Since my last post on Blooming Women, which I quite honestly vacillated on whether to sell, shut down, or take a leave of absence from, so much has happened. Without too much melodrama, here's a brief snapshot:

• Moved in with ailing parents (dying father) to care for them; father rebounded somewhat; mother went south; already dysfunctional relationship crumbled after several police calls; I left with mom for safety under legal advice; family intervened and betrayed; mom back with dad and failing; I'm disowned. 
• I fell in love with a very good man who told me he wasn't interested in anything serious from the beginning and when he suddenly realized he was getting serious, bugged out and broke my heart.
• I rebounded with a retired Army Ranger who now did global leadership training for the US government and was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer 2 weeks into our relationship when he was on assignment in the middle East. His wife had died 5 years prior, leaving him with 2 beautiful grown daughters. I prayed with him, sent him cheery videos from Mizzou students and Hooters girls, did everything a good girlfriend would through his treatments which threw him into cardiac arrest once and made him septic once. Only, guess what. None of it was true. The emails were being sent from Kansas. Yeah. Don't mess with an investigative journalist. I wish I wasn't a sharp cookie sometimes!!
• My healthy-as-a-horse daughter went into cardiac arrest and coded 5 more times on the way to the hospital. It seems she has an hereditary electrical problem with her heart. So once they finally diagnosed it, they were able to put in a pacemaker with a defibrillator. 
• I left my nannying position because of a senseless spat with the doc whose children call me grandma. This left me living out of my car for a few weeks until I Ubered and Lyfted enough moolah to get into an apartment. 
• Just last week, that doc's wife, who was one of my dearest friends, who had pulled my brain out of the darkest places as I had hers, decided she could no longer fight the good fight and left those children who call me grandma and that doc with whom I'd chosen to have a senseless spat and me behind. We are all still grieving. She was incredibly beautiful and I will be doing an article on her as soon as I am emotionally able.
• I fell in love with a very quirky, but very good man, who is somehow able to endure my drastic changes of personality, mood, and behavior, and continue to push back my bangs and kiss my forehead with such tenderness and love it makes me weep just writing this. Even when I don't like him, he loves me. Even when I trash the kitchen cooking some exotic oddball mess, he loves me. Even when he comes home from job-hunting exhausted and I'm curled up on the couch in my nightie eating potato chips and watching "Why Women Kill," he loves me. It perplexes me. It sometimes pisses me off. I have always proclaimed loudly that I could never trust or have faith in anyone who could love me, but here we are. Three months into living together because he couldn't stand the thought of me living on someone's couch and having the junk I love in storage, so he pity-moved me into his gorgeous space to clutter up his life, literally and figuratively, and every chance he gets, even when I rebuff him, he reaches for my hand, brushes back my unruly bangs, and gently kisses my forehead. For some inexplicable reason(s), he loves me. and for some even more inexplicable reason(s), I cannot run away from him. After 62 years of writing my This Isn't Him Chronicles, I think I might be closing the book. After decades of trauma, transiency, abuse, rejection, and wandering, could it be I finally found home in a guy named Randy? 

The bottom line is, BLOOMING WOMEN is on the rebound!! My daughters have a saying, "Sometimes, you just need YOUR WOMEN." Nothing could be more true for me right now. I need my blooming women right now! I NEED you to share your stories with me! Let's get this little online magazine thriving again!

I have no idea where my post went, but it just disappeared. So, here goes again. Maybe I said something I oughtn't to have.
I'm sorry, once again, for my absenteeism. I've been working my new writing gig, which is going quite well. I don't have bylines, but the pay is much, much better! 
I'm working on 3 WIPs (works in progress, so I guess it should be WsIP, but that's just my weirdness kicking in). 
First up is my first children's book, The Enlightenment of Clive, the Misunderstood Warthog. It was something I started about 4-5 years ago and couldn't figure out to end. Then, I was telling me mum about it (sorry, Ab Fab is on in the background and threw me into a Brit frame of mind), and she said, YOU HAVE TO GO FINISH THIS! 
Being the obedient daughter I am . . . 
(giving you a moment to stop laughing)
I went home and the book wrote itself. It is unlike any other book I've ever read and has a multitude of positive benefits. I am excited about this one, believe me. So is me mum.
Then there's the Gertie Thump sequel and my autobio, which is super fun to write. It may very well scandalize me, but I'm up for that. 
I love you all very much and miss Blooming Women terribly. I'm going to get a few things on this week to keep you reading. We are in 95 countries and this blog is in 125, so I feel quite warm and fuzzy and am so grateful to all the women who contribute! 

Love and peace, always,

Becky Lyn

I had a little trouble last week with the Big D, which kept me in bed imagining the worst and feeling achy all over. And I just realized I need to clarify. This Big D has everything to do with my state of mind and not my intestinal function. I think a lot of it had to do with some difficult writing I've undertaken. I'm doing my own story in hopes that it will help at least one person understand that with the help of faith, they can rise from the ashes and create a beautiful being that can soar above the clouds.

So now I'm trying to catch up on my writing, which is growing more and more time-consuming and I love that! I did get the new freelance writing job, which pays a handsome little amount for each article. It's a new opportunity and I'm delighted to have been sought out and selected for it. I hope am equal to the task.

Other than that, not much else going on. School started back, which means early mornings again. But Riley is a senior and I can do another year!

More later,

Becky Lyn

Yesterday was a very emotional day for me. Do you know why? I will tell you. Because I'm a girl. Anyone who has ever done pressure canning will understand this analogy. If a pot builds up enough steam without an outlet, it will blow up. I won't tell you how I know this because I don't want to embarrass my mother with the terrible chicken catastrophe of 1998. I won't tell you that she wound up with chicken escaping the pot with such velocity that it cracked the ceiling in several spots, leaving parts embedded in them, then ricocheted down with such force as to dent the entire top of the stove, rendering it unusable. I would never humiliate her by sharing this with you, dear readers. I won't add that the insurance appraiser then spread the vicious rumor around town, creating a local celebrity of some notoriety. No, that wouldn't be right. 

But, I digress. Sometimes, as women, we just reach the boiling point. Pressures build and steam must have a vent. It doesn't matter if it's sadness, melancholy, anger, exhaustion, or what have you. All I know is that when the steam builds to that point, we must allow it to escape. We have to find an outlet, but fast! It could be crying, which is one of my favorites. It could be laughing hysterically in all the wrong circumstances. It could be physical intimacy, which I can't participate in. Or drinking, also a no-no. Or drugs. BEEP! Not that either. So, I listen to songs that bring back sweet memories or put on a favorite cathartic movie, and I let 'er rip. I mean, from the toes up through the gut and out of the mouth in the most mournful sound imaginable. Or course, I warn everyone first. 

"I'm going to go and have a jolly good cathartic cry. Pay no attention to the bellowing in the next room, next house, or next town over. OK, maybe it doesn't get that loud, but it does sometimes carry, depending on the cloud formations and humidity level. 

Today, I am better. I am thankful for the privilege of being a woman and having this wonderful opportunity to get emotional out of my system and into the night air. 

Peace and love,
Becky Lyn