heard about that whole situation was that a few other legal officials have decided to follow in her footsteps.

I know a lot of my church colleagues (for lack of a better word or phrase) are going to freak out upon reading this, however there are scriptures to back up what I am saying. I’ve thought about this from the moment I saw that woman’s name in the news. Romans 13:1 Paul writes “Every person is to be in subjection to the governing authorities.” EVERY PERSON. It doesn’t say EVERY PERSON EXCEPT Kim Davis. Yes, there are conditions. You are subject to governing authorities unless these laws will cause you to violate a commandment. Sorry, but the ten commandments say nothing about marriage licenses and homosexuality. The commandments include adultery, but nothing else pertaining to marriage. The other condition is that you are subject to the law unless you are being forced to commit an unethical or immoral act. Handing out marriage licenses is not unethical or immoral. This circuit clerk was elected to perform duties and responsibilities for the county, which entails issuing marriage licenses. Does this clerk have to support gay marriage? No, she does not, but she has to do her job. Doing her job does not mean she condones gay marriage. It means that she is showing the people who elected her that they elected the right person for the job. If I had voted for her, I’d be disappointed right now, but thankfully I do not live anywhere near her district.

The bible also says that it is not for us to judge others. In Matthew 7:1-3, it says, “Judge not, that ye be judged. For with what judgement ye judge, ye shall be judged: and with what measure ye mete, it shall be measured to you again. And beholdest thou the mote that is in thy brother’s eye, but considerest not the beam that is in thine own eye?” Think about that. It is not our place to judge ANYONE. ANYONE. If you’re perfect, please raise your hands. I didn’t see any hands. I couldn’t raise my own hand. I’m not perfect, therefore I cannot judge anyone. Also, in Romans 12:19, it talks about how vengeance belongs to the Lord. The circuit clerk had no right to punish those, gay or straight, who wanted marriage licenses. Vengeance belongs to the Lord. It is between those seeking marriage licenses and God, and only God is our judge.

The only thing this whole gay marriage issue did was bring out the worst of some of the people at my church. There are people I looked up to, but when the law allowing gay marriage was passed, I was shocked by some of the status messages filled with hate that were posted by people with whom I go to church. This brings me to the next point. Matthew 22. The greatest commandment is love. Love the Lord you God with all of your heart and mind. Love your neighbor as yourself. (I’m paraphrasing Matthew 22:36-40.) Who is our neighbor? The scripture isn’t talking about those who live in close proximity to us. It’s talking about people you pass on the street, the people with whom you interact each day, everyone. EVERYONE. Where was the love in those status messages? Are gays so repugnant that they are unworthy of the greatest commandment, which is love? Do you really think yelling the scriptures at anyone in the LGBT categories is going to make them feel loved and welcomed into a church? NO! It wouldn’t make me feel loved or welcomed, and I’ve been to that church! I’ve been there! I was called an adulteress and an abomination by the corrupted shepherd himself, but I went to that church and I did everything by the book, and I was still called those things! Why don’t you try loving others for a change? And for the record, Kim Davis is our neighbor. I’m not trying to judge her. I’m simply stating scripture concerning the situation. I understand she has convictions. I really do. What I don’t understand is why she is seen as a hero in the eyes of many Christians when she violated not only the law of the land, but several of God’s laws with her actions. I don’t get it. I also don’t get why it’s okay for Christians to hate gays, which is a sin according to the bible, but they can love all of the other sinners with no problem? I just don’t get it.

Back to the disappointing conference, I was just shocked, but I stuck it out and I tried to remain as objective as possible despite how betrayed I felt. Every single time he sang the praises of Kim Davis, I shut down mentally until he got back to the subject at hand. It was difficult to sit through. Then to make things worse, a few days after the conference, one of my friends got on Periscope and followed Perry Stone, and she was telling me that he was talking about boycotts. Several times he has said from my church platform that he wasn’t the type of person to tell others to boycott things, and that the things he boycotted were for personal reasons, not for him to get up there and tell us why we should boycott as well. Now he’s on Periscope telling his followers to boycott Frito Lay and Starbucks? Really? (The boycott claims were second hand information, so I’m not certain of their validity. I’ve listened to him on Periscope several times and he hasn’t discussed it during those sessions.)

If you boycott every single company that holds beliefs that are different from yours, you will have to grow your own food, make your own clothing, hand soap, dish soap, laundry detergent, cosmetics, and shoes. Boycotts are ridiculous, and they NEVER WORK. I have boycotted several companies for bad service, but those companies are still in business and doing better than ever. I even wrote letters as to why I wouldn’t eat/shop/etc. there, and I received no response. I wasn’t rude in my letters. I didn’t use profanity or threaten anyone. I calmly explained the problems I had experienced as a patron, but I received no response. People boycotted Chic-Fil-A because the CEO or whoever it was shared the opinion that marriage is between a man and a woman, and guess what? Chic-Fil-A is still open. BOYCOTTS DO NOT WORK. And putting boycott information out there on the world wide web only brings in more customers for the company you’re boycotting due to the drama, because people love drama, and they thrive on it. They’re going to go check it out and see what the hype is all about. So congratulations, you just got the company you abhor more business. Good job.

I could go on. I’ve had several people ask me questions concerning gay marriage, like why I’m not outraged by the law being passed, or why I won’t give an opinion on it, or why I didn’t support the bakery who refused to serve the gay couple. (Spoiler alert: it was because the bakery was fine serving the gay couple cookies until the couple requested a wedding cake. Double standard anyone?) I don’t feel like getting into answering the questions I’ve been asked in this particular post. This is simply a post updating the events and happenings in my life. I would compose a separate post concerning these questions, but I don’t know how well it would be received, and I’m not about to get into an online battle with anyone, especially not those who have an extreme hatred toward anyone in the LGBT categories.

After the disappointing conference that I look forward to every year, we went to visit family the following week. Our first stop were to see my new loved ones in DC. I met them for the first time in March. I LOVE Doug’s family. They’re great. I love visiting with them, especially my canine cousin.

Me and Johnny Angel

We had a nice visit consisting of dinner and entertainment. As always, the visit was way too short. It’s a shame we don’t live closer. We bid them adieu and headed for our hotel.

The next day, we drove to my mother’s, which is two hours away from where we were. We got a room at the Red Roof Plus +, which I will never stay at again. We had a nice visit there, but our experience with the Red Roof Plus + was horrible. What happened was the reservations were made at another Red Roof that was further away from my mother’s, and we had to go to the Red Roof ++ to get a room there. After giving our check out date, we were told everything was fine. It wasn’t. I think what happened is they didn’t have a room for that amount of days, and they didn’t want to lose our business, but they’ve lost it for good now.

The first night, we had trouble getting into our room. The second night, my husband had to go to the front desk and ask them to let us in, which they did, all the while saying nothing about how we were supposed to have checked out that morning. The third night, we couldn’t get into our room at all, and they refused to let us in. They took OUR THINGS out of the room and rented it to someone else. Understandably, Doug was angry, because this is information they could have given us THE DAY BEFORE. The desk clerk threatened to call the police on Doug for trying to get our stuff and leave. She wouldn’t let him touch OUR THINGS. I walked out, because all I saw was red, and I didn’t want to let my anger get the best of me.

We got a much nicer room elsewhere and it was over, or so I thought. It only gets worse from there.

While Doug was demanding that woman give us our things so we could leave, some guy and his girlfriend were trying to check in. The guy began stalking me on Facebook. I posted a review detailing all of this, and he commented that my husband cussed out the desk clerk and tried to hit her. I knew this wasn’t true. For starters, Doug doesn’t use profanity. Also, Doug would never hit a woman, no matter how badly she was treating him. But this guy insisted all of these things actually happened. He made fun of Doug’s weight, my weight, (he accused me of doing drugs and called me a crack whore) and just got real personal about it. He Facebook stalked me for an entire day, called me a liar, and said I expected to stay at the Red Roof Minus – for free. It was ridiculous. We got into an all out war, which he started, and he finally backed out when he saw I wasn’t going to let it go. I wasn’t. I did nothing wrong, and yet he continued to harass me over something that wasn’t even any of his business.

People really need to mind their own business. One of these days, that guy is going to stick his nose where it doesn’t belong and interrupt a drug deal, a robbery, or a murder, and end up caught in the crossfire. It’s scary. My philosophy, especially in certain situations where weapons or giant muscly looking people are concerned, is, “Just Keep Walking.”

Other than the ridiculousness with the Red Roof Minus – we had a nice visit with my mother and Arlene and Honey. We ate way too much good food. Then we headed back home and got there in time for the first Judgement House meeting.

The view from Shellye’s office window.

No colored leaves for Shellye.

So Fall has arrived…sort of. The leaves are refusing to change. Why? Because Shellye doesn’t get to have Fall. Shellye moved to a bigger house with a forest behind it, and the leaves are still green, and the green leaved trees are laughing at Shellye and pointing their non colorful leaved branches as they whisper. Shellye doesn’t get to have Fall. Shellye didn’t get to have a dry Fall last year. Shellye doesn’t get to have a colorful Fall this year. Shellye had a rainy fall with no leaves last year.

Since the leaves have refused to change, my office has been transformed into a Fall paradise.

It looks like the leaves aren’t going to change any time soon. They’ll probably change and quickly drop off of the trees when I’m too busy to see them. Story of my life.

Doug and I did attend the Milton Pumpkin Festival this year. It rained during most of it, so he decided we’d go on Sunday. That was a huge mistake. It was 70 and sunny. I was hot and miserable. It certainly didn’t feel like Fall. Half of the vendors that were present last year were not there this year. It wasn’t as fun as it used to be, but we got a few things and headed home.

While we were there, this local chiropractic company was giving out free screenings, so Doug talked me into it. It’s how I ended up with my previous chiropractor. I filled out a thing and won a free visit, including x-rays. Unfortunately, this chiropractor, who after nearly a year claimed that I owed money, and since I didn’t think I’d need to keep the receipts to prove that I paid each time, dumped me. (Most doctors end up dumping me. Usually it’s because my test results are pristine despite my symptoms. If they can’t find a reason, they make one up.) 

Back to the free screening. I went through with it, filled out paperwork, and made the appointment, I didn’t think anything of it. My previous chiropractor had said I had a mild case of scoliosis, which runs in my family. No big deal. I simply presumed that a few adjustments would do me some good. I had no idea what I was getting into.

I went to my appointment on Monday, just five days ago. Thankfully Doug was able to go with me, because it was very involved. There were actual tests, not just x-rays, but tests, range of motion tests, and muscle tests, and I had to put on a gown and everything. This chiropractor wasn’t playing around.

It felt strange without my wedding rings.

I had to remove all of my jewelry, including my wedding rings. I think I impressed them based on the fact that I could remove my wedding rings. Apparently most people can’t these days, not when they’ve been married as long as I have.

The x-rays were long and tedious. I had to sit in a chair for the first session. I had to close my eyes because the lights were too bright. I had to stand in positions that a normal person would never stand in and hold my breath. I don’t remember the x-ray session at my previous chiropractor being so involved. This one was more like a photo shoot! I almost expected someone to bring in a fan and the song Freeze Frame to start playing. (I guess it was an eighties photo shoot.)

The x-rays were finished, and all I wanted to do was change back into my clothes and go home. I was exhausted! I was taken to a VERY COLD room, where I was given blankets (the staff is super nice there) and waited to see the chiropractor. I thought for sure we were going to go over my x-rays and scans and range of motion, but after showing Doug that my body is severely out of alignment, he asked us to come back tomorrow and discuss the results.

Tuesday, we returned to the chiropractor. Did I mention they have hot chocolate there? I grabbed a cup while we waited. (Yes, I know, ADD moment.) We were taken to the cold room to discuss the test results. They started with the range of motion tests, and apparently I have no range of motion. I was completely unaware of this. The numbers were in the single digits on the majority of the results. I had to wear a sensor during that test, so the sensor determined the results, it was not a guesstimate from any of the staff. That was shocking. Then the muscle and lumbar sensor tests were discussed, and the results were even more shocking. I scored in the red and black. Let me see if I can remember this. White is normal. Green is mild. Yellow is moderate. Red is severe. Black is beyond severe. All I had were red and black results, and majority of those were black. And just when I thought I couldn’t be shocked any further, he put the x-rays on the screen, and I felt like sobbing the moment I saw them. I’m no doctor, but I know what a back x-ray is supposed to look like, and mine was ridiculously bad. My previous chiropractor told me that I had mild scoliosis. I had adjustments once per week. That was 2012. Fast forward to 2015. How did things get this bad?

The look on the chiropractor’s face said it all. I couldn’t speak for a moment, and I wasn’t sure he was going to, but then he said something that was even more shocking than any of the results. “I’m really surprised you’re able to function at all just by looking at the results.” My inner monologue: How did things get this bad? “The fact that you walked in here is amazing.” How did things get this bad! “The fact that you have any range of motion is surprising.” How did things get this bad?!? “No wonder you’re having migraines.” HOW DID THINGS GET THIS BAD?!? That was all I could think with each thing he said. How did things get this bad in just three years? Did my previous chiropractor miss something? Was he not thorough? Did three years without chiropractic care contribute to this?

The x-rays showed just how misaligned my body is. The left side of my body is ridiculously higher than the right. My shoulders are nowhere near matching up. And while this really isn’t funny, I can’t help but giggle every single time I say this. My head isn’t on straight. *LOL* Do you realize just how often I can use that excuse and get away with it? The best part is I wouldn’t be lying! My head and neck are actually tilted. My upper body is the worst with the misalignment. At this point, nothing is ever going to be perfectly parallel again.

My lower body is just slightly off. (My results explain why every single staff member kept asking me if I had sciatica.) My left leg is significantly longer than my right leg, but my hips are not anywhere as misaligned as my shoulders and neck. With adjustments, my lower body could possibly be perfectly parallel again, but my upper body will never line up properly again. I had my first adjustment, and I had to lie down in a room for twenty minutes after the adjustment, without moving my head. That was difficult. We went up to the front and paid, which cause our first real argument with the insurance company.

I need adjusted three times per week. My copay is ridiculous because I haven’t met my deductible for my ObamaDoesNotCare plan. We can’t really afford the adjustments, so I’m not sure what I’m going to do, or if I’m going to be able to fix this new mess life has generously bestowed upon me, because I know I didn’t purposely do this to myself, however my head isn’t on straight. *lol* Well it isn’t! It’s okay to laugh about it. It’s pretty funny actually, the whole “head not being on straight” thing, not the fact that I can’t afford treatment for it.

I ugly cried all the way home while Doug complained about how much this was going to cost and how we couldn’t really afford it. He’s right though. Being chronically ill is expensive.

But this is my life. I’m not going to fight it anymore. I’m just going to accept it and move on. What else can I do? I can’t go through the five stages of grief like I did with thyroid disease. I know people say that you’re more than you’re illness or fill in the blank of whatever you’re more than, but at this point, I am an illness. I’m a walking illness just waiting to collect more illnesses. (Why is that the only goal I can accomplish?) I have too many issues to say I’m more than my illness.

I’m done doing that.

Wednesday I felt horrible, but I simply assumed it was due to the adjustment. The chiropractor warned me that it would hurt. He wasn’t kidding. I spent most of the day fighting the urge to cry until it was time to get ready for my appointment. I made it through that and began to feel better that evening, so I continued to assume it was the adjustment and sucked it up like a big girl.

Thursday, I had breakfast and worked. It was a seemingly better day with less pain. Then around three o’clock, I began having chills and aches. I went upstairs to lie down until I had to get ready for Judgement House practice, but I kept feeling worse. I took my temp and discovered I had a fever. (As if I didn’t have enough problems.) I messaged Doug and said there was no way I could make it to practice. Then the fever kept climbing, and Hi Ho, Hi Ho, it’s off to the doctor we go. (There was no happy tune whistled that followed.)

I didn’t want to wait five hours in a packed ER, and there’s a UC basically in walking distance from our house if we had to hoof it. We went there. This prompted our second argument with the insurance company. They said our insurance policy was canceled. The best part about that was that payments are automatically taken from our account, so our supposedly canceled insurance policy has been paid for on time each month. The company claimed it was inactivated for nonpayment. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Doug got on the phone and argued with someone, who said the policy shouldn’t be inactive and that the last payment was received on October 18th. It took so long and I just kept feeling worse and worse, so he relented and we decided to pay the bill out of pocket. I was taken back to a room. By the time Doug got back there, he had been able to prove that we had insurance and the payment was refunded. That was one good thing in the midst of this second mess.

The staff at the UC was REALLY NICE. That was the second good thing. I had some tests ran and I was shocked to hear the diagnosis. I have a urinary tract infection. The worst part is that I’ve probably walked around with this infection for almost two years! I only had one noticeable symptom, which was frequent urination, which I presumed was overactive bladder, for which I was going to make an appointment. I probably had more symptoms, but it’s easy for someone who has daily aches and pains to ignore pain. My low back ALWAYS hurts. I sleep wrong, it hurts. I get up wrong, it hurts. I sit or stand too long, it hurts. How was I supposed to associate that with a urinary tract infection? I didn’t have any other symptoms to indicate such an infection until earlier that afternoon. I fell apart, mostly because 1. it has been a bad week, and 2. I felt like a complete idiot.

Still I had no fever, no nausea, no abdominal pain, and no new back pain, but I didn’t feel any less like an idiot. *smh* I was given two antibiotics and we headed to the pharmacy, where Doug spent an hour fighting with the insurance company again. We got the $10 antibiotic, but we couldn’t afford the $500 antibiotic. Yay insurance!

Unfortunately, thanks to this new development, I won’t be doing Judgement House this year. I have never been so depressed in my life. I looked forward to being a part of something that changed my life in 2003, and my body took it from me. My body always ruins things. It’s a horrible servant and a horrible master. I used to be able to fight it, but now I have to give in. I don’t have the strength or even the will to make my body work for me anymore. It’s easier to wave that white flag and surrender to its demands. Fighting it is exhausting, and I abhor the feeling of giving up, but I don’t feel like I have a choice in the matter.

Due to scheduling conflicts with Judgement House, and because the month of October has five weeks this year, we missed out on going to Circleville for The Pumpkin Show. This has been the worst and the lousiest Fall I have ever experienced. It’s starting to look like just another horrible season for me. I’m beginning to loathe pumpkin spice everything, and the green leaves in my backyard are pointing and laughing at me as I type. I just can’t wait for Fall to be over now.

Fall used to be my Christmas time. It used to be a season of hope for me, of renewal; the season where I had tons of energy and I was happy, no, ecstatic is a better word to describe it. Fall has let me down. I won’t look forward to it next year. As a matter of fact, I have decided not to look forward to anything anymore, because there’s a good chance something will happen and the thing I’m looking forward to will be either ruined or taken from me. I’m just going to focus on my work and go from there. There will be no more energy wasted on excitement or anticipation or hope. It will be poured into the now, into my loved ones, into my work, and into the things that I am physically able to accomplish.

That may sound selfish of me or even cynical, but it’s my way of coping. I hate feeling hopeless and depressed, and I can’t choose how I feel physically, but I can choose how I feel mentally and emotionally, so if I don’t give myself the ability to feel hopeless and depressed, it won’t be so difficult for me when disappointments and situations arise in my life, because it’s obvious those things will happen. I won’t be sitting here, depressed that I can’t accomplish something I’ve looked forward participating in for months. I will simply have expected it to happen and be able to focus on the situation instead of vacillating between feeling hopeless and angry and feeling depressed and disappointed in myself.

It’s difficult enough being a writer. Writers live somewhere on the scale between arrogance and self-loathing. As a writer, I vacillate between arrogance and self-loathing on a daily, sometimes an hourly, basis, and it’s either one extreme or the other. I NEVER get to sit in the middle of that scale. (For example, at this very moment. I feel like I’m never going to make it as an author and should just give that up while I’m at it, but that feeling could change in fifteen minutes.) I’ve always heard you should live day to day instead of longing for the past or the future. Everyday is a gift. That’s why it’s called “the present”. Is everyday really a gift? It wasn’t this week, at least it wasn’t for me. That I can say with complete confidence.

That’s how things have been going. As the author of Dormiveglia, I should know that not every story has a happy ending. I had hoped this one would end differently, but it didn’t. These days, it never ends differently. My life is a huge mess and I don’t have the means to fix it. Instead I just have to somehow work around it. Maybe things will be different one day, and maybe they won’t. *shrugs* What I do know is that this is not the life I had planned to live, but here I am. I’ll figure out how to go about it one of these days. Until then…

Sorry. I have no cheers to give. I must go to a field and harvest some for next time.

Bucket List.

I’m trying to post more here, but I have been sick and uninspired to write much about the events and happenings in my life. I promise to blog more here as much as possible.

This following blog post you’re about to read is a post from September 2012 from my other blog, which you can view by clicking here.

You are my Bucket List

Have you ever thought about your last days? It was the first thing that popped into my head after I read a post that Dr. Cranquis reblogged today. You can view his post here. It got me thinking. I’m always thinking of my last days at some point, due to all of the health problems I have, because my days may have a shorter number. And, without giving too much away, one of my fictional character’s days are also numerically shorter than most. I’ve composed the character’s bucket list. And I’ve been playing around with the thought of composing mine. Call it a bucket list, or a wish list, or whatever. Some of my entries are fun, and some are more serious and thought provoking. These are in no certain order.

My Bucket/Wish List:

  • Become a famous writer, like Stephen King (without the zombies and indian burial grounds), V. C. Andrews (without all of the fake pregnancies and overabundance of secrets), or J. K. Rowling (minus the magic spells).
  • Write book. (I did that!)

write a novel

  • Publish a book. (I did that, too!)
  • Become a doctor with two specialties; epidemiology and neurology.
  • Travel the word.

travel the world globe

  • Live in a location where the season is Autumn all year long or travel to places where it’s Fall during our Summer!
  • Get a tummy tuck. Find excuses and clothes in order to show off the doctor’s handiwork! (I’ve seriously never had a flat stomach, not since I was nine, not even when I was 99 lbs.)
  • Crowd surf at a concert. (I wish it could be a Ramones concert, or a White Stripes concert. Any suggestions would be helpful.)
  • Travel about Europe, and see ALL OF IT! (Not just England, France, and Scotland!)

go to London


Visit Winter Wonderland in London Live in England


  • Try single malt Scotch, something oaky and at least twenty years old. (Before any of my Christian friends think I’ve gone off of the deep end, I just want to try it, not get drunk!)
  • Try a martini. Already did that, and I wasn’t impressed. The olives were good, though.
  • Have my dream bedroom and cover the walls with quotes, song lyrics, and pictures.

Have my dream bedroom cover my bedroom wall with lights, lyrics, and pictures

  • Design my dream house and live there.

design my own dream house

  • Own a typewriter. (I currently became the owner a 1959 Smith Corona, but I want an antique typewriter, with the round keys.)

own a typewriter

  • Go to Japan. See the view from the Tokyo Metropolitan Government Building. (On a clear day, you can see Mt. Fuji!) See the rainbow bridge. See the Osaka sun. Take a rickshaw ride with my husband. Hold hands with said husband as we see the shinto shrines. Try Sake. Look at every single manhole cover. (They’re all different!) 

walk through the wisteria flower tunnel in Japan

  • Fall in love with my husband all over again.
  • Never lose sight of what’s really and truly important. (God, Family, Country.)
  • See my book series become a movie or television series and REALLY see my characters come to life!
  • Have one white Christmas as an adult.

wake up to a White Christmas


  • Ride in a horse drawn carriage while it’s snowing.

ride in a horse and carriage

  • Have enough money to take care of myself, my husband, my family, and some of my friends.
  • Meet every single one of my friends from the internet.
  • Go to New Zealand and see Kez in person.

Meet my New Zealand friend

  • Meet the writers of the Houston Chronicle’s Good Mom Bad Mom Blog, Jenny Lawson and Mindy Sterba, and their families!
  • Go to Corpus Christi.
  • Laugh until I cry at the very least once per day.
  • Hold a baby lion and/or pet an adult male lion.

hold a baby lion

  • Have one more night with my friend Shelly#2 and truly go back to the way things were before. (My favorite memory of us was when we were hanging out in my bed, goofing off on our respective laptop computers, and I suddenly starting singing, “Doug is going to kick us out” to the tune of LL Cool J’s, “Momma Said Knock You Out.” *lol* Anyway, we were laughing so hard, we were crying. And I know we were so loud. And Shelly#2 started joining in. And when we both got to the “chorus” part of the song, I sang, “So why does the Douglas always scream and shout,” and Shelly#2 and I sang in unison, “SHELLY(E)S, GET YOUR BUTTS OUT!” We stayed up until five a.m. laughing uncontrollably. And no, we weren’t under the influence of anything, just lack of sleep and caffeine. We told my husband about it the next day, and Shelly#2 said, “I sing that in the shower!” *LOLROFLMBO* I miss her. She and I were like Turk and J.D. on Scrubs.)
  • Swim with the dolphins

swim with dolphins

  • To see all of my friends happy, healthy, and successful.
  • To see all of my family members happy, healthy, and successful, ALL OF THEM, including my husband’s family.
  • For a cure to be found for Duchenne Muscular Dystrophy (all forms of muscular dystrophy for that matter) so my nephew can have a future and a hope.
  • Kiss in the rain.

Kiss in the rain

  • Get a tattoo of a quote from my book series.

get a tattoo of my favorite quote

  • Move out of this town.

move out of my town

  • To have at least one child, even if it’s just through adoption.

adopt a baby

have a baby

  • To prove the impossible really exists.
  • To take life by the horns and prove that I can indeed do it all.
  • To truly love myself, love my body, and realize that I am beautiful.

feel confident about my body

  • To realize how far I’ve truly come.
  • To always have enough backbone to stand up for myself and to fight for those who can’t fight for themselves.
  • To die on my feet and not live on my knees.
  • To become a healthier, happier person in every aspect of my life.

Be happy

  • To kick OCD’s butt and leave it somewhere to die!
  • Go to New York. Maybe even live there.

ice skate in Central Park go to Times Square watch the ball drop in Times Square Go to the Shakespeare Garden in Central Park experience Christmas in New York live in New York City

  • Go to California.

visit the walk of fame

  • Go skiing/snowboarding.
  • Visit a pumpkin patch.

visit a pumpkin patch

  • Play softball/basketball on a team.
  • Relax for once in my life. Preferably in front of a large stone fireplace!
  • Bake a pumpkin pie.

bake a pumpkin pie

  • Have a “Hangover” experience in Vegas with three close friends! (Maybe not.)
  • See Jamie Jones deejay live in London!
  • Leave behind a legacy.
  • Inspire others.

I want to inspire others

  • Save a life…(I do not necessarily mean as a doctor either.)
  • Make sure everyone knows how important they are to me before I leave this world.
  • To be a good role model.
  • Become a hyperpolyglot

be fluent in a foreign language learn sign language

  • On my last day, I want to be surrounded by the people who are most important to me. I want a few moments alone with each of them, especially my mother and my husband. I would give my husband permission to move on with his life when the opportunity arose. I wouldn’t want him to spend his life mourning me. I would want him to find someone who makes him happy, someone who is healthy, who likes bowling and camping (two things I hate, but he loves) and someone who requires less care. Definitely someone who is not as high maintenance as I am, or as strict as I am, someone who is soft spoken and kind, not blatantly honest and harsh, like I am. And someone who loves to be snuggled 24/7. Someone who will take care of him even better than I did or could. And I would tell my mother that she was the best. She really was. I would tell her how she inspired me, and showed me that it’s never too late to achieve your dreams. She did. She’s an amazing woman, and she’s my hero. I could not have asked for a better mother. And I would apologize because I’m sure I could have been a better daughter. (I should just apologize for my teen years altogether! I was so stuck on stupid that I’m not sure how she or I survived it!)
  • For everyone to remember me and laugh. I’m serious! I want my funeral to be like that Aiwa commercial that was on in 2004, where the guy is rocking out to Queen’s “Another One Bites the Dust” and when the camera zooms out, the guy is in the passenger side of a hearse and everyone is looking at him! *LOL* That’s what I want done on my way to the cemetery. I want two speakers in the back with my casket and for “Another One Bites the Dust” to be played loudly. I want my family and friends to have one last laugh. (I LOVE to make people laugh, but I wouldn’t be a very good comedian because I wouldn’t use some of the content most comedians use.) Alas, my husband refuses to make this last wish happen.

That about sums it up. Some of these made me laugh uncontrollably. Some of these made me cry uncontrollably.

If I have inspired you to compose your wish list, please share it with me. I’d love to read it!

Dormiveglia is Available in Eleven Countries

Dormiveglia book cover

Dormiveglia is not just limited to the states. You can also purchase the book in eleven other countries.

The list includes:

And for my American readers, you can purchase Dormiveglia by clicking here.

I want to thank everyone for their support thus far. I also want to remind everyone about the importance of supporting independent authors. If you know any other indie authors, please make an effort to support there.

Here is a picture with some tips and advice on how to support an indie author.
How to support an Indie Author

Forgive My Absence…

I recently published a book. Everyone who has view my blog has had the distinct privilege of reading three of the stories for free, because the book features the three stories that I have posted on this blog. Therefore, I must remove them. I apologize for the inconvenience.

That being said, allow me to present to you my first published work, Dormiveglia.

(You can get your copy by clicking on the title.)

Dormiveglia book cover



Dormiveglia with definition


Let me know if you purchase it.

I hope you enjoy it!