You count your blessings where you find them

People reacted to yesterday’s post with a whole lot of kind words, warmed my heart.


I wasn’t trolling for compliments, just talking about who and what I am and how I feel. Whenever I talk about my less than Beaver Cleaver childhood folks are kind. And they say nice things about me. And I know all y’all know I ain’t got no halo or wings, and ‘saint’ is just a part of my last name.

My childhood, including my infancy was dominated by physical abuse. As I got older the emotional abuse was piled on, right into adulthood.


I survived.  I never actually had any broken bones. I never wound up in a hospital. Maybe she knew just how far she could go before people got suspicious. Then again, in those days, beating you kid wasn’t such a big deal, especially when there were no broken bones.

The emotional abuse? Who tells their 12 year old kid to take the entire bottle of Bufferin and kill themself? Eh…48 years of that kind of shit. Okay – not nice.


Hey, I survived! In pretty good shape. Three years of psychotherapy helped some. And then, maybe I was just born with the skills and strength I needed.

So many children don’t survive. Can’t find that strength. So I count my blessings where I find them.

I’m basically a happy person. I laugh every day. I get overwhelmed with love and joy, almost every day. I’m easy.

I get angry and pissed off – every day. Because the world sucks. Because people suck. Because nothing is fair! And I cry just about every day because that’s just how the world is going these days.

I love.  I laugh. I feel joy.  Who has it better than me?

Peace to your hearts – 
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