Speaking About 11:11

I haven't mentioned 11:11 in a while, so it is time for me to talk about this lovely

NUMBER   11:11 came to me without me being even aware of it. I was only aware of the 11:11 on my clock radio and so I gave it a place in my life-- using it first as a part of my primary email address, and later used it in my art work from time to time. I was then contacted by someone who was a big fan of all connections to  the number "Bing"- who I don't know and who often sends me information related to the number.

I don't have a canned explanation of what the number means to me, but I am please to interject my relationship with 11:11 in social/art settings and to explain my fascination. Sometimes, when I meet someone new I tell the I am into 11:11 as if it were a key, or to be crass, like sharing my Zodiac sign.

My friends thought I was crazy when I brought up 11:11.  It didn't matter. the number, the power, the angel spirit and I had found one another. Frankly, I had no idea what it meant when it all began. But as I read about it and came to understand it was a type of signal from my guardian angel to become more aware of my thoughts, surroundings, and actions. I was thrilled to catch the symbol on a clock. Now, I always respond with a "Hi, Annie" as I think of it as my angel just checking in with me.

Yesterday, I had an emotional day as I realized I was finally moving from one period of my life to another. My link to 11:11 we also appearing. Three different men in my life were being heard. One, (AKA Mr. Wrong) was making an appearance after a two month absence, another had been causing me daily distress, (my PT)who  I was finally saying goodbye to, and the third was a co-worker, a man I had worked with eight years ago, but remembered me well. We bumped into each other and told me how much he enjoyed my art classes. He was an aide, directed to keep the students in line in a school for emotionally disturbed children. He was ex-army and you didn't want to mess with him.

I NEARLY forgot I taught in that environment once. It was heaven. The children were given a lot of counseling and despite frequent displays of emotional distress, they came to art with a goal of participation.

I have taught in so many environments.  People who believe in 11:11 also believe we are the nurses, teachers, police, counselors working on earth to make a better place for everyone else.

Links:

https://www.divineopenings.com/what-significance-1111-meaning-why-do-i-see-1111

http://www.ask-angels.com/spiritual-guidance/1111-what-does-it-mean/
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#11:11  # I see 11:11  #what does 11:11 mean  #11:11 is more than a wish  #angels  #seeing hope

Don't Give UP

A while ago I wrote about my temporary therapist and how I really didn't like the man.

Now, I met with him again and my feelings are even stronger. He makes me want to kick him out of my room at times. (and this is a good thing)  I told him the story of the male therapist I once went to see who told me to fill out paperwork on the first visit and then called me in-- only to tell me that he could not see me, because I was so fat I obviously didn't have any will power and he couldn't work with someone like that! I took it in my gut and gathered my things to leave. I didn't go to see another therapist for about three years. Those were three years wasted in terms of  my head getting better. I did go on to see a woman therapist after that who was wonderful.


Now, I just hope to go back to seeing my main therapist and not some therapist knock-off.


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#selecting a therapist   #it is your therapy 

Failure

A person who suffers from depression often has one or two key words which would sum it all up. For me, the word is failure. I have lived much of my live feeling like a failure and no amount of accomplishment out-weighs the sense of failure I feel. I can even put a date on it. My algebra class I had in eighth grade to prepare us for high school math- circa 1970. I struggled with algebra, as poor understanding and genuine fear from my teacher were linked to my failure.


Miss H. scared me with her flabby arms, who wore the same polyester dress in different prints, black, sensible shoes straight out of the movie classics and her tunnel-like nostrils I starred at whenever I was close to her. She had a smoker's voice and cough I would now recognize. She had my older brother in school, who was 14 years older, so she had some mileage on her. I suffered greatly that year, knowing I was an inch from failure and It still haunts me. 
While other girls were experiencing hormonal issues, I experienced my first long period of depression, which lead to a collapse in my self esteem, thinking that maybe I wasn't the student, who would become a success or "college-material" as they use to call it. If I wasn't going to make it in algebra, I couldn't do college, so my life was over.




Looking back at all this, my depression grew like a weed. It filled all the cracks in my life. People didn't understand things like this back then. Psychiatry was a new discipline and my parents, for one, would have never allowed me to see a psychiatrist, so I sought out other adults in my life and would "visit" them.  I would talk about myself and my life until I left crying my eyes out and the adult wouldn't know what to say, so they would excuse themselves and I would feel relieved that they shared their time and embarrassed that I had just "dumped" all of my emotional toxins in their lap. I would pull myself together until the next time.


So, rather than blame the root of my distress on something big- failure, shattered family life, hatred, or something real, I nominate
ALEGBRA.