The Secret Angel

To my secret angel
To my secret angel

Angels are everywhere

We need look up to find one somewhere

Sometimes we look in vain

Other times we look with pain

And then comes one angel

from a secret angle

He comes with music

So accoustic

it heals

it helps

Yet it is as sacred

’cause he was a secret

One not from above

One from  the alcove

Where least expected

There most received

And so to our secret angels

From those sacred angles

You are most revered

Erasing negative thoughts

Marie Abanga:

Granny if I may call you so, I am happy to come your way. I guess 35 years will be deserving of a child or grandchild? which ever, I think I love your style.

So, here I am, a former caregiver to a bipolar diagnosed brother who left us at 33. It’s me the one with mental challenges – am those damn moods which swing or spin as if the own me. The one who has hit rock bottom over and again, lost babies and all – fighting for her sanity and escape from ever getting a medical prescription.

And so granny, I am fighting negative thoughts to the extent that I get up from sleep with a heavy face. You know the boxer of a victor who nevertheless got them dem good blows. I fight so hard and calm myself down as much as possible.

Just this morning, after one of those nights, I wanted to start off with the gym. I went to a nearby branch of my club – they had said they start operations on Sept 01 and they are still giving excuses for whatever. Sure I was mad, and I had to spend at least 45 minutes commuting back home, I took a wrong bus, got out next stop and didn’t know whether to go to my regular branch or go home, calm, work and go there in the evening. I survived and am at home with some magic music.
So granny, it is possible to erase or fight them negative thoughts, but it ain’t ever gonna be an easy fight.
Thanks for sharing

Originally posted on Jill's Experiences with Mental Health , Stigma, Alzheimer's Disease, Grief & Grieving & serenade2seniors:

While trying to cope with serious illness in my family, I discovered that it was often my own negative thoughts that hurt me the most. After all, there was no reason to imprison myself. If I fell, I got up and subsequently, was being stronger than someone who has never done so. But, I had trouble with the fact that nothing would ever return to the way it had been before schizophrenia and then Alzheimer’s disease affected members of my family. The usual question, ‘why my family?’  did not help one iota. I had to accept the fact that each ending was really a new beginning to the next phase of my life.  So, what have I learned? I have learned to expect less after my life failed to give me what I wanted. I had to expect less and enjoy more. 


There were times when I was angry and I knew that I had…

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Clinging on to the least hurt

And with more power, comes more havoc
And with more power, comes more havoc

This post has been on my mind for over a month now. I had some ‘low days’ while on vacation in Nice and finally got to identify this tendency of clinging on to the least hurt. I have even since then got worse days but I had already devised a plan.

Well, let’s start from the beginning as I share that particular incident which triggered my nerves and this post. In an earlier post about that very vacation in Nice, I hinted how I even dared to go into the swimming pool to take swimming lessons. It was a HUGE Feat for me and I was simply put – so expectant.

I needed to be reassured all the time, and I expected my Darling Darling who doubled as my swimming instructor to give me lessons whenever I wanted. I don’t know how to qualify my emotions, actions or reactions then, but some will wrongly call that ‘childish’.

It came to be that I got into the pool and waited for over 20 minutes while he played with his nephew. I was already depressed by then thanks also to my ‘feeling of not-belonging with the vacation clan’. I even wanted to leave because I really thought I didn’t deserve the treat after all.

The short of the matter is, because of that 20 minutes delay (which he struggled to explain was because he had to finish the game he had started since they had a deal), I lost my nerves and isolated.  I clung so badly to that hurt and the remaining days were simply a ‘turmoil’.

Something must be done

We simply can't - they are not friends at all
We simply can’t – they are not friends at all

This is why we have Psychiatrists, psychotherapists, therapists,  life coaches, counselors, support groups, hotlines and much more. I simply don’t believe in medications helping out here. Maybe they are helpful in some extreme cases say of very poor mental health, to stabilize the individual. But, I equally know all ‘good’ treatments for mental illness involve some sort of therapy

Clinging on to the least hurt, sparks countless other negative thoughts
Clinging on to the least hurt, sparks countless other negative thoughts

Taming the Demon?

Sometimes hard huh?
Sometimes hard huh?

I found this pic quote captivating. Many a times, it all has to do with our HISTORY. Our environment. Our Childhood and much more. Anger and negativity may have been much of what we grew up in and around. We may even have fared or seemed to be coping just fine, but a volcano was equally preparing itself in our psyche.

Therefore, we have some HUGE efforts to make. Even the least one, may be HUGE for some – but each little one, matters a lot. I equally came across a self-help book on:

Anger Management 101: Taming the Beast Within

,written by a psychotherapist by the name Ugo Uche. I am yet to read it, but I hope it reflects its title. I however follow Ugo on g+, and have exchanged some musings with him. Why not give it a try maybe?

Dear gentle readers and followers, mindful or mindless of my own mental challenges (which I am fortunate enough to be taming so far), I am seriously working towards becoming a personal and emotional well being coach of reference and preference. I know you wish me luck and I do wish you well too.


I Weep

Marie Abanga:

If we could each weep for only one person by our side…! Well, I can only weep because mine is a wish and we know the saying that if wishes were horses, beggars would… Thank you Silent for this soulful poem.

Originally posted on Silent Dugood:

I weep

Each time you give up

I weep

Each time you hate

I weep

Each time you postpone dreams

I weep

Each time you commit existential suicide

I weep

Each time you say, “I can’t”

I weep

Each time you feel alone

I weep…

Each tear drop

Becomes an ocean

Of my love

Drawing each island

Closer to one another

To unify our partnership

In this extreme

Existence of


Silent Dugood

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Can one person make a difference? Why I tell my story

Marie Abanga:

Jill went up the hill and didn’t tumble down without sounding the big trumpet. And even when she rolled down, there were so many who had been alerted by her noise, and were all around to support her. Thank you Jill for sharing your story and advocating so.

Originally posted on Jill's Experiences with Mental Health , Stigma, Alzheimer's Disease, Grief & Grieving & serenade2seniors:

make a difference 15I have been asked on many occasions why I tell my story. People ask whether one person can really make a difference. They ask why I share all this in a blog on the internet, why I have written essays, short stories as well as two books on the subject of mental illness in my family. They ask why I don’t give any medical information but, as I am neither a doctor nor a psychiatrist, the only information I can share is that from a mother’s point of view; a mother who lost her son, the way I lost our Doron to paranoid schizophrenia. I woke up to find schizophrenia lurking in corners, I ate dinner with schizophrenia and the last thought that flitted through my mind at night, was how to cure schizophrenia. My son, Doron liked it even less. It took over his whole being. The paranoia was the worst part…

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Magic Mino’s Music

Magic Mino Music
Magic Mino Music

Two posts in one day, means am high. There is magic in the air and some music just added to my thrill. I can’t help but share same with you. The title at the end is : “Touch My Soul”

I am hardly without my headset
I am hardly without my headset

Here is some background info:

  1. A guy started liking my posts on this blog a while ago. Hs name sounds indian to me and I have some dear indian friends too. I quickly went to check him out. He plays wonderful music as I just discovered. He is called
Mihran Kalaydjian Piano Melodies CHECK HIM OR HIS MUSIC OUT Touch My Soul 
Here is his self protrait I suppose
Here is his self protrait I suppose

I love music, in several genres. Several posts attest to that. I listen to music when I work, play, pray (when I used to), cook or what have you?

To crown my thrill this weekend, I received an email from my fondest icon, Danielle Steel.  Gosh, what is going to happen to me this weekend? Gladly, I have music to steady me thru.

I believe so
I believe so

Book Review: His Bright Light by Danielle Steel

Gosh, I love this smile, bright light indeed!
Gosh, I love this smile, bright light indeed!


My sweet friend John has this reading list on his blog: I heard him talk sadly fondly about this book and equally read his review. I knew I would loose the few hours of sleep I was getting, if I didn’t get this book. Only its cover brings you to tears. I had to read it quick and do my own review. Especially after suffering similar tragedy, the solace even in reading of others’ grief, is simply put warming.

I was priviledged to have my passion for novels indulged by my father. Books especially novels, have rarely been worth sacrificing the family’s scare income on. I however read Danielle Steel a few times, and it was all idolation. She writes basically fiction, so what was this one all about her son? You sure will want to check it out to find out more for yourselves.

The Book in her own words

This is the story of an extraordinary boy

'Mr Incredible' as he called himself...
‘Mr Incredible’ as he called himself…

with a brilliant mind, a heart of gold, and a tortured soul. It is the story of an illness, a fight to live, and a race against death. – See more at:

I find it hard to copy and paste any further. I however dare some musings

My Take on this tragedy

Another one again? or before? (if you think it was ere in 1997 when MH was ‘worse’ (in terms of several things like diagnosis, treatment, stigma …) than today regardless of your fame/wealth – which she did). That is in America and she had money. It was easy for some to think he was a spoiled brat, acting up, out, within and what else?

I can’t help but compare to some extent, two women. Danielle and my mother. I will even add Madeleine Sharples, who is unfortunately in that category of mums who nearly lost it all. They all loved their boys so bad, were almost the only ones involved save for surrounding support (two of them atleast had that of their husbands), but they felt it hardest because those boys were very much their best friends and dare I say lover?

Look at his smile? My brother had similar, and so did Paul – Madeleine’s boy with such charming eyes. They were all so intelligent and passionate about music although each in his own way.

Passion, and what more do you see?
Passion, and what more do you see?

Danielle strikes me because she thought that even from the age of 2, something was wrong with Nicky (as he was fondly called). She pressed, harassed and pleaded for some diagnosis or even understanding. It wasn’t to be that easy.

The boy wasted away, dazed away and flew away in his brain (his numerous journal eentriesare worth the gold into understanding some of what goes on up there). He did all he could to ‘tame his demons’. He dyed his hair all rainbow colours, tattooed and undid them, redid bigger and daring one,  pierced wherever he could, tried strong drinks, drugs and even acid, before attempting suicide three ghastly times.

The Climax or anti-climax?
The Climax or anti-climax?

The end I guess is obvious. I yet encourage the brave of heart and sorrow to get a copy. Even if only to support the foundation in his honour, please do.

My Rating

Danielle herself says why she wrote that book, and has since then produced revised editions. I equally note how she felt better doing it (I feel same too after completing my brother’s). To read Danielle say she was prepared to try Voodoo to help her son if she knew how; confirms the unconditional love drive.

How on earth can I give this book less than a five star? She is not only emotional, but very rational in her writing and literary flow. She comes across to me as a very humble, modest and grateful woman. I simply wish her and her very big family well. She, an only child who brought forth 9 in return.

Dear gentle readers and followers, it may be sad that lots of such stories come up now and then, of lives lost so young or so tragically. Indeed, Nicky will be missed. He once confessed to his mum that he ‘dreaded turning 20′ – he left at barely 7 months to that birthday!

About the author

Nothing to add
Nothing to add

What can I write about Danielle Steel other than that she is the world’s current best selling author? She sure can be found everywhere: The road maps are on her website –


To add spice to my modest review, I received an email yes from Danielle herself this morning … whoop whoop whoop ain’t I someone? I never thought she would reply to a comment I left on her blog. A few appetizing lines go thus:

I’m especially glad to hear how touched you were by Nick’s book.  Nick was a wonderful, extraordinary boy with a huge heart and many gifts, and it meant a great deal to me to share him with you. I was so sorry to hear of the losses and challenges you’ve experienced in your life and that you continue to experiece.  I admire the courage and compassion you show.  It means a lot to me to know the book brought insight and was a help to you.  I hope you’re also seeking out counseling and medical treatment in Brussels.  My sympathies go out to you as a mother and woman, and I wish you all the best for the future.

Danielle Steel

Thank You, Danielle, thank you all. I am beaming for the whole weekend no matter the weather or environment. I wish us all well-so well!!!

When doctors don’t listen

Marie Abanga:

When doctors don’t listen, it simply means they are only after your dollars period. A word to the wise is enough so thank you Youthofa Nation.

Originally posted on Youth Of A Nation:Bent not Broke:

images (1)

One of the most frustrating things about a visit to a physician these days is the lack of opportunity to ask questions. Doctors are busy individuals, and they tend to speak a language that is unfamiliar to many of us. They often assume that we know what they’re talking about as they hand us that little slip of paper, squeeze our shoulder, and head down the hall to their next patient. Unfortunately, our confusion about a diagnosis or our misinterpretation of what a doctor says often leads to less effective treatment. I have always said that a hospital can kill you as sure as cure you. How well you and your doctor communicate with each other is one of the most important parts of getting good health care. Being prepared can help make the most of your visit. Make sure you understand your diagnosis and any treatments. You must be your…

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What to do, What to do, What to do?!

Marie Abanga:

I reblog this post because l feel Pam’s anger. I reblog because l share her hope. I reblog once more because l have seen how that shitty system drugs people up, just short of the label addict.

Originally posted on WAGblog: Dum Spiro Spero:

WARNING: THIS IS A VERY ANGRY POST. It contains angry swearing language and is “not nice”…If you only want to “like” me then click LIKE without reading, as usual. (You know who you are.) If you want to read what I wrote, then go ahead, but be forewarned: you won’t like what you read.


I am in the middle of a move to Vermont, the state of my dreams, the state where I was well for six weeks and where I was happy and in a happy state. Was I in a dream state? Am I in a dream state to think that I can make it there, move there in one piece? And make a new life?


Du must dein leben andernYou must change your life. That’s the last line of the most important poem I ever read in my life, “The Archaic Torso…

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