Family and Pets

Five Words We Don’t Say/Hear Enough

Words are my love language. It took me a while to determine and accept this. Many have read or heard about the Five Love Languages. They include: Receiving of Gifts, Words of Affirmation, Physical Touch, Acts of Service and Quality Time. I believe there could be a sixth or at least a subset of one of these, Giving of Gifts. There are those who are filled up when they give presents to others. The entire act of shopping, wrapping and then the giving fills them with joy and sense of being loved. This is not me, not that I do not like giving people gifts, just that it causes me stress rather than fills me up.

Initially I thought Words of Affirmation were my love language and set out to fulfill this need in my life. I told my husband repeatedly (also known as nagging) until it hit home. At some point in our relationship he began writing me a simple note every morning before he left for work. He left the note by my sink where I would be sure to find it. Each note brought me a smile, a laugh and a feeling of being seen, missed, loved. Over time I realized his words meant a lot to me, not just the ones that affirmed me, but all of them. The ones telling me about his day, what was on his schedule, his worries, his dreams, his issues.

I felt equally loved if his note was about how beautiful he thought I was or if it was simply telling me his alarm failed to wake him, he was running late, Bye! The message was in the act, not in the words exactly. I began to notice I felt the same way when taking time to read an uplifting story, blog, or listen to a podcast meant to edify and encourage listeners. Ultimately I found I was also fulfilled when I was the giver of the words rather than the recipient.

I told my daughter-by-choice today, I was proud of her. It seemed to take her by surprise. Immediately I took stock of the times I tell my daughter and son-by-birth how proud I am of them. I enjoy letting them know I am proud of them when they try, when they fail and get back up, and when they succeed. I also enjoy telling them I am happy for them when they accomplish something that brings them joy or satisfaction.

While taking stock of how often I do this and how often I have heard this, I realized I could not think of a single time my mother told me she was proud of me. I believe my mother was and would be very proud of me. If she were here today to see where I am in life, I believe she would tell me she is proud of me. She told me she loved me, time and time again. I am very thankful for that and the memories of it. And yet, I realize I long for the memory of hearing her say she is proud of me. Knowing we are loved is a wonderful feeling. Feeling we are seen in a crowded world is comforting. Hearing someone is Proud of us, who we are, what we have done, all or anything we have tried to do, inspires us to continue.

I worry we are waiting, withholding those words until we deem they are worthy. Not wanting to give them too soon, too quickly, concerned in doing so the recipient may think, “Well, they are proud of me, I have arrived!” What if they stop there? What if they know I am proud and decide that’s good enough? What if they don’t? What if in hearing how proud you are of them, they are inspired to go further? To try harder? To take an even bigger risk? What if one success leads to another and another? All because of these five simple words:

“I Am Proud of You!”

Uncategorized

Put On Notice 4-24-21

I’m just going to put this right here. On March 29, 2019, I went to court and successfully obtained a Protection/No Contact Order against my ex-husband who continued to harass myself, my husband and my children through Facebook posts, comments on my blog (here), through Private Messages on Facebook and voicemails on my and my husband’s phone.

Let it be known, There is a Protection Order in Place for Kristina Lyn Reddy, her husband and her children. James D. Carroll II, aka Don Carroll Jr. may NOT be in person within 100 ft of the aforementioned individuals, AND he may NOT contact the aforementioned individuals in any way, shape or form, this includes all types of social media, email, voice and text contact. Violation of this Order will result in arrest and potential jail time.

Any and all violations including posts, replies, message are printed and kept on file.

Uncategorized

Enlightenment

“Enlighten me”, something said with a tinge of sarcasm when in the middle of a disagreement. Spoken to one with an opposing view. Spoken by one who desires less to be enlightened and more to prove the other view wrong.

And yet, rewind. Try again. Say it one more time, only this time, remove the tinge of sarcasm and replace it with desire. The desire to learn, to grow, to listen with the intent to understand, to grow in knowledge.

I, like most, find myself listening with the intent to respond. Each word spoken, falling up my ears while my mind is actively searching for my response. Unfortunately the result is hearing less the longer this transpires as our brain is only able to focus, truly focus, on one thing at a time. We either focus on what we are hearing, or we focus on what we are creating to say in return. Being the selfish human beings we are, our focus slowly (or quickly) begins to tune out what we are hearing and delve into what we are planning to say.

Defeating the purpose of enlightenment, and seeking instead the self serving activity of formulating a response, an argument.

Meditation, for me, when I choose to partake, has become a source of enlightenment. I have found it difficult to quiet my mind. Turning my thoughts off does not come naturally to me. Instead of giving up on meditation altogether, I have chosen to meditate on what I would like to be enlightened by. Listening to prayer, followed by scripture from the Bible, with a background of soothing music and timely prompts to focus on my breathing, helps me meditate of words I would normally let pass into and out of my consciousness with little thought.

Rather than chastising me for trailing thoughts, I am encouraged to accept them and come back to the word or prayer I was focusing on. Instead of feeling as though I have failed, I am encouraged to once again listen to the scripture and allow it or God to speak to me.

The more I do this, the more I find my trailing thoughts become prayers to God. Accepting the words I have listened to, praying they become a part of my life, my daily activities, how I interact with and treat those around me. And at times, prayer for others who I know are struggling.

Enlightenment feels like the joy, love, peace, gentleness, patience, kindness and truth of the holy spirit flowing gently through my veins, one with my physical body as my spirit communes with God. His peace, the peace that surpasses all human understanding, covers, removes my anxieties, my pain, my hurts – physical, mental and emotional, as I release them all to Him. Replaced with the Word, the living, breathing, Son of God who has the power to take it all upon himself, bear it, die for it and break the chains that bind it to me.

One day I will see enlightenment. It will surpass the human imagination. Grander than any painting created, any sculpture formed, any building designed, it will shatter our hopes, dreams and desires for perfection. To see enlightenment will require the removal of all inadequacies, all imperfections, all distractions, all evil, all wrong-doing past, present and future. It will be heavenly.

Health - Nutrition, Diet, Exercise

In Times Like This

Hello there,

It seems appropriate to start this post with a greeting. So many of us are missing face to face, voice and physical contact these days. While some are going about their lives as normal (don’t get me started on the Spring-breakers in Florida!), others are self quarantined, and still others are somewhere in between.

I have waffled, which is unlike my normal self. I am more of a reactor in general. I see, I hear, I do. Not always the best way to handle things but it is how I do, me. When I received the message midday on a Wednesday that our son’s school would be closing for 2 weeks in an effort to ‘flatten the curve’ (just one of the new buzz word/sayings), I took it in stride. A trickle of joy ran through me as the thought of having our son home for a couple weeks entered my brain.

Imagine my joy when not only school was canceled for 2 weeks, but so was soccer. Don’t get me wrong (yes, I just heard a collective gasp through the cloud slammed back at me), I LOVE watching M play soccer. However, the thought of a couple weeks without school AND soccer, brought visions of the ocean dancing in my head! I quickly began a search for vacation rentals at our favorite WA coast beach town. My hubby, who thinks a lot like me, was doing the same exact thing in another room of the house. We collaborated and booked a house for the following week.

After picking up our ‘son from another mother’, D, we packed up and headed to the coast for 5 days. We called it our spring break. (Now, hold your tongue! We did not party like it’s 1999 or anything of the sort.). We maintained social distancing from other people, ate in our rental home (not in restaurants), went on private walks through the woods, played ping-pong in the garage of the rental, played pickle ball (when no one else was) and did not join in other vacationers gatherings.

That last paragraph, the content of it, was VERY difficult for me (and Laurie). We are social by nature. We see a dog, we go pet it. We see people shooting hoops, we invite ourselves to join in. We see a child playing alone, we ask them to join our group. It’s in our DNA to be inclusive. Needless to say, we struggled, but we heeded all warnings and suggested cautions to maintain social distance. And instead, we had a blast with just our family, D, and Yuto (exchange student from Japan that lives with Laurie). We were our 6 (under 10).

With all this time on my hands I decided to take up an invite to tryout a newly started workout class via Zoom. My long time friend, Jessica Gleason, founder, owner and instructor for SDF (Seattle Dance Fitness) has stretched her creative business skills and is hosting workouts via a video platform. Women who normally went to her live classes at multiple locations throughout North Seattle, needed a way to keep working out and stay connected. I have been so proud of the business Jessica has started, watching it flourish and grow from a guest instructor at local fitness facilities to her own full fledged (FEMALE OWNED AND RAN) business. Talk about BOSS BABE! Just when she was killing it and had added multiple instructors to her booty shaking fleet, the virus hit and through a wrench in her business curve.

Rather than let that knock her out, Jessica picked herself up and began planning. Finding solutions, researching video options and creating a website for access. BOOM! Take that Covid-19. I have now tried a weeknight dance workout, a weekday kid/family hip hop class and a Saturday morning workout. All were fun, physical and made me sweat! Today’s workout unleashed hidden emotion within me, bringing joy and a sense of connection even though I had turned my video part off and knew the others couldn’t see my scary dance moves. We moved, we danced, I’m sure we laughed, we sweated, and we connected through the internet/cloud waves, all because of what Jessica has grown over these past years in her business.

As much as this Blog post did not start out as an advertisement for Seattle Dance Fitness, I guess that is where it has gone. My initial thought was to share what we are doing and how we are fairing so far (which is just fine). We are loosely schooling at home. We are working as much as we can with our real estate clients (email us, call us, text us for real estate advice now and going forward). We are going to church online with Westside Church. We have limited our contact to a small group of about 10 people (our fam, Laurie and her exchange student, D and one other small fam) to keep our social distance responsibility in check. We are getting outside, running, walking, doing workouts at home, yelling at kids to get off screens (not much yelling really), and playing games. And yes, watching some TV.

I am not a gym membership kind of person. Ask my bestie, Dawn, she has tried to get me to join for forever. I am also not much of a go to a workout class kind of person. As much as I am believed to be an extrovert, I do not like group work outs. I am a workout from home, DVD, elliptical, go for a run, kind of gal. I like my group interaction from a distance and without the after workout chat. You heard it here.

Several days ago I caught a small portion of a Facebook Live from my friend Jessica, Owner of SDF (Seattle Dance Fitness). She was sharing her heart with her dance family. Many women (and a few men) go to her classes on the weekly. Some a few times a week. They are seriously a family. I’ve seen the way they interact (from the comfort and safety of my home sneaking a peek on Facebook). With the shut down of groups larger than 50, which stretched out to include Restaurants, Churches, Gyms, and pretty much everywhere except grocery markets and pharmacies, SDF lost their ability to get together and workout. More so, Jess lost her income. Fitness instruction is her bread and butter. No workouts, no money, no paycheck. It broke my heart.

In her video Jess let them all know she was going to start Live classes via a platform called Zoom. Many of us in the business industry and writing world have been using Zoom for meetings for quite a while now. It turns out it can be used for workouts as well! SDF would be offering a limited schedule of classes while they roll it out and add more as the need and ability arises should the need for us to stay home continue. There was a link to her website (which I have linked anywhere you see ‘SDF‘ in this post) and I went to check it out. As well as offering classes via Zoom she was offering the first week free for newbies (like me). I decided to take her up on the offer.

My boys and I attended the Kids/Family Hip Hop last week and I attended a Thursday night as well as a class this morning. Our first two classes we did while we were off on a family trip on the WA coast from our rental. This morning I logged in from home. Both times I was able to connect my laptop to my TV with an HDMI cable. Very cool to follow Jess/SDF on the big screen right in my home! The classes are fun, the music is engaging and Jess does a fantastic job keeping you going for 50 minutes. The moves are somewhat difficult, but she gives you tips and you are able to muddle your way through. I will add, now that I’ve done 3 classes, many of the moves/songs are repeated class to class so you will get the hang of it. Most importantly, YOU WILL SWEAT! And, you will have fun!

Near the end of today’s workout I found myself a little emotional. I really didn’t think I was feeling anything about the situation we are in, the virus, Covid-19 other than caution in regards to germs. I have felt blessed to have the time with my family, the ability to be home, the means to stock up and even to getaway. As I worked out and heard Jess, saw the ladies dancing and having fun, I felt the love, the encouragement coming through the internet/cloud waves directly into my heart, and it felt good. I shed a couple tears, sucked in a big breath and kept moving. The workout wasn’t over!

I want to encourage you to do what you can to help others around you during this time. If you can run to the store for a neighbor, do it. If you have supplies to give, offer them up. If you have the means to order take-out/food from a restaurant, do it. If you have the financial ability to join Seattle Dance Fitness Live Classes during this time, DO IT! I would love to see this small business stay a float during this time, and be able to pick back up strong when we all recover going forward.

So, go to SDF.

Check out the schedule.

Sign up for a punch pass or a monthly membership.

Support this business AND…….

Get ready to shaky your Boo-tay, burn some calories, catch a smile and FEEL the love!

Much love,

Kristi Lyn Reddy
Reddy Real Estate Team – Owner/Broker
Reddy2Write – Author, Blogger
Work-from-home-real-estate-broker-home-school-soccer-mom-wife-work-outer-with-SDF

Uncategorized, Warrior's Voice

Temporary Relief

I entered the court house my daughter now a grown woman, at my side. The bursting file I held in my hand, evidence. What was supposed to empower me hindered by my thoughts of doubt. Were his words harsh enough? Would the judge read between the lines and hear the threatening tone ringing in my ears? Was the one threat against my husband enough? Had I filled the papers out correctly.

Certain I would be turned away, again, my hands began to quiver. My stomach all a flutter, not in the good way as is when anticipating a date’s arrival or the phone to ring when your lover calls. The slight flutter before the churning begins. My spirit trying to tell my mind to remain calm, stick to the facts. Trust the process. Trust the system.

I assured myself I had done things right this time around. Eighteen years later, each time the verbal harassment ensued, I wrote it down, printed it out, and called the police to file a report. Each incident a separate packet complete with the officer’s card and incident number. And yet, doubt filled my mind. My heart torn between beating fast and holding its breath, waiting.. My body, fight or flight, on high alert. One moment the urge to flee out the courthouse door before the judge could say the words I dreaded to hear. The words condoning his actions and making a mockery of my fear.

By the time I filed the papers with the clerk, court was in recess. We were asked to return to the courthouse at 1:30 PM for the afternoon session. Two hours to kill. We, my daughter and I, left the building. Now 27 years old, she was here to help me, strengthen me. Eighteen years ago, I took her and ran in the night. I was protecting her then. I went to court then as well, in hopes of obtaining a Protection Order. It was denied. Having never called the Police, it was his word against mine. Not once had I so much as lifted the phone when he destroyed our home, barraged me with verbal insults, nor the times that he hit me so hard and told me I was lucky to be alive. Too afraid to call, ashamed to call, embarrassed of my life, my marriage, my failures. And confused, always so confused. His words of condemnation swarming my brain, blaming me. Followed by acceptance when I resorted to apologizing for my behavior, my lack of submission.

“We’ll be back.” The security guard was less than amused by my lame attempt of Arnold Schwarzenegger impression.

We contemplated lunch knowing full well what we both wanted to do. Drive to the neighborhood my ex had been parked in the night before to see if he was still there. Not in hopes of seeing him, just to make certain he was not somewhere else. Somewhere we couldn’t find him. If we couldn’t find him, how would the police find him? How could he be served if I obtained a Protection Order?. Without service the order was moot.

“I want to drive by where his van was parked. As much as I want him gone, I want him there so I know where he is. If I get this order, I want to be sure he can be served.” Laurie nodded at my words, she had known, expected them.

She drove. I focused on my breathing pressing out my thoughts of doubt and rejection. Court houses still fill me with fear. The day my divorce was final, I fully believed until the judge hit his gavel of decision, he would deny my divorce and make me stay married to Don. Divorce was wrong. I had been told this since I was a small child. A wife is to cling to her husband. Honor him. Obey him. Follow his leadership as he is the head of the home as Christ is the head of the church.

Oh, the crazy insane things my husband had made me do in honor of his leadership In the name of submission. The sins he justified as long as they stayed in the marital bedroom. The abuse he claimed was his ‘right to lead’ and my ‘duty to submit’ to. The blame ever ending on my shoulders when choices turned out bad and life as we knew it fell apart. If only….. If only I would try harder, be a better wife, love him, honor him, be more submissive, not question his authority, believe in him as my husband. If only, then we would have a successful marriage and life. God would be pleased.

Laurie and I drove around Ravenna. Street by street. Looking for the van Seattle Police had confirmed was registered to him. Our hope dwindling, stomachs growling, we gave in and headed north for sustenance.

“It’s such a sunny day, he probably went to Green Lake or something.” Laurie steered the car towards the lake. We would drive by on the way home. Just in case.

We sat on her front porch and ate our lunch. The sun soaked into our winter clothes warming our bodies. Laurie shed her sweatshirt as I unzipped my black coat to let the breeze in. The tension in my body reminding me I was on high alert. The sound of tires bringing my gaze to the street. A car, not a van, passed by.

The minutes ticked off my watch. Time to head back to the court house.

I wish I could say when I sat down in Court Room 1 I felt certain the order would be accepted. I didn’t. As much as logic supported the motion, at least a temporary order, my experience did not. I quickly realized we were in Traffic Court, we werethe only non traffic related order.

‘Ms Reddy, are you in the court room?” The judge scanned the nearly full benches.

“Yes”, I raised my hand as his eyes followed my voice.

“Okay, I have a fairly full docket today which I will start with, but I will get to you soon. I will not make you wait until the end.”

“Thank you, your honor.” I massaged my hands, twisting my ring. A reminder I am happily married now. I am not alone in this.

A little more than an hour passed. the judge explained that he had finished the 1:30 docket and would begin the 2:30 docket shortly. He let us know he had online court from 3:00 PM to 3:30 PM. Due to the nature being an attorney and clients in jail it was a set time and no matter what he was doing at 2:59 PM he had to log-in to the online court at 3:00 PM. He thanked us for our patience.

“At this time I would like to call Ms. Reddy up. I will begin with your order and see how far we get before 3:00 PM. I highly doubt we will finish, so I may need to ask you to wait and we will finish as soon as the online court is complete. I apologize.”

I nodded and headed up to the table and two seats where I had seen others contesting their traffic ticket sit when representing themselves.

I was sworn in and the judge proceeded.

“First I want you to know I have reviewed your Petition for a Protection Order. And – “

He paused to make eye contact with me. His eyes held my gaze as I held my breath. The compassion in his eyes sent a flutter of hope through me.

“And, as difficult as it was, I read all of the documentation that you provided. All of it.” Tears welled up in my eyes at his words. I heard them correctly and yet, this is what I actually heard.

‘I believe you. I read the papers you submitted. I read the words your ex husband wrote to you. I believe he did it. I believe it is NOT OKAY that he did this to you and to your family. I believe that what he has done, and is doing, is wrong. I believe you.’

He didn’t say those words, but I heard them. My shoulders relaxed. My chin lifted.

For the record he read my petition and then told me he would have to ask me a few questions. My full name, my date of birth, my relationship to the respondent. He asked me about the timeline of the incidents that I had documented.

“It does appear his behavour is escalating.” The judge confirmed it was getting worse, not better.

He glanced at the clock on the wall.

“You have my full attention. My apologies for looking at the clock. I do not want you to think in any way what we are looking at is not serious or does not have my attention. I just cannot miss online court.” Again, the judge look directly into my eyes.

‘I hear you. I see you. Your abuse is valid’, His words, the ones said and the ones I interpreted, causing a flooding sensation through my body.

I wanted to cry, full on, shed the tears welling up inside me. For years held back knowing I needed to remain strong. Unable, un-allowed by myself, to give in. I would carry on. I would live my life. His words, the Judge’s words, opening a crack in the dam I had built to protect my spirit, that his words, my abuser’s, sought to destroy. Words past and present spewed at me through the waves of technology, hit upon hit, blow upon blow, attacking when I least expected it, when vulnerability left me susceptible. Once again be pulled back into the depths of his rage. His manipulation powerful, threatened to strip me of who I had become, my growth.

Not today. Today, I was heard. Today, I was believed.

“My apologies, I must set this aside and log-in to the online court system for the jail. I sincerely apologize. Please take your seat and we will continue with your Order upon my completion. I do not want to rush and make any errors on your Order. Again, I am sorry.” His words exemplified the compassion seen in his eyes. As much as he hated to make me wait, he also hated to rush something of great importance.

That’s what I heard. My Order was of great importance. My request deserved to be heard. I deserved to be protected. He, my abuser, deserved to be stopped.

I took my seat and waited. I half listened to the online court. Case after case of request for bail or for charges to be dropped. My thoughts trailed off, I couldn’t help but wish for every woman, everywhere who has experienced or was currently being abused to be me in that moment. I knew, the Protection Order would not in fact completely protect me from potential harm from my ex husband. I knew it was an Order, one like any other boundary, rule, law, only works if it is in fact obeyed. One that if broken comes with legal ramifications, but also great risk for the victim as the result of it being broken could bring physical pain or even death. Even with that knowledge, the joy of being heard, in this moment, out weighed the impending possibility that my Protection Order could be ignored.

“Okay, Ms Reddy, let’s continue your Order for Protection. Thank you for your patience.”

He continued asking questions to clarify locations where we worked, went to church, etc. to indicate in the Order location where Don would not be allowed to come within 500 feet of. The judge went to the extent of hand writing the address of our home, the schools of my children, each place of employment and our church. He added ‘anywhere any person listed in this Order works, attends school, plays sports or worships’ to the hand written details.

“I know this is taking a lot of time, but I want to be certain I leave no detail to misinterpretation. Please bare with me.” He continued writing on the Order.

Bare with you? If ever I questioned my hearing, it was now. If ever I felt more validated, it was now. If ever I wanted to jump up, run over and hug a judge, it was now. My heart was bursting with joy rather than squeezed with anguish.

“Okay, I believe I have all of the pertinent details of the locations. Just so you know in the legal realm I could just have wrote ‘schools’ and ‘ church’ in general and all schools and churches you attend going forward will in fact be covered, but for the sake of expressing my sincere agreement that you are to be protected, I wanted to be specific.” The length of which he was going to make me feel heard was more than I could absorb. Every nerve of my body was tingling.

“Thank you Your Honor. I can’t express what this means to me. Thank you, for everything, from the bottom of my heart.”

“You are welcome. Okay, two more things. One is to determine the length of the Protection Order. And the other, well it is the more difficult one.” Tension crept back in as I felt the hesitation in his voice.

“In as much as I fully believe you have a right to this Protection Order, and I have written all of this out, what I have written is only temporary.” He paused, letting it sink in, or to gather his thoughts. Likely that latter, but it did sink in, to the pit of my stomach. I nodded my understanding.

“These documents, which include all of the pages you submitted, will need to be served to him in person. My understanding is he lives in a van, correct?” He rifled through the pages to find the one with the street coordinates penciled in the place requesting a Physical Address for the Defendant.

“Yes, he does.” I confirmed.

The judge cleared his throat and shuffled the pages back into order before looking at me.

“I will sign this Temporary Order of Protection. In doing so, the local Police will received instructions to serve the defendant with the order and a date of appearance which you will set with the clerk. Detectives will do their best to find him and serve him, however, all they will be able to go off of are these cross streets.” Once again he paused before continuing.

“It will be difficult at best, and quite honestly highly unlikely they will find him. As much as I hate to say that, it is true. It is doubtful the police will in fact be able to serve him.” Silence filled the courthouse. The others awaiting their turn with the judge gripped by the motion at hand, sat intently listening.

“I’m going to tell you what some have done to help the service be successful. It may not be something you can or are willing to do, but well, who knows. Some people drive around and locate the automobile and once having found it they call 9-1-1 and let them know they have found an individual that has an Order to be Served. They then request an officer come to the location and provide that officer with the papers to be served. I am going to give you extra copies of the paperwork and the court for the officer would need to fill out upon serving the packet.” Once again, he paused in the silence.

“I have to warn you, you might call 9-1-1 only to find they are experiencing a busy time and be unable to send an officer for an hour or two or more. Or while you are waiting, he may drive away at which time you would need to call 9-1-1 back and cancel the request. It’s definitely not easy or convenient, but some individuals have had success with service this way. You may want to consider it.”

“Thank you Your Honor. I appreciate the advice.” The tension returning to my body battled with the sense of peace pushing back.

“Okay, now for the duration of the Order. Today I will sign a Temporary Order into effect. You will then have 2 weeks to have him served. Now, I know 2 weeks is a very short period of time and it is very unlikely to happen. I will set your return date for 3 weeks out so the temporary will hold until then. When you return and in the event he has not been served I will extend the Temporary for an additional 30 days. Hopefully in that time, with some luck, you will be able to have him served. Okay?” I nodded my understanding once again.

The judge signed the Temporary Order and handed it to the clerk. I was instructed to proceed to the clerk’s desk for my documents and to set my date of return.

A battle raged within, each emotion fighting for Alpha position. I had been heard, believed, confirmed, validated, and empowered. And then I been heeded, cautioned, more was yet to come. More was needed to finalize what I had set out to obtain. For today I would take hold of the strengthening sense of success, even if it was only Temporary.

Kristi Lyn Reddy, Author, published in True Stories Volume 1 is in the process of writing her Memior (Untitled). Through trauma, uncertainty and the burden of secrets, Kristi Lyn found the strength to carry her towards her ultimate redemption, Living Loved – beyond and in spite of ongoing fear.