Authentically Yours, Danielle


When the Thinker becomes a Feeler…

As an INFP, this is such a familiar place.

An Upturned Soul

INFP problems 2



There are times when we get so used to being ourselves in a certain way that we can be taken aback when we’re not ourselves in that certain way. It can dumbfound us, find us dumb, unable to explain to ourselves or others cohesively what is going on with us.

We’re us but not us, not our usual selves yet still our usual selves. Maybe for a moment or for a while longer than that, perhaps even for an ever which we then get used to as being who we are on a regular basis… and then the whole rigmarole may happen again and we change without actually changing who we are, it’s just something, a je ne sais quoi which is different in the way that we are.

That’s me right now.

My thinking switched itself off the other day, a fuse blew due to overuse, and…

View original post 527 more words


Deer Power Animal Symbol Of Gentleness Unconditional Love And Kindness – Shamanic Journey

There is a powerful lesson to be learned here by us. Though we are born with an inborn ability to be unconditionally loving, often we are born to parents whose life experiences have taught them to become hard, and to lose that ability to experience and give unconditional love. Watching the deer and her babies is a reminder to honour and respect the child-like innocence within your self and go about your life with gentleness and an open heart. You should also stand strong on your path, in your beliefs, and not allow yourself to get distracted by outside influences.

Deer has entered your life to help you walk the path of love with full consciousness and awareness, to know that love sometimes requires caring and protection, not only in how we love others, but also in how we love ourselves.”

Deer at Cedar Park Cemetery 5/7/2017

Loving Your Body 😍

Best body image is fed by ‘stinking thinking’

So until I was in my late 20’s I wore the same sized clothes I did in 6th grade. I was 106 lbs then. I hated it! My body was under constant ridicule from men, especially as I was constantly reminded that men liked women “with meat on their bones”. I had chicken legs, no ass and a B cup. I am sure my fake until you make which is what attracted my beaus. 

Fast forward 15 years and 50lbs later. I still nitpick with my body. I don’t like the rolls in back, my arms look huge and these damn saddle bags! But, I am slowly learning that my self-esteem is one of the things sacrificed during my now defunct marriage. Fixing my perspective has required a ton of emotional and spiritual work. I realize that I have blockages in my sacral and root chakras. I have discovered I am s demisexual and mainly attracted to people I have deep connection with, that I can give. 

Much of my “inner ‘G’ work is getting the ruminating thoughts out of my head. Those small criticism and manipulations of my exes, the rejection of my crushes and my own ‘stinking thinking ‘. It imperative that I do mental exercises, meditate, and dp that inner work in order to see the Goddess that really am.

Self-love is a deficiency not fixed with a supplement pill. But, it really the foundation for any love you have, for your ability to manifest or edit your life to the dream life or even to  LIVE insteady of simply exist. The Universe housed you in that specific body for a reason. Work on on that ‘inner-G‘ so that you enjoy yourself and subsequently your life. 

Shared from WordPress

Melting into divine desire – 

But I don’t want comfort. I want God, I want poetry, I want real danger, I want freedom, I want goodness, I want sin. Aldous Huxley

Somewhere along the line, I learned the idea that desire was a bad thing. As a child I was told I was being selfish and greedy to express my desire for things. “You’ll get what you’re given. Like it or lump it” was the general philosophy.

Like Oliver Twist asking for some extra gruel, some authorative voice boomed at my requests “More? Who dares to ask for more?”

I do. I dare. Having played the cards of meekness, detachment and acceptance for many years – and although all these qualities have their place – I realise that this desire is what fuels me. Desire, passion, yearning have been instrumental in my evolution. They stretch me beyond my safe zone.

The fear that was instilled in me is that desire and passion makes us reckless, makes us take risks. Yes, it does. And that’s exactly its power.

I am not what happened to me. I am what I choose to become. Carl Jung

More at:

Forgiving Yourself For Being Hooked And Tricked By The Narcissist | Narcissism Recovery and Relationships Blog (repost)

How to Forgive Yourself

Learning to forgive yourself can be extremely challenging at first.

You may have been stuck in blaming yourself for so long that you don’t know any different. This is normal and what I have observed from members in the Narcissistic Abuse Recovery Program is that when they apply this technique I am about to show you (combined with the Quanta Freedom Healing therapy in NARP) they are able to shift mountains of self-blame and begin moving forward into forgiveness almost instantly. (Even the ones that seemed the most stuck initially).

So let’s get started.


Everyday, I fight the idea that I knew better. I can’t reconcile in my head why I chose the path that I chose. Even with those who come behind me and tell me that my story is empowering or that my story being told helps them from being silent. I just can’t understand why I had to choose him! Why did I choose to be subservient, to be eclipsed, to be less than. My biggest and hardest obstacle to self love is the self-limiting beliefs that I knew better, that I was better, and that I should have chose better. If this were true I would have avoided over a decade a systematic emotional abuse. If somehow I can come to understand, to give myself the compassion that I give others – I will understand why I chose and allowed all that I did. Only then it seems I will be able to forgive myself and completely love myself. Why cannot I let myself off the hook?

I’m NOT  ok! – today

When you are chronically ill, you experience a cycle of grief. You grieve dreams, opportunities, normalcy. The grief curve becomes a circular trajectory of ok and damn right sick as a dog. When you don’t have an umbrella diagnosis,  your periodic illness crisis are even more trivialized by doctors, family and friends. There is just this person who ends up in the hospital random times of the year for various reasons – none seemingly related. Just one big glob of fuck up!

It’s easy to get caught in the darkness and not have an f’n clue how to get off this ride.

I waver going back and forth between giving up and not. Intellectually I know I can’t. But,  sometimes like now… When the doctors are clueless and I’ve done all I can do, I don’t what’s left. I can’t give up, my babies need me. But at the same time I feel like those bedridden people on ‘My 600lbs Life’, dependent on them at the worst times for food and water and help to the bathroom. I am clear I don’t always make the best choices. But I have been making better health choices. I drink more water, I eat better, I excercise.  Truth is, I’ve been sick over 20 years. My good days are probably your bad days. And in my heart I wait for each little bit of ‘act right’ from my life to make it through the next mini-crisis. It’s a scary and lonely place to be because there has been no answer, yet. The hysterectomy was supposed to end all the pain. But it didn’t end the little-big crisis that end me up in the hospital a couple times a year. I know it’s all related but the docs have yet to figure an umbrella diagnosis. But truth is they may never in my lifetime. So am I to give up? Honestly, I can’t but some days are so bad that if I didn’t wake up, I couldn’t be mad at God either. Until then, everything you see me do realize that is my way of not giving up. So it may not be as vivid a goal as the size 4 or 6 you will be in soon, but it’s the small victories for me. The days when I can do stuff like work on my entrepreneurial endeavours and movie night with the kids. But my victories seem fewer and far between. I’ve been fighting for over 20 years so I am just a lot battle weary. I have to soldier on.

The sad part is none of this is attractive. None of this says ‘I wanna be on that team’. So I may be alone the rest of my life. This ain’t the life the average person signs up for. No matter how dope I am when I am well, no matter how hard I ride when I am not sick. So many days when you ask “How are you?” Know that I must put my brave mask on and say ok – but I’m not OK.  This is a lonely road with lots of valleys and especially when you are all you got. I’ll be ok. Not today, but eventually.

Looking over the cliff

This morning I read a well-intentioned fictional account of a ‘what if’ account of a suicide and the ripple effects. I will post both the narrative and my response. 

The narrative:

SUICIDE: YOU KILLED MORE THAN YOURSELF. Wanna kill yourself? Imagine this. You come home from school one day. You’ve had yet another horrible day. You’re just ready to give up. So you go to your room, close the door, and take out that suicide note you’ve written and rewritten over and over and over You take out those razor blades, and cut for the very last time. You grab that bottle of pills and take them all. Laying down, holding the letter to your chest, you close your eyes for the very last time. A few hours later, your little brother knocks on your door to come tell you dinners ready. You don’t answer, so he walks in. All he sees is you laying on your bed, so he thinks you’re asleep. He tells your mom this. Your mom goes to your room to wake you up. She notices something is odd. She grabs the paper in your hand and reads it. Sobbing, she tries to wake you up. She’s screaming your name. Your brother, so confused, runs to go tell Dad that “Mommy is crying and sissy won’t wake up.” Your dad runs to your room. He looks at your mom, crying, holding the letter to her chest, sitting next to your lifeless body. It hits him, what’s going on, and he screams. He screams and throws something at the wall. And then, falling to his knees, he starts to cry. Your mom crawls over to him, and they sit there, holding each other, crying. The next day at school, there’s an announcement. The principal tells everyone about your suicide. It takes a few seconds for it to sink in, and once it does, everyone goes silent. Everyone blames themselves. Your teachers think they were too hard on you. Those mean popular girls, they think of all the things they’ve said to you. That boy that used to tease you and call you names, he can’t help but hate himself for never telling you how beautiful you really are. Your ex boyfriend, the one that you told everything to, that broke up with you.. He can’t handle it. He breaks down and starts crying, and runs out of the school. Your friends? They’re sobbing too, wondering how they could never see that anything was wrong, wishing they could have helped you before it was too late. And your best friend? She’s in shock. She can’t believe it. She knew what you were going through, but she never thought it would get that bad… Bad enough for you to end it. She can’t cry, she can’t feel anything. She stands up, walks out of the classroom, and just sinks to the floor. Shaking, screaming, but no tears coming out. It’s a few days later, at your funeral. The whole town came. Everyone knew you, that girl with the bright smile and bubbly personality. The one that was always there for them, the shoulder to cry on. Lots of people talk about all the good memories they had with you, there were a lot. Everyone’s crying, your little brother still doesn’t know you killed yourself, he’s too young. Your parents just said you died. It hurts him, a lot. You were his big sister, you were supposed to always be there for him. Your best friend, she stays strong through the entire service, but as soon as they start lowering your casket into the ground, she just loses it. She cries and cries and doesn’t stop for days. It’s two years later. Your teachers all quit their job. Those mean girls have eating disorders now. That boy that used to tease you cuts himself. Your ex boyfriend doesn’t know how to love anymore and just sleeps around with girls. Your friends all go into depression. Your best friend? She tried to kill herself. She didn’t succeed like you did, but she tried…your brother? He finally found out the truth about your death. He self harms, he cries at night, he does exactly what you did for years leading up to your suicide. Your parents? Their marriage fell apart. Your dad became a workaholic to distract himself from your death. Your mom got diagnosed with depression and just lays in bed all day. People care. You may not think so, but they do. Your choices don’t just affect you. They affect everyone. Don’t end your life, you have so much to live for. Things can’t get better if you give up. I’m here for absolutely anyone that needs to talk, no matter who you are. Even if we’ve NEVER talked before, I’m here for you. Copy and paste this as your status to show people there are people out there that care.let’s see who actually read all of it.

For anyone that feels this way, we are trying to demonstrate that someone’s always listening.


My response

People who are suicidal are overcome by emotional pain and cannot rationalize something like this. The feeling of empathy for those who love them is often replaced by the feeling of being burdensome. You see, pain whether physical or emotional takes over your rational thought. Your mind then switches gears from the basic survival instinct to just wanting to eliminate the source of the pain. This source you have internalized by now and the two identities  (yourself and the pain) have blurred into one. In your mind that boyfriend will be your last love, your best friend is tired of your sob stories, your parents marriage is on the verge of divorce and the financial and daily burden of one less child might help, the mean girls have just been objectified to be a cruel society. You are probably dealing with clinical depression and serotonin imbalance (what came first the chicken or the egg) and maybe anxiety. This type of piece guilts suicidal people. Adding guilt doesn’t help. I hope you understand; but you quite possibly may never unless you yourself looked over that cliff. 


Danielle Moore 

Suicide Survivor

If you or someone you know is feeling suicidal or just needs someone to talk to, please call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255. To learn more about the warning signs of suicide, head here.

Show up

When all in life seems overwhelming

2 years later, I am rebuilding my life. Those people mentioned in post left a legacy of loss. But, I work hard each day to create a new legacy. Even if working hard only produces that I show up to life that day. There have been days I missed those I loved despite the hurt they caused. There have been days I wish our paths never crossed. There have definitely been days where I just wanted to QUIT – figuratively and literally. No money, barely having the essentials, not able to help anyone else better yet myself or my kids. But, in my own personal learning trajectory I have learned to just show up. 

Things are a little more stable these days. I started my position as a Marketing Associate for Legal Shield (thank you angel, Henry Barefield). I started Aya’s Lyrics. My kids still are teens (+ a 20 year old). All those things give me hope.  But there are still days when I want to quit, cannot see my future for my circumstances and truly wonder if this life? Is this all? For those days, I just show up. Sometimes disheveled with tears flowing. But I am here. Even if I don’t remember why, even when the output I get doesn’t match the heart and effort I put in. Some days all I can do is show up. And I happen to think those days are my bravest.

Create a free website or blog at

Up ↑