Tag: learning

Reflection

The Cowboy – The Epiphany

Reba Nietert

Copyright 2024 – Rebecca Nietert

Age 24 – Once upon a time, amidst the vastness of life’s adventures, I found myself entranced by a singular moment. It was as if time itself had paused, allowing me to truly see him for the first time. With his piercing blue eyes and chiseled jawline, he ignited a spark within me that I never knew existed. This Southern cowboy, tall and lanky, had effortlessly stolen my heart from the very first words he spoke.

There was a magnetic attraction that bound us together, his radiant smile reflecting the mutual connection we shared. In his presence, I discovered a newfound sense of patience and an understanding of unconditional love. He embraced my anger, holding it gently, and replaced it with a perpetual sense of joy. Each day felt like a vibrant symphony, bursting with laughter, celebrations, and unforgettable friendships. It was a whirlwind of excitement, as if life itself had pressed the accelerator and we were speeding through each precious moment.

But as life often does, things changed in the blink of an eye. In a mere three years, the world we had built became fractured. He never imagined that I would walk away, and yet, he made choices that shattered our once-solid foundation. He brought his ex-wife back into our lives and reconnected with an old flame. Perhaps fear had clouded his judgment, but he had always been clear that marriage and children were not part of his plans. And at 25 years old, I felt as if my journey had not yet begun. The path we once walked together veered off course.

He held my respect, my adoration, and the love we once shared, and yet he grew complacent. He never truly appreciated it; he took it all for granted. Perhaps he believed that my love for him was so boundless, I would never walk away. But that fateful night, as I stepped into our kitchen where we used to share cherished meals, I saw his ex-wife and ex-girlfriend sitting there. Something inside of me shattered, deep and irreparable.

In the depths of my soul, I had already learned the painful lesson that one should never live solely for another. I understood that if I stayed, he would manipulate me with his words and pleas, capitalizing on the love I still held. He would convince me to give him one more chance, then another, and another beyond that. I knew that time would slip away from me, and I couldn’t bear the thought of being trapped in his web any longer.

And so, with a single tear cascading down my cheek, I made the tough decision to leave. It was a pain unlike any I had experienced before, for it threatened to break me completely. This loss, however, carried a different weight. It held a different understanding, a revelation of my worth and the knowledge that I deserved better.

I clutched my purse tightly and cast my eyes across the expanse of our once-beautiful apartment. I slowly made my way to the bathroom and then my closet, packing only a small bag. In truth, I didn’t want any reminders of what we had shared.

Then I walked back into the kitchen. With a single glimpse into those piercing azure eyes, I found myself entranced, caught in a moment frozen in time. But as I dared to speak, his response carried a contemptuous undertone, leaving me wounded and shattered. It was in that instant that I realized I no longer desired anything from him, forever.

As I walked away that day, I left behind the remnants of a life we once shared. All those possessions we had collected over the course of three years—furniture, dishes, the tangible pieces of our union—held no value for me anymore. They only served as painful reminders of a love lost. And in that definitive moment, I knew I would never return to the dance of life as I knew it. The mere thought of it shattered my spirit.

No longer would I be an object to be paraded around, a symbol of validation for men. It was time for me to reclaim my life, on my own terms, free from the fetters that had bound me. This choice marked the beginning of a profound transformation, a life no longer defined by the expectations of others.

In the wake of that shattered love, a newfound strength stirred within me. The fragments of my heart, though broken, were infused with resilience and determination to forge a different path. For I sought solace in the knowledge that my worth extended far beyond the confines of the roles I had once played, the trophies I had been perceived as.

And so, I vowed to live a life of authenticity, guided solely by my own desires and aspirations. This choice was not one of selfishness, but rather an act of self-love, an acknowledgment of my inherent worth. With this newfound clarity, my horizons expanded, and my former identity crumbled away, making room for a rebirth that held the promise of liberation.

Therefore, hear the echoes of my shattered heart, as they reverberate with resilience and newfound purpose. Aware of the pain and loss that accompanies the end of one chapter, I embolden myself to step into a future where my own happiness takes precedence.

For it is in our darkest moments of heartache and despair that we find the strength to redefine ourselves, to rewrite the narratives that have held us captive. And as I embark on this journey of self-discovery, I extend an invitation to all who have endured similar heartbreaks, to join me in embracing the beauty that emerges from the ruins.

Reflection

Blind Faith – A Dance With the Devil

Reba Nietert

Copyright 2024 – Rebecca Nietert

Age 20 – He promised to share his secrets, to lead me down a path where hunger would no longer consume me. I was a naive girl, tainted by the hardships of life, longing for a taste of success. Little did I know, this journey would transform me into a mere doll, stripped of my identity.

My matted, dirty blonde hair became meticulously styled, my awkward posture gracefully molded through his guidance. It was more than just dance lessons; he taught me to decipher the unspoken language of micro expressions, a skill I never knew existed. I believed it was the key to unlocking a higher income, a way to fulfill my most basic needs. However, unbeknownst to me, his true intentions were far more sinister.

He had concealed his nefarious plans beneath a veil of mentorship. He yearned for a lavish recording studio, and I, in my desperation to satiate my hunger, had unwittingly become a pawn in his game. We struck a deal, but I had unknowingly made a pact with the devil himself.

I placed unwavering faith in him, trusting him in ways I had never connected with another soul. Little did I realize that my hard-earned money, earned through a life of sorrow, was being spent on the very women I called friends within the industry. Deception lurked within the shadows, secrets intertwined with manipulation, and in the end, it was I who fell prey to his treachery.

The crushing weight of betrayal weighed heavily upon me, so much so that I felt compelled to swallow pills, to succumb to an abyss of despair. It was in that moment, standing on the precipice of oblivion, that I finally recognized the truth: it was over.

The next morning, as the sunlight streamed through my window, I was met with an overwhelming sense of disbelief. How did I let myself become so entangled in a toxic web of dependency? It was a wake-up call, a harsh reminder that my life shouldn’t revolve around someone else.

In the beginning, I truly believed that this person held the key to my survival. Their mentorship seemed essential, but it had morphed into an unhealthy codependency. I had been deceived, hurt, and left so broken that I found myself on the verge of ending it all. It was only in that moment, standing up and feeling the warmth of the sun on my face for the first time in what felt like an eternity, that I realized I had a choice.

A sense of fear and uncertainty washed over me as I contemplated whether I would ever be able to achieve the level of success his mentorship promised. Yet, with each passing day, fragments of my soul began to mend, and my humanity slowly returned. The betrayal I felt was profound, but I had to acknowledge that I had played a role in my own downfall. I had willingly placed myself in harm’s way, and the consequences were mine alone to bear.

It was a bitter pill to swallow, knowing that every decision had led me to that moment on the bathroom floor. But with this newfound clarity, came a surge of courage. I refused to let this setback define me any longer. I vowed to reclaim my life, to make better choices, and to never lose sight of my own worth again.

This journey of healing and self-discovery would not be easy, but I was willing to embrace the challenges ahead. I refused to be held captive by my past mistakes or the actions of others. From that day forward, I would be the author of my own story, a story of resilience, growth, and the unwavering pursuit of my dreams.

So to anyone who finds themselves in a similar predicament, remember this: there is strength within you that you never thought possible. No matter the hardships you face or the betrayals you endure, you have the power to rise above it all. Embrace your courage, acknowledge your mistakes, and reclaim your life. It’s time to write a new chapter, one filled with self-love, empowerment, and the unwavering belief that you are capable of anything.

Reflection

Fun! Journey Down Memory Lane

Reba Nietert

Copyright 2024 – Rebecca Nietert

Age 6 – Let me take you on a little journey down memory lane, back to the good old days of being a kid and growing up in a budget-conscious household. Now, we weren’t just your run-of-the-mill kind of poor. Oh, no. We were the “bills don’t always get paid” kind of poor. But hey, it shaped us into some pretty resourceful little food wizards!

You see, we didn’t have the luxury of eating fancy meals night after night. Nope, we were all about stretching every penny and getting creative in the kitchen. Leftovers were our best friends. In fact, our meals were like a culinary adventure, never knowing what interesting concoction we’d come up with next. Who needs jelly sandwiches when you can have a cool aid and sugar extravaganza, right?

Now, here’s where things get interesting. The government swooped in with their powdered milk, cheese, rice, and good ol’ peanut butter. Those were the routine staples that graced our humble kitchen. And you know what? We made those ingredients sing! We turned them into masterpieces that would make even the most renowned chefs green with envy.

But you know what really brings a smile to my face when I think back to those days? Waking up each morning and engaging in the ultimate race to the floor vent. Oh yes, you read that right. We would snuggle up under blankets, strategically placed over the vent, and dress ourselves in those cozy warm layers. Why, you ask? Well, because dear old Mom had to turn off the heat at night to save every penny she could. So until our house warmed up, we had our little heating methods to keep us toasty.

And you know what? Despite the hardships and the chilly mornings, I look back on those days with a sense of pride. We may have been short on cash, but we were rich in resilience and creativity. So, the next time you think back on your childhood, remember that even the pinch of poverty can add a dash of character to your life story.

Ah, those were the days.

Reflection

Formidable Woman – Natural Warrior

Reba Nietert

Copyright 2024 – Rebecca Nietert

Age 60 – Let me take you on a journey into the remarkable life of my mother, a woman who defied all odds and inspired us with her unwavering strength.

Born into a world of turbulence, my mother faced adversity from the very beginning. Abandoned by her first husband, she found herself single and shouldering the responsibility of raising four children. To make matters worse, her dating life was fraught with disappointment, as she encountered selfish men who couldn’t comprehend her value.

But my mother’s childhood was no walk in the park either. She was shuffled around, given to her grandmother because she felt unwanted among her own family. Yet, despite the challenges that seemed relentless, my mother pressed on.

Working in a factory dominated by men, she earned merely a fraction of what her male counterparts did. Yet, tirelessly she toiled, striving to make ends meet for her children. Often taking on two jobs, she taught us the meaning of independence at an early age. Together, we learned the importance of sharing household duties, pitching in with cooking and cleaning.

In those moments, I couldn’t help but marvel at the strength exuding from my mother. She seemed invincible to me, not just a mom, but also a friend. Despite the mere twenty-year age gap between us, our bond grew stronger with each passing year.

Yes, my mother made mistakes along the way. The pain etched into her journey sometimes unleashed waves of anger and confusion. But amidst it all, I never ceased to admire her unwavering determination. No one dared to criticize her children – she was the epitome of a protective “momma bear.”

As time waltzed by and years turned into memories, our relationship blossomed further. Our hearts intertwined, forging an unbreakable connection. My mother’s resilience and love knew no bounds.

To me, she wasn’t just a survivor – she was a warrior. She triumphed over the trials that life hurled at her, refusing to surrender. Through her actions, she taught us the power of perseverance, instilling in us the belief that we too could conquer any obstacle life threw our way.

Reflection

Spaghetti Diaries – Stretching the Food Bill

Reba Nietert

Copyright 2024 – Rebecca Nietert

Once upon a time about the age of 8, in the land of tight wallets and creative kitchen endeavors, we found ourselves turning spaghetti into a magical dish that lasted an entire week. Those spaghetti strands saw us through thick and thin, from Monday’s dinner to Saturday’s leftovers. It was a wild and wiggly affair, but hey, we believed in the power of pasta!

And oh boy, did we get inventive with our protein sources too. Picture this: adorable little bunnies hopping around our backyard, blissfully unaware of their delicious destiny. Yes, you guessed it right. We “hopped” into action and turned those bunnies into a tasty feast. It was a “hare-raising” experience, to say the least.

It wasn’t just our meals that got resourceful, oh no. We had some serious beauty hacks going on too. Laundry soap doubling as shampoo? Check. Fabric softener moonlighting as conditioner? Oh, you betcha! We even embraced a clean and hygienic lifestyle by swapping out cleaning supplies for our personal grooming needs. Who needs fancy potions and lotions when you’ve got the versatile magic of cleaning products?

And let me tell you, the outcome of all those frugal choices was nothing short of legendary. My skin, my friend, is a testament to those thrifty times. It’s tougher than a superhero’s cape, more rugged than a cowboy’s boots. Dare I say, my skin laughs in the face of harsh elements. Ain’t no wind, ain’t no rain, ain’t no wrinkles that can bring it down!

So here’s to the days of penny-pinching and resourcefulness. They shaped us, they challenged us, and they made us appreciate the value of every dime. But fear not, dear reader, for the era of scrimping and substituting has long passed. We’ve come a long way since those days, armed with the knowledge that life doesn’t always have to be a budget-strapped adventure.

But every now and then, when life gets a little too comfortable, we fondly look back at those spaghetti feasts and bunny banquets. Because they remind us that even in the most challenging times, laughter and a pinch of creativity can turn the blandest of days into an epic adventure. May your wallets be a little fuller now, but may your hearts always be filled with the memories of the days when you had to embrace the quirkiest solutions life threw your way. Cheers to rugged skin and tales of thrifty triumphs! 🩷

Inspiration

Cleaning Chronicles: A Musical and Comical Journey

Reba Nietert

Copyright 2024 – Rebecca Nietert

Ah, the good ol’ days of childhood, where cleaning was a bizarre source of joy and laughter.

1. The Musical Interlude:

Picture this: a small, modest house filled with the delightful tunes of Patsy Cline, Tammy Waynett, and the legendary Cher. As we embarked on our Saturday cleaning rituals, these legendary artists became the soundtrack of our choreography. The lyrics blending with the hum of vacuum cleaners and the swish of brooms created a symphony of cleanliness.

2. Choreography, Siblings, and Shenanigans:

In our little 900 square foot kingdom, each sibling had their designated cleaning task. My eldest sister owned the kitchen, my younger sister took on vacuuming and dusting, and I, with all my youthful enthusiasm, was entrusted with the formidable job of tackling the bathrooms. We were a well-oiled cleaning machine, meeting in the middle of the house to exchange stories, share laughs, and most importantly, belt out some unforgettable tunes.

3. Memoirs of Bathroom Adventures:

Cleaning bathrooms is no small feat, especially when you’re armed with rubber gloves and cleaning supplies. From scrubbing toilets with the determination of an Olympic athlete to battling against soap scum with fierce determination, my bathroom-cleaning escapades led to some unforgettable experiences. But through it all, the laughter and singing never faded.

4. Improvised Dance Moves and Questionable Lyrics:

Who needs professional dancers when you have a trio of siblings armed with mops and brooms? Our cleaning sessions turned into impromptu dance rehearsals, complete with spins, twirls, and occasionally, some questionable interpretative moves that could rival any contemporary dance performance. And if the lyrics didn’t quite match the original song, we simply made up our own version, adding hilarious twists to the melodies.

5. Laughter as the Ultimate Cleaning Product:

As we scrubbed, dusted, and danced our way through the house, laughter became the magical ingredient that transformed cleaning from a mundane chore into an adventure. Stifled giggles turned into infectious laughter, allowing us to cherish those moments of camaraderie, even when faced with the most stubborn stains or the treacherous shower grime.

In the grand scheme of things, cleaning may seem like a trivial task, but when infused with music, laughter, and a sprinkle of sibling mischief, it became a cherished part of our childhood memories. These moments taught us the value of finding joy in the simplest of tasks and the power of shared laughter amidst the chaos.

Reflection

Epic Betrayal – Lust & Violence

Reba Nietert

Copyright 2024 – Rebecca Nietert

Age 19 – It was through Chris, the guy I was dating at the time, that I met Dave. We became friends, or so I thought. One evening, we all found ourselves at my sister’s party, having a good time. But little did I know that this night would be etched into my memory like a nightmare.

As the night wore on, it became apparent that we needed more beer. The apartments we all lived in were conveniently situated within the same complex, so I suggested Dave and I go on a quick beer run to his place. Little did I know what horrors awaited me in those few short moments.

Dave’s large frame, towering at 6 foot 5 inches and weighing 320 pounds, struck an imposing figure. But I trusted him, naive to the darkness that hid within. We climbed the steps to his apartment, and as he unlocked the door, a wicked smile danced across his face. A chilling premonition should have gripped me, a warning to escape, but I remained oblivious.

As I stepped inside, Dave followed me, but instead of joining me in the room, he turned the key in the lock. Panic began to bubble within me, and I asked him what he was doing. But silence hung heavy in the air, suffocating my words. Dave, with purposeful strides, approached me, his face contorted with a twisted sense of entitlement.

In a voice laced with menace, he declared that he knew my true intentions. He claimed I had orchestrated this visit to his apartment because I desired him. No matter how vehemently I protested, my pleas fell on deaf ears. His hands forcefully grabbed me, and the next 30 minutes dissolved into a blur of physical dominance and my desperate attempts at self-defense.

I fought back, but his sheer strength overpowered me at every turn. In my agonizing vulnerability, I pleaded for him to stop, to reconsider, but he tore through my resistance, violating my boundaries in ways I can barely bring myself to recount. Once it was over, I emerged from that apartment broken, battered, and consumed by shame.

With blood staining my body, I fled back to the solitude of my sanctuary. I washed away the physical evidence, but the emotional scars ran deeper than the crimson streams that flowed down the drain. Despair engulfed me as I crawled into bed, my pain hidden away from the world. The weight of my silence became my penance, locked within the prison of my own mind.

For years, I carried this secret burden, never finding the courage to share my story. But now, in the telling, I hope to break the shackles of silence. No one should endure such terror alone. If my words reach even one person, giving them the strength to speak out, then perhaps some healing can begin.

Reflection

Crash! Shattered World

Reba Nietert

Copyright 2024 – Rebecca Nietert

I was 22. I awoke abruptly, my heart pounding, the taste of fear on my tongue. Confusion flooded my mind as I struggled to comprehend my surroundings. Where was I? What had happened? Panic set in as I surveyed the wreckage around me.

The cab of the truck I had been driving was mangled, an unrecognizable mess of twisted metal. Both the front and back were crushed, leaving me trapped within its confines. With each passing second, my terror intensified, knowing that escape seemed impossible.

I frantically attempted to open the door, my hands shaking with adrenaline. But it refused to budge, as though it was mocking my desperate attempts for freedom. I felt a warm wetness on my back and immediately knew that blood was seeping down, painting a macabre picture of the danger I was in.

My gaze shifted to the shattered back window, a small glimmer of hope in the midst of my terror. Summoning every ounce of strength left within me, I willed my body to maneuver through that narrow opening, the fear and pain pushing me onwards.

As I emerged onto the cold, unforgiving ground, the full extent of the wreckage became apparent. It was clear that someone had recklessly crashed into me from behind, propelling my truck into the brick and mortar store ahead. My mind raced, trying to comprehend the force that had caused this devastation.

The realization struck me like a bolt of lightning. In that moment, I became acutely aware of the life growing within me. I was pregnant. But the impact had taken that precious gift from me, leaving behind a void that seemed to echo with sorrow.

Dread filled my veins as I surveyed the deserted scene. The person responsible for this horror had vanished. I was left alone, injured and terrified, facing an uncertain fate. Time was against me, fading away with each passing moment.

A sudden rush of pain coursed through my body, jolting me back to the cruel reality of my situation. The blood continued its descent, a chilling reminder of the loss and danger that surrounded me. Morning had arrived quietly, indifferent to the nightmare unfolding before me.

And then, as if surrendering to the weight of my fear, my body gave way. Everything faded into darkness, my exhausted mind seeking respite from the terror that had become my existence.

Inspiration

Blazing Inferno – An Epic Testimony

Reba Nietert

Copyright Rebecca Nietert – 2024

I was 16. My mind raced, thoughts swirling in chaotic disarray. The overwhelming heat pressed against my skin, threatening to consume me. In a desperate attempt to escape, I darted into the fiery inferno, my heart pounding in my chest. But the flames were relentless, their scorching touch leaving my face seared, my hair singed. I gasped for air, my lungs craving the cool freshness that was nowhere to be found.

Fear gripped me, tightening its hold with every passing second. Frantically, I changed direction, fleeing back into the kitchen. The room was shrouded in a dense, impenetrable cloud of black smoke. I dropped to the floor, seeking refuge from the inexplicable, suffocating darkness swirling around me.

Crawling on all fours, my hands outstretched, I groped my way towards the door. With trembling fingers, I reached for the knob, only to find it melted beyond recognition. Panic surged through me as the weight of the situation bore down, crushing my spirit. A whispered plea escaped my lips, “We’re going to die.”

Through the haze, my sister’s voice shattered the despair, urging me to keep trying, to find a way out. The acrid black soot coated my throat, a constant reminder of the imminent danger that surrounded us. Yet, in that harrowing moment, something shifted deep within my soul. Instinct took over, transforming me into a creature driven solely by the primal need for survival.

I continued to crawl, relentless in my pursuit of escape. The darkness stifled my senses, but I pressed on, feeling my way through the oppressive blackness. My desperate journey led me to a small mirrored bathroom, its reflective surfaces offering no solace, no guidance. Trapped, I groped futilely, my hands grasping at emptiness.

Amidst the disorienting despair, the sound of my sister’s voice called out to me with desperate urgency. I clung to her words, using them as a lifeline, navigating my way through the door and into the dimly lit hallway. Step by agonizing step, I persevered, finding my way through the labyrinthine layout of our home.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, I stumbled into the living room. Relief washed over me, mingled with a lingering sense of dread. The battle was far from over, but for now, I had escaped the clutches of the inferno.

In that moment, I realized the true nature of fear. It had engulfed me, threatened to consume everything I held dear, but I had refused to surrender. As I stood amidst the remnants of destruction, I vowed to carry that unyielding resilience within me, forever unafraid, ready to face any challenge that may lie ahead.

To learn more about me and my journey… keep reading.

amwriting, Inspiration

Over Worrying – A Faithless Journey

Reba Nietert

Copyright 2020 – Rebecca Nietert

In the midst of life’s chaotic whirlwind, it’s so easy to forget the one thing that brings us solace and clarity: blogging. We get caught up in the hustle and bustle, trudging through each day without truly acknowledging our emotions and the moments that shape our existence. It’s high time we reserve a precious minute to reflect on the season we find ourselves in.

For me, changes have been abundant. My son recently joined the army, my daughter embarked on a new job, and my husband and I purchased a new house. Amidst all this, my gifted child struggled in school, my middle child neglected homework, and my youngest seemed to lose her sense of purpose. I can’t begin to describe the stressors and emotional turmoil that come with these challenges in a simple blog.

My emotions have become an unpredictable rollercoaster, skyrocketing to new heights and plummeting to unexpected depths. I find myself on the verge of tears at times, unable to control the triggers that surround me. It’s overwhelming.

But here’s the thing: I refuse to let these circumstances define me. I refuse to let the chaos consume my spirit. And I refuse to let my emotions hold me hostage. It’s time to regain control, to find my voice amidst the turmoil, and to share my journey with others who may be facing their own battles.

Listen up, my friends. In this crazy rollercoaster we call life, it’s important to remember one thing: everything is going to be alright. Trust me, I’ve seen it time and time again. The struggles we face today? Just a blimp on the radar of our 80+ year journey.

Now, let’s talk about choices. We all have the power to shape our story. We can choose to wallow in negativity, be selfish, and let anger and sadness consume us. Or, we can choose a different path. A path of kindness, tolerance, acceptance, and unconditional love.

Believe me, I get it. It’s not always easy. Sometimes, it feels like an uphill battle just to get there. But here’s the secret: it’s all about focus. Stay driven. Stay determined. Give your worries to a higher power and hope for the best. Today, I made the decision to do just that.

And I invite you to join me. Let’s shed the burdens that weigh us down, let’s put our trust in something bigger. Let’s find closure, break bread, and share a drink. Because in the grand scheme of things, we are all in this together.

Remember, my friends: this too shall pass. Keep your eyes on the horizon, and have faith that brighter days await us. The choice is yours. Let’s embrace it.