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	<title>Comments on: Five Security Blankets I Keep In My Wallet</title>
	<atom:link href="/2013/02/21/security-blankets/feed/" rel="self" type="application/rss+xml" />
	<link>http://baddestmotherever.com/2013/02/21/security-blankets/</link>
	<description>Stories about rebuilding your life</description>
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		<title>By: baddestmotherever</title>
		<link>http://baddestmotherever.com/2013/02/21/security-blankets/#comment-77</link>
		<dc:creator><![CDATA[baddestmotherever]]></dc:creator>
		<pubDate>Fri, 22 Feb 2013 00:46:53 +0000</pubDate>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://baddestmotherever.com/?p=211#comment-77</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[AWESOME.  I love you and I am so proud of you.  I feel like you&#039;re back and you&#039;re you.  As my friend would say, &quot;You finally got your backbone where your wishbone used to be!&quot;  Every single one of those notes was true and real.  I&#039;m glad you are here to read them again and see them for the first time.]]></description>
		<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>AWESOME.  I love you and I am so proud of you.  I feel like you&#8217;re back and you&#8217;re you.  As my friend would say, &#8220;You finally got your backbone where your wishbone used to be!&#8221;  Every single one of those notes was true and real.  I&#8217;m glad you are here to read them again and see them for the first time.</p>
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	<item>
		<title>By: baddestmotherever</title>
		<link>http://baddestmotherever.com/2013/02/21/security-blankets/#comment-76</link>
		<dc:creator><![CDATA[baddestmotherever]]></dc:creator>
		<pubDate>Fri, 22 Feb 2013 00:42:31 +0000</pubDate>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://baddestmotherever.com/?p=211#comment-76</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Amen, Rachel.  I couldn&#039;t even write about some of the other things that I keep.  I have little grocery receipts with to do lists on them that Richard wrote.  I can&#039;t throw away anything that has his handwriting because it&#039;s so intimate.  

You&#039;ll never be there again and for that I am so grateful.  I have sworn that I will NEVER fly into BWI airport again.  EVER.  ]]></description>
		<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>Amen, Rachel.  I couldn&#8217;t even write about some of the other things that I keep.  I have little grocery receipts with to do lists on them that Richard wrote.  I can&#8217;t throw away anything that has his handwriting because it&#8217;s so intimate.  </p>
<p>You&#8217;ll never be there again and for that I am so grateful.  I have sworn that I will NEVER fly into BWI airport again.  EVER.  </p>
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		<title>By: Rachel</title>
		<link>http://baddestmotherever.com/2013/02/21/security-blankets/#comment-75</link>
		<dc:creator><![CDATA[Rachel]]></dc:creator>
		<pubDate>Fri, 22 Feb 2013 00:28:29 +0000</pubDate>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://baddestmotherever.com/?p=211#comment-75</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[I carry the name tag from Val&#039;s room on University of Washington&#039;s 8NE. I didn&#039;t know her well, but she fought hard and long after her bone marrow tranplant. She was from France, and her friends and family sat in the family waiting room daily, hoping beyond hope. One morning, I woke up and felt like the Lord wanted me to tell her family that Val was _________________. (It was a very specific word, one I would not normally use and cannot, for that reason, recall it now.) I went to these strangers and said, &quot;The Lord wants you to know that Val is ______________.&quot;) And they looked at me with acceptance and understanding, and perhaps gratitude. 
She passed away the next day--hers was one of the &quot;scary&quot; deaths where the person is walking around drinking chocolate milk one day and dead the next. I cannot tell you what those deaths did to me.
I carry her name tag because 1) they shouldn&#039;t have left it there 2) she was brave 3) as a reminder I am not there, and never will be again--]]></description>
		<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>I carry the name tag from Val&#8217;s room on University of Washington&#8217;s 8NE. I didn&#8217;t know her well, but she fought hard and long after her bone marrow tranplant. She was from France, and her friends and family sat in the family waiting room daily, hoping beyond hope. One morning, I woke up and felt like the Lord wanted me to tell her family that Val was _________________. (It was a very specific word, one I would not normally use and cannot, for that reason, recall it now.) I went to these strangers and said, &#8220;The Lord wants you to know that Val is ______________.&#8221;) And they looked at me with acceptance and understanding, and perhaps gratitude.<br />
She passed away the next day&#8211;hers was one of the &#8220;scary&#8221; deaths where the person is walking around drinking chocolate milk one day and dead the next. I cannot tell you what those deaths did to me.<br />
I carry her name tag because 1) they shouldn&#8217;t have left it there 2) she was brave 3) as a reminder I am not there, and never will be again&#8211;</p>
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		<title>By: Brett Coppock</title>
		<link>http://baddestmotherever.com/2013/02/21/security-blankets/#comment-74</link>
		<dc:creator><![CDATA[Brett Coppock]]></dc:creator>
		<pubDate>Fri, 22 Feb 2013 00:20:08 +0000</pubDate>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://baddestmotherever.com/?p=211#comment-74</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Well yes.  Only have i felt completely special and safe a handful of times.  Twice when i was pregnant and i had that &quot;handle with care&quot; sign on my belly.  Once when i had returned from Rehab (for the umpteeeenth time) i lay in bed and wondered how i was going to do it.  stay sober, be a mother, be a wife, be a daughter, be a friend, be an individual with self-confidence and get up and carry on.  While i lay there, crying..i looked up to see a wicker basket that I hadn&#039;t noticed in a long time.  I had been gone for 6 months and needless to say, a house with 4 boys and no woman is hardly a clean home!  It was sitting on a dust covered book case waiting.. and waiting.  I couldn&#039;t remember what was in that basket and why on earth i thought it should be in my bedroom, of all places.  Slowly, i composed myself and began to remember,  what were the treasures inside?

  It was Christmas, and someone had given me this wicker &quot;thing&quot; with &quot;notes of positive affirmations.&quot;  I opened it and began to read &quot;you made those great scrap-books for Jackson&quot; , &quot;you let boys, be boys&quot; &quot;You take in stray kittens&quot; &quot;your laugh is great fun&quot;.  There were many, many more.   At the time i first received these, i couldn&#039;t receive them in the way intended.  I was almost embarrassed to read them.  I certainly didn&#039;t deserve these.  I had too much guilt and shame to embrace any of these affirmations.  But THIS time.. with a clear head and honest heart, i knew i was worth every one of these little hand written notes.  I read every one, and EVERY one held a special memory and dammit, i was worth every word.  That special box brought back a person i had forgotten. someone that i was pretty sure didn&#039;t belong or exist and certainly didn&#039;t EARN any of these kind words.  But she did and i did.  So, thank you worldsbaddestmother.  Without knowing it..you made me feel bright and full of promise.]]></description>
		<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>Well yes.  Only have i felt completely special and safe a handful of times.  Twice when i was pregnant and i had that &#8220;handle with care&#8221; sign on my belly.  Once when i had returned from Rehab (for the umpteeeenth time) i lay in bed and wondered how i was going to do it.  stay sober, be a mother, be a wife, be a daughter, be a friend, be an individual with self-confidence and get up and carry on.  While i lay there, crying..i looked up to see a wicker basket that I hadn&#8217;t noticed in a long time.  I had been gone for 6 months and needless to say, a house with 4 boys and no woman is hardly a clean home!  It was sitting on a dust covered book case waiting.. and waiting.  I couldn&#8217;t remember what was in that basket and why on earth i thought it should be in my bedroom, of all places.  Slowly, i composed myself and began to remember,  what were the treasures inside?</p>
<p>  It was Christmas, and someone had given me this wicker &#8220;thing&#8221; with &#8220;notes of positive affirmations.&#8221;  I opened it and began to read &#8220;you made those great scrap-books for Jackson&#8221; , &#8220;you let boys, be boys&#8221; &#8220;You take in stray kittens&#8221; &#8220;your laugh is great fun&#8221;.  There were many, many more.   At the time i first received these, i couldn&#8217;t receive them in the way intended.  I was almost embarrassed to read them.  I certainly didn&#8217;t deserve these.  I had too much guilt and shame to embrace any of these affirmations.  But THIS time.. with a clear head and honest heart, i knew i was worth every one of these little hand written notes.  I read every one, and EVERY one held a special memory and dammit, i was worth every word.  That special box brought back a person i had forgotten. someone that i was pretty sure didn&#8217;t belong or exist and certainly didn&#8217;t EARN any of these kind words.  But she did and i did.  So, thank you worldsbaddestmother.  Without knowing it..you made me feel bright and full of promise.</p>
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		<title>By: Leigh</title>
		<link>http://baddestmotherever.com/2013/02/21/security-blankets/#comment-73</link>
		<dc:creator><![CDATA[Leigh]]></dc:creator>
		<pubDate>Thu, 21 Feb 2013 22:30:42 +0000</pubDate>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://baddestmotherever.com/?p=211#comment-73</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[That is awesome...I bet that pillow is ssssooooo soft!]]></description>
		<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>That is awesome&#8230;I bet that pillow is ssssooooo soft!</p>
]]></content:encoded>
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	<item>
		<title>By: baddestmotherever</title>
		<link>http://baddestmotherever.com/2013/02/21/security-blankets/#comment-72</link>
		<dc:creator><![CDATA[baddestmotherever]]></dc:creator>
		<pubDate>Thu, 21 Feb 2013 15:34:43 +0000</pubDate>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://baddestmotherever.com/?p=211#comment-72</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[I have thought about that before, Deb (and now I&#039;m thinking about it again).  I guess that&#039;s the chance we take.  Vivi has been talking lately about wanting a &quot;keepsafe&quot; box.  I might get myself one, too!]]></description>
		<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>I have thought about that before, Deb (and now I&#8217;m thinking about it again).  I guess that&#8217;s the chance we take.  Vivi has been talking lately about wanting a &#8220;keepsafe&#8221; box.  I might get myself one, too!</p>
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		<title>By: Debra Helwig</title>
		<link>http://baddestmotherever.com/2013/02/21/security-blankets/#comment-71</link>
		<dc:creator><![CDATA[Debra Helwig]]></dc:creator>
		<pubDate>Thu, 21 Feb 2013 15:33:04 +0000</pubDate>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://baddestmotherever.com/?p=211#comment-71</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[You are brave to carry these wonderful talismans with you!  I had a wallet stolen several years ago, and with it went nearly 15 years of treasures - the &quot;business card&quot; from my friend Scott that said &quot;Life is but a Dream,&quot; a photo of my husband taken when we were dating with a shirt that said &quot;Mistletoe Maniac&quot; (the thought of it still makes me laugh), coins from a trip to Europe when I was a child.  I have never felt so vulnerable.  The loss of my credit cards and money paled in comparison to the loss of those things. Today I still have many, many touchstones (the post it note that was stuck to a $20 bill one time that just says &quot;Love you, Dad&quot;, the little stuffed bulldog I bought myself at the end of graduate school, and more) but they are on my desk or by my bed, where it feels safer to keep them.]]></description>
		<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>You are brave to carry these wonderful talismans with you!  I had a wallet stolen several years ago, and with it went nearly 15 years of treasures &#8211; the &#8220;business card&#8221; from my friend Scott that said &#8220;Life is but a Dream,&#8221; a photo of my husband taken when we were dating with a shirt that said &#8220;Mistletoe Maniac&#8221; (the thought of it still makes me laugh), coins from a trip to Europe when I was a child.  I have never felt so vulnerable.  The loss of my credit cards and money paled in comparison to the loss of those things. Today I still have many, many touchstones (the post it note that was stuck to a $20 bill one time that just says &#8220;Love you, Dad&#8221;, the little stuffed bulldog I bought myself at the end of graduate school, and more) but they are on my desk or by my bed, where it feels safer to keep them.</p>
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	<item>
		<title>By: baddestmotherever</title>
		<link>http://baddestmotherever.com/2013/02/21/security-blankets/#comment-70</link>
		<dc:creator><![CDATA[baddestmotherever]]></dc:creator>
		<pubDate>Thu, 21 Feb 2013 13:54:02 +0000</pubDate>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://baddestmotherever.com/?p=211#comment-70</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[I love it, Leigh!  My stepmother still sleeps with the same pillow she&#039;s had all her life.  It&#039;s grown thin and silky over the decades.  ]]></description>
		<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>I love it, Leigh!  My stepmother still sleeps with the same pillow she&#8217;s had all her life.  It&#8217;s grown thin and silky over the decades.  </p>
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	</item>
	<item>
		<title>By: Leigh</title>
		<link>http://baddestmotherever.com/2013/02/21/security-blankets/#comment-69</link>
		<dc:creator><![CDATA[Leigh]]></dc:creator>
		<pubDate>Thu, 21 Feb 2013 13:48:36 +0000</pubDate>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://baddestmotherever.com/?p=211#comment-69</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Yes, I did have a security blanket as a child.  It was a queen size yellow woven blanket...my ex-husband calls it a hospital blanket, but whatever.  I kept my trusty yellow blanket for years.  It was worn and had a huge hole in so my mom cut it in half.  It slowly grew smaller and smaller over time until it was no more.  I have no idea where my friend is now, however, I still have to sleep with a blanket made from the same material, now it is a red one.

I also have a small, smooth, river stone with the words &quot;first stone&quot; written on it.  This reminds me that no one is perfect; we all make mistakes, and it is not my place to throw the first stone at any one.  They may actually throw one back at me!]]></description>
		<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>Yes, I did have a security blanket as a child.  It was a queen size yellow woven blanket&#8230;my ex-husband calls it a hospital blanket, but whatever.  I kept my trusty yellow blanket for years.  It was worn and had a huge hole in so my mom cut it in half.  It slowly grew smaller and smaller over time until it was no more.  I have no idea where my friend is now, however, I still have to sleep with a blanket made from the same material, now it is a red one.</p>
<p>I also have a small, smooth, river stone with the words &#8220;first stone&#8221; written on it.  This reminds me that no one is perfect; we all make mistakes, and it is not my place to throw the first stone at any one.  They may actually throw one back at me!</p>
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	<item>
		<title>By: baddestmotherever</title>
		<link>http://baddestmotherever.com/2013/02/21/security-blankets/#comment-68</link>
		<dc:creator><![CDATA[baddestmotherever]]></dc:creator>
		<pubDate>Thu, 21 Feb 2013 12:59:57 +0000</pubDate>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://baddestmotherever.com/?p=211#comment-68</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[I&#039;ll look into it!]]></description>
		<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>I&#8217;ll look into it!</p>
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