"Initiation into the spirit manhood"_Dandelion Surrender_New Beginnings_Alcohol counseling
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"Initiation into the spirit manhood"
When you are around 13 to 16 years, as a boy, some traditional cultures dress one like a magnet. That was exactly the situation I was in at that age. Some the cultures most guys at the age took part in, my family was not interested in such cultures.But what consumes ones thought, actions and speeches must have mattered to the person, if not, why do it disturb ones sleep?.It was so in my youths days to the extent that I usually walks miles to the village square, go to friends that were inclined to and took joy in discussing exploits like that I had feelings were being censored because of me in...
Dandelion Surrender
Once when I was a child, I spent an entire afternoon in the kitchen doing nothing, but feeling warm. I watched people come and go out the back door. Every time they would open it, a cool gust of wind would blow through, and I’d feel this relief. This subterranean relief. I think that might have been the first time in my entire life I’d felt that sensation. That something was wrong and then something was right. I didn’t even know the word for it. I’d open my mouth to try and name it, and the door would www.onedoor.ccclose again. Back to the heat. Back to the oppression. Back to not knowing why I was the way...
New Beginnings
Marie thought her life had changed for the better. Oliver was going to be her new start. Sitting on the enormous mustard-yellow sofa, she tells her children’s father she is leaving. Larry didn’t love her. He loved his drugs. Marie wanted to escape this life. It was too much she wanted better for her children. Bang, the gun went off and Larry went down. “What the hell?” Marie yelled as she ran to him; he may not have loved her, but he was the kids’ dad. The cops arrived and took Larry, in handcuffs, to the hospital. He had pulled the Colt pistol and accidentally dropped it, shooting himself in ...
Alcohol counseling
Anika slouched down further into the chair, focusing her eyes on the bookcase on the far end of the room near the door. The bookcase was so stereotypical - with the DSM-III, a few other medical textbooks, bookends that spelled the owners’ initials, a snow globe and a paperweight- that she almost laughed out loud. Unsurprisingly, the person who occupied this space day in and day out had no imagination. That person sat in front of her now, her body rolls taut against her black and white printed v-neck dress, her eyes looking expectantly at Anika from behind her horn-rimmed eyeglasses. Even from ...