Having been blessed to have visited and lived in several different countries, I thought that I would share with you all some of the things I have seen. Actually living amongst the people and being able to blend in allows me to not only see the world through their eyes but to experience it as well. When you’re a tourist you only get to really see the surface, people won’t treat you the same as if they think you’re “one of them”. So each Monday I will share with you a story or event that I was privileged to be made a part of along with explanations of things that you might not otherwise ever know. I hope you enjoy. If you have questions or would like to suggest a topic, then please feel free to ask or suggest in the comments section. If you have also been to some place exotic or just want to share your neck of the woods, then just grab the button and leave me a link to your post in the comments section so I can visit your world too. Thanks for stopping by.

I am from a small redneck town. Do you remember the movie Deliverance? While it wasn’t filmed in my town, it very well could have been. I remember in 1995, when the first traffic light was installed at the town square by the courthouse. It didn’t work. It was still just a four way stop. The traffic lights just hung there swaying in the breeze. They were like really big Christmas lights. At least that is what all of us kids called them. I didn’t live near the town. I lived way out in the boonies. My closest neighbor was about a mile and half away. The streets didn’t have names. If you needed directions, they would go something like this, ‘You remember the Johnson place. The one with blue barn and brown dog. Dumb ass dog humped everything in sight. Yea Yea that’s the place. Just turn right on the gravel just past it. Can’t miss it. If you reach the Smith’s, you know they have that fishing pond in the back yard. Yea, well then you’ve gone too far”.

Jeff Foxworthy summed up our family very well. I should look him up maybe we are related. We had 8 acres of land. Our house sat on one side and my uncle’s on the other side. On his front porch was a freezer, toilet (unused thankfully), a mounted deer head, and Christmas lights that were stayed up throughout the year regardless if it was December or July.

At this point you’re probably wondering why I am telling you about my life with Bubba. I just want to try to give you an understanding of how unusual it is for a person like me to get out and see the big city. 99% of the people where I am from never leave. Their children never leave. It’s like a bubble has surrounded the town and its inhabitants can’t break free, but I did.

The first place I visited was Bahrain. It was amazing. A tiny island, but filled with excitement. So many things were the same, but so different. The first night I was there my friends asked if I wanted KFC. I looked at them in shock. “You have KFC here?” After they stopped laughing at me, they said yes and McDonalds too.

Fast food is very different in the Middle East. You see most Arabs are lazy. I said it. It’s the truth. They don’t want to drive to the fast food place. In order for the fast food places to make money they have to deliver. Every fast food place. KFC, McDonalds, Hardee’s, Burger King. You name it they deliver. That was just the coolest thing in the world to me. It was definitely something that was not in the tourist guides.

This is not the KFC delivery guy, but all of the delivery guys drove these type motorcycles. Only the uniform was different.  Can you imagine if the Domino’s pizza guy was dressed in bow tie and vest and when he came to your door he said things like “please, thank you, and ma’am”? 

If any of you are from the south, you may remember a restuarant called Ponderosa. When I was little that was my absolute favorite place to eat. I very rarely got to eat there, but oh how I loved it. Whenever we went there, I would get the buffet and the only thing I would eat off the buffet was their fried chicken livers covered in Thousand Island dressing. Ponderosa went out of business when I was about 11. When I saw this Ponderosa I was ecstatic. We had to go there. They did not serve chicken livers. I was devistated and we never went back.

 Another thing they don’t tell the tourists is how to buy anything. Especially in the souks. Souks are kinda like farmers markets. They are open air stalls, but they don’t just sell fruits and veggies. They sell anything and everything you might find in the mall. There are clothing stalls, shoe stalls, appliance stalls, movie stalls, pots and pans stalls. You name it and someone there will be selling it. If you’re a foreigner, you will pay 3x the amount that locals pay. I was very lucky. I looked like a local, and as long as I didn’t get into a long discussion I sounded like a local. While I am not fluent, I can speak conversational Arabic. At first I tried to hide the fact I was a “foreigner”, but after going a few times I realized that while being a “foreigner” for others would make them pay double, it would get me half off. The locals were so amazed that not only did I look Arab, but that I could speak Arabic. Needless to say after I realized this I may or may not have swindled a few stall owners, and I may or may not have gone shopping with my American friends and have them point out to me what they wanted. Then I would go buy it and get it for them half off. This may or may not have happened on a weekly basis for the three years I lived there.

I lived in a small village called Jid Ali. I would walk to the local cold store. Walk to the masjid. Every night I would go up on the roof and look out over the water. The bridge in the picture above was barely visible from my flat, but if I squinted I could see it. Every night I would stand there watching the cars go by. Listening to the sounds of TV’s blaring from the apartments below. Kids who would be laughing one minute then fighting the next. A silent observer watching the world from above.

I worked in Manama, the capital city. In recent days it’s been quite sobering for me to see the picture above posted in the newspapers and on the televisions. I drove past it every day for three years on my way to work. On the news they talk about protests breaking out, but these protests have been going on for years. Every Friday night during the three years I was there, a protest occurred. Being the manager, I worked every Friday night. Even though the protests were occurring down the street from us, the smell of tear gas would seep into the mall. At times it would be so strong our eyes would burn and start to tear up.

My best friend also worked for the same company as me but in a different shop. On the nights it was very bad the girls from my shop and me would wait on her and her girls to close up. Then the six of us would walk to our cars together. Making sure everyone got there safely. One by one we would pull out of the parking lot. Each phoning the other when we reached home. Only to repeat the same thing the following week.

At first I was terrified, but after awhile it became routine. No different than going to the grocery store.

Since this was the first post in my “Across the Pond” series, I thought I would just give a synopsis of my time in Bahrain. In the future I will share individual events. As well as stories from my visits to Qatar, Dubai, UK, and Pakistan. I hope you all will join me as I take you for a walk across the pond.

I also wrote a brief article about what it was like living through the protests you can read it HERE





After the events of the last few days and thanks to the most amazing, wonderfully, awesome person that I met through blogging Deux Ex Machina who has been helping me behind the scenes, I thought that I would change the focus of my blog a bit. While it is still all about my journey, I have decided to be more open and more forthcoming. To not be afraid to say the things that I want to say. To also be more honest about my life. I also want this to be a journal of sorts that one day I will be able to show my children. A way for them to get to know me and maybe a way for them to gain an understanding of why I did the things I did, but mostly just so they know I never forgot them and I always loved them.

 I live with bipolar. I will never be “better”. While some days will be “better” than others, I will never be “cured”. This is my journey through the darkness into the light. I hope you enjoy the ride.

So this will be my first post with all of its brutal honesty. If you are easily offended, then I would suggest you stop reading here:

I have lived my whole life in fear. Afraid of what people would think about me. Afraid of being yelled at. Afraid of losing that connection. Afraid of being alone but also afraid of being with people. I made decisions about my life based on fear. Fear of rejection. Fear of acceptance. Illogical irrational fear.

So from this day forward, I will not be afraid. I will no longer allow the oppressors of my past to control my future. I will no longer give others the reigns of my life. I will decide where my path takes me. I will stumble. I will fall, but I will get back up and I will go on.

So to my father who abused me in every way imagineable

to my mother who abandoned me

to all of those people who wondered but didn’t ask

to all of those who knew but did nothing

to all of those who did things to me that should never be done to another human being

I say to all of you

F.U.C.K Y.O.U. !!!!!

Your hold over me is broken.



I don’t think I will ever get use to seeing people walk their goats/sheep. I remember the first time I saw it. I was sitting at my computer doing some work when all of a sudden this sound of bells and hooves go running by my window. I looked up and asked my husband, “What was that?”

“Oh someone is walking their goat,” he said without even looking up from his computer. Like it was the most normal thing in the world.

I was like “Huh? Walking their goat? You mean like you walk a dog? On a leash?”

“Yes”, my husband said. 

“Why on earth do people here walk their goats?” I asked because having lived on a farm and having raised goats when I was younger, we just let our goats out in the pasture. They walked themselves. No leash required. So to say I was confused and totally dumbfounded at this point was an understatement.

“They are going to slaughter it for meat so they always take it for a stroll through the neighborhood so that it feels happy and enjoys its last few days before they slaughter it, ” he said.

Not only do they walk the goat, but they put coloring on it and bells around its feet to make it pretty. After I got over the initial shock of seeing goats on leashes being taken for a walk, I find it to be the most extradordinary thing. There are so many campaigns today about animal cruelty and free range this or that, and here in a country where the people don’t have electric on a regular basis, they take their goats for a walk before slaughtering them because it’s the goat’s right.

I am not making fun of this. I find it extradordinary, but I wish this compassion could also be shown to the people around us. I didn’t really mean for this post to be a let’s join hands and save the world speech. There’s just so much we can learn from the most unlikeliest of places. Who knew so much could be found just from walking a goat?

Have you walked your goat today?

That is an accurate description of my brain 24/7. I constantly have 1001 thoughts going around in my mind 24 hrs a day 7 days a week 365 days a year. Even when I am asleep, my mind is going racing along. It’s a day to day struggle to slow my thoughts and try to filter through the non important random things that are just stuck in there and I can’t seem to get rid of. Some days I can filter better than others. Some days I just go with the flow and which ever thought seems to be at the surface work on that for the moment until the next one takes it place.

In some ways this makes me super productive at work. I have 5 or 6 projects that I am currently working on so whichever jumps at me I just work a bit on that one. However some days I wish I could turn it on. The constant barrage of thoughts bombarding my brain. It is tiring. I am hoping by writing here and trying to focus more that I can slow down the thoughts. Writing brings the thoughts out of my mind and into the real world. Writing is my way of clearing out the clutter.

The great thing about blogging is that I can write something and hit publish but have it scheduled for a specific time. I don’t have to wait to write. Once I finish I am done. That moment has gone. Whatever was causing me to be distracted I have removed. I don’t have to worry about it. When it’s suppose to appear it will. It’s a great tool. It allows me to continously clear my mind and then return to my work so I can focus clearly on what I am suppose to be doing instead of the 1001 non sensical things floating through my brain.

Not only that but when those scheduled posts appear I get a chance to read what was in my mind at a particular moment. I can see what I was thinking, how I was handling, what I should have done differently. It is a way to reflect and use that as a way of growing.

I am quite certain though to those on the outside looking in I seem totally unorganized and my posts make no sense, but to me they are crystal clear. This blog is also a way for me to be able to learn how others see me. I don’t always interpret things in the same manner as other people. If I post something and people reply, it’s a way for me to understand how the world sees me and interprets what I am saying. It’s often times easier to understand when it’s a total stranger giving you feedback. Especially one who has nothing to gain and whatever they are saying is just to help you on your journey. When it’s a loved one giving you  criticism “feedback” often times there is so much emotional baggage connected that we often miss what is truly being said.

This miscommunication has often led to many arguments with those closest to me. Not because we actually disagree with each other but simply because our perception of what was happening is so different it caused each of us to believe the other was arguing. When in reality neither of us were, but that misperception then caused a real argument. Afterwards, when we could discuss things, we would then realize that we were both saying the exact same thing just in very different ways. Hopefully this blog will help me to learn how to be around people. Like I said the other day, baby steps. Applying what I learn here to the real world. One post at a time.

This is for Mama Kat’s weekly writing prompt. She gave 4-5 different prompts, and it was a really difficult decision but I ended up going with sharing a recipe.

So this is my must have recipe. You can literally make dozens of things from this basic recipe from pasta/pizza sauce to an entree that serves your whole family. I will do my best to explain it. It is extremely simple. If I can make it, then anyone can.

I have broken it down into two steps: must have and optional. Depending on what you’re making and what your family likes to eat will depend on how you blend the two.

2 tomatoes

1 onion

salt/pepper to taste

Garlic 2 cloves minced

Optional seasonings: (while the below ingredients are “must haves” for me if I am out of something then I don’t necessarily make a special trip to the store to get it, but if you don’t like them or can’t find them then you can add whatever seasonings you have on hand)

Bay leaves 2-3

Coriander small bunch finely chopped

Tumeric 1/2 tsp

Ginger 1/2 tsp minced

Curry Powder 1/2 tsp

Green chilies 3-4 (less if you don’t like spicy more if you do)

Ground beef/turkey/chicken

3-4 chicken breasts boneless skinless cut up into chunks

Beef or lamb tips (you could also take your choice of beef cut and cut it into chunks)

Mushrooms 4-5 diced

Green Pepper 1 medium sized diced

Carrots 2 whole carrots diced

Eggplant 1 diced

Broccoli 1 cup

Peas 1 cup

Potatoes 2-3 diced

Regardless of what you’re making, these inital steps must be done to form the basis of your sauce/dish.

Now that you have your tomato/onion mixture prepared, add in your meats (chopped chicken breasts or beef/lamb tips). Cook meat for approx 1-2 mins and then add veggies. Make sure you fully cover the meat and veggies with the mixture so that all of the flavor gets infused in them.

Once the meat starts to brown ( or turn white if you’re using chicken breasts), then add about 2-3 cups of water. Enough so that all of the veggies and meats are fully submerged. Add coriander leaves after this cooks about 15 mins.

Turn the heat down, cover and simmer until meat and veggies are fully cooked.

Normally I cook most of the water out so that I am left with a thick sauce, but if you prefer it more thin, then just add more water or don’t cook it as long. It takes about an hour if you cook it on low heat, 30 mins if you cook it over medium. It is really up to you. If I have the time, I cook it slower so the meat is more tender and gets more flavorful. If I am in a hurry, then I cook it on medium heat so that it gets done sooner. If you follow these directions, you will end up with something that resembles the picture posted above.

However, if you want a homemade pizza/pasta sauce, then prepare the onion/tomato mixture as stated above and add in your spices. After adding spices, cook approx. 1 min and then add in ground beef/chicken/turkey. Cook until meat is browned.

Pour sauce over pasta of your choice or spread on top of pizza crust and top with cheese.

Now I am not a sauce person. If you are a sauce person, then you will probably need to add in more tomatoes. Either canned storebought or paste or whatever you prefer.

The last and final option is for all you vegetarians/vegans out there. If you don’t like meat, then just skip the step for adding meat and go straight to the veggies. All other steps/ingredients remain the same. When I lived in the USA, I couldn’t get meat that often so the majority of the time I made this just with veggies. It was still great and very filling.

Hope you all enjoy!!

If they made a soap opera of my life, it would be called As the Pendulum Swings. I often feel like my emotions and moods are attached to some invisible pendulum. Swinging back and forth from one extreme to the other. One day I am in such emotional pain that I want nothing more than to cut my heart from my chest in the hopes of finding just a little bit of relief. Then the next day I will be so elated and ecstatic that I am like a little puppy all excited to see you after you have been gone all day and I immediately start humping your leg. There is no balance. Very rarely am I ever in the middle. When I am it is only due to extreme effort on my part, but then I am so tired from having fought my way there that I loosen my grip on the pendulum and it immediately begins to swing.

I so don’t want to offend anyone or push them away. I do this. I know I do this. This is also part of the reason I don’t let people get close because I get clingy. Overbearing. I am opinionated. I often say whatever thought comes into my mind. Regardless if it should be said or not. While my intentions are always well meaning, my actions often seem cold and vindictive. I am also so starved of affection. So wanting that whenever anyone shows me the least bit of attention, kindness, interest, I jump on them like a rabid animal. Often it is overwhelming and they run away. Then I am left wondering what did I do? Why did they leave?

I know that I will have to be super aware of my emotions. Constantly on guard. If I am not, then the pendulum will never stop swinging. When I started this blog, I was at the point where either I blogged or I totally lost it. I needed to purge myself of that darkness that was within me. So I started this blog. I wrote and wrote and wrote. Some of the posts I wrote have published. Others are just sitting as a draft waiting for the day when it will be their time to be told.

One thing that has been a major help to me is when I first began writing all of these posts that were filled with raw emotion, I would set them to automatically publish at different intervals. Being able to read that raw emotion with a clear mind. Being able to see exactly what I was feeling at that moment because when I am in that darkness I have no idea what is happening. It is like being caught in a tornado. Getting tossed here and there and when it is all over you’re not really sure what just happened or how you survived. You just pick yourself up from the spot where the tornado spit you out and go on from there.

I can feel the pendulum slowing down. It is almost still. Maybe one day it will finally stop. 

Who teaches you to be a daughter or son? Who teaches you to be a mother or father, sister or brother? No one teaches you how to be any of these things. You either learn by being one or by watching one, but what if you never were any of them or you never saw any of them. At least not a good example anyways. Then how do you learn? How do you just “be”?

It seems like a very silly thing to ask, but for me it is a question that I am still searching for the answer. I was the biological child of my parents, but I was no one’s daughter. I had a biological mother and father, but no mom or dad. My “father” was/is an alcoholic and drug addict. He was abusive to both my mother and myself. I learned very early on that the slightest thing could set either of them off. I learned what to say, how to say it, and when to say nothing at all. I learned how to read people. I learned that by saying or doing what my “parents” wanted then more often than not I didn’t get yelled at or hit.

Without realizing it, I became programmed. It became second nature to me. Instantly reading someone and saying exactly what they wanted to hear. Even if they didn’t know themselves that is what they wanted to hear, but I could tell what the best reply would be. What would bring praise and not anger. I became so good at this that I didn’t even know I was doing it. I was in survival mode. I have lived the majority of my life in this survival mode.

Even today, when there is really no reason to, I still do this. My husband can see  though it. He can read me so well and he knows when I am just saying what I think he wants to hear. He gets so angry and frustrated with me because he doesn’t care if I don’t like something. He doesn’t mind if I ask him to bring me something, but he hates when I reply with a “lie”. To him by doing this I am lying and being fake. He just wants me to be me, but how can I be something that I don’t even know what it is?

It is not something I do intentionally with malice in order to gain something from others. Majority of the time I am doing the total opposite of what I truly want or like but it is something that will bring joy or betterment to the other person. That is why my husband gets so frustrated with me. He isn’t like the people I was with before him. He can’t understand why I can’t just tell him the “truth”, but how can you tell someone the “truth” when you don’t even know what the truth is? I have changed and grown so much since I married him. He has given me the strength and stability that my life was so lacking before. He has given me the chance to thrive. A chance I thought I would never have. I so wish that I could just “forget” my past and just “BE”, but I can’t.

My past has forever altered me and I have to make due the best I can with the person I am today. I have to work at making this person that I have become into the best that it can be. I don’t know what person I would have been if I had received help the first time I was hospitalized. If just one person had realized that I wasn’t better, that I was just saying what I thought they wanted to hear. Even if the first time no one noticed, then maybe the second or third time. If just one person had realized I wasn’t taking my meds. I wasn’t sleeping. I wasn’t “better”. My life would be so different today and the lives of all of those around me would be so different today, but no one noticed.

I have to accept that I cannot change the past. It is what it is, and I have to live with it. I have to move forward from where I am now. I am so blessed to have a loving caring husband. It is so much more than I ever thought I would have. I can’t dwell on what if’s or should’va could’va would’va’s. I have to move forward from this point. From this moment. I have to let go of that little girl who never had a chance to grow up. Who never got the chance to become the person she was suppose to be. I have been grieving for her for a very long time, but now it’s time that I got on with my life because that is what she would have wanted me to do.

I have to live not only for me but for her. So for the next two minutes I will mourn her. I will honor her memory, and then I will bury her. This post will stand as her grave, and whenever I want to remember her, I can visit this and read these words. This will be her memorial. I will carry her memory with me forever because she is me, and by living, she will also live.