tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-64367507756601433932024-03-13T13:57:17.434-07:00BLOG OF A VET'S WIFEMy Uncharted Journey into Publishing my First Book . . .Nancy MacMillanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16322689935908642513noreply@blogger.comBlogger50125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6436750775660143393.post-24494916175401322802017-05-29T18:56:00.000-07:002017-06-01T16:07:55.641-07:00PTSD/Diary of a Vet's Wife/Meaning of Memorial Day<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<b>Taps</b></h3>
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<b>Day is done, gone the sun</b></div>
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<b>from the lake, from the hill, from the sky.</b></div>
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<b>All is well, safely rest. God is neigh.</b></div>
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<b>Thanks and praise for our days</b></div>
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<b>'neath the sun, 'neath the stars, 'neath the sky.</b></div>
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<b>As we go, this we know. God is neigh.</b></div>
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<b>Memorial Day</b> weekend is once again outside my door. It's party-time for those who have not experienced the realities of war. But for others like me it's a<b> different story</b>.<br />
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This <b>first hint of summer</b> calls for pool-parties and backyard cookouts featuring the <b>all-American hot dog,</b> hamburgers and skirt steaks sizzling on the grill. Streamed corn in it's husk are piled on a platter. Enticing side dishes cover the table while coolers filled with water and cold beer and soda sit in the shade. Family and friends gather to spend a <b>happy day</b> sharing stories and <b>laughter</b> as gaggles of children nosily tussle underfoot.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid-lFcUsmbK2jOunQq6Pp14oFfLHEM2nYmTfRrNAA3HZONag46MJzycvkAs412HY7jrpDoAerkezuXqeOLReaARVQ677ykNDY54b-1g8cTQ3VRbX4L8pYbcIsz7HaDrGB71yyzzw9kigph/s1600/westwall.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="590" data-original-width="398" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid-lFcUsmbK2jOunQq6Pp14oFfLHEM2nYmTfRrNAA3HZONag46MJzycvkAs412HY7jrpDoAerkezuXqeOLReaARVQ677ykNDY54b-1g8cTQ3VRbX4L8pYbcIsz7HaDrGB71yyzzw9kigph/s320/westwall.jpg" width="215" /></a></div>
As I sit and ponder what to write, I wonder how many of these happy people know that most every town in America has a <b>Memorial Day Parade</b>. This parade is to <b>honor the veterans</b> from their town <b>who</b> <b>lost their life</b> serving our country ... and <b>those still living</b> to tell about it.<br />
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<b>Veterans</b> of war long past, proudly follow the color guards down the middle of the street. Families with children briskly waving small <b>American </b>flags, line the curbs. Some parades have marching bands and horses all gathered to <b>pay tribute</b> to their <b>heroes</b>. These men and women who <b>pledged their lives</b> to uphold the <b>safety</b> of <b>America</b>.<br />
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<b>Faithful Americans</b> still honor the <b>true meaning </b>of this holiday ...<br />
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In tiny towns, the parade may last only five minutes, but the people's hearts are huge with <b>love</b> and <b>respect </b>for our <b>veterans</b> and their country ... <b>America.</b><br />
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The World War II vet whose uniform doesn't fit quite so well anymore. And the Korean vets. And the Vietnam vets. And veterans from the Gulf war and the Iraq and Afghanistan wars. People lining the curbs clap unceasing as men raise their right hand to salute these veterans in <b>true gratitude</b>.<br />
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It all comes back to the <b>families </b>and the <b>faith</b> and the <b>communities</b> they serve for.<br />
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In <b>America</b> you don't fight because you hate what's in front of you. You fight because you <b>love </b>what's behind you.<br />
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Our brave <b>military </b>are the very <b>backbone</b> of this nation, deserving our deepest <b>respect</b> and <b>gratitude</b>. What they <b>sacrifice</b> is more precious than gold. I couldn't do it. Could you? When you see a military person in your travels, go up and shake their hand and say, "<b>Thank you</b> for your service." <b>You will make their day!</b><br />
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Our <b>world </b>may be going through unsettling times, but <b>my faith</b> is <b>strong</b> and <b>I trust God in all things</b>. I know He has this covered. And He will prevail.<br />
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Days like today are always hard for me. Yet <b>my husband</b>,<b> </b>the love of my life, lives in my heart daily with his beautiful blue eyes and crooked smile. And as I touch the Tanzanite ring on my finger I hear him saying, "Every time you look at this you will know how much I love you. And always will." And I do!<br />
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<b>God Bless America</b> and all the <b>brave men and women</b> who have <b>offered</b> their lives for our country.</div>
Nancy MacMillanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16322689935908642513noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6436750775660143393.post-57970443573071020162015-04-11T19:26:00.002-07:002017-05-30T10:46:17.927-07:00PTSD / Diary of a Vet's Wife / First Radio Interview<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<a 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" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a><i><b>I have seen the names of those I know, and, yes, I have cried. My problem is I don't know the names of those I tried to help only to have them die in my arms. In my sleep, I hear their cries and see their faces... Attached to this letter are my service medals. I don't need them to show I was there. I have your faces in my sleep. </b>~ </i>Letter left at the Wall<br />
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<a href="https://encrypted-tbn3.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcStR9rM4tNDbSJeMpaprp6dSgnApgOhE9GnIjd4pTVRtLPQ35A8" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Image result for pics on radio interview" border="0" src="https://encrypted-tbn3.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcStR9rM4tNDbSJeMpaprp6dSgnApgOhE9GnIjd4pTVRtLPQ35A8" /></a></div>
<b>January 1, 2015 ...</b><br />
Barefoot, I follow the water's edge looking for a glint of sea glass. <b>Maybe today</b>. Lost in the thundering surf, I'm at <b>peace </b>as white-winged seagulls freckle the face of the sun. Icy foam encircles my ankles, then quickly slips back into the sea on its <b>endless</b> journey to nowhere.<br />
<br />
Point Dume<b> </b><b>quiets</b> my many thoughts.<br />
<br />
My <b>New Years Day </b>ritual. A perfect place to <b>begin</b> again. The crisp breeze carries a fragrance like no other. Like salty water, or is it tears? The crashing surf <b>calls</b> with a voice from the deep. And if you<b> listen </b>closely ... it will <b>speak </b>to you.<br />
<br />
Later, I sit on the sand with my journal and talk with <b>God</b>, sharing my hopes and visions for the new year. He knows my <b>heart</b>. And I know His. I ask for <b>guidance. </b>I ask Him to put the people on my <b>path</b> He wants me to <b>meet</b>. I NEVER know who will appear.<br />
<br />
Be <b>careful </b>of what you ask for. His thoughts are <b>BIGGER</b> than ours.<br />
<br />
<b style="font-style: italic;">Ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock and it will be opened to you. </b><br />
~ Matt. 7:7<br />
<br />
<b style="font-style: italic;">Diary of a Vet's Wife, Loving and Living with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, </b>my memoir, took <b>sixteen years </b>to write. But not by choice. I resisted for 3 years. The push became a shove. An intense task for a <b>beginner</b>. Yet I knew others shared my story. If only I could give them <b>HOPE ...</b><br />
<br />
This book shows <b>innocent love</b> unblemished with hope and promise, unaware of the imminent <b>demons</b> vowing destruction. For<b> eighteen</b> years, my husband, the love of my live, fought the demons that rode his back home from <b>Vietnam</b>. They vowed destruction, yet <i style="font-weight: bold;">Jekyll and Hyde </i>broke my heart. A story of <b>love</b> made strong and raw <b>truth</b> revealed. <b>PTSD</b> is a silent parasite that not only invades our <b>veterans ... </b>but also the ones they love.<br />
<br />
I can give you <b>HOPE ... </b>if you give me a <b>chance. </b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b><i>When the world says "give up," hope whispers, "try one more time." </i></b><br />
<b>~ </b>Author Unknown<br />
<br />
Today, literary agents want <b>submissions</b> sent via email. I queried <b>Diary of a Vet's Wife</b> for one full year after completion in <b>2011</b>. The rare <b>rejections</b> I received were polite ... most were simply <b>deleted</b>. No agent was willing to <b>touch the subject. </b><br />
<br />
Where do I go from here?<br />
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<b>BLOG OF A VET'S WIFE </b>went live <b>April 2011</b>. Traffic showed STUNNING interest throughout the world. As a closet writer for all those years, I never anticipated this response. Yet there they were ... <b>76 different </b>countries to date.<br />
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<b>Post Traumatic Stress Disorder</b> continues to grow like mold as <b>war</b> continues to cover our tiny blue planet hung in the middle of the universe. Possibly hundreds of thousands of families are living with <b>PTSD</b> at this moment. Men and women who<b> love </b>their warriors and bravely <b>grieve</b>, knowing life will <b>never</b> be the same.<br />
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How does one CARE when one doesn't know? Does one DARE<b> </b>TO FEEL the heartbreak of these families who could one day be theirs? Can ONE STORY touch the heart of a nation, or the world?<br />
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<b><i>"Courage is simply not one of the virtues but the form of every virtue at the testing point, which means at the point of the highest reality. " </i></b> ~ CS Lewis<br />
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<b>February 6 </b>- I was approached by a friend after church. One of her speakers for a Retreat had cancelled. She asked if I would consider sharing<b> my story</b> in her place on the <b>28th</b>. I had put my <b>heart on paper</b>, but to say it out loud in front of one hundred women ... I <b>hesitated</b>. Was it my PTSD? She asked me to pray on it. I did and was dutifully <b>pushed</b> to accept. My fear of <b>public speaking</b> shot through the roof.</div>
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<b>February 28 - </b>Fear <b>persisted. </b>But<b> </b>I knew I must do this<b>.</b> The fourth of seven speakers, I had never talked into a<b> microphone</b>. Yet here I was. Suddenly, under a stark white <b>spotlight</b>, it was like someone else was talking through me. My story was openly received. Many came up to speak with me. One <b>bubbly</b> woman said her husband worked with a local radio station, <b>KKLA</b>, and she was sure they would want my story. She gave me a number to call. But for many reasons we <b>never </b>connected.<br />
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<a href="https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcSrULRdrtNx4w4GXZ40sJUnAR9oMAPlwNKXyO617Ut1kfD9dQB_fQ" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Image result for picture radio station" border="0" src="https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcSrULRdrtNx4w4GXZ40sJUnAR9oMAPlwNKXyO617Ut1kfD9dQB_fQ" /></a><b>March 21 - </b>My friend, Sandy, invited me to visit a different church. <b>Frank Sontag</b> was to be the speaker. <b>The same man</b> I was trying be introduced to! He hosts his own show on 99.5<b> KKLA</b> six days a week from 4-6pm ... the <b>largest</b> Christian station in L.A.<br />
<b>I don't believe in coincidence!</b><br />
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<b>March 22</b> - We arrived at church early and I was able to <b>speak</b> briefly with <b>Frank</b> before the service. He knew of me through our mutual friend. I offered him a copy of <b>my book</b> for review, which he took on the spot.<br />
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<b>March 23</b> - The NEXT DAY an email arrived from <b>KKLA</b> asking what days would be <b>convenient </b>for me to <b>share</b> my story on their show! That was FAST! A few emails later, a day and time were set. After all these years ... it was REALLY happening!<br />
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Could I even do this? I was a <b>wreck</b>. At church, I was allowed to read my 20 minute testimony. On the <b>radio</b> ... it's an <b>open mic</b> conversation for an HOUR!<br />
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<b>April 6th</b> - My friend, Pauline, offered to chauffeur me to the <b>KKLA</b> studio in Glendale for the 4pm segment. Traffic was HORRIFIC. I was happy she was driving. We arrived in enough time for a picnic lunch in a lovely little park nearby ... sunshine, sushi and home made cookies. Yummm.<br />
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At the <b>Salem</b> Media building, a smiling <b>gentleman</b> approached with an outstretched hand and invited us into his office. <b>Terry Keyes</b>, the station manager, wanted to talk a bit before I went on air. His relaxed manner instantly put me at ease.<br />
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Soon we were handed badges to hang around our necks, then escorted into the studio where <b>Frank</b> <b>Sontag</b> waited.<br />
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It was <b>dreamlike </b>...<br />
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<b>Frank</b> sat behind a large half-moon desk. Four microphones permanently mounted along the outside edge. A chair by each. His<b> smiling</b> eyes welcomed me. I couldn't <b>hide</b> my nervousness. He graciously <b>assured</b> me everything would be <b>fine</b>. We talked briefly, then he prayed.<br />
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I watched as he put on his <b>headset</b>, then welcome his audience like I'd heard him do on the radio at home and in my car. Then he introduced ME<b> </b>as his GUEST and the AUTHOR<b> </b>of <b>Diary of a Vet's Wife </b>... it was SURREAL. My jitters were fading, but my mouth wouldn't form the words I wanted to say. Frank continued to <b>smile</b> and nod his head in <b>approval</b>.<br />
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I remember sitting there, but I don't remember talking. <b>Strange</b>. If it wasn't for the fact they TAPED the show, I'd think it never happened. My one hour interview actually stretched into the second segment. An extraordinary<b> </b>experience I will NEVER forget. <b>Frank Sontag</b> is the<b> </b>KINDEST and most GRACIOUS<b> </b>man I have ever met. He helped me relax as he guided me through my <b>first</b> <b>interview</b>. I shall forever be <b>thankful </b>for this opportunity to share my story and my passion.<br />
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To hear MY INTERVIEW - BLOOPERS and all - google <b>The Frank Sontag Show Podcasts.</b> The interview was <b>April 6th</b> (2015-4-06) - Show Hour 1 and Show Hour 2.<br />
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And thank YOU for continuing to follow my blog. Blessings to each of you and your family.<br />
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"We honor the courageous service of America's 2.8 million Vietnam Veterans - especially the 58,226 men and women who made the ultimate sacrifice in serving their country for the enduring cause of freedom." </b>~ The Wall Within<br />
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<b><u>NO WAY TO REACH YOU</u></b><br />
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Geri ... If you're the woman who sent me a poem your husband wrote, please contact me at onhrway@earthlink.net. I'm anxious to talk with you. Blessings.<br />
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Nancy MacMillanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16322689935908642513noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6436750775660143393.post-54305865207138775182014-08-25T14:12:00.000-07:002015-04-08T16:17:04.543-07:00PTSD / Diary of a Vet's Wife / Be Tenacious<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<i>Too often we underestimate the power of a touch, a smile, a kind word, a listening ear, an honest compliment, or the smallest act of caring, of which have the potential to turn a life around.</i><span style="font-weight: normal;"> ~ Leo Buscaglia</span><br />
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<a href="https://encrypted-tbn1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcRElaPezLHs1eTQlf6ZrjN6Yb8kxHz5yZXLEiGrJxUAEpw6UPW4yg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://encrypted-tbn1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcRElaPezLHs1eTQlf6ZrjN6Yb8kxHz5yZXLEiGrJxUAEpw6UPW4yg" /></a><span style="font-weight: normal;">Yesterday I was stuck in traffic on the way to work. I was running late but it was my own fault. There always seems to be one more thing calling my name before I leave the house. Cars were bumper to bumper in front of me and it took the light forever to change. </span><br />
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<span style="font-weight: normal;">When the traffic finally started to move I noticed a silver utility box on the sidewalk scrawled with graffiti ... or so I thought.</span><br />
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<span style="font-weight: normal;">As I pulled up next to it, I saw what it said ... it put a smile on my face!</span><br />
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TODAY DO A RANDOM ACT OF KINDNESS</div>
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I planned to take a picture to share on my blog on the way home, but later when I drove by, it appeared the utility company had covered the smile provoking words with silver paint. </div>
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It made me sad because it could have brightened so many more lives as it had mine ...</div>
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<i>Diary of a Vet's Wife, Loving and Living with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder,</i> <span style="font-weight: normal;">my memoir, has become my mission to reach as many families as possible dealing with the unpredictable chaos this malady plants in the middle of our dreams. I've been there and I know the helplessness that leaves you weak and the endless tears that warm your cheeks at night.</span><br />
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<span style="font-weight: normal;">My heartfelt desire is to give you </span>HOPE<span style="font-weight: normal;"> in the only way I know how ... by sharing my journey and what I've learned through </span>SURVIVAL<span style="font-weight: normal;">. It's not a quick fix, but it is </span>POSSIBLE<span style="font-weight: normal;">. All I ask is that you read what has happened to me with an open heart and mind. Try to savor the words without judgement and feel the healing begin to fill in the holes.</span><br />
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<span style="font-weight: normal;">Are you living with </span>PTSD<span style="font-weight: normal;">? The road back may look impossible but remember all the people in your life who love you ... including me because I know where you've been and where you are now.</span><br />
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<span style="font-weight: normal;">If you've read </span><i>Diary of a Vet's Wife</i><span style="font-weight: normal;">, you already know what happened to me. The time has come where I need to begin to alternate my viewpoint from our shared pain to the peace and understanding waiting in the wings.</span><br />
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<span style="font-weight: normal;">Today I read something that told me it was time to move</span> forward<span style="font-weight: normal;"> and begin to share the </span>healing<span style="font-weight: normal;"> process that continues to amaze and embrace me. I believe the words that are touching me so profoundly will also nourish your heart with </span>love<span style="font-weight: normal;"> and </span>strength<span style="font-weight: normal;">. Please promise to give me a chance ...</span><br />
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<i>BE TENACIOUS</i></div>
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<i><span style="font-weight: normal;">Dr. John Maxwell says one day when he was discouraged and tempted to quit, he took out a dictionary and looked up the word "quit." After spending a few minutes considering that option, in a symbolic act of defiance he took out his scissors and cut the word right out of his dictionary. It didn't make his problems go away, but it sure did strengthen his resolve. </span></i><br />
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<i><span style="font-weight: normal;">When every avenue looks like a dead end and you feel like you've exhausted every possibility - you haven't. </span>There are always other<span style="font-weight: normal;"> </span>ways,<span style="font-weight: normal;"> other options, other opportunities. Even if you don't see them right now, they are there. So don't give up. Former heavy weight champion Jack Dempsey once said, "</span>A champion is one who gets<span style="font-weight: normal;"> </span>back up when he can't. <span style="font-weight: normal;">People who reach their goal keep going when they think they can't. They're </span>tenacious<span style="font-weight: normal;">, and as a result they keep moving closer to their goal day by day. Some days they may be moving only a few inches at a time, but they're moving forward. </span>They believe in their God-given destiny, they believe in themselves, and they say so.<span style="font-weight: normal;"> </span></i><br />
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<i><span style="font-weight: normal;">Now, saying you believe in yourself won't guarantee your success, but saying you don't believe in yourself will guarantee your failure. The truth is you're not alone, God is with you. "</span>He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak" <span style="font-weight: normal;">(Isaiah 40:29). So be tenacious!</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-weight: normal;">(Taken from: The Word For You Today - August 25, 2014)</span></i></div>
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<span style="font-weight: normal;">My post today is shorter than usual, but this way I will be motivated to write more often on the spur of the moment. Long posts take time to create like a chapter in a book. This approach with be something new for me and I hope it will be met with your favor. </span></div>
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Better Things Ahead </div>
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"There are far, far better things ahead than any we leave behind." <span style="font-weight: normal;">C. S. Lewis (2006)</span></div>
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Nancy MacMillanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16322689935908642513noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6436750775660143393.post-51257778188556291362014-05-26T11:47:00.000-07:002014-05-30T06:17:04.897-07:00PTSD / Diary of a Vet's Wife / Remembering <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<b>War has gone on since the beginning of man's creation. And will continue until the end of time. This necessary evil brings death and pain not only to its victims, but also to the warriors and their loved ones covering our small planet. It's not the way we'd like it to be - it is the way it is. </b><br />
<a href="https://encrypted-tbn3.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcRrlYyvqOEuz0KIPeBrbpb2t4MHFYWP3x3DI28y498ceDJK6cbxNw" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://encrypted-tbn3.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcRrlYyvqOEuz0KIPeBrbpb2t4MHFYWP3x3DI28y498ceDJK6cbxNw" /></a>~ Nancy MacMillan, author<br />
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<span style="text-align: center;">On </span><b style="text-align: center;">Memorial Day</b><span style="text-align: center;">, we </span><b style="text-align: center;">honor</b><span style="text-align: center;"> all the military personnel who gave the </span><i style="text-align: center;"><b>ultimate sacrifice</b></i><span style="text-align: center;"> for their country and freedom. These </span><b style="text-align: center;">brave warriors</b><span style="text-align: center;"> rest in peace not only on American soil, but approximately 125,000 are buried on foreign soil.</span><br />
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Our country is split by war. Each of us longs to live in <b>peace</b> and <b>harmony</b>, but how can this be attained without welcoming terror to our shores with open arms? There is no easy answer.<br />
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<b>Memorial Day </b>still<b> </b>ignites an ember I thought had diminished with the years. Yet, <b>memories</b> from the past flood my mind. If I dare close my eyes, I see my husband's handsome face, the twinkle in his eye, and his crooked smile <b>waiting</b> for me as though he never left me behind.<br />
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The<b> yearning</b> to step back in time is <b>powerful</b>. If only I could relive just one day of <b>happiness</b> with him. That would be enough. But I'm lying to myself. I know I'd want more. Then <b>reality</b>, like my guardian angel, steps<b> boldly </b>between us with hands on her hips, shaking her head and I know this can never happen ... at least, not in this lifetime.<br />
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I share <b>personal</b> thoughts today that live in too many <b>hearts. </b>Yet how do we stop the insanity of war? I may never be whole again, but my life without my husband, the love of my life, is still worth living. He is the reason I now have a mission - <b>Public Awareness of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder</b>. To share with others who wonder, exactly what PTSD is all about. I have found peace and joy in this new journey I travel, since I found the <b>Lover</b> of my soul ... but there is still this <b>longing</b> like a familiar song, playing over and over in my head ...<br />
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The day I finally FACED<b> </b>reality was the day I went to visit "<b>The Moving Wall." </b>I know now, that up until then ... I had been living in a daydream.<br />
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<b><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">"As for all I can tell, the only difference is that what many see we call a real thing, and what only one sees we call a dream." </span></b><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">~ C.S. Lewis </span><br />
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I had been writing <b><i>"Diary of a Vet's Wife, Loving and Living with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder</i></b>, my memoir, for many years. In doing so, I was still spending time with my husband, the high-highs and the low-lows, through my thousands of words. We were still connected. Most every day I would be at my computer by 4 A.M. with my morning coffee, and begin writing or rewriting until I had to get ready for work. For sixteen years, my husband was with me through every step of this process. My muse. Need I say more?<br />
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On <b>September 29, 201</b>1, I was attending a writing/publishing class in Santa Barbara the same day <b>"The Moving Wall"</b> arrived at Chase Palm Park. Was this a coincidence?<br />
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<a href="https://encrypted-tbn1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTsYq_G2IYoE-HZFnE9n3ULEF8eDhFT_4OZCxeu25sQgVCDJoDTXg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://encrypted-tbn1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTsYq_G2IYoE-HZFnE9n3ULEF8eDhFT_4OZCxeu25sQgVCDJoDTXg" /></a>An excerpt from:<b> "The Moving Wall" - An Experience I will Never Forget!" ... </b>October 3, 2011<br />
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<i>I followed a sidewalk to the street and headed toward the monument. A photographer toting a heavy camera passed by. Towering palms scattered the patchy green grass. The sight of The Wall off in the distance, the sky and the ocean it's backdrop, enfolded me like a loving grandparent I'd never met. I felt timid, yet I knew I belonged . . .</i><br />
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<i><b>They walk as if on hallowed ground. They touch the stone. They speak with the dead. They come to mourn and to remember, memory mixing with grief, making an old ritual new, creating in this time another timeless moment.</b> - 25th Anniversary Commemorative</i><br />
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<i>In the distance, the long narrow black wall appeared to rise out of the ground where people stood like toy soldiers set in groups of two or three. Flags of <b>many countries</b> rose high against the hazy afternoon sky, furling in unison. A large khaki tent stood guard off to the right. As I drew near, the black panels began to reveal meticulous white lettering. Snapping flags overhead muffled the soft murmurs of family members, some clutching framed photographs to their chest, as they stood solemnly talking with <b>counselors</b> near <b>The Wall</b>.</i><br />
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<i>It was <b>surreal</b> . . . until it hit me.</i><br />
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<i>The avalanche of names washed over me. Dear God, so many names. Too many names. Each called from the wall. I could hardly breathe. <b>58,226</b> names including 8 women. The Vietnam war. They all died in battle. This was all that was left of these warriors who were part of us, never again to feel the sun on their faces, or taste the salty air from an ocean breeze.</i><br />
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<i>A train echoed from afar. A lean-muscled man riding a bicycle pulled up. His fluorescent green jacket and trimmed white beard reflect off the shiny black wall like a mirror. He straddled the bike as his eyes eagerly searched the names. One woman wandered a distance from the wall. Maybe fearful as I was to get too close. Afraid of being swallowed alive by the reality before us.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>(<i>This entire post is accessible in the sidebar of this blog under 2011).</i><br />
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<b style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"><i>“When we lose one blessing, another is often most unexpectedly given in its place.” </i></b><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"> ― </span><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt;"><a href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1069006.C_S_Lewis"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">C.S. Lewis</span></a></span><br />
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Take time today to <b>remember</b> these brave men and women who gave their lives for our country. They deserve so much more. We have <b>freedoms</b> in America that many only dream about. These <b>brave</b> warriors stepped forward to fill the shoes of generations past who fought for these same rights. Let us <b>honor</b> them today, they were each someones child who had dreams of their own ... and please pray for <b>PEACE </b>in all nations<b>.</b><br />
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<b> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> <i>What memories does Memorial Day bring back to you?</i></span></b><br />
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Nancy MacMillanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16322689935908642513noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6436750775660143393.post-3779600905926556202014-04-28T21:49:00.000-07:002014-05-14T07:27:19.549-07:00PTSD / Diary of a Vet's Wife / The War Within<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<b><i><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">"We want to know whether the universe simply happens to be what it is for no reason or whether there is a power behind it that makes it what it is." ~ CS Lewis</span></i></b><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Today, I pose a </span><b style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">question </b><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">...</span><b style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </b><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">WHY do you stop to READ my blog? Are you living in the shadow of PTSD as I once lived? Are you a writer looking for insight? Or simply curious? Readers from seventy-four countries continue to SEEK my blog. What are you hoping to find? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I can only guess. You want ANSWERS. Yet all I can tell you is what happened to me. And SHARE what I'm LEARNING ... </span><br />
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<a href="https://encrypted-tbn3.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcSxG5Q2ZWRq80rC-nexe_WHke-ysbOIe-wNBYxZUFa90hdP05Lb" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://encrypted-tbn3.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcSxG5Q2ZWRq80rC-nexe_WHke-ysbOIe-wNBYxZUFa90hdP05Lb" /></a><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">SOCIETY markets the idea that happy thoughts and fresh flowers on the table will BRIGHTEN everyone's day. Pursue the GOOD in people and not the bad. Do random acts of KINDNESS. Lighten up. Enjoy life and the people in your life. </span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">It sounds IDEAL, but does this work?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Maybe for some, but not for the <b>hundreds of thousands</b> who are living in the uncertainty of <b>Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder </b>... the aftermath of war. No one knows these <b>demons </b>unless you've lived with them! We can't<b> ignore </b>their existence or the impact of this <b>disorder</b> on our warriors and society as a whole. We can't <b>hide</b> them in the cellar like they don't exist.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I <b>care deeply </b>for these brave men and women caught in this <b>nightmare</b>. I know their plight. I lived in that menacing <b>shadow</b> too long not to. </span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">But how can one woman make a difference? How can I reach them?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">That's why I MUST continue to SHARE where I've been and what I've learned. Even if I reach ONLY ONE person before it's too late ... </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b><i>Progress means getting nearer to the place where you want to be. And if you have taken a wrong turn, then to go forward does not get you any nearer. If you are on the wrong road, progress means doing an about-turn and walking back to the right road. ~ CS Lewis</i></b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">As some know, I began to write <b style="font-style: italic;">Diary of a Vet's Wife, Loving and Living with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, </b>three years after my husband,<b> </b>the love of my life and a Vietnam vet, committed suicide. There. I said the word. I hate that word and what it does to families. My husband left a hole in my heart the size of Texas. He suffered with PTSD for eighteen years<b> </b>before he LOST the battle. A brave warrior. But I couldn't help him. His counselors thought Prozac was the answer, but mixed with alcohol it was deadly, </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Public Awareness</b> of <b>PTSD</b> is my <b>mission</b>! My memoir shares not only the love and laughter in our relationship, but the heartbreak of this disorder woven throughout. I share LETTERS my husband wrote describing what was happening in his mind. I later learned I had developed PTSD during our fifteen year marriage, through association. The reader will relive my experience much like a fly on the wall.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><a href="https://encrypted-tbn2.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTzCAp8cuveCfQxnSkZtPje8Z7pTSMlAThJYhYeu4rseH9KlHnSBg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; float: left; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://encrypted-tbn2.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTzCAp8cuveCfQxnSkZtPje8Z7pTSMlAThJYhYeu4rseH9KlHnSBg" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;"><b>Two million Americans</b> have served in Iraq and Afghanistan. The VA estimates 1 out of 5 suffer with PTSD due to so many going back for a third, fourth and fifth tour. The Veterans Health Administration has been overwhelmed with PTSD patients. Now, with the help of two new therapies thousands of veterans are in the process of getting their lives back. </span> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b> Psychology Today - November 26, 2013</b> </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">My research revealed an article in <i><b>Psychology Today</b></i> entitled </span><b><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>Two New PTSD Treatments Offer Hope for Veterans</i></span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">,</span></b><b style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </b><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">which</span><b style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </b><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">later viewed on a </span><i style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">60 Minutes</i><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> broadcast. The treatments are called "</span><b style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Prolonged Exposure Therapy</b><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> (PE) and </span><b style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Cognitive Processing Therapy</b><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> (CPT).</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">This DISCOVERY is long overdue and the FIRST positive results I've seen since PTSD stepped into </span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">my life. It's not a cure but it offers HOPE to those willing to fight back. A MUST SEE<b> f</b>or anyone living in the shadow of PTSD. If you have time to watch the 20 minute episode, you can decide for yourself ... </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b>Click here</b>: <a href="http://www.cbsnews.com/news/the-war-within-treating-ptsd/" target="_blank">http://www.cbsnews.com/news/the-war-within-treating-ptsd/</a></span><br />
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<b>Prolonged Exposure (PE)</b> therapy works for many people who have experienced trauma. According to the VA, there are three main components: <br />
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1. <b>Breathing</b> - Controlled breathing is a skill that helps you relax to manage immediate distress.<br />
2. <b>Real world, </b>"In Vivo"<b> </b>exposure <b>- </b>Practice approaching situations that are safe which you may have avoided because they are related to the trauma. A veteran may avoid driving since he experienced a roadside bomb while deployed.<br />
3. <b>Talking </b>through the trauma<b> </b>and replaying the tape - Talking about your trauma over and over with your therapist, "imaginal exposure." Talking through your trauma will help you get control of your thoughts and feelings about the trauma and helps make sense of what happened.<br />
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<b>Cognitive Processing Therapy (CPT)</b><br />
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The <b>VA</b> is offering this second experimental therapy. This therapy begins by writing an<b> impact statement</b> to share with the group in which the veterans talk about how their lives are still "held in the grip of war."<br />
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Participants seem to <b>bond</b> and recreate this sense of camaraderie with other soldiers in a safe environment.<br />
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Through <b>CPT</b> veterans begin to consciously make sense of the trauma and 'face the dragon head on' instead of trying to avoid thinking about their memories. <b>CPT</b> makes it easier to <b>cope</b> with traumatic events and get back to living their life to its fullest.<br />
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According to the <b>VA</b>, there are four components to <b>CPT</b>:<br />
1. Learning About Your PTSD Symptoms<br />
2. Becoming Aware of Thoughts and Feelings<br />
3. Learning Skills<br />
4. Understanding Changes in Beliefs<br />
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By CHOOSING to approach your experiences in a NEW and DIFFERENT way, you will be able to decide how your past affects your future ...<br />
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<b>Conclusion</b>: <b>If you have PTSD, "Don't Judge it." Reach out and ask for help.</b><br />
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Across the United States,<b> 77%</b> of<b> vets </b>who go through the program will see a <b>decrease</b> in <b>PTSD </b>symptoms. Though it's a start, it is not a cure. "We have to teach people that they can live with this and live a valued life, a life they want," Dr. Reeder concludes ...<br />
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If you, or someone you know, is a veteran suffering from PTSD, please talk to your VA health provider about getting <b>Prolonged Exposure </b>and/or <b>Cognitive Processing Therapy</b>. A list of Veterans Affairs facilities can be found online at: <u>VA Facilities Locator</u>.<br />
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<i style="font-weight: bold;">Too often we underestimate the power of a touch, a smile, a kind word, a listening ear, an honest compliment, or the smallest act of caring, of which have the potential to turn a life around.</i><br />
~ Leo Buscaglia<br />
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If you or a loved one seems overwhelmed by <strong>PTSD</strong> symptoms, please remember, there are many resources available to you. If you need immediate help, please<strong> GET IT NOW!</strong> PTSD does not go away on it's own ... and will only get worse left unattended.<br />
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<strong style="clear: right; display: inline !important; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img src="http://www.veteranscrisisline.net/logos/files/VCL-CMYK.png" height="200" width="161" /></strong>Below I've listed the number of <strong>The Veterans Crisis Line</strong>. Please check out Veterans Crisis Line.net, even if you don't think you need it now. Get familiar with the resources available, and save this information for easy access.<br />
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PLEASE call ... my husband, the love of my life, never had this option.<br />
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<strong>The Veterans Crisis Line is a U.S. Department of Veterans Affairs resource that connects Veterans in crisis and their families with qualified, caring </strong><strong>VA professionals through a confidential toll-free hotline and on-line chat.</strong><br />
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The new VA suicide prevention hotline, 1-800-273-TALK (8255), recently reported that it's received more than 55,000 calls, averaging 120 per day, with about 22,000 callers saying they were veterans.<br />
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<b style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><i>For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, says the LORD, thoughts of peace and not of evil, to give you a future and a hope. </i></b><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span><b style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Jeremiah 29:11</b><br />
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Nancy MacMillanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16322689935908642513noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6436750775660143393.post-39757369155745142212014-02-21T06:32:00.000-08:002014-02-21T18:04:15.969-08:00PTSD / Diary of a Vet's Wife / A Gift of Love<h4>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">"The two most important days in your life are the day you were born and the day you find out why." </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">― </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><a href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1244.Mark_Twain" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Mark Twain</a></span></h4>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The day we were <b>born</b> we entered into a <b>story</b> that has been ongoing since the beginning of time. We had no choice as to our parents, our country of origin or the color of our skin. Then much too soon we step out of this <b>story</b> ... again not by choice.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Why is it we pop into <b>existence</b> for a mere seventy, eighty or ninety years, compared to the age of our universe? Believe it or not, there is a living spruce in Sweden said to be carbon dated at 9550 years old.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Are we here <b>merely</b> to propagate the planet, raise a family, make a living and have fun?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Have you ever <b>thought</b> about it?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In <i>Mere Christianity</i>, <b>C.S. Lewis</b> writes: <i>Your natural life is derived from your parents; that does not mean it will stay there if you do nothing about it. You can lose it by neglect, or you can drive it away by committing suicide. You have to feed it and look after it: but always remember you are not making it, you are only keeping up a life you got from someone else.</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Humans are endowed with natural <b>gifts </b>that no animal possesses nor will any computer ever <b>duplicate </b>... our inner being, emotions and conscience. We possess the innate ability to love and to laugh ... we feel compassion for others ... we can cry tears of happiness and grief ... and inherently we know right from wrong.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Our non-ending media coverage has allowed society to grow in <b>awareness</b> to the plight of our <b>fellowman</b> both here and abroad. People worldwide are <b>selflessly</b> striving to help those in need, sharing their knowledge and resources to better the lives of others sharing our small planet</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Why then is our existence so <b>meager</b>?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b>"If we have no peace, it is because we have forgotten that we belong to each other."</b></span><b><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></b><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">- Mother Theresa</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Diary of a Vet's Wife, Loving and Living with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, </b>my memoir, shows my day to day struggle trying to make craziness appear normal. My husband, the love of my life, battled <b>PTSD</b> and the demons of war, yet I found no way to help him ... and no one to help me. <b>Isolated</b> without hope, I had nothing to cling to and no solution.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Throughout the world other families are living like I did. Never knowing when the left shoe will drop. When will the demons strike again? <b>Pretending</b> becomes commonplace as we travel the maze of confusion like white mice scurrying to find a way out. Our children are being cheated out of the family they deserve.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I understand that <b>helplessness</b> ...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">For three years, I fought the <b>need</b> to write this book. I had no idea how to write a book ... nor where to begin. The nagging persisted. The notion that I could <b>help </b>others and show them that they were <b>not alone</b> continued to pound on my heart until ... I gave in.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b>“Start by doing what is necessary, then what's possible, and suddenly you are doing the impossible.” </b> ― Francis of Assisi </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I've traveled a great distance from the helpless victim of <b>PTSD</b> in my memoir to the compassionate, <b>joy-filled</b> woman I am today. I no longer hide behind the pain of my past as every morsel of my being wants to share what I came to learn through my tragedy. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">If only I had known then what I know now. <b>If only someone had told me</b>, my life would be <b>different</b> today ... but no one did!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">That's why I'm so compelled ... </span><br />
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<b style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Humans are amphibians - half spirit and half animal. As spirits they belong to the eternal world, but as animals they inhabit time. </b><a href="http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/authors/c/c_s_lewis.html" style="color: rgb(0, 51, 153) !important; text-decoration: none;"><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>C. S. Lewis</b></span></i></a><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Sometimes you have to reach the lowest point to </span><b style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">understand</b><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> who God is, and what He can do for us. And when you do ... you will never be the same again.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">For me, it happened one day while I was listening to the radio. My days were like walking in a tunnel through a dark cloud. Bleak, black and white routine without hope or color. The words I heard that day <b>changed</b> my life ...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> "God allows us to go through trials for a purpose . . ."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> "God speaks to us all the time; we have to begin to listen . . ."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">And that day I came face to face with the God of the bible, when he stepped into my life and wrapped </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">His arms around me. I had never felt such <b>love</b>.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">We've been separated from God. But God loves us. God hasn't turned his back on us. I didn't know He was <b>waiting</b> for me to find him.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">From the time I was a little girl I wanted my life to have some sort of <b>meaning</b>, I wanted to make a difference. Now I know what that means.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I came to learn how much God <b>loved</b> me and that He gave His only Son, Jesus Christ, to die for my sins, so that I could have God's gift of eternal life. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">My <b>heart</b> was hungry and I was touched. I believed what I was hearing. I was tired of living half-a-life in darkness. I knew I was a sinner, selfish, jealous, angry, and so much more. I needed forgiveness. I repented. I asked God into my <b>heart</b> because I believed Jesus died for my sins and rose from the dead and ascended into heaven ... like we will do one day. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">My life <b>changed</b> when I asked God into my life. He alone filled the hole in my heart left by my husband's love. Now I have a relationship with God I never knew could exist. I am no longer who I was ... I am a new creature in Him. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Each one of us is created in His image for a </span><b style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">purpose. </b><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I believe my purpose is to share this journey with you and show you the love and peace God has given me. </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">It takes time. Each day is a new beginning as I absorb the wonders of this amazing new life I found. The bible has come to life and I now understand what I read. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I believe we've been given just so much time to make this <b>choice</b>. And if </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">we don't choose it, we lose it. </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Who wouldn't choose life over death? The life we've been given by God is a </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">gift.</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">These <b>basic needs</b> are the same the world around. </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">What may be broken in your own heart and life can be made </span><b style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">new</b><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> again in Jesus. This simple prayer can open the door to eternal life. </span>Nancy MacMillanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16322689935908642513noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6436750775660143393.post-91011167660122070262013-11-25T21:37:00.000-08:002013-11-26T05:45:11.629-08:00PTSD / Diary of a Vet's Wife / Updated Cheat Sheet for Vets and Writers<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Blog of a Vet's Wife portrays the detailed journey of publishing my first book, <em><strong>Diary of a Vet's Wife</strong>, <strong>Loving and Living with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder</strong>, </em>the CHALLENGES and LESSONS learned, while pinpointing PTSD and how this disorder is <strong>ravaging</strong> our men and women returning from war in <strong>epidemic</strong> proportions. My main<strong> </strong>MISSION is to EDUCATE mankind on PTSD and its effect on families and our nation as a whole.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em><strong>For each new
morning with its light,<br />
For rest and shelter of the night,<br />
For health and food, for love and friends,<br />
For everything Thy goodness sends. </strong></em>
~Ralph Waldo Emerson<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<br />
The HOLIDAYS have moved in with all their baggage like unexpected house guests who plan to stay a while. With cluttered days and endless commitments, I barely noticed until they jumped off the calendar and splashed into my coffee. Where did this year go??<br />
<a href="https://encrypted-tbn2.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTaO2aGalXAg_RYAF70mWPmJxchyaDoY1L4mNfvWdmkZ8hOXkto" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" class="rg_i" data-src="https://encrypted-tbn2.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTaO2aGalXAg_RYAF70mWPmJxchyaDoY1L4mNfvWdmkZ8hOXkto" data-sz="f" name="yVGa-Q3ChqXZzM:" src="https://encrypted-tbn2.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTaO2aGalXAg_RYAF70mWPmJxchyaDoY1L4mNfvWdmkZ8hOXkto" style="height: 183px; margin-top: 0px; width: 275px;" /></a><br />
Tomorrow I fly to <strong>Chicago</strong> to spend <strong>Thanksgiving</strong> with my sons and their families. I DREAD flying in the WINTER and I HATE being COLD, but this will be the FIRST time we've been together for Thanksgiving since they were little. One of the hardships of modern-day living in different states and countries. My daughter will be missing, but Australia is too far. She'll be in our hearts and thoughts. <br />
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My cup over-flows with BLESSINGS. I have so much to be thankful for. As a writer, I hope to capture each moment to save for a rainy day when I can pull them up at random and savor every smile and the laughter once again.<br />
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Please remember to GIVE THANKS for our brave WARRIORS who will not be spending Thanksgiving with their families and loved ones. Their absence is painful but their dedication and SELFLESSNESS is what makes our country strong. Pray for their safety this holiday and that one day soon these wars will end so they can return home to the loving arms waiting for them. <br />
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With time running short, I wanted to post a BLOG before my flight. I decided to update my CHEAT SHEET. It's been two years since my last revision. I know I have many new readers who might be looking for a specific topic. This BLOG concentrates on my exposure to PTSD through my husbands journey, what happened and what I learned. It also shows how I came to write this book and each step into publishing ... DETAILED. <br />
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The list may seem <strong>daunting</strong> but the descriptions are <strong>brief</strong>. The dates coincide with those on the right side of the blog.<br />
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<em>HAVE A BLESSED THANKSGIVING AND RELISH EVERY MORSEL ...</em><br />
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<strong>MY UNCHARTED JOURNEY INTO PUBLISHING . . . <u>UPDATED CHEAT SHEET</u>!</strong> <br />
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Below is a list of my blogs for those who might be looking for a specific topic: <br />
1. <strong>In The Beginning</strong> <strong>April 13, 2011</strong><br />
How my book came to be . . . <br />
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2. <strong>This Closet Writer . . . Goes Public</strong> April 16<br />
My first writing class - posting my blog<br />
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3. <strong>I Never Planned to be a Writer!</strong> April 23<br />
Blogging - my writing class - my free-lance editor <br />
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4. <strong> Publicize Your Book . . .</strong> May 1<br />
Publicizing - blogging - writing class - book query<br />
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5. <strong>Write Your Heart Out</strong> . . . May 7<br />
Blogging - why I wrote my book - book proposal excerpt<br />
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6. <strong>Q is for</strong> <strong>Query Letter</strong> . . <em>.</em> May 15<br />
Posted my original query letter<br />
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7. <strong>B is for</strong> <strong>Book Proposal</strong> . . . <strong>Part One</strong> May 21<br />
Elements of a book proposal - my proposal table of contents<br />
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8. <strong>B is for Book Proposal</strong> . . . <strong>Part Two</strong> June 12<br />
More elements of a book proposal<br />
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9. <strong>What Next? . . . Time for an Agent </strong> June 19<br />
Some basic agent information<br />
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10. <strong>Marketing in an Electronic World</strong> . . . June 26<br />
First steps to marketing my book <br />
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11. <strong>Will Self-Publishing be My Only Option?</strong> July 3<br />
Posted excerpt from Chapter One of my book <br />
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12. <strong>A Platform . . . Stepping Out of Your Comfort Zone</strong> July 11<br />
Start to develop a platform for my book<br />
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13. <strong>The Marketing Medusa . . . </strong>July 28<br />
JK Rowling's success - more marketing<br />
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14. <strong>2011 Agents . . . What Do They Really Want?</strong> August 7<br />
Identify agent's most asked for requirements<br />
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15. <strong>What is a Synopsis and Why? . . . Part One</strong> August 27<br />
Details to begin synopsis process<br />
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16. <strong>One Writer's Journey into Publishing Cheat Sheet</strong> September 4<br />
Lists previous blogs and subject matter<br />
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17. <strong>What is a Synopsis and Why? . . . Part Two</strong> September 11<br />
What to include in a synopsis<br />
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18. <strong>Ebooks . . . A Contemporary "David and Goliath"</strong> September 19<br />
Show why authors are choosing to self-publish<br />
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19. <strong>The #1 Question: Who is Your Audience? . . . plus Excerpt</strong><br />
<strong> </strong>Importance of locating your specific audience September 26<br />
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20. "<strong>The Moving Wall" . . . An Experience I Will Never Forget!</strong><br />
<strong> </strong>An emotional visit that squeezed my heart<strong> </strong>October 3<br />
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21. <strong>Traditional Publish or Self-Publish . . . My Decision plus Excerpt</strong><br />
What direction I chose and why October 10<br />
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22. <strong>Public Speaking 101 . . . Fight or Flight? </strong> <br />
Terror and my first class . . . October 17<br />
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23. <strong>My First Speech . . . plus Revised Cheat Sheet into Publishing</strong><br />
First speech panic plus . . . October 24<br />
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24. <strong>Africa's Beauty Being Strangled / One Person Making a Difference</strong><br />
<strong> </strong>Unique story about Africa November 23<br />
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25. <strong>Has PTSD Touched You? / Chapter 26 Excerpt . . .</strong> <br />
What is PTSD? December 3<br />
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26. <strong>Our Soldiers are returning / Write Your Heart Out</strong><br />
<strong> </strong>Warriors from Iraq and reality December 14<br />
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27. <strong> Ghost of Christmas Past / Chapter 15 Excerpt</strong><br />
<strong> </strong>Memories of Christmas December 24<br />
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28. <strong>The Self-Publishing Jitters of a Perfectionist</strong><br />
<strong> </strong>Trials of self-publishing <strong>January 7,</strong> <strong>2012</strong><br />
<strong></strong><br />
<strong> </strong> 29. <strong> Wounded Warriors Walk Among Us / Chapter 24</strong><br />
Reality and PTSD symptoms February 8<br />
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<strong> </strong>30. <strong>Self-Publishing Nitty-Gritty / Copyright / Excerpt</strong><br />
<strong> </strong>Copyrighting and song lyrics February 19<br />
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31. <strong>PTSD / Can One Woman and Her Book Make a Difference?</strong><br />
<strong> </strong>How my story helps our warriors with PTSD March 12<br />
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32. <strong>Self-Publishing / PTSD - A Passage of Passion</strong><br />
<strong> </strong>Print-on-demand - song lyric trials April 6<br />
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33. <strong> PTSD / Vet's Wife Self-Publishing / Chapter 33 Excerpt</strong><br />
<strong> </strong>Formatting anguish June 13<br />
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34. <strong>PTSD / Diary of a Vet's Wife / Sneak Peek at the Cover</strong><br />
<strong> </strong>The dawning of my book cover July 16<br />
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35. <strong>PTSD / Diary of a Vet's Wife / Where's the Book??</strong><br />
Reveal my self-publisher and perfect cover November 6<br />
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36<strong>. PTSD / Diary of a Vet's Wife Appeared on My Doorstep</strong>!<br />
Seeing my book for the first time December 6<br />
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37. <strong>Diary of a Vet's Wife Reveals PTSD / Marketing / Reviews</strong><br />
Suicide increase and my marketing plan <strong>February 18, 2013</strong><br />
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38. <strong>PTSD / Diary of a Vet's Wife / The Truth and Vulnerability</strong><br />
What you should know about PTSD April 13<br />
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39. <strong> PTSD / Diary of a Vet's Wife and Memorial Day Memories</strong><br />
My first encounter with the Moving Wall May 27<br />
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40. <strong>PTSD / Diary of a Vet's Wife goes to The White House</strong><br />
How my book got to the White House July 4<br />
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41. <strong>PTSD / Diary of a Vet's Wife and Michelle Obama</strong><br />
A surprise from Washington October 6<br />
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42. <strong>PTSD / Diary of a Vet's Wife / Bittersweet is November</strong><br />
Veterans Day meaning and memories November 10<br />
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<h4 style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Did you find something of interest for your own Journey?</span></h4>
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Nancy MacMillanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16322689935908642513noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6436750775660143393.post-18924647162485136282013-11-10T17:55:00.001-08:002013-11-14T09:03:58.420-08:00PTSD / Diary of a Vet's Wife / Bittersweet is November <br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><strong>“Liberty is never unalienable; it must be redeemed </strong></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><strong>regularly
with the blood of patriots or it always vanishes. Of all the so-called natural
human rights that have ever been invented, liberty is least likely to be cheap
and is never free of cost.” </strong>
</span><span style="font-family: Calibri;">― </span><a href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/205.Robert_A_Heinlein"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Calibri;">Robert
A. Heinlein</span></a></div>
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<a href="https://encrypted-tbn2.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcRfwz-KAkrynxMCVyxOsV_U3nWX9s-l3OvwvPRxA2vmyNl3TjPenw" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" class="rg_i" data-sz="f" name="dWn6Hcv-FRNQmM:" src="https://encrypted-tbn2.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcRfwz-KAkrynxMCVyxOsV_U3nWX9s-l3OvwvPRxA2vmyNl3TjPenw" style="height: 194px; margin-top: -8px; width: 259px;" /></a><strong>November 11</strong>, <strong>1919</strong>, was the first anniversary of the signing of the armistice, which ended World War I. Celebrated as <strong>Armistice Day, </strong>it was dedicated to the cause of <strong>world peace.</strong> The day was commemorated with<strong> </strong>prayer and thanksgiving, filled with <strong>solemn pride</strong> in the <strong>heroism</strong> of those who <strong>selflessly</strong> served our country. In 1954, the word Armistice was stricken and <strong>Veterans Day</strong> took its place in history. Each year, <strong>November 11th</strong> is a national holiday to ensure that <strong>ALL</strong> our veterans know how <strong>deeply</strong> we <strong>appreciate</strong> the <strong>sacrifices</strong> they have made in their lives with parades and speeches. Yet we owe them so much more . . . <br />
<br />
<strong>I have seen it in your face</strong><br />
<strong>I am sure you have noticed it in mine;<br />that thousand-yard stare<br />that does not look out --<br />it looks in --<br />at the unutterable,<br />unalterable truth of our war</strong>. ~ <em>The Wall Within</em><br />
<em></em><br />
This may not be the best time. My blog is heading in a direction that I had not planned. But I'm on a roll and words are flooding my computer screen. It wants be written . . . </div>
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<strong>Veterans Day, Memorial Day </strong>and the <strong>4th of July</strong> are the holidays that grab me by the ankles. My senses are on high alert, certain images bring flashbacks, and tears simply break loose at the strangest times. My memoir, <em><strong>Diary of a Vet's Wife, Loving and Living with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder</strong> </em>shows my journey with the love of my life as we battle his <strong>PTSD</strong>. It wasn't until years later, when I began to research this disorder for my book, that I learned I had <strong>PTSD</strong> as well . . . through association. I now <strong>know</strong> that this is why I react to certain stimuli the way I do. The dreams are less often, but I can't watch a war movie or war news without tears. Nor can I sing <strong>patriotic songs</strong> without blubbering. The homeless veterans rip my heart. And I have yet to be able to thank a <strong>veteran</strong> for his service at the airport or out in public without stammering over the searing lump in my throat, tears embarrassing us both.</div>
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Does <strong>anyone</strong> else go through this after so many years . . . or is it just me?<br />
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<strong>I stood there one fall</strong><br />
<strong>ankle deep in leaves</strong><br />
<strong>and looked up at the night sky</strong><br />
<strong>through a hole in a ceiling of trees</strong><br />
<strong>wondering how much better the world</strong><br />
<strong>might look from up there.</strong> ~ <em>The Wall Within</em></div>
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Most of my days hum effortlessly with a plethora of activity tossing me from one hour to the next. My energy level soars as I juggle the shiny balls overhead. But then comes November swooping down on me like an eagle preparing to snatch me away. </div>
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Each <strong>November</strong> arrives with <strong>poignant</strong> promptings of the past intertwined with the present, like a finely woven sterling chain around my neck. <strong>Veteran's Day</strong> is in November, stirring up vivid memories of love and pain from long ago. No matter how long, no one ever forgets! My husbands birthday is in November. The 18th. In 2001, after years scattered with tears, I received an amazing GIFT on Lorne's<strong> birthday</strong>. My youngest granddaughter was born! Was it a coincidence? No ... I know it was a GIFT to help heal my <strong>heart. </strong></div>
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Bittersweet is the taste of November.</div>
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<a href="http://ptsddiary.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/08/Screen-shot-2011-08-04-at-2.42.48-PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" class="aligncenter size-full wp-image-1025" height="298" src="http://ptsddiary.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/08/Screen-shot-2011-08-04-at-2.42.48-PM.png" title="Screen shot 2011-08-04 at 2.42.48 PM" width="296" /></a></div>
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<strong>Veterans Facts</strong></div>
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There are approximately 23.2 million veterans in the United States.</div>
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These brave men and women who serve and protect our country come from all walks of life; they are parents, children and grandparents. They are friends, neighbors and coworkers, and an important part of their communities. Here are some facts about the current veteran population of the United States.</div>
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<ul>
<li>9.2 million veterans are over the age of 65.</li>
<li>1.9 million veterans are under the age of 35.</li>
<li>1.8 million veterans are women. (For another post)</li>
<li>7.8 million veterans served during the Vietnam War era (1964-1975), which represents 33% of all living veterans.</li>
<li>5.2 million veterans served during the Gulf War (representing service from Aug. 2, 1990, to present).</li>
<li>2.6 veterans served during World War II (1941-1945)</li>
<li>2.8 million veterans served during the Korean War (1950-1953)</li>
<li>6 million veterans served in peacetime.</li>
<li>As of 2008, 2.9 million veterans received compensation for service-connected disabilities.</li>
<li>5 states have more than 1 million veterans in among their population: California (2.1 million), Florida (1.7 million), Texas ( 1.7 million), New York (1 million) and Pennsylvania (1 million).</li>
<li>The VA health care system had 54 hospitals in 1930, since then it has expanded to include 171 medical centers; more than 350 outpatient, community and outreach clinics; 126 nursing home care units; and 35 live-in care facilities for injured or disabled vets.</li>
</ul>
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<em><span style="font-size: x-small;">U.S. Census Bureau and United States Department of Veterans Affairs</span></em><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">Note: I was unable to locate veteran statistics beyond 2010. These numbers would increase greatly with that information. </span> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"></span><br />
The SADDEST question of all: How many of these BRAVE and HONORABLE men and women live on the STREETS? This must end! We MUST take care of our own!<br />
<a data-ved="0CAgQjRwwAA" href="http://www.google.com/url?sa=i&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&docid=QMjYw1nhTJeMfM&tbnid=fk_NWQRGL8-ZnM:&ved=0CAgQjRwwAA&url=http%3A%2F%2Fblogs.e-rockford.com%2Fapplesauce%2F2011%2F11%2F11%2Fon-this-holiday-give-a-thought-to-the-homeless-vets%2F&ei=KBOAUtrdE6WniQL8i4DoAQ&psig=AFQjCNHcbVfTw0BlkupohcTdqpMSNATXTg&ust=1384211624374920" id="irc_mil" style="border: 0px currentColor;"></a><br />
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God bless America and the honorable men and women at her beacon call.</div>
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Nancy MacMillanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16322689935908642513noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6436750775660143393.post-72417933870155290782013-10-06T21:58:00.002-07:002013-10-16T22:11:22.033-07:00PTSD / Diary of a Vet's Wife and Michelle Obama<span style="font-family: Times;">My last post, <strong>July 4, 2013, </strong>showed me waiting for a postal confirmation that <em><strong>Diary of a Vet's Wife,</strong></em> <em><strong>Loving and Living with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder</strong></em> had reached THE WHITE HOUSE. After that the bottom fell out . . . </span><br />
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<strong><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Each friend represents a world in us, a world possibly not born </span></strong><strong><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">until they arrive, and it is only by this meeting that a new world is born. ~ Anais Nin</span></strong><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">The life of a <strong>computer </strong>is not infinite. REALITY hit when I could<strong> </strong>no longer type in my BLOG! Disbelief turned to despair. Most know I'm a techno-neophyte, yet NO ONE could fix it! It was like losing my <strong>best friend. </strong>I was heartsick.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Three days later, I flew to OHIO to attend our annual family reunion. I returned to California the end of August with one mission seared into the gray matter between my pierced ears - I<strong> </strong>MUST find a new BEST FRIEND! And FAST. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">But there were way too many CHOICES! </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">One final consultation with <strong>Geek Squad</strong> and I was primed to make a decision ... which still HAUNTS me! My new HP computer and <strong>best friend?</strong> arrived with WINDOWS 8 and its cheeky ATTITUDE. Not to mention the TEMPERAMENT<strong> </strong>of a multi-tasking ten year old on a sugar high, taking me down gopher holes with no way back. Navigating a cornfield maze with a box of matches would be simpler. </span><br />
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/ilonameagher/2788132157/" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;" target="blank" title="I Want You to Care About PTSD by Ilona Meagher..., on Flickr"><img alt="I Want You to Care About PTSD" height="200" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3177/2788132157_ba6e68f0b6_m.jpg" style="cursor: move;" unselectable="on" width="147" /></a><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">PATIENCE. I've been told I must remember to breathe . . . </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">This too shall pass, if I don't heave the darn thing off a bridge first. My love and concern for our military far outweighs the learning curve I must conquer to be able to ENLIGHTEN the world to my PASSION . . . </span><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong>Public Awareness of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder</strong>.</span> <br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="body1"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 10pt;">Sometimes
when you think you are done, it is just the edge of beginning. Probably that's
why we decide we're done. It's getting too scary. We are touching down onto
something real. It is beyond the point when you think you are done that often
something strong comes out.</span></span> </span> </strong></span></div>
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<a href="http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/quotes/n/nataliegol127290.html">~ <span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: #0000cc; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong>Natalie Goldberg</strong></span></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">My last post on <em><strong>July 4, 2013</strong></em> showed me waiting for a confirmation that my book, <strong><em>Diary of a Vet's Wife, Loving and Living with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder </em></strong>had reached The White House. This was confirmed <em><strong>July 8th</strong></em>, the same day I left for Ohio. The small green postcard was <strong>stamped </strong>"THE WHITE HOUSE." Floating on a cloud, I headed for the airport. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span> </div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">During my visit, my friendly mail collector informed me that I had received a large brown envelope from the WHITE HOUSE. Wow, that was fast! I asked for it to be held until I returned. Everyone thought I was deranged </span><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">for waiting. But I like SURPRISES. It was probably a photograph of the First Lady, but I decided to bathe in the mystery and let my imagination run wild with outrageous possibilities. That's me. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">As soon as my luggage was loaded into the house, I made a dash for my mail. Bags of it! A plethora of junk mail! I found the big brown envelope from the WHITE HOUSE, stamped FIRST CLASS, DO NOT BEND. It felt stiff as my trembling letter opener sliced along the top. Inside a piece of cardboard protected a typewritten letter on formal 6 x 9 crème-colored stationary embossed with the<strong> Presidential Seal</strong> addressed to me. It began, "<em><strong>Dear Nancy</strong></em>:" Needless to say, I was THRILLED. And even more special, it was signed by Michelle Obama herself. The pen she used bled through to the other side at three different points. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">I may not agree with all the battles that are taking place in Washington DC at this time, but I was honored that our First Lady took time to acknowledge my book, and the plight our military has been dealing with for decades.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong>Definition of a veteran</strong>: A veteran - whether active duty, retired, national guard or reserve - is someone who, at one point in his life, wrote a blank check made payable to "The United States of America" for an amount of "up to and including my life." ~ Author unknown</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span> <img alt="loyal-pet-looking-out-window" class="text_img_block" src="http://i2.squidoocdn.com/resize/squidoo_images/800/draft_lens18874089module157626352photo_1331646409a----.jpg" title="loyal-pet-looking-out-window" /></div>
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Photo by Scott King / gryht on flickr.</div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">MAN'S BEST FRIEND is lending a helping paw to aid military personnel and veterans suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). </span></div>
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<em>The number of veterans being diagnosed with PTSD continues to grow. It wasn't until after the Vietnam War in the '60s and '70s that PTSD was even recognized as an actual psychiatric syndrome by the Veterans Administration. </em></div>
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<em>Nationwide from 2002 through 2012 more than 256,000 veterans who served in Iraq or Afghanistan have been treated for PTSD. And the numbers continue to climb as time away from the war zone passes. by Mark Leland - Fox 11</em></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">I recently read this interview online describing one veteran's experience with his SERVICE DOG ... </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times;">Steve, a US Army veteran, says his dog, Whiskey, provides him with a sense of much needed comfort and security. And that Whiskey saved his life.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times;"><em>"I was suicidal every single day. I couldn't get out of the house. I was in such deep depression. The simplest tasks were very difficult for me but two days into the canine program a light came on and changed my life. Whiskey provides comfort and security whenever I have a panic attack. I'll call her up on my lap and start petting her. She brings my blood pressure down and brings me back down to reality. If I have a flashback and things of that nature, she's right there nudging me. "Hey, it's okay, dad." Whiskey's right there."</em></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times;">When you hear and read about what's happening throughout the country with veterans returning from war, our warriors dealing with this disabling disorder, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, do you ever think ... <em><strong>"But what</strong> <strong>can I do to help?"</strong></em></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times;">Most know I chose PETS FOR VETS to donate a portion of the proceeds from my book. This national organization helps heal the emotional wounds of military veterans by pairing them with shelter dogs. Their selfless dedication in this field shows compassion and understanding to this issue that has been minimized far too long. Their approach gives veterans a way to defuse their PTSD without the use of drugs, and gives a shelter dog a loving home and purpose. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times;">Know that THERE IS A WAY each one of us can help these warriors who bravely fought for what they were asked to do. Every donation helps. Let your heart be your guide. We owe them more than we could ever REPAY.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times;"><strong>Who is eligible for a Pets for Vets companion animal?</strong> Please see information and Pets for Vets Veterans Application located on their website at <strong>pets-for-vets.com</strong> for more details. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times;"><em>They carried comrades, they carried guns, and they carried letters from home. Their dog tags carried their name and rank. Would they wear them home, or would they be handed to a family member? None knew the answer, yet they served our country, the United States of America, with their very heart and soul. </em></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times;">God Bless America and all her brave WARRIORS.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times;">Do you know someone who is dealing with <strong>Post Traumatic Stress Disorder</strong>?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times;">(Please read post from April 2013 for more detailed information).</span></div>
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<img height="96" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3177/2788132157_ba6e68f0b6_m.jpg" style="left: 608px; opacity: 0.3; position: absolute; top: 432px;" width="70" />Nancy MacMillanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16322689935908642513noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6436750775660143393.post-59669364732086385922013-07-04T16:12:00.001-07:002013-11-09T18:37:58.575-08:00PTSD / Diary of a Vet's Wife goes to The White House<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em><strong>The purpose of life is not to be happy. It is to be useful, to be honorable, to be compassionate, to have it make some difference that you lived and you lived well.</strong></em> Ralph Waldo Emerson </span><br />
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<strong style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"> <img alt="" border="0" class="rg_hi uh_hi" data-height="183" data-width="275" height="133" id="rg_hi" sb_id="ms__id2559" src="https://encrypted-tbn1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcT67ryvqGN2GkcrKSE7bBNK0YUf9hOcp7LVUbZH70Tg7Yv30HzrKQ" style="height: 183px; width: 275px;" width="200" /> </strong>Today, <strong>July 4, 2013</strong> is the perfect day to be waiting for a USPS confirmation showing <strong><em>Diary of a Vet's Wife, Loving and</em> <em>Living </em></strong><strong><em>with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder</em> </strong>has arrived at the WHITE HOUSE!<br />
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This surprising challenge began May 18th with an email from <strong>Pets for Vets. </strong>"... <em>Attended a <strong>GI Film Festival</strong> in Washington DC last month, where a <strong>documentary</strong> on Pets for Vets by a USC student was one of 50 films shown out of 1000 submitted. Several other films dealt with <strong>PTSD</strong>. Those directors and actors agreed more must be done to</em> <em>RAISE AWARENESS</em> <em>and find</em> <em>OUT-OF-THE-BOX</em> <em>solutions for this devastating disorder</em>. <em><strong>Pets for Vets</strong> was commended for a solution without relying on drugs."</em><br />
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She noted:<em> "Although we haven't talked with any veterans who have read your book yet, those who know you wrote it are thankful and appreciative. They have all commented that most people have no understanding of <strong>PTSD</strong> and the wide variety of</em> <em>POTENTIAL TRIGGERS. They want <strong>awareness</strong> of the issue raised and think books like yours are an <strong>important step</strong> in that direction."</em><br />
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Attached was a clipping from an Indiana newspaper entitled: <em>"<strong>Legion's leader meets</strong> <strong>with Obama.</strong> </em>She pointed out: <em>"Since our National Commander of the American Legion meets with President Obama, he definitely needs a copy of your book." </em><br />
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The wheels began to turn. My one chance-in-a-LIFETIME! I couldn't let it slip through my fingers.<br />
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By June 20th, my RESEARCH was complete. My letter introducing <strong>Diary of a Vet's Wife, Loving and Living with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder</strong> and MISSION was polished. With a prayer on my lips, I pressed SEND.<br />
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The next morning I received this reply: <em>"I have spoken to the Commander. You may send your book to him at the following address .... He suggested you also send one to <strong>Mrs. Obama</strong> ..." </em>giving her address. Then she went on with words of encouragement and offered other suggestions to further my MISSION!<br />
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Delight kindled my HAPPY DANCE that seemed to last for hours! <br />
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Next step, <strong>compose</strong> a letter to Mrs. Obama. It was intimidating, but I refused let fear control the outcome. By Friday, June 28th, <em>Diary of a Vet's Wife, Loving and Living with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder</em> was in the hands of our United States Postal Service Priority Mail and <strong>on its way</strong> to Washington DC.<br />
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Now I wait ... it's still hard to believe!<br />
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<strong><em>HAPPY 4TH OF JULY, AMERICA! </em></strong><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Calibri','sans-serif'; font-size: 11pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">The first <b>Independence Day</b> celebration took place in Philadelphia on July 8, 1776. This was the day that the <b>Declaration of Independence</b> was first read in public after people were summoned by the ringing of the LIBERTY BELL ... </span><span style="font-family: 'Calibri','sans-serif'; font-size: 11pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">237 years ago.</span><br />
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Our COUNTRY may be young but our history shows dedication to the <strong>freedom of all mankind</strong>. America will always be the land of the<strong> free </strong>because it is the home of the <strong>brave</strong>. We're proud of our man and women of the United States Armed Forces, whose <strong>diligence</strong> and <strong>courage</strong> make freedom possible today and for the future.</div>
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This HOLIDAY is celebrated with <strong>family</strong> gatherings where children throw Frisbees and men fire up grills for juicy hamburgers and hotdogs. Women arrange a spread of homemade favorites and the flies die of happiness.</div>
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Once the sun melts into darkness, the <strong>magic</strong> begins. Fireworks of every shape, size and color sizzle and dance across the night sky in a breathtaking ballet of lights. And NOISE!<br />
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Last night I read an article, <strong>PTSD TRIGGERS - FIREWORKS ALERT</strong>, that I'm compelled to SHARE.<br />
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" 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A veteran's wife, Michele Smith, pleaded with people to refrain from setting off fireworks in neighborhoods where the <strong>explosive sounds</strong> can cause <strong>major difficulties</strong> for our <strong>veterans</strong>. She explained, "L<em>ast year's FOUR days in a row of explosions in their neighborhood started her husband on a PTSD downhill spiral that landed him in an inpatient lockdown facility a few days later."</em><br />
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She shared what her husband was able to tell her on that first night of fireworks last year. "<em>I can tell myself all night long those explosions out there are not a danger to us and that I'm NOT in Iraq. INTELLIGENTLY, I understand. But that doesn't stop the awful FEELING inside me that IF I don't go out there and try to do something about it, people ARE going to die!" </em><br />
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She felt it would help if the general public was better informed how <strong>severely</strong> this affects many <strong>veterans</strong>, so that they may choose <strong>different options</strong> for celebrating their 4th. <br />
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I agree with Michele and hope people will think twice before shooting fireworks within our neighborhoods, knowing they will be helping our <strong>heroes</strong> live a more peaceful life after war. And <strong>thank you</strong> for caring.<br />
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<strong>Lesson learned . . . my two cents</strong><br />
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Last night I watched my latest <em>Netflix</em>, <strong>Memorial Day - </strong>instead of finishing my blog. It showed a different viewpoint and I was deeply moved and inspired. All who care about our <strong>veterans</strong> will benefit from this heartfelt true story.<br />
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<strong>Stories live forever but only if you tell them</strong>. ~ Memorial Day (2012)<br />
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<em><br /></em>Nancy MacMillanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16322689935908642513noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6436750775660143393.post-24186121282956703852013-05-27T13:33:00.000-07:002014-05-24T19:39:04.848-07:00PTSD / Diary of a Vet's Wife and Memorial Day Memories <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><strong>War has gone on since the beginning of man's creation. And will continue until the end of time. This necessary evil <span style="font-family: inherit;">brings</span> death and pain not only to its victims, but also to the warriors and their loved ones covering our small planet. It's not the way we'd like it to be - it is the way it is. </strong></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;">~ Nancy MacMillan, author </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Diligently, I queried agents for a twelve-month period before I made the decision to self-publish my memoir, <strong>Diary of a Vet's Wife, Loving and Living with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. </strong>To my disappointment most agents failed to reply, yet the rejections I did receive were polite and encouraging. Honestly, it seemed to me - no one was willing to touch the subject matter. </span></div>
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<strong><span style="font-family: inherit;">Was it too real?</span></strong><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"> <strong>Memorial Day</strong> began in 1868 to honor all the military personnel who gave the <em>ultimate sacrifice</em> for their country and freedom. These brave warriors rest in peace not only on American soil, but approximately 125,000 are buried on foreign soil. <strong>American Battle Monument Cemeteries</strong><em> </em>are located throughout the world (Belgium, France, Nova Scotia, England, Libya, Russia, Spain, Denmark, the Netherlands, Mexico and Australia). </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: inherit;">The <strong>Arlington National Cemetery</strong> in Washington, D.C. is one of 146 National Cemeteries in the United States. It covers 624 acres where <strong>267,000 flags</strong> fly in memory of each of these <strong>brave warriors</strong> on Memorial day. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Our country is split by war. Each of us longs to live in <strong>peace</strong> and <strong>harmony</strong>, but how can this be attained without welcoming terror to our shores with open arms? There is<strong> </strong>no easy answer.</span><br />
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For me, this <strong>holiday </strong>unlocks memories and the trauma of war that daunted my warrior and our family for too many years. Skeletons of battle dancing in the hallways with no way to exorcise them. </div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Though wars still fester for power, I'm <span style="color: black;">encouraged </span>by the <strong>awareness </strong>and <strong>hope</strong> in growing numbers <strong>worldwide,</strong> and their <strong>passion</strong> and <strong>concern</strong> for peoples of all nations. Women and children are the most vulnerable. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">The war I lived through is behind me, but sadly thousands have stepped into my shoes. Where we differ? They're blessed to have what I never had - someone to reach out to who <strong>understands</strong>. Many <strong>dedicated</strong> organizations now exist, while new groups are surfacing nationwide, <strong>committed</strong> people who truly <strong>love</strong> and <strong>care</strong> for our warriors who gave so much, and their families. <strong>Selfless</strong> men and women are waiting for the phone call. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">My heartfelt cry to those who are struggling - </span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><em>"Please seek help immediately. Love and understanding are waiting, but you must take the first step." </em>(Contact information in previous blog) </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"> <span style="font-family: 'Calibri','sans-serif'; font-size: 11pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><strong>A love for tradition has never weakened a nation indeed it has strengthened nations in their hour of peril. ” </strong>― <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/14033.Winston_Churchill">Winston Churchill</a></span></span><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">The post below is from October 3, 2011 - I felt it appropriate, if you're inclined to read on . . .</span></div>
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<strong><span style="font-size: large;">"The Moving Wall" - An Experience I Will Never Forget!</span></strong></div>
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On Thursday, September 29, 2011, I had the priviledge of being in Santa Barbara attending my writing class on the same day "The Moving Wall" arrived at Chase Palm Park. Was this a coincidence?</div>
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Members of the <strong>Vietnam Veterans</strong> of America, Chapter 218 of Santa Barbara, proudly honored the service and sacrifice of the 11 million men and women who served during the Vietnam War by bringing <strong>"The Moving Wall"</strong> to their fair city.</div>
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<strong>"When the soldiers came home from Vietnam, there were no parades, no celebrations. So they built the Vietnam Memorial for themselves." </strong> - General Wm. C. Westmoreland<strong> </strong></div>
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<strong>"The Moving Wall"</strong> is a replica of the original memorial on permanent display in Washington DC, where carved in granite are <strong>58,226</strong> names of brave Americans honored and remembered forever. We honor the courageous service of America's 2.8 million Vietnam Veterans - especially the 58,226 men and women who made the <strong>ultimate sacrifice</strong> in serving their country for the enduring cause of freedom. </div>
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I pulled into the parking lot, took a ticket from the meter and found an empty parking space closest to the Memorial, though I still had a distance to walk. I sat in the car lost in thought. Questions filled my head. This was the closest I've come to "it" since the day I buried my husband's ashes in <strong>Houston National Cemetery</strong>, after which they folded his flag and presented it to me. Could I do this with grace and dignity like Jacqueline Kennedy, or would I melt into a blubbering puddle?</div>
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I followed a sidewalk to the street and headed toward the monument. A photographer toting a heavy camera passed by. Towering palms scattered the patchy green grass. The sight of <strong>The Wall</strong> off in the distance, the sky and the ocean it's backdrop, enfolded me like a loving grandparent I'd never met. I felt timid, yet I knew I belonged . . .</div>
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<strong>They walk as if on hallowed ground. They touch the stone. They speak with the dead. They come to mourn and to remember, memory mixing with grief, making an old ritual new, creating in this time another timeless moment. </strong> - 25th Anniversary Commemorative</div>
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In the distance, the long narrow black wall appeared to rise out of the ground where people stood like toy soldiers set in groups of two or three. Flags of <strong>many countries</strong> rose high against the hazy afternoon sky, furling in unison. A large khaki tent stood guard off to the right. As I drew near, the black panels began to reveal meticulous white lettering. Snapping flags overhead muffled the soft murmurs of family members, some clutching framed photographs to their chest, as they stood solemnly talking with <strong>counselors</strong> near <strong>The Wall</strong>.</div>
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It was <strong>surreal </strong>. . . until it hit me.</div>
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The avalanche of names washed over me. Dear God, so many names. Too many names. Each called from the wall. I could hardly breathe. <strong>58,226</strong> names including 8 women. The Vietnam war. They all died in battle. This was all that was left of these warriors who were part of us, never again to feel the sun on their faces, or taste the salty air from an ocean breeze.</div>
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A train echoed from afar. A lean-muscled man riding a bicycle pulled up. His fluorescent green jacket and trimmed white beard reflect off the shiny black wall like a mirror. He straddled the bike as his eyes eagerly searched the names. One woman wandered a distance from the wall. Maybe fearful as I was to get too close. Afraid of being swallowed alive by the reality before us.</div>
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<strong>The Wall elicits a physical response. It has inspired visitors to represent their own grief, loss, rage, and despair. Contributing their private representations to public space they cross a boundary between the private and the public, the nation and the citizen, powerfully claiming the memorial as their own.</strong> - 25th Anniversary Commemorative </div>
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<strong>The Vietnam war</strong>. So many names. So many died in battle. Yet many more returned home wounded to the core still fighting the battle. Their <strong>never-ending battle</strong>. Day and night the mortars still blaze, the screams, the cries still echo in the din. These returning soldiers who found themselves shunned and abandoned by a great many civilians who were not able to separate the war from the warrior.</div>
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As a writer, how can I not say what I feel? How my heart still aches for my husband . . . and all the names on this wall. It aches for all the people who loved and cherished the people who were these names, and feel the pain they still bare. I reached out and touched one name . . . Leon B Smith II in raised white letters. My heart hurt. Then I noticed a sign that read, "Do Not Touch the Wall."</div>
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I spent a large part of the afternoon sitting on the grass, a distance from the wall, journaling, taking pictures and thinking. How can these families heal? I wrote a book which allowed me to put my heart on paper. I may have found healing . . . but I can never forget. </div>
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Occasionally, I'd wander up to the wall and walk its length looking at the volumes of names which loving parents carefully chose for their precious newborn as they envisioned the bright future their baby would grow into. </div>
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And never dreaming the name they chose would one day <strong>stand as part of the history of our country.</strong></div>
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<strong>Lesson Learned . . . or my two cents</strong></div>
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The human heart can be shattered in a million pieces . . . yet you still must go on living.</div>
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Nancy MacMillanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16322689935908642513noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6436750775660143393.post-76580740062293281322013-04-13T18:05:00.000-07:002014-01-27T06:58:10.543-08:00PTSD / Diary of a Vet's Wife / The Truth and Vulnerability <div class="quoteText">
<strong>“A person is, among all else, a material thing, easily torn and not easily mended.” </strong> <span style="font-family: Calibri;"> ― </span><a href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/2408.Ian_McEwan"><span style="color: windowtext;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Ian McEwan</span></span></a><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span><br />
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My memoir, <strong>Diary of a Vet's Wife, Loving and Living with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder,</strong> has reached the far corners of our planet in search of readers living in the wake of PTSD<strong>.</strong> I invite others with <strong>compassion</strong> for our <strong>warriors,</strong> to learn what too many veterans <strong>contend </strong>with after they return from <strong>combat</strong>. Each family may <strong>cope </strong>with something different, yet we <strong>belong</strong> to each other. I can only show what happened to me and my family.<br />
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Telling the <strong>truth</strong> has opened wounds I cannot heal. I can only say, "I'm sorry." Had I not put my story on paper, I was sure it would have eaten me alive from the inside out. I have made myself <strong>vulnerable</strong> so others might learn and to give them hope.<br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><strong>It takes two to speak the truth one to speak, and another to hear. </strong></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;">~ Henry David Thoreau</span></div>
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The past months have vanished like a breath in the wind as I plow through books and websites of MARKETING ideas. Each morning I face my opponent boldly as it winks and taunts me with a beckoning finger, enticing me into yet another maze of information to be digested. It can be overwhelming, but I know <em><strong>this too shall pass</strong>.</em> </div>
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Regretfully, I've had little time lately for writing and creating, so I decided to post a blog from earlier last year that you may not have seen: </div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Wounded Warriors Walk Among Us</span> (February 2, 2012)</div>
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<em>"After wars' end, soldiers once again become civilians and return to their families to try to pick up where they left off. It is this process of readjustment that has, more often than not, been ignored by society."</em> -- Major Robert H. Stretch, Ph.D in <i><a href="http://www.globalsecurity.org/military/library/report/1995/wp/Ch18.pdf"><span style="color: #0073e6;">Textbook of Military Medicine: Vol. 6 Combat Stress</span></a></i></div>
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Recently, we <strong>witnessed</strong> our troops returning home from Iraq. It was the biggest U.S. <strong>withdrawal </strong>since WWII with another 33,000 troops due home from Afghanistan this year. Certainly GREAT NEWS for families praying for their safe return. </div>
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Major television stations throughout the country broadcast the "<strong>Homecoming</strong>" of these brave man and women <strong>reuniting </strong>with<strong> </strong>loved ones after a long fierce war. Spellbound voyeurs, we shared in the first crushing embraces and unashamed tears, while young children were swooped up in happiness and held high overhead. We grinned as bright-eyed babies warily met their fathers for the first time.</div>
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But all parties come to an end. The time comes for our <strong>veterans </strong>to return home and emotionally <strong>detach </strong>from the war they left behind thousands of miles across the sea. Everyone wants to <strong>believe</strong> they can STEP BACK into the lives they left behind - but it hurts me to say, it doesn't work that way. </div>
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Battle has <strong>changed </strong>each of them. Some physically, <strong>all </strong>mentally. It's this knowledge that burdens my heart. I've been there - I know what clings to the shadows.</div>
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<em>When news came to Walt Whitman that his brother George had been wounded at Fredericksburg during the Civil War, Whitman rushed south to find him. Though his brother's injury was slight, Whitman was deeply affected by his first view of the war's casualties. He began visiting the camp's wounded and, almost by accident, found his calling for the duration of the war. Three years later, he emerged as the war's "most unlikely hero," a living symbol of American democratic ideals of sharing and brotherhood. </em></div>
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<strong> - </strong>The Better Angel, by acclaimed biographer Roy Morris, Jr.</div>
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Last week on MSNBC, I saw that <strong>St Louis</strong> was the<strong> first city</strong> in our country to have a parade for their returning warriors from Iraq. I was moved by the heart of this city because they understood what should be done to HONOR our veterans and help the HEALING begin <strong>. . . </strong>and they did it! </div>
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Why hasn't this happened all over the country? These <strong>brave men and women</strong> deserve our loyalty and respect along with our ACKNOWLEDGEMENT of the SACRIFICES they endured for us. We sit home safe and secure enjoying the peace we take for granted, while these men and women fight and die for our country in another land far away. I don't understand .<br />
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<a author="David Kennerly" caption="" class="lightwindow cboxElement" hidefocus="hidefocus" href="http://www.charlottemotorspeedway.com/images/gallery/dhk_lz_lg.JPG" jquery1328481146963="17" rel="Photo Gallery[]" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="Gallery: David Kennerly Photos"><img border="0" src="http://www.charlottemotorspeedway.com/images/gallery/dhk_lz_md.JPG" height="131" width="200" /></a></div>
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I feel the need to share my thoughts because I lived with a Vietnam veteran who suffered with <strong>PTSD</strong> for 16 years. He was the love of my life, but at that time there was no help. Today, resources are at our fingertips through the wonder of the Internet. Although they are still not enough to meet all the needs of our veterans it's a start. </div>
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One reason I wrote my story, <strong><em>Diary of a Vet's Wife</em>,</strong> was to show our country what was happening right under their noses, and to give support to those families now living the <strong>nightmare</strong>. This CRISIS is real. The war does not stop when our troops withdraw from combat. It follows them home <em>like <strong>a big black dog. </strong></em></div>
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My memoir,<strong> <em>Diary of a Vet's Wife</em></strong>, <strong><em>Loving and Living with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, </em></strong>shows the devastating side effects of war on one family, yet I know there are mega-thousands throughout the world living this nightmare as I once did. How can we STOP it?</div>
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/ilonameagher/2788132157/" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;" target="blank" title="I Want You to Care About PTSD by Ilona Meagher..., on Flickr"><img alt="I Want You to Care About PTSD" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3177/2788132157_ba6e68f0b6_m.jpg" height="200" width="147" /></a></div>
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The signs of post traumatic stress disorder MAY start out subtle. Many refuse to admit anything is wrong.</div>
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<strong>What You Need to Know</strong></div>
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<ul>
<li>Traumas happen to many competent, healthy, strong, good people.</li>
<li>Many people have long-lasting problems following exposure to trauma.</li>
<li>People who react to traumas are not going crazy.</li>
<li>Having symptoms after a traumatic event is not a sign of personal weakness.</li>
<li>When a person understands trauma symptoms better, he or she become less fearful and are better able to manage them.</li>
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<strong>PTSD Symptoms/Signs </strong>generally fall into 3 main categories:<strong> </strong></div>
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<strong> Intrusive</strong> - Re-experiencing traumatic events </div>
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<li>Distressing recollections</li>
<li>Flashbacks</li>
<li>Nightmares</li>
<li>Feeling anxious or fearful</li>
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<strong> </strong><strong>Avoidant </strong>- Drawing inward or becoming emotionally numb<br />
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<li>Extensive and active avoidance</li>
<li>Loss of interest</li>
<li>Feeling detached from others</li>
<li>Restricting your emotions</li>
<li>Trouble remembering</li>
<li>Shutting down</li>
<li>Feeling strange</li>
<li>Not feeling pain or other sensations</li>
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<strong> Hyper-arousal</strong> - Increased physical or emotional arousal<br />
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<li>Difficulty sleeping</li>
<li>Irritability</li>
<li>Difficulty concentrating or thinking clearly</li>
<li>An exaggerated startle response</li>
<li>Being overly angry or aggressive</li>
<li>Panic attacks</li>
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<strong> Triggers </strong>can include the following:<br />
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<li>Specific scenes</li>
<li>Movement</li>
<li>TV</li>
<li>Sound or smell</li>
<li>Reading</li>
<li>Touch</li>
<li>Situational</li>
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If you or a loved one seems overwhelmed by <strong>PTSD</strong> symptoms, please remember, there are <strong>many</strong> <strong>resources </strong>available to you. If you need immediate help, <strong>PLEASE GET IT NOW!</strong> PTSD does not go away on it's own . . . and will only get worse left unattended. <br />
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Below I've listed the number of <strong>The Veterans Crisis Line</strong>. Please check out Veterans Crisis Line.net, even if you don't think you need it now. Get familiar with the resources available, and save this information for easy access. Please call . . . <br />
<strong style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img src="http://www.veteranscrisisline.net/logos/files/VCL-CMYK.png" height="200" width="161" /></strong><br />
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<strong>The Veterans Crisis Line is a U.S. Department of Veterans Affairs resource that connects Veterans in crisis and their families with qualified, caring </strong><strong>VA professionals through a confidential toll-free hotline and on-line chat. </strong><br />
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<strong>Download the Veterans Crisis Line logos and other graphics to display on your website or materials to show support for our Nation's Veterans and help them get the care they deserve.</strong><br />
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The new VA suicide prevention hotline, 1-800-273-TALK (8255), recently reported that it's received more than 55,000 calls, averaging 120 per day, with about 22,000 callers saying they were veterans.<br />
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(Excerpts taken from retired website: <strong>PTSD Combat: Winning the War Within</strong>)<br />
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<strong>Lesson Learned . . . My two cents</strong><br />
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"We are healed of a suffering only by experiencing it in full." <strong>- Marcel Proust </strong></div>
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Thank you for stopping. If you're unable to post a comment here, you can email me at: <a href="mailto:diaryofavetswife@hotmail.com">onhrway@earthlink.net</a>.</div>
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Nancy MacMillanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16322689935908642513noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6436750775660143393.post-29274582292167254652013-02-18T19:29:00.000-08:002013-10-14T14:54:54.564-07:00"Diary of a Vet's Wife" reveals PTSD / Marketing / ReviewersOn December 5, 2012, <strong><em>Diary of a Vet's Wife, Loving and Living with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder</em></strong>, left the protection of my heart and stepped boldly out into the world. I am the woman who lived this life, but I know there are thousands throughout the world who know the love, heartbreak and fear I share on the pages of my memoir. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3YUKXUfCi3qsN0PyCz-LhKt2J3vkqlk7RR8kCevSearxcoJCFfVJPqNzyhBLDHym9VQNH5hCNzoCRCBY2CF1gK2rS6NcvkXZ5B1iAO7zmzJguEkfyFN9cPxxRVFGNz4EbPP2841LxiT_Y/s1600/book_10.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3YUKXUfCi3qsN0PyCz-LhKt2J3vkqlk7RR8kCevSearxcoJCFfVJPqNzyhBLDHym9VQNH5hCNzoCRCBY2CF1gK2rS6NcvkXZ5B1iAO7zmzJguEkfyFN9cPxxRVFGNz4EbPP2841LxiT_Y/s200/book_10.JPG" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Palatino Linotype','serif'; font-size: 12pt;"><em><strong>Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul and sings the tunes without words, and never stops at all. -Emily Dickinson </strong></em></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Palatino Linotype;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';">I flew to AUSTRALIA three days after my book came out where I wandered the <strong>crusty shores</strong> of this beautiful<strong> </strong>country. A shoreline dappled with <strong>porous coves,</strong> vanishing <strong>rock pools</strong> and jagged <strong>slabs of rock</strong> that only nature could construct. Its powerful dashing <strong>crashing surf</strong> could seduce any CALIFORNIA girl with a wink. A dream-like Christmas holiday with my daughter and her family, a rare and loving gift.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';"><o:p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';">I had planned to detail the breathtaking landscape, the gentleness of its people and a petting zoo hopping with baby KANGAROOS. Tales of its hungry wind and calf-burning hills, an enchanted white butterfly, and my first taste of PAVLOVA drenched in PASSIONFRUIT.<strong> </strong></span></o:p></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Palatino Linotype;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';"><o:p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';">But when I turned on </span></o:p></span></span><span style="font-family: Palatino Linotype;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';"><o:p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';">my computer, MSNBC opened with a major headline: <em><strong>The enemy within: Soldier suicides outpaced combat deaths in 2012!</strong></em> Reality yanked me back by the hair. </span></o:p></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Palatino Linotype;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';"><o:p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';">Our brave men and women who go where they're told to fight the battles they're handed are giving up! They are OUR NATIONS BACKBONE and we MUST stand beside them!</span></o:p></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Palatino Linotype;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';"><o:p><strong><em>Sometimes reality is too complex. Stories give it form.</em></strong> - Jean Luc Godard</o:p></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Palatino Linotype;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';"><o:p>The following week another MSNBC article, "<strong>Like an airborne disease</strong>,"<strong> </strong>was startling. It told of the increase in family members taking their own lives. I immediately emailed the NBC news correspondent </o:p></span></span><span style="font-family: Palatino Linotype;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';"><o:p>who wrote the article to briefly relate my own dance with the demons, my book and my passion to reach others with HOPE. He replied in NINE MINUTES! I was shocked! </o:p></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Palatino Linotype;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';"><o:p>Other articles he wrote showed the COMPASSION he shares for our warriors and their families. He also sent me the names of two top RESOURCES to start my quest, plus the following excerpt from his email:</o:p></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Palatino Linotype;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Palatino Linotype;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><em>Sorry to say, I don't think we would do anything specifically on your book. But when we revisit this topic - whether it would be about PTSD or suicide - I can use you as a source and include the title of your book. I have a couple of upcoming stories where your thoughts and experiences may fit in well. </em></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Palatino Linotype;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">A note to all writers: Go with your INSTINCT! Turn over every rock on your path because you never know what treasure lies beneath - when it comes to MARKETING your work.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Palatino Linotype;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';"><o:p> </o:p></span></span><span style="font-family: Palatino Linotype;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';"><o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';"><o:p><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The next phase of my journey - MARKETING 911 . . . </span></strong></o:p></span></span></o:p></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Palatino Linotype;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';"><o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';"><span style="font-family: Palatino Linotype;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';"><o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;">On <strong>June 26, 2011</strong>, I posted a blog entitled <strong>Marketing in an Electronic World . . . My First Steps</strong>.</span></o:p></span></span></span></span></o:p></span></span><br />
<ul><span style="font-family: Palatino Linotype;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';">
<li><span style="font-family: Palatino Linotype;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';"><o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;">cr</span></o:p></span></span><o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;">eate a<strong> blog</strong></span></o:p></li>
<li><o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;">construct a <strong>MARKETING PLAN</strong></span></o:p></li>
<li><o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;">join a <strong>Writers Group</strong> Online</span></o:p></li>
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<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;">On <strong>July 28, 2011</strong>, I posted, <strong>The Marketing Medusa . . . Don't Let it Overwhelm You!</strong></span></o:p><br /></span></span></span></span><ul><span style="font-family: Palatino Linotype;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';">
<li><o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><strong>qualities</strong> needed to successfully market your book</span></o:p></li>
<li><o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;">locating your<strong> target audience</strong> and others for your work</span></o:p></li>
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<o:p></o:p><o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Reference above posts . . . </span></o:p><br /><o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span></o:p><br /><o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Since my return from Australia, the main focus has been <strong>Reviews/Reviewers.</strong> I had ordered 25 books before I left. They were waiting like happy puppies. The more you order the better the discount. The first copies are being sent to friends and family I ACKNOWLEDGE in my memoir. <strong>Pets for Vets</strong> was also on that list. A few organizations are still waiting for their copies. If only there were more hours in a day. </span></o:p><br /><br /><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><o:p>Self-publishers have the INTERNET at their fingertips like a giant fortune teller with insomnia, its catacombs pulsating with answers as it waits for a question to be asked. </o:p></span><br /><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><o:p></o:p><br /></span><o:p><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Multiple lists of <strong>Reviewers</strong> are available on the internet. Research to highlight those who read your genre and verify they are accepting new books. ALWAYS contact a reviewer before you send your book. It could take 3-6 months to be reviewed. </span></o:p><br /><br /><o:p><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">I'd like to invite any <strong>reviewer</strong> or <strong>book club</strong> interested in my memoir to contact me at </span><a href="mailto:diaryofavetswife@hotmail.com"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">diaryofavetswife@hotmail.com</span></a><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"> where we can discuss your request. This email address is on the back of my book for any reader or organization wanting to talk or share.</span></o:p><br /><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">"<em>Determine your "official publication date" <strong>(OPD)</strong> and make sure it's <strong>90-120+</strong> days after your "bound book date" <strong>(BBD),</strong> the date you have printed books in your hands. Use this period to get your book into the hands of key industry reviewers and to start building your book buzz.</em></span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>For NICHE BOOKS - Keep beefing up your "final book" review copy list by hunting up websites that deal with your subject Area. Shoot for initial <strong>list of 200-300</strong> and grow from there. Create a system for keeping track of your contacts."</em></span><br /><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"> - Well-Fed Self-Publisher by Peter Bowerman</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">I'm overwhelmed by the reviews coming in. All seem touched with new insight as to what Post Traumatic Stress Disorder really is. Their kind words and encouragement continue to push me beyond my comfort zone. I can never thank you enough, for myself and all the others, who have met the demons I encountered and conquered! </span><br /><br /><strong>Food for thought . . . my two cents</strong><br /><br /><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">I would greatly appreciate your reviews on Amazon and Barnes & Noble. It need not be long, but may coax someone else dealing with this issue to reach out for comfort in knowing they're not alone. My heartfelt thanks, if you're so led. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">As one reader wrote: </span><br /><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 4.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><i>Diary of a Vet's Wife, Loving and Living with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder</i></b><i>, is a story the American public may not want, but needs to hear. Especially now that there is a promised date to the Afghanistan presence of U.S. and troops of other nations, which will lead to large numbers of newly returned men and women who have experienced this certain form of hell. </i><i> Review by Jack Smith, writer and author</i></span></div>
</span></span></span></span><br />Nancy MacMillanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16322689935908642513noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6436750775660143393.post-69588037985497940222012-12-06T20:35:00.000-08:002012-12-07T11:49:12.249-08:00PTSD / Diary of a Vet's Wife Appeared on My Doorstep! The first copy of <em><strong>Diary of a Vet's Wife, Loving and Living with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder</strong> </em>sits on my desk at my elbow. My husband's eyes look over at me. What I'm feeling is difficult to put into words, something quite <strong>poignant</strong>. After <strong>all the years</strong> and all the tears, my MEMOIR not only has a face, but now it has a physical presence. I hold in my hand <strong>a piece of my life</strong> that was so <strong>powerful</strong> I had to put it on paper to keep my <strong>heart</strong> from shattering. As I fan through the pages I watch my words blur under my thumb. I'm afraid if I blink it will disappear.<br />
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<strong><em>Dream no small dreams for they have no power to move the hearts of men.</em></strong><br />
~ Johann Wolfgang von Goethe<br />
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It wasn't until I contacted my self-publisher to approve the <strong>galley </strong>that I learned there was still more WRITING to be done! More delay!<br />
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I was now requested to submit the <strong>Book Page Submission Form</strong> which included the following:<br />
<ol>
<li><strong>Author bio</strong>. Must use third person. Limit 50 words.</li>
<li>The total number of physical pages.</li>
<li><strong>Search Terms</strong>. Specific words and phrases related to the subject of my book. Limit 20 words or phrases.</li>
<li><strong>Chapters to Excerpt</strong>. They found that offering one or two chapters of the book for free to customers helped improve a books sales. </li>
<li><strong>Short Description</strong>. Would be displayed on the category page. Limit 10 words. (Ten words? They had to be kidding!)</li>
<li><strong>Long Description</strong>. It needed to be a description of what the book is about. LIMIT 500 WORDS. (This was going to take some time!)</li>
</ol>
It wouldn't be half-bad, if that was ALL that I was doing right now . . .<br />
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However, I'm also in the middle of getting ready to leave for AUSTRALIA on Saturday, December 8th to spend <strong>Christmas </strong>with <strong>my</strong> <strong>daughter and her family</strong>, returning on the 27th. What a <strong>dilemma!</strong> Everyone knows I HATE to pack, which I posted last year when I went to New Zealand. I still need to find that <strong>professional</strong> <strong>packer!</strong><br />
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Talk about PRESSURE! Not to mention Christmas cards and presents. It's a special time of year when we're should to be filled with <strong>peace and joy</strong>. Honestly, I am filled with GREAT JOY and thanksgiving, but where can I find peace with so much still to be done? Probably not until I buckle my seatbelt on Virgin Australia. :)<br />
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But there is HAPPY NEWS . . . <br />
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The writing requirements have been <strong>completed</strong> and my BOOK went up for SALE late yesterday afternoon at <strong>BookLocker,</strong> my self-publisher. The AUTHOR PAGE looks amazing! The book should appear soon on the other online sites (Amazon, B&N, Books-a-Million, etc), but I'll be out of pocket when it happens. The author photo was attached today and I leave for Australia on Saturday. Now this is what I call "CUTTING IT CLOSE!" :)<br />
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Attached is the link: <a href="http://booklocker.com/books/6576.html">http://booklocker.com/books/6576.html</a>. The complete first chapter is available for viewing.<br />
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I apologize for writing in such haste, but I wanted to reach you before my flight takes off. I'll still be burning the midnight oil, but I'll definitely be happy to check "WRITE BLOG" off of my list. :)<br />
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I wish each of you a wonderful holiday season with friends and loved ones according to the tradition you celebrate. <strong>2013</strong> is but weeks away when we hail in another NEW YEAR. If I had only one wish, it would be that all wars end and that all peoples come together to <strong>live as one in peace and love . . . </strong><br />
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<strong><em>"Safety and happiness can only come from individuals, classes, and nations being honest and fair and kind to each other." </em> ~</strong> C.S. Lewis<br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/ilonameagher/2788132157/" title=""I Want You to Care About PTSD by Ilona Meagher..., on Flickr" t "><span style="color: windowtext; mso-no-proof: yes; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;"><v:shapetype coordsize="21600,21600" filled="f" id="_x0000_t75" o:preferrelative="t" o:spt="75" path="m@4@5l@4@11@9@11@9@5xe" stroked="f"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><v:stroke joinstyle="miter"></v:stroke></span><v:formulas><v:f eqn="if lineDrawn pixelLineWidth 0"></v:f><v:f eqn="sum @0 1 0"></v:f><v:f eqn="sum 0 0 @1"></v:f><v:f eqn="prod @2 1 2"></v:f><v:f eqn="prod @3 21600 pixelWidth"></v:f><v:f eqn="prod @3 21600 pixelHeight"></v:f><v:f eqn="sum @0 0 1"></v:f><v:f eqn="prod @6 1 2"></v:f><v:f eqn="prod @7 21600 pixelWidth"></v:f><v:f eqn="sum @8 21600 0"></v:f><v:f eqn="prod @7 21600 pixelHeight"></v:f><v:f eqn="sum @10 21600 0"></v:f></v:formulas><v:path gradientshapeok="t" o:connecttype="rect" o:extrusionok="f"></v:path><o:lock aspectratio="t" v:ext="edit"></o:lock></v:shapetype><v:shape alt="I Want You to Care About PTSD" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/ilonameagher/2788132157/" id="Picture_x0020_6" o:button="t" o:spid="_x0000_i1025" style="height: 150pt; mso-wrap-style: square; visibility: visible; width: 110.25pt;" target="blank" title=""I Want You to Care About PTSD by Ilona Meagher..., on Flickr"" type="#_x0000_t75"><v:imagedata o:title="I Want You to Care About PTSD" src="file:///C:\DOCUME~1\ADMINI~1\LOCALS~1\Temp\msohtmlclip1\01\clip_image001.jpg"></v:imagedata></v:shape></span></a>Nancy MacMillanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16322689935908642513noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6436750775660143393.post-78765349881507691432012-11-06T06:57:00.000-08:002012-11-06T16:53:11.260-08:00PTSD / Diary of a Vet's Wife / Where's the Book!?!<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 4.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: inherit;">On July 28, 2012, I learned that my memoir, <strong><em>Diary of a Vet's Wife, Loving and Living with Post</em> <em>Traumatic Stress Disorder</em></strong> had slammed into a <strong>brick wall, </strong>and for a while, I didn't know if my PERFECT COVER was going to survive. I was crushed . . . but not broken.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong><em>Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what's going to happen next.</em></strong> Gilda Radner</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">My last post on July 16<sup>th</sup> was a SNEAK PEEK at the cover of my memoir, <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Diary of a Vet’s Wife, Loving and Living with</i></b><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Post Traumatic Stress Disorder</b></i>. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The PERFECT COVER for my story!</span></div>
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<strong></strong><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3YUKXUfCi3qsN0PyCz-LhKt2J3vkqlk7RR8kCevSearxcoJCFfVJPqNzyhBLDHym9VQNH5hCNzoCRCBY2CF1gK2rS6NcvkXZ5B1iAO7zmzJguEkfyFN9cPxxRVFGNz4EbPP2841LxiT_Y/s1600/book_10.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><strong><em><img border="0" ca="true" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3YUKXUfCi3qsN0PyCz-LhKt2J3vkqlk7RR8kCevSearxcoJCFfVJPqNzyhBLDHym9VQNH5hCNzoCRCBY2CF1gK2rS6NcvkXZ5B1iAO7zmzJguEkfyFN9cPxxRVFGNz4EbPP2841LxiT_Y/s200/book_10.JPG" width="141" /></em></strong></a></div>
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A literary high enveloped me as I downloaded my PERFECT COVER to <strong>Booklocker</strong>, my self-publisher, on July 28th. My mind wandered as I envisioned unwrapping the brown paper package, which could arrive within two weeks. After all the tears and all the years, I would finally hold in my hands, the first copy of <strong>Diary of a Vet's Wife</strong>, otherwise known as the <strong>galley.</strong></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The next day, I lear</span><span style="font-family: Calibri;">ned my cover had been <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">rejected!!</b></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Cambria','serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"><em><span style="font-family: inherit;">It isn’t the mountain ahead that wears you out; it’s the grain of sand in your shoe.</span> </em></span></b><span style="font-family: 'Cambria','serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Robert W. Service, poet </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><strong>BookLocker’s </strong>email indicated <em>there was<strong> no bleed . . . .</strong></em><strong> </strong></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">What did that mean? I had no idea, so I looked it up: "</span><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><em>A bleed is when a photo or graphic runs beyond the edge of the finished printed page, with the excess trimmed off before the book is bound. You prepare for a bleed in the document setup before you begin your layout, and in the file preparation for the commercial printer after the design is finished." </em></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I forwarded <strong>BookLocker's</strong> email to Australia, but they were already on holiday in Hawaii. And I was leaving for my family reunion in Ohio - for THREE weeks. What a <strong>predicament!</strong></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Hence, the <strong>parade of delays</strong> began . . . .</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Once I returned from Ohio, my team in Australia worked diligently to correct the problem. After another rejection, they apologized with the fact that they were unable to meet all of the printer's specifications.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I contacted <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">BookLocker</b> and asked if their <strong>cover designer</strong> could correct the <strong>bleed</strong>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My next <strong>lesson </strong>unfolded . . . "<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">like all written material, there’s an automatic <strong>copyright</strong> on original covers."</i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>BookLocker’s cover designer would only design a NEW COVER!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">But <strong>I didn't want a new cover</strong>! Was I about to <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">lose</b> my PERFECT COVER?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">A tearful pity party brought my sister to my rescue. She and her husband have published <span style="color: black;">a local newspaper in Ohio since 1995</span>. She said SHE COULD FIX IT!! Thank you, Lord. </span><span style="font-family: Calibri;">However, she and her assistant must <strong>start from scratch</strong>. By working with the team in Australia, they could duplicate the original cover design, but I'd have to WAIT IN LINE with the newspapers yet to be published. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<strong><em>“A setback is a setup for a comeback.”</em></strong> T.D. Jakes </div>
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<span style="font-family: Cambria;">Sadly, my technical-know-how could swim laps in a match box. Without going into detail, I learned that "computer advertising" and "newspaper printing" each have their own unique set of specifications. Never the two shall mix like oil and water. Period. </span></div>
<strong><em>Self-publishing is a little like putting an octopus to bed.</em></strong> Anne Lamott<br />
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I'll skip the details. As soon as the three editions went to press, my sister, Karen, and her assistant, Amanda, went to work to re-create my PERFECT COVER. All of the original photos, blurbs, book review, etc., had been sent from Sydney to Ohio, where everyone concurred to duplicate the original cover. There were a few snags along the way, but all were determined to make it happen. My sister is amazing!<br />
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I held my breath and waited. Everything was upside-down and I had no idea how to translate this into a blog. Anyone ever been there?<br />
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On <strong>October 29</strong>th, the re-creation of my PERFECT COVER was downloaded to <strong>BookLocker!</strong> They acknowledged receipt! The next day, I learned that shortly after my cover was sent, <strong>Hurricane</strong> <strong>Sandy</strong> hit Ohio, knocking power out for three days. I feel guilty being happy when so many have had their lives and futures destroyed. Please forgive me.<br />
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Where am I today?<br />
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As a writer, who decided to self-publish after a year of querying with no results, I can breathe again. If I had known the challenges up-front, would I still have proceeded? I don't know. But I do know I'm a much stronger and self-confident person because of this journey.<br />
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What next? <br />
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I wait for the galley. And as soon as it arrives, I'm going to Trader Joes and buy bouquets of <strong>yellow roses!</strong> Off in the distance you might hear the sound of fireworks soaring through the heavens, as I compose a blog with the announcement. I've spent almost two decades preparing for this moment!<br />
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<strong>My Personal Request</strong> ~<br />
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If anyone reading my memoir knew my husband, Lorne, in Viet Nam, I'd like to communicate with you. Does anyone know who took the picture that's on the cover? I'd be most grateful. . . . <br />
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Please contact me @ <a href="mailto:diaryofavetswife@hotmail.com">diaryofavetswife@hotmail.com</a>. </div>
Nancy MacMillanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16322689935908642513noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6436750775660143393.post-87591623615310289402012-07-16T20:49:00.003-07:002012-10-28T19:06:58.877-07:00PTSD / "Diary of a Vet's Wife" / Sneak Peek at the Cover<strong>July 4th, 2012 </strong>was the date I set to release <em>Diary of a Vet's Wife, Loving and Living with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder - </em>the driving force behind my madness<em>. </em>Regretfully, I didn't make it. But I tried! The <strong>good news</strong>? I'm close, very close!<br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;"><strong>Liberty is the breath of life to nations. ~</strong>George Bernard Shaw</span><br />
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As I sat watching the <strong>Fourth of July</strong> fireworks dance over New York city on TV, mesmerized by the blazing light show, my thoughts drifted to those who fought for the freedom we enjoy and often take for granted. Far too many young men and women gave the ultimate <strong>sacrifice</strong>. Yet what about those <strong>warriors </strong>who returned home dragging the war behind them? <br />
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Our country has such abundance, compared to what I see throughout the world and the havoc and terror so many have to deal with. Why must <strong>war </strong>rage on? The thirst for power ... freedom ... human dignity. The constant battle of good and evil. These wars we see from the outside, continue to FESTER on the inside long after they are over. And it's happening all over the world!<br />
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I know because I've lived with that <strong>aftermath</strong> of war. I know first hand the pain and heartbreak, and the never-ending feeling of helplessness.<br />
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<em>Diary of a Vet's Wife, Loving and Living with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder </em>may be my story, but there are <strong>thousands</strong> living as I once did, which compelled me to share my journey from its beginning. I wanted others to know they're not alone, and maybe they can learn from the lessons I was taught ... before it's too late.<br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="huge" sb_id="ms__id6271"><strong>A picture is worth a thousand words. </strong>~~ <span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Napoleon Bonapart</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="huge" sb_id="ms__id6271"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Pictures can speak louder than the people in them. The setting - the light - the mood - the eyes. Amazing photographs stream across the internet faster than a fire storm, yet they are soon forgotten. </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="huge" sb_id="ms__id6271"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Then there are photographs hidden away in an old hat box in the back of a closet. Tucked out of sight for decades. Pictures that leave an INDELIBLE impression that often linger for a lifetime. </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="huge" sb_id="ms__id6271"><span style="font-family: Times;">During the last year I struggled with ideas for my <strong>book cover</strong>. Suggestions and renderings were offered but nothing was quite right. A few months ago, my daughter and son-in-law in Australia sent an email asking to join the MacMillan team, and they <strong>volunteered</strong> to do the cover. Each creatively endowed in many areas, I was delighted to welcome them onboard.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times;"><span class="huge" sb_id="ms__id6271">Soon afterwards an email arrived requesting a photograph of my husband in uniform. Hmmm ... I didn't have such a photo. I didn't meet Lorne, my husband, until two years after he returned home from Vietnam.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times;"><span class="huge" sb_id="ms__id6271">Immediately, I called his mom in Houston and explained my dilemma. She wasn't sure if she had one either but said she would check. A week or so later, I received a letter and six photos. She apologized because she only had two of Lorne in uniform.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times;"><span class="huge" sb_id="ms__id6271">I had never seen either photo. One was an official military photo, the other just a snapshot. They held me captive as memories knawed at my heart. The following day I made copies for my mother-in-law and myself, then sent the originals to Australia. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times;"><span class="huge" sb_id="ms__id6271">Tiffany and Scott did their magic while I scrambled with what I had to do. There was proof-reading and formatting once the manuscript was sized to fit (5.5 x 8.5). Everything must be perfect. Self-publishing means you alone are responsible for any errors. Period! I still had to polish off a blurb for the back cover, which would also appear in Ingram's catalog with a 75 word minimum. I touched base with my patient editor a few more times. And there was the author photo to decide on. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times;">When<span class="huge" sb_id="ms__id6271"> the back cover is complete, it will be downloaded for the printer. I then wait for the galley, the first book, which must be proof-read again - all 320 pages. Once I sign off on it - it's ready to roll! I promise to keep you posted! </span></span><br />
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WHAT DO YOU THINK?</div>
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<span style="font-family: Times;"><span class="huge" sb_id="ms__id6271"></span></span><span style="font-family: Times;"><span class="huge" sb_id="ms__id6271">The sneak peek! Last Friday, I finally viewed the finished front cover of my book and I couldn't be more pleased. It's perfect! My story now has a face unlike any other. </span></span><br />
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Nancy MacMillanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16322689935908642513noreply@blogger.com50tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6436750775660143393.post-7445922073713978702012-06-13T08:36:00.131-07:002012-11-07T07:27:39.114-08:00PTSD / Vet's Wife Self-Publishing / Chapter 33 Excerpt<div style="background-color: transparent; border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; color: black; overflow: hidden; text-align: left; text-decoration: none;">
The clock ticks louder and pressure is building. Will I make my self-imposed book release date of <strong>July 4th</strong>? A GIANT QUESTION MARK! </div>
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Chapter One of my memoir, <strong><em>Diary of a Vet's Wife</em>, </strong><em><strong>Loving and Living</strong> <strong>with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder</strong></em>, begins on July 3rd . . . this date is huge to the topic of my story.</div>
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My final draft of the MANUSCRIPT was emailed to my self-publisher on Monday, <strong>June 4th</strong>, for basic formatting. What <strong>surprised </strong>me was a feeling I can only liken to the <strong>empty nest</strong> syndrome. I've put my HEART and SOUL into my writing for so many years, I feel lost without it! Do all writers experience this with their first book? I've sent my heart out into the world, the house echoes with emptiness. Will the world be KIND or CRUEL? </div>
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An avid reader all my life, I never stopped to think how much work went into publishing the bazillion books buttering our planet that I took for granted. But I do NOW! As a novice, it's <strong>enormous</strong>! Am I just a wimp? Or too much of a perfectionist? No one else complains.<br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="huge"><strong>I can only note that the past is beautiful because one never realises an emotion at the time. It expands later, and thus we don't have complete emotions about the present, only about the past.</strong></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">-Virginia Woolf</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times;">(I've placed the following excerpt here for my READERS ONLY, so they don't have to plow through the publishing jargon that I share with other writers).</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times;"><strong>Chapter 33 Excerpt . . . </strong></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> <em>I turned in my sleep, automatically reaching for my husband.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But my hand touched cold empty sheets.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I opened one eye and glanced at the clock.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was 4:00 a.m.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>An alarm went off in my head; the bars close at two.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Unable to fall back to sleep I slipped out of bed, wandered out into the hall and turned on the light.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Shivering in a thin nightgown, I made my way to the living room.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There in the shadows Lorne slept on the couch, fully clothed, curled in a fetal position.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Still half asleep, I shuffled barefoot across the carpet; my only thought was to coax my husband to bed where he would be more comfortable.</em></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><em><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> <span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: inherit;">“Lorne,” I whispered, leaning over him, gently laying my hand on his shoulder.</span></em></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><em><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Suddenly, his eyes snapped open.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He leapt from the couch, landing in a tight crouching position.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His jaw muscles twitched in the dim light, his fists clenched at his chest, ready to strike.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He scared me to death.</span></em></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><em><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“LORNE!” I shouted, backing away, “IT’S ME, NANCY!” </span></em></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><em><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Hearing my voice, his eyes came into focus and his facial expression softened.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"></span>He was groggy and shaken, but he realized where he was and straightened up, letting his hands drop to his side.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></em></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><em><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“God damn it, Nancy,” he reprimanded me, “don’t ever do that again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could have hurt you bad.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And God knows I don’t ever want to do that.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Shaking his head, he ran his fingers through his hair.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Nancy, you just don’t understand.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You have no idea what I’m capable of doing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Promise me you’ll never do that again.”</span></em></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><em><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></span>“I promise,” I said timidly, sinking into the couch.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I reached up and turned on the lamp.</em></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><em><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Lorne sat down next to me, his brow creased, confusion obscuring his face.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He lit a cigarette, leaned forward, rested his elbows on his knees, and stared out into the dark kitchen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></em></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><em><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Baby, I’ve seen and done things I can’t tell you about.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Terrible things,” he said, not looking at me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“The jungle in Nam was hell.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And the nights were worse.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Black as pitch, you couldn’t see your hand in front of your face; I never saw anything like it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You sleep with one eye open.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You never knew when one of those gooks in their black pajamas would reach out and stick a knife in your gut.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Couldn’t see the little bastards but you knew they were there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You couldn’t hear ‘em but you could smell ‘em.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Never knew who would get it next.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Which sorry bastard would get his throat slit?. . . </em></span></div>
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<strong>My Latest Trials and Triumphs</strong> . . . <br />
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My last blog detailed my encounter with the MUSIC PUBLISHING world. Their quick response was welcome, but I later learned there were "<strong>two writers names</strong>" on the copyright of the lyrics that<strong> </strong>were <strong>THE END</strong> of my story! <em>Okay, now what?</em> The <strong>good price</strong> I was quoted was good only if the other writer agreed to it. If not, they were each to be paid the higher price!<br />
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Thank goodness, my self-publisher saved me a lot of money. They refused to COUNT BOOKS SOLD, which was a requirement in the copyright. <em>Can't count books printed one at a time!</em> Instead, I stubbornly rewrote the last chapter without using the song lyrics . . . even though it REALLY HAPPENED. <br />
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<strong>Note</strong>: For the full impact of Chapter 107, the reader might want a copy of the words to <em>Are You</em> <em>Lonesome Tonight?</em> close at hand.<br />
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<strong>FORMATTING - The process of "laying out" text and illustrations to convert a manuscript into a finished book page design </strong><em>Independent Self-Publishing - the complete guide</em> by Michael N. Marcus<br />
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Personally, I <strong>lack expertise</strong> when it comes to the whistles and bells that hide behind the written words on my computer screen, which magnifies my challenge with formatting my manuscript.<br />
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Once the manuscript was submitted and accepted by the self-publisher, my next step was agreeing to the contract and payment. At that time, they wanted information for THE BOOK TEXT FILE . . . I chose <strong>5.5 x 8.5</strong> (black and white interior only) and creme color paper.<br />
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This self-publisher has a limit of 14 ACCEPTABLE FONTS that are used by their printer, allowing the writer to use ONLY TWO of these fonts throughout the manuscript. The end result: I chose <strong>Palatino Linograph </strong>for the body of my text and <strong>Arial </strong>for titles. It was time consuming to adjust my 108 chapters to this requirement. I know there's an easier way, but I wasn't taking a chance of messing up my work at this late stage.<br />
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<strong>Also noted</strong>: <em>Tabs should be set at .25 or .3, not .5. DO NOT USE TABS TO INDENT PARAGRAPHS. Tabs should be replaced with indents</em>. No idea how to safely perform this task! <br />
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(My self-publisher agreed to handle the few tasks I shyed away from).<br />
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I think it was at this point I actually REALIZED we were converting a <strong>8.5 x 11</strong> manuscript, <strong>408</strong> double-spaced pages into a <strong>5.5 x 8.5</strong> Trade Paperback! This meant my book could grow to <strong>500 pages</strong>, including blank pages and PART NUMBER inserts. Not good! TOO BIG! The price of a book is determined by the page count.<br />
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My challenge: <strong>SHRINK THE BOOK!</strong><br />
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I ended up outlining a templet of the 5.5 x 8.5 printable area on a clear plastic sleeve with a marker. Then I proceeded to change fonts, sizing and spacing on one page my manuscript. One at a time, I'd slip them into the sleeve. This allowed me to judge which combinations would be EASIEST TO READ, while downsizing my work. I changed the style and size of the chapter number and title as well.<br />
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I was on a <strong>MISSION - </strong>DOWNSIZE the number of pages to cut the cost to the buyer.<br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype", "serif"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">As I was formatting, I noticed the WASTED space at the end of many chapters. </span></span></span></span><br />
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I skimmed through books, looking for ways I could conserve space and I found what I was looking for in a book by Elizabeth Gilbert - "rolling chapters." <span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype", "serif"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">Gilbert's publisher began each new chapter within a FEW SPACES of the previous chapter. A few spaces, a bold chapter number and her story continued, eliminating wasted space. Actually, I never noticed it until I began my research. Gilbert's publisher may have done this for the same reason. And it looks GREAT!</span></span></span></span><br />
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The END RESULT - 188 single spaced 8.5 x 11 pages. I won't know the final count, nor the thickness of the cover spine, until my manuscript is returned for final proofing.<br />
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My FINAL STEP - To alert my book cover designer in Australia the spine width, which is necessary in completing his work. Once the cover and manuscript are downloaded to the self-publisher - I wait for the <strong>galley</strong> (first copy printed). And the BIRTH of my first book. :)<br />
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To be continued . . .<br />
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<strong>Lessons learned . . . my two cents</strong><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">"What lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us."</span> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times;"> ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson </span></div>
Nancy MacMillanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16322689935908642513noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6436750775660143393.post-23623292778016695392012-04-06T07:17:00.001-07:002013-09-30T12:38:14.027-07:00Self-Publishing / PTSD - A Passage of PassionLately, I feel like a <strong>puppet</strong> whose strings are tangled, trapping my arms behind my back and my feet up over my head. My thoughts are <strong>scattered</strong> like my many projects. <strong>Focus</strong> comes in spurts and <strong>splatters</strong> with so many loose ends eager to be tied. This Gemini sure wishes the other me would get busy and do her share.<br />
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Then I remember - I'm on a <strong>journey </strong>- a PASSAGE, much like<strong> </strong>life itself, where we never know what to expect. A passage of passion isn't always neat and tidy.<br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;"><strong>Once you make a decision, the universe conspires to make it happen.</strong> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;"> ~Ralph Waldo Emerson</span><br />
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The last few months have been <span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><em><strong>tumultuous</strong></em></span>. My eyes crisscrossed and my brain scrambled with the <strong>plethora</strong> of self-publishers available online. Far behind <strong>schedule</strong> I had to make a decision . . . flipping a coin entered my mind more than once!<br />
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<strong>July 4th</strong> seems to be approaching at the speed of light!<br />
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I did a comparison of the top <strong>POD</strong> (print-on-demand) companies and their services - <strong>amenities</strong> that were included / add-ons / other options / and cost involved. The scenario's went every-which-way. I weighed my alternatives like labor pains until I reached a <strong>DECISION</strong> . . .<strong> </strong><br />
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<strong><em>This company's goal is to get a quality book quickly into the market (usually in a month or less) with the lowest out-of-pocket cost to you, greatly increasing the time it takes to make back your investment. The majority of their revenue comes from public book sales, not service fees, which is why they request a writer to submit their manuscript for APPROVAL prior to acceptance. Their acceptance rate is less than fifty percent. </em></strong><br />
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To be <strong>honest</strong>, this was one of the reasons I chose this company, and I'm pleased to say my manuscript was <strong>accepted</strong>. Now I must wade through their multi-paged <strong>contract</strong>, but this should be a walk in the park compared to the last 30 days.<strong><em> </em></strong><br />
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<strong><em><span style="font-size: large;">"In war, there are no unwounded soldiers."</span></em></strong> -Jose Narosky<br />
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Combat and <strong>PTSD</strong> go hand in hand. One is usually enmeshed with the other. Yet I often <strong>wonder</strong> about those who do not suffer PTSD after combat. Who are these <strong>survivors</strong> and why them? What makes them different? What <strong>unique</strong> attribute do they possess that shields them from the horror of war? What is their common thread?<br />
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One day, I plan to <strong>research</strong> this phenomenon. <br />
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My last post announced my decision to donate a portion of the proceeds from my memoir, <strong>Diary of a Vet's Wife</strong> to <strong>Pets for Vets</strong>, a group pairing veterans suffering with <strong>PTSD</strong> and rescued dogs. As a courtesy, I sent them an email confirming my decision. Their response was electric! I was welcomed with open arms.<br />
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On March 23rd, they posted my blog on their Facebook and by the feedback, I knew I found my <strong>audience</strong> - others who know what it's like to live with PTSD. <strong>Pets for Vets</strong> has offered to put my memoir, <strong>Diary of a Vet's Wife, Loving and Living with</strong> <strong>Post Traumatic Stress Disorder</strong>, on their website when the book is released - I'm aiming for July 4th, 2012.<br />
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<strong>Pets for Vets</strong> reaction far exceeded anything I ever imagined. I'm humbled by this experience. Please check them out at <span style="color: black; font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.facebook.com/petsforvetsinc"><span style="color: #0066cc; font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif";">www.facebook.com/petsforvetsinc</span></a> and see what a unique service they offer our veterans.</span><br />
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<h3>
"According to the thread on Zoetrope, which came from an article in the Guardian, it cost one author $1500 to quote two lines from a Bob Marley song in his novel. The concept of fair use doesn't apply to lyrics." </h3>
- Dawn Copeman, Writing-World.com<br />
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The final chapter of my <strong>memoir</strong> contains <strong>song lyrics</strong> that are crucial<strong> </strong>to the <strong>end </strong>of my story. It was written exactly as it happened - my proof is safely tucked away in the back of a drawer, along with my husband's bronze stars.<br />
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Last week, I started the <strong>copyright search</strong> pertaining to these song lyrics. My publisher advised that such permission could cost "<em>hundreds to thousands of dollars</em>" - which I do not have. My plan was to <strong>beg </strong>on bended knee, if necessary, not knowing if these fees are iron clad - or flexible. <br />
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I contacted <strong>ASCAP</strong> via email because the song in question did not appear on their database. A reply sat in my email the next morning with names<strong>, </strong>the <strong>Work ID</strong> and the <strong>ISWC. </strong>But it lacked an email address. <br />
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I called the first name on the list in <strong>New York</strong> city at the phone number provided. After explaining my request, the male person on the line supplied a name and an email address. That afternoon, I emailed them my <strong>Copyright Permission Letter</strong> along with the last 3 pages of my manuscript. Within minutes, it came back <em>undeliverable</em>. I tried 3 different times. NO LUCK!<br />
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The next morning, I called and reached the same person. He asked what addresses I used. "Oh, those are the wrong addresses." <em>I knew that</em>. Then he gave me with another . . . it went through.<br />
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Research online stated it could take anywhere from 4 weeks to 3<strong> </strong>months to receive a reply. Start early! This was a <strong>main </strong>concern . . . <br />
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Two days later, a formal "<strong>quote proposal</strong>" for the lyrics requested, appeared in my email. I was ECSTATIC! It's good for 30 days. The pricing didn't SEEM outrageous, however, it's written in legal <strong>terminology</strong>. I don't have a literary lawyer, so I sent an email to my new publisher, asking if she would be willing to look it over. Hopefully, I hear back on Monday.<br />
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<strong>Lessons learned . . . my two cents</strong><br />
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A manuscript should be professionally edited prior to submission to "<strong>any publisher</strong>," verifying the writers confidence in their own work. That is, unless the writer is qualified to edit.Nancy MacMillanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16322689935908642513noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6436750775660143393.post-5297815968033515132012-03-12T13:58:00.011-07:002013-09-30T12:37:04.894-07:00PTSD / Can One Woman and Her Book Make a Difference?<em><strong>We can do no great things, only small things with great love.</strong> </em><br />
~Mother Teresa<br />
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During the 16 years I spent writing my memoir, <strong>Diary of a Vet's Wife</strong>, one question kept tumbling around in my mind like marbles in a jar - WHAT can I do to help veteran's suffering with <strong>Post Traumatic Stress</strong> <strong>Disorder?</strong> I felt a bond with each of them. I knew their suffering.<br />
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<strong>Help</strong> is such a tiny word when related to such a BIG issue. Webster's New World Dictionary used 31 lines to describe this little word - boiled down - "<em>to make things easier</em>." <strong>PTSD </strong>is very REAL! I know how it feels and what it does to a marriage and family, my heart carries the scars.<br />
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I am only <strong>one</strong> WOMAN, who has spent half-her-life in the shadow of <strong>PTSD</strong> -<strong> </strong>either living with my husband's disorder, or writing about living with his PTSD. I never knew at the time that I had <strong>developed</strong> PTSD by association. Few know the heartbreak and terror, until they have lived with someone caught in the strangle-hold of this illness. To be in the <strong>trenches</strong> with a ticking time bomb for what seemed like an eternity. <br />
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In sharing my story, <strong>Diary of a Vet's Wife, Loving and Living with Post Traumatic</strong>, I hope to AWAKEN the world to the devastating aftermath of <strong>war</strong> living among us, and comfort those trapped in the trenches, knowing they are not alone.<br />
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But how can my <strong>memoir </strong>help disarm a veteran's horror buried deep within his MEMORY before it explodes? How can I help <strong>defuse</strong> and <strong>neutralize</strong> it? How?<br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong><em>I am only one, but I am one. I cannot do everything, but I can do something. And I will not let what I cannot do interfere with what I can do.</em> </strong> ~Edward Everett Hale</span><br />
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One day, I had an <strong>AHA moment</strong> . . . and I <strong>knew</strong> what I must do!<br />
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My book is the only means I have of reaching other families, and our world, living with this<strong> nightmare</strong>. I have no idea how many lives will be TOUCHED by my story, but I knew I wanted to <strong>donate</strong> a portion of each book sold to help veteran's caught on this crazy merry-go-round called <strong>PTSD.</strong><br />
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I fervently began a search on the internet. I was familiar with <strong>Wounded Warriors, </strong>who provide services to <strong>severely injured</strong> veterans during the time between active duty and transition to civilian life. Large corporations donate heavily to large, well-established groups.<br />
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My quest was to find a GROUP that deals specifically with <strong>Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. </strong><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><strong><em>Dare to reach out your hand into the darkness, to pull another hand into the light.</em></strong> </span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> ~Norman B. Rice</span><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 4.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">One afternoon, I Skyped my sister in Ohio to chat. It was then she told me she had watched a TV program the night before about veteran's with PTSD being rehabilitated using RESCUED dogs. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 4.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">"I wrote the name down, so I wouldn't forget to tell you," she said, holding a piece of paper up to the eye of her webcam. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 4.3pt;">
Here was the organization I had been looking for. It was PERFECT - and from my sister! xo</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 4.3pt;">
<strong>"Pets for Vets" </strong>- <em>Helping Our Brave Veterans Heal with a little help from Man's Best Friend </em></div>
Their goal is to help heal the <strong>emotional</strong> wounds of military veterans by pairing them with a <strong>shelter dog</strong> who is specially selected to match his or her personality. Professional animal trainers rehabilitate the dogs and teach them good manners to fit into the veteran's lifestyle. Training can also include desensitization to wheel chairs or crutches as well as recognizing panic or anxiety disorder behaviors.<br />
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<strong>It's a win-win relationship</strong> . . .<br />
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Needy shelter dogs get a second chance at life while giving our returning soldiers <strong>a second chance</strong> at health and happiness. The bonds of friendship formed between man and animal have the power to ease the suffering of our troops when they return from overseas . . .<br />
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<strong>Pets for Vets is a concrete way to thank U.S. Military Veterans for their service . . .</strong> <br />
<br />
<ul>
<li><em>Featured on NPR, CBS2 and CNN</em></li>
<li><em>Donations are tax deductible to the fullest extent allowed by law</em></li>
<li><em>Serving Veterans in Southern California, Washington State, Florida and Michigan</em></li>
<li><em>With each veteran-dog match they provide all the necessary equipment for them to start their new life together</em></li>
</ul>
<br />
Currently, they're only in <strong>four states</strong>. My VISION is to help donate enough so that <strong>Pets for Vets</strong> can gradually expand into every state in the nation, then into every city in that state. Our veterans come from every corner of our country - I'd like to reach them all. I can dream, can't I?<br />
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Please check <strong>Pets for Vets</strong> online, if you have any questions. You may feel drawn to contribute a single donation dedicated to a veteran in your own life.<br />
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My tentative<strong> book release</strong> date is still set for <strong>July 4th</strong>, <strong>2012</strong>, which gives me less than 4 months to get everything in place. At this moment that seems impossible . . . but I'm not giving up.<br />
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<strong>Lessons learned . . . My two cents</strong><br />
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I expect to pass through life but once. If therefore, there be any kindness I can show, or any good thing I can do to any fellow being, let me do it now, and not defer or neglect it, as I shall not pass this way again. </i> <strong>~William Penn</strong>Nancy MacMillanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16322689935908642513noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6436750775660143393.post-43187875466776743102012-02-19T20:31:00.005-08:002012-06-11T08:44:04.301-07:00Self-Publishing Nitty-Gritty / Copyright / Excerpt<div class="quoteText"><div class="quoteText"><div class="quoteText"><strong>The Mesopotamian stone tablets of 3000 B.C. were man's first "books." This was improved upon with "papyrus," and ""parchment," and finally the Gutenberg pressing press in 1455. Before that, all books had to be copied by hand. Gutenberg's Bibles ushered in the age of print. Now, printing has gone one giant step farther: Electronic Printing.</strong> <br />
- Cork Millner, Write From the Start<br />
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A person who self-publishes for the first time has <strong>no idea</strong> how many different decisions there are to be made. The list seems <strong>endless</strong>!</div></div></div><div class="quoteFooter"><div class="quoteText"><br />
It was not until I sat down to tackle the job of <strong>Self-Publishing</strong> my own work, that I realized I had not recorded the necessary steps from my research in some orderly fashion to move forward. My original "Cheat Sheet into Publishing" from September 2011 - related to <em>traditional publishing. </em>It was <strong>useless</strong>! </div></div><br />
This eye-opener led me to write today's post, where I begin to list what I need to do - "as I do it" - and share a few gems I uncover along the way. <br />
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<strong>“It takes a lot of courage to show your dreams to someone else. ”</strong> ― <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/11882.Erma_Bombeck">Erma Bombeck </a><br />
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Last week, Kay Thompson Lee, my free-lance editor, emailed me the final chapters of my <strong>memoir</strong>. I was elated! Then it struck me like a speeding car! No more excuses! I MUST<strong> </strong>decide on the publishing company to handle my book! I'm one who has a hard time choosing a selection from a menu, let alone a publisher.<br />
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Kay has been my <strong>guiding</strong> <strong>star </strong>throughout the edit. Her subtle suggestions and gentle manner kept me focused and encouraged. The process involved - emailing Kay sections of my <strong>manuscript</strong>, five chapters at a time. This way I didn't bury her alive with my 109 chapters, plus it allowed me one last proof-read before I hit SEND. There was no hurry - after all, I was still in the process of studying "HOW TO SELF-PUBLISH."<br />
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Towards the end of January, I emailed the last section, Chapters 104 through 109 - the END of my book. Within a week, Kay returned my Chapters 104 through 108, but she had changed Chapter 109 to an <strong>epilogue</strong>. I never thought to use an epilogue in my memoir. Kay thought differently . . . and she was right.<br />
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<em>An <strong>epilogue</strong> is a mini story that explains what becomes of the characters in the future.</em><br />
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<strong>“Sharing will enrich everyone with more knowledge.” </strong>― <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/262404.Ana_Monnar">Ana Monnar</a> <br />
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<strong>Copywriting Your Book</strong><br />
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Technically, any original creation, including a book, is automatically copyrighted by virtue of its creation. However, if you choose, a formal copyright will offer an extra measure of protection. Easy and inexpensive ($30), visit <a href="http://www.copyright.gov/">http://www.copyright.gov/</a>. The instructions include a request to send two copies of your work. It's recommended you wait until you have your galleys, if not the final published version, before filing the form and sending the books.<br />
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<strong>Your Copyright Date</strong><br />
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This I found interesting - <em>If your <strong>Bound Book Date </strong>falls after July, meaning your <strong>Book Release Date </strong>is three to four months later, it's acceptable and recommended to put <strong>next year</strong> as your copyright date. That way, your book stays "new" longer in the eyes of the book world</em>. - Peter Bowerman<br />
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Once you've seriously undertaken the <strong>self-publishing</strong> process, these will be among the first and foremost items on your to-do-list. This list includes . . . <br />
<ul><li>ISBN</li>
<li>Bar Code</li>
<li>LCCN</li>
<li>Copyright</li>
</ul>Remember, your publishing entity may include these in "their package." If this is the case, most likely these items will be in your <strong>publisher's name </strong>-<strong> </strong>not yours. Be aware. This needs to be discussed before you sign on the dotted line. Think twice about signing away your <strong>foreign rights</strong> sales - it's more difficult to get them back later, if you need them.<br />
<ul><li>Copyright Page - is where all the above data comes together. Check books you own for a sample.</li>
</ul><strong>Song Lyrics</strong><br />
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Are you considering using <strong>song lyrics</strong> in your book? <strong>I AM!</strong> <br />
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Music is one of the most protected copyrightable works, <strong>infringement</strong> of copyright can carry heavy fines for which the author is responsible.<br />
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If your book includes lyrics from a song, you will need to request <strong>permission</strong> from the copyright holder. This includes cases where you are only using a stanza or two, and sometimes if your are using anything more than a single line.<br />
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Only <strong>song lyrics</strong> created and first published prior to <strong>1923</strong> are in the Public Domain in the United States. If the song was created after that, you will need permission to use it in your work.<br />
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There are two great resources on the internet for finding the rights holders for most music and song lyrics, from the two leading music entities, ASCAP and BMI, respectively:<br />
<ul><li><a href="http://www.ascap.com/ace/search.cfm?mode=search">www.ascap.com/ace/search.cfm?mode=search</a></li>
<li><a href="http://www.bmi.com/search/">www.bmi.com/search/</a></li>
</ul>Actually, I have three song titles, and one other song, where thirteen lines are embedded in my work. It appears I will need to request permission from four different copyright holders. This should be interesting!<br />
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My memoir, <strong>Diary of a Vet's Wife, Loving and Living with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder,</strong> is compelling with thousands returning from war, unaware of the ruthless demons waiting in the shadows. I know . . . I've seen them.<br />
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<strong>Chapter 34 Excerpt</strong><br />
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<div class="WP9BodyTex" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em> A huge Texas moon hung high over our solitary car, but darkness surrounded the deserted country road in the middle of nowhere.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></em></div><div class="WP9BodyTex" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Are you going to be mad at me the rest of the night?” </em></div><div class="WP9BodyTex" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Lorne slammed on the brakes, thrusting our bodies hard against the seat belts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He shoved the gearshift into park, and got out, leaving the car and me in the middle of the road with the door wide open.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He walked to the front of the car with his hands in his pockets, crossed in front of the headlights and took off up the shoulder of the road.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></em></div><div class="WP9BodyTex" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I sat stunned.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Unbuckling my seat belt, I hiked up my skirt and crawled over the console into the driver’s seat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I pulled his door shut, putting the car into drive and followed him up the road.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></em></div><div class="WP9BodyTex" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Lorne, I’m sorry,” I called out the open window.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Please get back in the car.”</em></div> <span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><em>“Get out of here and leave me alone,” he yelled over his shoulder, squinting into the headlights.</em><br />
<div class="WP9BodyTex" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Please, Lorne,” I begged.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“It’s late and its pitch black out here.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>By now my head was throbbing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I won’t say another word, I promise. Just please get back in the car and let me take you home.”</em><br />
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<strong>Lesson learned . . . my two cents</strong><br />
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Every secret of a writer's soul, every experience of his life, every quality of his mind is written large in his works. <strong> - Virginia Woolf</strong></div>Nancy MacMillanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16322689935908642513noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6436750775660143393.post-30606007588914728232012-01-07T14:31:00.010-08:002013-09-30T12:46:34.728-07:00The Self-Publishing Jitters of a Perfectionist . . .My last post was <strong>Christmas Eve</strong>! Good gravy. . . where does the time go? <br />
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My blog copped an attitude on <strong>New Year's Day</strong>, and I'm hopeless when it comes to knowing what to do! I was able to get in, but the letters I typed were INVISIBLE! I couldn't see the curser, nor any words that I typed for at least 30 seconds, which I nicknamed, the PERIL of the PAUSE. Doom to creativity! <br />
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No one I knew could fix my <strong>problem. </strong>For a quarter, I would have thrown that technical bully right through the window!<br />
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But life goes on . . . work as usual . . . spring classes began again in Santa Barbara . . . more chapters were emailed to and from my free-lance editor, as I continued to research the <strong>self-publishing</strong> arena. But I was FRUSTRATED! Is there such a class as, "How to Fix Your Own Computer?"<br />
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Then last week, I received a call from my bible study teacher, who graciously volunteered her husband. We talked at church and he came by on Monday. It took him two and a half hours, and had something to do with a YouTube download, but my computer is fixed . . . "AND I'M BACK!" <br />
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"Thanks, Dave, you were heaven sent!" <br />
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<strong><em>"This nation will remain the land of the free, as long as it is the home of the brave."</em></strong> - Elmer Davis<strong><em> </em></strong><br />
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The final six chapters of <strong><em>Diary of a Vet's Wife, Loving and living with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder,</em> </strong>were emailed to my free-lance editor last evening. Once this last group is returned, my memoir will be ready to self-publish. Brave warriors have just returned home, and a new battle awaits many. My story shows what took place within my family, and I pray it will help others find their own way.<br />
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<strong><em>"Perfection is not attainable. But if we chase perfection, we can attain excellence." </em></strong><strong> </strong>- Vince Lombardi <br />
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<strong>Perfectionism</strong> can be a curse, but when you're raised by a perfectionist, you either follow the same path, or you rebel, regressing into a contented slob. But after so many years, the ideals of a perfectionist are intrinsically <strong>engrained</strong> to my core<strong>.</strong> <br />
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There lies my dilemma! How do I choose the right <strong>Self-Publisher</strong> for my book? <br />
<br />
Each week, I find another company whose promotions catch my eye. My mind is a jumble of names, and all the <strong>options</strong> available.<br />
<br />
Before the holidays, I had more or less decided to go with <strong>Amazon</strong>. Their name is WELL-KNOWN, especially since their bold move into publishing, wooing some of their top authors, and challenging <strong>major publishers.</strong><strong><br />
</strong><br />
Their online data was impressive, however, their <strong>packages</strong> seemed <strong>expensive</strong>. Yes . . . they do have many levels to choose from . . . but once I saw the "<em>top of the line" </em>. . . that's what I wanted! What can I say? But something else was hindering my decision. The <strong>weight of the paper</strong>! Am I too picky? <br />
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It appears that <strong>Amazon</strong> only offers <strong>60lb</strong> offset paper. I've seen books published with <strong>Create Space, </strong>and the pages were stiff, like they could easily break away from the binding. I've read that most traditional publishers used <strong>50lb</strong> paper. Personally, I still like the "feel" of a book in my hands, as I curl up in bed at night to read. I prefer soft pages that "fan" easily. Are there others like me?<br />
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<strong><em>"A man would do nothing, if he waited until he could do it so well that no one could find fault."</em> </strong><br />
<strong>- </strong>John Henry Newman<br />
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Recently, I stumbled upon another <strong>self-publishing press</strong> that caught my attention. <strong>Outskirts Press . . . </strong>they offer the flexibility and control of self-publishing, combined with the full-service support and confidence of a book publishing company, all under one roof. They claim to be there <strong>before</strong>, <strong>during</strong> and <strong>after </strong>publication with a dedicated group of publishing professionals, while you maintain 100% of your publishing rights and 100% of your profits.<br />
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They offer many package options at reasonable prices . . . plus <strong>50lb</strong> and <strong>55lb </strong>paper! Their crème-white is <strong>30% recycled</strong> natural off-white color.<br />
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They also offer select marketing services and products to <strong>all authors</strong>, regardless of where or how you published your book.<br />
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My question: Has anyone out there reading this blog used <strong>Outskirts</strong> <strong>Press?</strong> And if so, could you please <strong>share your experience</strong>? I would be most grateful . . . as would many others.<br />
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<strong>Lesson Learned . . . my two cents</strong><br />
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<em>"It does not take much strength to do things, but it requires a great deal of strength to decide what to do."</em> - Elbert HubbardNancy MacMillanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16322689935908642513noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6436750775660143393.post-74857822712817127242011-12-24T19:45:00.000-08:002012-01-26T07:34:52.982-08:00Ghost of Christmas Past / Chapter 15 ExcerptFor many children, <strong>Christmas</strong> is a time of year filled with wonder and excitement . . . it's Jesus birthday and Santa Claus is coming! Pine trees are dragged indoors to be decorated. Strings of colored lights transform a normal house into a <strong>magical</strong> castle. The children's anticipation is electric! <br />
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Joy and <strong>laughter </strong>dominate our TV screens. Polished white smiles coax us to spend more than we should as we scramble to find the perfect gift for each name on our list. Others show <strong>beautiful</strong> people dressed in stunning outfits attending lavish parties. This is what we strive for . . . <br />
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Everything appears <strong>perfect!</strong><br />
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This is what we <strong>see</strong> and are made to <strong>believe</strong>. But for many, these images are far out of reach and simply crumble at their feet.<br />
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Holidays can trigger <strong>memories</strong> to slip to the surface when least expected. We each walk our separate path in life, which leaves <strong>indeliable </strong>footprints from the past. Many we cherish and share with family and friends. Yet there are others we'd like to forget. Certain holidays can bring back strong <strong>feelings</strong>, depending on the path we've traveled.<br />
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<div class="sfajax_slideshow_poll_just_caption " id="sfajax_slide_caption_14378" style="display: block;">Right now, you can probably <strong>recall </strong>your happiest holiday ever. But also, maybe another you wish you could forget . . . like an elephant standing in the corner.<br />
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</div><div class="sfajax_slideshow_poll_just_caption " style="display: block;">For me, I desire to dwell on happy, <strong>simpler</strong> times, shared mostly with my<strong> </strong>children. Their innocence and goodness gave my life meaning when times were difficult . . . .<br />
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</div><div class="sfajax_slideshow_poll_just_caption " style="display: block;"></div><div class="sfajax_slideshow_poll_just_caption " style="display: block;"><em>"<strong>Some of the secret joys of living are not found by rushing from point A to point B, but by inventing some imaginary letters along the way."</strong> - </em>Douglas Pagels<br />
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</div><div class="sfajax_slideshow_poll_just_caption " style="display: block;"></div><div class="sfajax_slideshow_poll_just_caption " style="display: block;"></div><div class="sfajax_slideshow_poll_just_caption " style="display: block;"><strong>Diary of a Vet's Wife, </strong>Loving and Living with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, shows the best of times and the worst of times for one ordinary couple. The mystery of falling in love, the clumsiness of courtship, and the struggles of a new family trying to make it work. Gradually, moments of simple joy entangled with the trials and tribulations of PTSD, become normal.<em> </em><br />
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</div><div class="sfajax_slideshow_poll_just_caption " style="display: block;"></div><div class="sfajax_slideshow_poll_just_caption " style="display: block;">And there were holidays . . . like the one I share below, a simple and quiet time . . . a happy memory.<br />
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<em>December 14, 1974<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></em></div><em><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 5;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></b></em><br />
<div class="WP9BodyTex" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em> It was eleven days before Christmas and we were off to buy a tree.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The children chased each other down the sidewalk before piling into the back of Lorne’s car, each clamoring for a seat by the window.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Their carefree giggles warmed the chilly afternoon air.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On the surface we looked like any ordinary family . . . too bad it wasn’t true.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></em></div><div class="WP9BodyTex" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><em> </em></span></div><div class="WP9BodyTex" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Okay kids,” Lorne shouted across the lot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He struggled to free another tree from the huge compressed pile at his feet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then one broke loose; he vigorously pounded the trunk on the ground, releasing the branches. </em></div><div class="WP9BodyTex" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="WP9BodyTex" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Run back, and tell me if the trunk’s straight,” he called, surveying the tree up close. <span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></em></div><div class="WP9BodyTex" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="WP9BodyTex" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em> Cory ran over to me, his pale hair flying, his cheeks flush.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Mom, Mom, come look,” he said, tugging me by the hand.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Can we get this one?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s a real good tree.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></em></div><div class="WP9BodyTex" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="WP9BodyTex" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>His innocent wonder was like food for my soul.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></em></div><div class="WP9BodyTex" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="WP9BodyTex" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Later that evening, Lorne sat quietly watching the children rummage through the dusty old boxes I had dragged down from the attic.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Each year they helped me trim the tree; it was our tradition.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They would hunt for treasured ornaments stored in boxes wrapped in tissue paper, calico stars and hand painted angels they had made in kindergarten; stained glass ornaments embellished with their names, made by their Aunt Karen, my sweet sister. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></em></div><div class="WP9BodyTex" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="WP9BodyTex" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Once the last ornament was hung on the tree and baby Jesus was safe in the manger, I turned off the lights, signaling Scott to plug in the tree.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It sprang to life, fat and robust, dancing in lights.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Draped in gold garlands and layered with shiny red balls, tiny gold flutes and red velvet bows, the tree resembled a Norman Rockwell painting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></em></div><div class="WP9BodyTex" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="WP9BodyTex" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Okay kids, its way past your bedtime,” I announced standing up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“It will still be here in the morning.”</em></div><div class="WP9BodyTex" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="WP9BodyTex" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I left Lorne staring into the twinkling tree lights while I put Tiffy to bed. </em></div><div class="WP9BodyTex" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><em> </em></span></div><div class="WP9BodyTex" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> “<em>Mommy, when is Santa coming?” she asked, crawling under her covers. </em></div><div class="WP9BodyTex" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="WP9BodyTex" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> "</span>In eleven days,” I replied, tucking in her blankets.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I leaned down, tweaked her nose and gave her a kiss.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“He will be here before you know it.” </em></div><div class="WP9BodyTex" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="WP9BodyTex" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I knew the boys no longer believed but I hoped to hide it from her as long as possible.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When the boys brought up the subject trying to corner me, I simply said, “Santa doesn’t bring presents to children who don’t believe in him.” And for the time being, that worked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></em></div><div class="WP9BodyTex" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="WP9BodyTex" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Once the boys settled down, I kissed them goodnight and headed downstairs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Glancing over the banister, I noticed Lorne was still fixated on the tree.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></em></div><div class="WP9BodyTex" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></em></div><div class="WP9BodyTex" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> "</span>A penny for your thoughts,” I said, sitting next to him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></em><br />
<em><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></em> </div><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><em><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Lorne turned, then reached out and took my hand.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A strange look covered his face . . . </em></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><strong>Lesson Learned . . . my two cents</strong></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><strong> </strong><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">“Affliction is often that thing which prepares an ordinary person for some sort of an extraordinary destiny.” <br />
- C.S. Lewis</span></span></span>Nancy MacMillanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16322689935908642513noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6436750775660143393.post-75481202364780031062011-12-14T08:17:00.000-08:002011-12-16T06:30:16.348-08:00Our Soldiers are Returning / Write Your Heart OutThe <strong>holidays</strong> are upon us and the busy-ness is endless, so today I've done something different . . . <br />
<br />
<strong>Our soldiers</strong> have returned from <strong>Iraq</strong> this week, just in time for the holidays, and I decided to <strong>repost</strong> a blog from May . . . which shows <strong>what's in my heart</strong> and <strong>why I write</strong>. <br />
<br />
My<strong> heart </strong>is<strong> over-joyed</strong> for these <strong>families</strong> that have been <strong>reunited</strong>, yet in the dark recesses of my mind, I remember so well and worry. My <strong>prayers</strong> are that these men and women are <strong>counseled </strong>and <strong>debriefed </strong>before being expected to fit back into society, and are given a solid <strong>contact name</strong> to call, if needed. Someone who has been where they have been, someone they can<strong> trust</strong> with their <strong>feelings</strong>! Also, that their families and friends have <strong>compassion </strong>and <strong>patience</strong> as these warriors try to <strong>adjust</strong> back into family life.<br />
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This is their GREATEST DESIRE . . . please remember where they've been and what they've been through.<br />
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<em><strong>The trick is keeping your heart open.</strong> </em>Natalie Goldberg<br />
<br />
<strong>May 5, 2011</strong><br />
<br />
This blog began as a tool to move me into publishing. Accountability for my time and actions was my purpose. Most entries have been lighthearted and chatty, other than the first. But the time has come when I must share more. And I'm uncomfortable. So please bear with me.<br />
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<strong><em>Write your heart out. Never be ashamed of your subject and your passion for your subject. </em></strong>Joyce Carol Oates<br />
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War has gone on since the beginning of man's creation. And will continue until the end of time. This necessary evil brings death and pain not only to its victims, but also to the warriors and their loved ones covering our small planet. It's not the way we'd like it to be . . . it is the way it is.<br />
<br />
Brave men and women fight wars in hostile lands where life is valued differently. Armed with rifles, they're exposed to sights and sounds no human being should ever witness. And at times, they must engage in unthinkable acts to save their friends, which riddles them with shame and guilt. Or they survive an ambush and the others don't. <br />
<br />
Can you imagine the horror? <br />
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It's not a movie in the theater you pay to watch . . . it's real life! And it's happening this moment in remote parts of the world. How does a warrior return to a normal life with this running through their head?<br />
<br />
It's called Post Traumatic Stress Disorder . . . <em>a normal reaction to abnormal life threatening stress.</em> <br />
<br />
Those who know me know my story. They know what I wrote about, and why. And those who don't know me, other than through this blog, will one day share an experience . . . one that will be hard to forget.<br />
<br />
My book? It's a love story. And shows how I met the love of my life and we were married. He was a Vietnam vet. I didn't know he had post traumatic stress disorder. I didn't know what post traumatic stress disorder was. Nor did I know I would develop PTSD from living with my husband's illness. <br />
<br />
The ravages of war tainted our marriage eclipsing it into a nightmare. And by grace alone, my love gave me the strength and the courage to survive.<br />
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<strong>I Corinthians 13:4-7 </strong><em>Love suffers long and is kind . . . bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. </em><br />
<br />
<strong>Excerpt from my book proposal . . .</strong> <br />
<br />
<em><strong>Diary of a Vet's Wife</strong> shows the innocence of love unblemished with hope and promise, unaware of the imminent demons vowing destruction. And all too soon her impossible dream is shattered by nightmares her husband doesn't recall and hidden pain he refuses to share. Her love is unyielding, her journey is long. She retreats to a life of secrets in order to spare the children and her family from the truth, yet she has no place to turn.</em><br />
<br />
<em>The reader will slip into her world like a fly on the wall as she takes them places most have never been, while bonding with others who know the terrain that only love dare travel.</em><br />
<br />
So there you have it . . .<br />
<br />
<strong>Lesson learned . . . my two cents</strong><br />
<br />
Be open to your readers opinions . . . they're one of the reasons you write.<br />
<br />
Show compassion to our brave men and women who have served and suffered for this nation, and our safety. You never know what a person is going through by looking at them. Would you lay down your life for your country? Please do me a favor. When you see someone in uniform, or meet someone who has served in our military, go up to them, shake their hand and say, "Thank you." It would mean so much to them. I know from experience . . .Nancy MacMillanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16322689935908642513noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6436750775660143393.post-45951827516832306162011-12-03T16:13:00.000-08:002011-12-05T09:15:26.909-08:00Has PTSD Touched You? / Chapter 26 Excerpt . . .Once I was brave enough to tell my story, actually said the words aloud, I realized how <strong>many others</strong> had been <strong>touched </strong>by this disabling illness. I was shocked! Almost <strong>everyone</strong> knew someone, whether directly related, a close friend, a neighbor, someone from church, a friend of a friend . . . almost everyone!<br />
<br />
<strong><em>“Mental illness is so much more complicated than any pill that any mortal could invent ” </em>― </strong><a href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4370.Elizabeth_Wurtzel"><span style="color: #666600;"><strong>Elizabeth Wurtzel</strong></span></a><strong>, <i><a href="http://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/892616"><span style="color: #666600;">Prozac Nation</span></a></i></strong><br />
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I lived with this <strong>nightmare</strong> for 15 years. Then it had <strong>no name</strong> and there was <strong>no help</strong>. The longer you live with <strong>post-traumatic stress disorder</strong>, the deeper you become entrenched with no escape . . . no reasonable escape. You can't hide in a closet or pull the covers over your head. You <strong>learn to live with it</strong>, Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde, never knowing from one minute to the next, what's lurking around the corner.<br />
<br />
In <strong>Diary of a Vet's Wife, </strong>my memoir, the man I love <strong>battles his demons</strong> alone, in the only way he knows how, <strong>unwilling to admit</strong> he's in trouble and refusing to let me in. I'm not strong enough to fight him, I can only stand in the shifting shadows and watch . . . and be there for him when he needs me. <br />
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #400000; font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Love is an act of endless forgiveness, a tender look which becomes a habit<br />
- Peter Ustinov</span></i><br />
<br />
<strong>What is Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, or PTSD?</strong><br />
<br />
<strong></strong>It's natural to be afraid when you're in danger. It's natural to be upset when something bad happens to you or someone else you know. But if you feel afraid and upset weeks or months later, it's time to talk with your doctor . . . you might have post-traumatic stress disorder.<br />
<br />
<strong>PTSD</strong> is a real illness. You can get <strong>PTSD</strong> after living through through or seeing a dangerous event, such as war, a hurricane, or bad accident. <strong>PTSD</strong> makes you feel stressed and afraid after the danger is over. It affects your life and the people around you.<br />
<br />
<strong>PTSD </strong>can happen to anyone at any age. Children get <strong>PTSD</strong> too.<br />
<br />
You don't have to be physically hurt to get <strong>PTSD</strong>. You can get it after you see other people get hurt, such as a friend or family member.<br />
<br />
<strong>What causes PTSD?</strong><br />
<br />
Living through or seeing something that's unsettling and dangerous can cause <strong>PTSD</strong>. This can include:<br />
<ul><li>War or combat</li>
<li>Being a victim of or seeing violence</li>
<li>The death or serious illness of a loved one</li>
<li>Car accidents and plane crashes</li>
<li>Hurricanes, tornadoes, and fires</li>
<li>Violent crimes, like a robbery or shooting.</li>
<li>Plus many other things</li>
</ul>Related diseases and conditions:<br />
<ul><li><strong>Stress </strong>occurs when forces from the outside world impinge on the individual. Stress is a normal part of life. However, over-stress now points to being involved in various diseases and conditions.</li>
<li><strong>Depression </strong>is an illness that involves the body, mood and thoughts, and affects the way a person eats and sleeps, the way one feels about oneself, and the way one thinks about things</li>
<li><strong>Alcoholism </strong>is a disease that includes alcohol craving, and continued drinking despite alchol related problems, such as losing a job or getting into trouble with the law.</li>
<li><strong>Suicide </strong>is the process of intentionally ending one's own life. Approximately 1 million people worldwide commit suicide each year, and 10 million to 20 million attempt suicide annually.</li>
<li><strong>Dissociative Identity Disorder</strong>, formerly known as multiple personality disorder, is a mental illness in which a person has at least two distinct personalities. Symptoms and signs include lapses in memory, feeling unreal, blackouts in time, and hearing voices in their heads that are not their own.</li>
<li><strong>Drug Addiction</strong> is a chronic disease that causes drug-seeking behavior despite consequences to the user and those around them.</li>
<li><strong>Borderline Personality Disorder </strong>is a serious mental illness characterized by prevasive instability in moods, interpersonal relationships, self-image and behavior. This instability disrupts family and work life, long-term planning, and the individuals sense of self-identity.</li>
<li><strong>Insomnia</strong> is the difficulty in falling to sleep, waking frequently during the night, or waking too early in the morning.</li>
<li><strong>Sleepwalking</strong> is a condition in which an individual walks or does other activities while asleep. Conditions that have similar symptoms are night terrors, confusional arousals and nocturnal seizures.</li>
<li><strong>Nightmares</strong> are dreams that cause high anxiety or terror. They occur during rapid eye movement (RIM) sleep when related to post traumatic stress disorder.</li>
</ul><br />
<strong>CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX</strong><br />
<br />
<strong>Spring 1976 - Giving in too easily</strong><br />
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<em> The torrential winter rains with their raging rivers of mud had all but dried up, leaving a path of destruction in their wake. The newness of spring brought proof that life goes on. Our new house was finally under construction but far behind schedule.</em><br />
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<em> "Feel like riding out to see the house?" Lorne asked, standing in the kitchen, his hands deep in his pockets. "It's a gorgeous day. I think it would do us both good."</em><br />
<br />
<em> He had strolled in long after midnight and knew he was in the doghouse.</em><br />
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<em> "Sure . . . I guess," I said, staring out the window as I rinsed the breakfast dishes. "Give me a couple of minutes to change and situate the children."</em><br />
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<em>The Sunday morning traffic was light. The brittle breeze engulfed us on the bike, stinging my cheeks and numbing my fingers. I perched behind Lorne and clung to him. The warmth of his familiar body melted my anger and soothed my soul. For a while, I felt safe and secure. </em><br />
<br />
<em>The naked wood frame of the house looked lonely against the clear blue sky, like a barren tree in winter. Lorne got off the bike and turned to face me. Putting his hands on his knees, he leaned down to look squarely into my face, smiling warily.</em><br />
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<em>I always gave in too easily . . . I turned my head, but he took my hand and pulled me towards him and off the bike.</em><br />
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<em>"I got the message," Lorne admitted. "You're still mad about last night."</em><br />
<br />
<em> "I'm able to get off by myself, you know," I said, resisting his pull like a dog going to the vet.</em><br />
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<em> Lorne ignored my stubbornness and led me into the house. Stepping over a maze of wall braces protruding from the floor, we surveyed the layout. Lorne ducked under a crossbeam and headed over to check out the plumbing. I stroked the fresh new wood, trying to imagine living here. As I looked around, I could only hope our new home would be the answer to Lorne's problems. Only time would tell.</em><br />
<br />
<em> Construction was finally moving forward and it should be time to celebrate, but the joy and laughter were missing. I worried about Lorne. Just the other day, he told me he was having problems at work. And this was not the first time.</em><br />
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<em> Lorne was a brilliant man. He had the mental capacity to calculate complex mathematical formulas in his head at the snap of a finger, yet feelings of insecurity gnawed at his self-esteem like terminal cancer, leaving him suspicious and vulnerable. He complained the people at work were out to get him, purposely conspiring to make his life hell. He told me not to worry, he was dealing with it. But I did worry. Lorne had already changed jobs once since we were married, for similar reasons.</em><br />
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<em> Then there was a speeding ticket I only learned about. To make matters worse, he was driving his company car. Most of the time, Lorne kept problems to himself, and even though I begged, he chose not to involve me. Entangled in his silence, I searched for a reason. At the same time, I wrestled with my own feelings of lonliness and despair.</em><br />
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<strong>Lesson learned . . . my two cents</strong><br />
<br />
<i>"This is one of the miracles of love: It gives a power of seeing through its own enchantments and yet not being disenchanted."</i> <strong> - C.S. Lewis</strong>Nancy MacMillanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16322689935908642513noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6436750775660143393.post-2170165721584353142011-11-23T08:52:00.000-08:002011-11-26T12:06:29.816-08:00Africa's Beauty Being Strangled / One Person Making a DifferencePLEASE VIEW THE VIDEO BEFORE DELETING . . .<br />
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I'm doing something today I should have done <strong>A MONTH AGO</strong>, and I feel terrible it slipped through the cracks, but my schedule has been crazy-impossible . . . so I'll make it short. <br />
<br />
A dear writing friend from Santa Barbara, <strong>Lori Robinson</strong>, leads<strong> Safari's in Africa</strong> when she's not writing. Last year, she read a piece in class called "THE BAG LADIES," where she describes a current plight in Africa. It seems they have the same problem there, that we have in the United States, too many plastic bags. <br />
<br />
Her story showed that <strong>plastic bags</strong> are littering this majestic landscape by the thousands, hanging from trees, intertwined in bushes, covering the terrain like confetti. Worse yet, the <strong>MAGNIFICENT ANIMALS</strong> that inhabit this country are <strong>dying</strong> because they end up eating these bags and are <strong>choking to death</strong>!! <br />
<br />
<strong>Lori's passion</strong> for this country and its' animals have led her to do something about this travesty . . . proving <strong>ONE PERSON CAN MAKE A DIFFERENCE!</strong><br />
<br />
She came up the <strong>idea </strong>to exchange <strong>ONE CLOTH TOTE</strong> for every <strong>25 plastic bags returned</strong>. Last year, she collected these totes from friends and neighbors locally, and the program was a huge success. Some of these women in Africa walked <strong>10 miles</strong> with the plastic bags they gathered to <strong>collect a</strong> <strong>free</strong> <strong>tote.</strong> Lori shows this in <strong>the attached video</strong> . . .<br />
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I know this is a busy time of year with the holidays upon us, but I'm asking if you can gather any extra totes you may have laying around, and send them to the<strong> address below</strong> . . . <strong>EVEN ONE TOTE</strong> would make a difference. The problem: Lori needs these by <strong>EARLY DECEMBER</strong>, which is just around the corner. Think of it as HELPING THOSE IN NEED . . . those <strong>magnificent animals</strong> that live in this far away country, few of us will ever travel to and see face-to-face.<br />
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I graciously thank you in advance for sharing your time and money to do something EXTRA SPECIAL this year, by helping to protect these <strong>beautiful animals</strong> that share our planet . . . <br />
<br />
Needed by early December. They can be sent to: <br />
<br />
<strong>Where's Your Bag?</strong><br />
c/o SBCK<br />
714 Bond Avenue<br />
Santa Barbara, CA 93103<br />
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<strong>Below is the email and video I received from Lori the end of October . . . I'm sorry for the rush.</strong> <strong>(Lori is the blond speaking).</strong><br />
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<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><em>FYI, I am again collecting canvas totes (ones that you no longer want) for Africa. </em></span><br />
<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><em>I hope you will help by spreading the word, sending out this email to your network, donating totes and/ or money (for shipping), and commiting to using totes for your own shopping needs. </em></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em><br />
</em></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><em>A short video was made about the project in Africa. To view it please go to:</em></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eQVM2lDFNcw"><span style="color: #1f50a9; font-family: "Helvetica", "sans-serif";">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eQVM2lDFNcw</span></a></div><br />
<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><em>Thanks so much.</em></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><em>Lots of love,</em></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><em>Lori</em></span></div>Nancy MacMillanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16322689935908642513noreply@blogger.com2