Patience…I say to myself and out loud to my family and friends when asked what I get out of being married five times, especially now married to a carpenter who has never been in psychotherapy, and I am a Marriage and Family Therapist.

Patience…I tell myself while attempting to become a writer since the late nineties after receiving a 65 in English as a freshman at Cornell University in 1965. I’ve self-published seven books since 1999, after receiving many rejections from various publishers. No one wants to read how crying makes me happy. More loving.

I graduated from Cornell Nursing School with a bachelor’s degree in 1969 and worked with many patients in a variety of departments: pediatrics, obstetrics, medical, public health. Finally, I spent five years on a psychiatric unit, while married to my second husband. At that time, I was propelled to leave my religious addiction and ignorance of trying to persuade space scientists the validity of the bible’s creation theory – an embarrassment I can relate to those believing Trump’s big lie that the election was stolen.

My first husband came out as gay. My second died. But it was while with my fourth husband that I was cast into vulnerability big time as did my hospitalization as a patient with a fractured skull, having been hit head on by a bicyclist while running in September darkness.

Although I have EVOLved (note capitalized letters seen backwards) a great deal throughout my 75 years, I still am not good enough to be published in the reader’s write section of The SUN, having made a submission every month since the year 2000. That’s 256 essays of learning humility the hard way.