Blooming Women
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  • Happy Birthday, Blooming Women! One Year Today!
  • Blog—Maniacal Musings—Becky Lyn Rickman, Managing Editor
  • Blog—Jessica's Journey—Jessica VanVactor, Guest Contributor
  • Blog—My Armenia—Carol Rickman's Blog
  • Dealing with miscarriage
  • My Story
  • Circles
  • The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly of Being Single
  • 5 Stages of divorce recovery
  • The Circus is in Town
  • (You're covered with) The Fingerprints of God
  • Thunder Roared and Love Soared
  • A Period Piece
  • A sneak preview of the Gertie sequel!
  • Six Steps to Cultivate your Femininity in the Business World
  • Chore Zoning or Don't try this at home!
  • The 50 with Meredith Morse—Opera Singer
  • The 50 with Jessica VanVactor
  • Memorizing Joy
  • AT LAST! My interview with Shan White, Life Coach for women in transition
  • Questions and statements we don't care if we never, ever get asked or told again (am I right, girls?)
  • The Date
  • Moonshadow's Spirit
  • Broken Writer + Hypnotherapy = Amazing Trips
  • The "R" Word
  • The 50 with Carol Shepherd Rickman
  • Triumph During Transitions
  • A Kentucky Afternoon
  • Mothers
  • 10 things chemo taught me
  • What if . . .
  • Forgiveness—A poem
  • Mantegories (n. from the Latin; man+categories)
  • Insomnia 101
  • Blooming Bud Interview: Sierra
  • Masterful Mindsets
  • It's in the bag!
  • Important lessons for children: Start where you are, use what you have, do what you can
  • Nursery rhymes, and times, and slimes, and grimes, and crimes
  • Things I learned as a single mom
  • Sadie's Soapbox: Dating
  • The Dress
  • 8 Things That Have Surprised Me About Having a Large Family
  • The gift of longing
  • The Semicolon Project
  • Most embarrassing moments—culinary edition
  • MilitaReality—a brat's perspective
  • About those elusive wisps of thought
  • Being there
  • The Giving Mom
  • How I still haven't learned to keep my smart mouth shut!
  • If you give a mom a cookie . . .
  • Cacti and Geraniums
  • The Three Gardeners
  • Beauty is as beauty does
  • Words for Sabra
  • Arm scratching in Baltimore
  • Pornography didn't kill our love and friendship . . . I did . . . and how we got it back
  • Hardening off our little bloomers
  • The Wonderful, Magical Women of Blooming Television
  • Shake it like a Polaroid picture!
  • 25 Date Nights (that aren't dinner and a movie)
  • Hills Like White Elephants
  • Maryland Beaten Biscuits
  • The night we thought the house was exploding
  • A mysterious case of goosebumps or "What is that on the wall?"
  • Militareality—Real stories of military wives
  • Finding my metal in wood
  • Another blooming bud interview
  • Chariot of Fire
  • Secret gifts of love
  • The best prank I ever pulled was . . .
  • Connie
  • Dating and other hazards
  • Favorite childhood memories
  • When God speaks . . .
  • Zanie gets into another sticky situation
  • No-see-ums: A little useful information
  • I love my kids, but . . .
  • Meg's poem
  • Another blooming bud interview
  • Some of my favorite herbal recipes are . . .
  • I love my cat, but . . .
  • I love all creatures, but . . .
  • The thing all girls and women must see and know . . .
  • The Great Chicken Debacle
  • The Powerful Influence of Brothers
  • How I feel about blooming is . . .
  • Sometimes grandma is up—other times she is simply upside-down
  • Anyone out there as anxious as I am?
  • Some of my funniest childhood memories are . . .
  • You might be addicted to Harry Potter if . . .
  • This month's survey:
  • Another Blooming Bud interview
  • The most valuable life lesson I've learned is . . .
  • The greatest blessing to come out of the most painful thing I ever experienced was . . .
  • The most powerful influence on my life is . . .
  • The thing that could have broken our family, but didn't was . . .
  • The funniest thing that ever happened to me was . . .
  • The time my dad really surprised me was when . . .
  • NEW FEATURE: Interviews with Blooming Buds
  • ANOTHER NEW FEATURE: A survey
  • The most valuable life lesson I've ever learned is . . .
  • My most embarrassing moment was when . . .
  • What really puzzles me is . . .
  • One of the most fun days I ever had was . . .
  • The most scared I've ever been was when . . .
  • The people who have been the biggest influence on me are . . .
  • I like to relax by . . .
  • The best way to do . . .
  • My most embarrassing moment was when . . .
  • The most fun I ever had was when . . .
  • When I grow up, I want to be . . .
  • What really puzzles me is . . .
  • The most amazing bargain I ever found was . . .
  • Those annoying things kids do and what they mean
  • My shameless self-promotion
  • The thing about getting older is . . .

depression sucks . . . the life out of me!

8/31/2015

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However, after some intensive and inspired hypnotherapy from my favorite dragon, my brother, Curtis, I am back. It is amazing that people can talk to you and reason with you and either your heart understands and your head doesn't, or vice versa. But after speaking to my subconscious, through the hypnotherapy, all things seem to make sense. It kind of aligns my heart, my mind, and my spirit and they harmoniously lead me into the light once again. 

Here's something I wrote the other day when I was in the thick of the darkness:

I've always fallen victim to love's betrayal and risen from the ashes to soar again, but this time, the reviling stings without relief and spills black pain out onto the blank canvas of a glowing screen. My inner Emo is primal screaming words no one else can hear. This is the worst betrayal of all. The words I adore are coming together, rising against me with their legions, marching rhythmically across the page. They spew words of condescension, indictments of my lifelong relationship with stupidity and bad choices. The judge has ruled and the sentence is solitary confinement with these two-faced liars. They say whatever they want and draw tears and howling from me.

In writing my life story, which is at the same time, traumatic and cathartic, I was feeling like I was enduring the worst betrayal of all, being crucified by the words I adore so much. 

But here's the truly inspired message of the hypnotherapist:

What I am: writing this, transcribing it, really, in a nice, cool, dark, comfortable theater, sitting in an overstuffed easy chair, curled up, with buttered popcorn, which inexplicably doesn't nasty up my keyboard, and watching it on the big screen. I am simply reporting the play-by-play for the benefit of those who might be living through it. I am sharing to ease the pain, giving comfort to those who feel they are all alone in their trials, and illuminating a path for those who are ready to leave their dire circumstances behind. 

What I am no longer: a war correspondent on the front lines, living it. I am no longer in danger of a landmine or grenade exploding in my face. I am no longer being chased by those demons and having to face them and negotiate my way to safety. I can now tell the darkness, "no!" and turn to face the light. The things that happened, happened in another country which I no longer have to give myself permission to visit. I can simply say, I went, I conquered, I drank the water, and I lived to tell about it. I strongly advise against travelling there and I can tell everyone in detail why without reliving it myself.

It is mind-boggling to me how we can allow the enemy passage into our hearts and souls. I now have a very tall, fire-breathing dragon guarding that entryway. 

If anyone of you is suffering in darkness, please contact me for more information on hypnotherapy and how it can help without making you quack like a duck.

beckytheauthor@gmail.com or 573-567-0977

This process is far less expensive than the toll of living in a nightmare costs. It can be accomplished, often, in only a few sessions. It can also be done through Skype. I am now booking appointments for him. 
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    Author

    Becky Lyn Rickman writes because it is the only way to placate the voices in her head so she doesn't miss out on that precious 45 minutes of sleep every night. Life can become a little congested for her in the 400 sq. ft. apartment in which she lives, intentionally, like a mushroom, pounding at the keyboard in the dark with the unsolicited assistance of her two therapy cats, Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy. Yes, they are Austenian. She spends a few hours each day shamefully lamenting the fact that her faith won't allow her to be a profanity-spewing, bourbon-guzzling, burning-the-midnight-oil chain smoker. The rest of the time, she spends in shameless gratitude that her children have not, as yet, put her away.

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