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Thinking too much. 4/10/2020
There are days that are so disappointing. The kind of days I just want to run and hide somewhere, but know there is no running from what I’m feeling. Today is like that. Overall, this COVID19 pandemic, whether you believe it’s a pandemic or not, has been extremely tough on everyone’s emotions. When a person already deals with mental health issues, they just multiply. And so much of the time, I couldn’t tell you how I’m feeling anyhow, because it’s unexplainable.
When you are a person that takes everything personally, hearing you shouldn’t does absolutely nothing, except validate the negative crap going on in your head. Social media can be a life saver in times like these. It’s all I have to connect with the majority of people in my life, normally, but during a hellish time, it’s a place I want to be able to see loving things, words of comfort and hope. It’s a place I seek some emotional support, from my friends. And as much as I’ve tried to look for the positive, and unfollowed the negative stuff, sometimes it all just seems overwhelmingly unavoidable.
Politics and religion are always touchy. I don’t need us to agree on who we think is in office is right, or even that we feel exactly the same about God. I do need people to be civil, though, act like humans. If you get off being hateful or simply trolling other people’s comments, in order to assert yourself and make them realize how small and wrong you think they are, then probably,we shouldn’t have a relationship on Facebook. Unfollowing or hiding sometimes is needed for a little while, until the scenery changes and there’s something else to discuss. So, maybe we can do that, more, and feel the need to express ourselves all over someone else’s wall, less.
People have become way too comfortable with strangers, so much so that it’s been normal to just shoot your mouth off at someone you don’t know. I am not completely faultless, as I’ve been sucked into the vortex of frustration more than once, and typed things I shouldn’t have.
Once in a while, when you engage in a conversation, you might take a stance on something, and then wait for the fallout, as you know is bound to happen. But, sometimes, you can comment on a friend’s post with something meant to be positive, meant to uplift or encourage them, and some person you’ve never met , decides to chastise you, to hit you from behind with a sermon on why your idea and opinions are wrong. I will never get used to the way we have become, thinking we can take things out on someone we don’t know. And, sometimes, though I think I’m a pretty understandable person, I get really angry. I get angry because, if you don’t know me well, then you are inserting your junk into my life, you are judging me and everything about me, when I never gave you that kind of access. Over the past couple of months, in particular, I have had several incidences, where I was needlessly berated over a post I wrote that never initiated any of the hatred I got back. And, it only happens because people can hide behind a computer or cellphone screen. If it was a one time thing, I could move along and forget it. The problem is, it’s a constant issue. Even on my own timeline, where I feel I should be able to express my opinions and ideas, it has happened. And I’m not talking about a difference in what we think or feel, I’m talking about condescending bullying that is totally unacceptable.
Facebook is my soapbox. My understanding of a soapbox, way back, is it was a place people could stand a bit above the crowd and speak loudly about something that meant a great deal to them, and when they were done, they could get down and walk away. It gave people a chance to explain where they were coming from, their point of view. It wasn’t a place for debate, it was a place for self-expression, and that is all. Since I’ve never actually been involved in a soapbox speech, maybe I am simplifying it too much. Perhaps when someone got up there and spoke, they couldn’t get down that easily without a fight. Maybe they got mobbed on the soapbox, I don’t know.
In the newspapers, when I was young, there were opinion pieces called “letters to the editor.” You could write in with something that really bothered you or something you were very happy about, whichever the case was. It took time to write, edit and send out before it appeared to the public. There could be rebuttals, I believe, but again, they took time and thought before writing.
I’ve always been hesitant to voice my own opinions out loud, especially with people I don’t know or trust, because of the wrath I would see out of others. I’m still learning it’s okay to say what I feel without an accompanying sickness in my stomach, that what I say will not lie well with someone, and they might explode.
I think everyone’s wall should be their own place to express themselves. There are people who will disagree with that and in fact, feel if someone brings something up, especially if it’s controversial, that person is simply opening up the floor for anything and everything to be said or shouted out. I’m not one of those people. There are lots of times I want to debate, or I ask for opinions. And, there are times I have specifically asked friends not to argue with me. And, most of the time, that was honored. I read a lot of opinions online. I always try to get facts before I post a story. I agree with some, and disagree with others. If my opinion is different, I have a place to go to express it, on my own wall. Because, I know this, no matter how strongly I feel about something, I can always learn from other points of view, and it doesn’t make me right and others wrong. If nothing else, it helps me understand why someone ticks the way that they do.
If you have experience with something, or know a lot about a subject because of what you’ve learned or been through, speaking about your feelings on it shouldn’t provoke a fight from someone else, unless you directly attack someone else.
What a time we are in right now, in this world, right? Maybe everyone can agree on that. Being told we have to distance ourselves, makes me more antsy to be with people, no matter how annoying that can be sometimes. If you can get outside, though, do. There are ways to be with nature, not around people, just to allow your head to clear a bit. I need that. Everyone needs that, if possible. Everything I was raised with, everything I was taught, has been chewed up, skewed around and spat back out. And it’s a vomitous mess. I don’t want to be in a world like that, but since I believe in prophecy and the Bible, I know it’s unavoidable.
When I was little and I had an attitude or expressed my boredom in whiny tones, my parents would say I needed to get out of the house, go outside, and blow the stink off. I hated that because I didn’t understand the symbolism. I’ve knocked the expression around in my head a lot lately, because I find my attitude is unpleasant, mostly because of my own inner struggles, but also because of my perception of what I'm surrounded by sometimes. And, still after all these years, I can hear my mom and dad say, “go outside for a while, and blow the stink off.” And, when I do, usually, it works.
~rsf 4/10/2020
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I've been thinking about things all day, and these are my thoughts on Coronavirus, the flu and global pandemic.
All the shutdowns, cancellations and postponements need to happen. Schools need to close. I don't know for how long, because we have (in my lifetime) never been in the middle of a global pandemic. And that is what's happening. I have friends who have undergone organ transplants, as well as those who are battling cancer and other things that make them high risk. More than half the people I love are "elderly," and many of them have medical conditions that make them more vulnerable. I am not "panicking," but being cautious and concerned. Of course I care about the flu and how deadly it has been, as well as any virus that endangers humankind. It's not a contest, it's all bad! I worry, always anyhow, because I am a mom, because my children aren't all home under my roof, and I have no say really in whether they are being careful enough. Whether you are a worrier or you don't care about this virus at all and think it's simply media hype, I don't care. To each his own I suppose. I am grateful for precautions being put in place. I've never been a "that will never happen to me" person, just as I have never been a parent that said my kid would "never do that." My motto is never ever say "never." Growing up, my kids could probably count on one hand the times they were all sick at the same time or passed a virus around in the house. I never sent a child to school sick and never worked with a fever. I used bleach, soap and water, and Lysol (or the equivalent) spray. If we do that inside our own homes, why would anyone think it's ok to go outside our homes without the same mentality? Weeks ago, being that we are in a large city, I heard stores were running out of things. We have bought extra supplies here and there throughout that time, because I've lived through enough winter storms, hurricanes and other trials to know that if you wait until the last minute, you will be unable to find what you need when the crisis comes, and then you will see true panic. If the government did nothing, they'd be blamed for it, just as they are blamed because of decisions made so far. Everyone is different and we won't all agree. I am wondering for those who think this is all blown out of proportion, at what point should we worry? When should precautions be put in place? If you have your own ideas and think you are the only one with any sense, maybe you should consider running for office and making it all work better. Or, like another doubter in history, will it take something hitting close to home, personally, for you to believe? I live each day, thinking maybe it's my last, because no one really knows after all. So I'm grateful and blessed that today was another one I spent breathing, above ground, and sharing life with friends and family. And always, I will pray for everyone I call a friend, or "Friend," whatever the case may be.😉❤
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Don’t let anything prevent you from communicating.
Sometimes, the best thing we can do is open up to people who don't actually know anything about us. Tuesday last week I was involved in a group, where, virtually everyone is unacquainted with me. I shared something that was difficult. The acceptance I received afterward was really unexpected warmth and kindness. I never went into the group thinking something like that would happen, but I do think it was planned by God, because I have since felt like a burden has been lifted.
When we keep things in the dark, it is never healthy. One scripture I like a lot is, Ephesians 5:13, which in part reads, “And when all things are brought out to the light, then their true nature is clearly revealed.”
If we don’t talk, we don’t know intent or feeling behind things others sometimes do or say. I have always tried to be a huge proponent of communication. We have tried to raise our children with this always being central and vital to any relationship. I know that communication makes us very vulnerable. I have been hurt so many times in my life simply by being a friend to someone or letting them into my life by sharing parts of myself. Because of being let down then, a wall has come up around me that I think then makes me seem unapproachable. This happens to all of us and is the reason we have to work harder to communicate. I’ve also been involved in different discussions with people who face some of the same struggles I do, and I’ve learned a lot from those discussions. It’s funny to me that so many times what came out of my own mouth in a discussion was a surprise! That might seem odd but having an open dialogue with God everyday, I think it’s a brilliant way He shows or teaches us something.
I have always wrestled with people’s thoughts of me, which is really rather stupid since I can’t possibly know what those thoughts are unless they tell me. I’m strong on empathizing with others, and having mercy for them, This being the way my brain works, I imagine how another person feels or thinks so much that it puts great stress into my life every day. The problem is my own esteem. If I cared for myself like I care for others in my life, I know those thoughts would be kinder. I am indeed my worst enemy.
Going forward, I’m trying harder to dwell less. The only way to do that is to fill my mind with things that don’t allow empty time, which creates space in my head. I can’t let my wonderings be too idle. I have to have a busy brain. And, to do that, I have to truly be intentional in everything I allow into my thoughts. Because those “daydreams” are more like wakeful nightmares for me.
To everyone in my life I would say then that If I do or say anything that bothers you, if you don’t care for how I’ve handled something, or you feel angry or frustrated with me, talk to me about it. I will always welcome communication. If it’s negative, I’d so much prefer a discussion not always in the heat of the moment, because when we respond out of emotion, it can be very hurtful. Sharing our thoughts allows genuine response and, sometimes maybe, it can help someone else struggling similarly. If you hold something back because you know I won’t like what you have to say, please force yourself to bring it to me. Let me engage with you so that you are no longer ruminating with whatever the negative thoughts are, because that will eat away at you.
Ultimately, if I hear from someone else about your anger or frustration, it is going to cause a huge stew of emotions for me. And that never leads to anything good. After that, I will have a very difficult time feeling close to you, because I do ruminate a lot. In fact, the anger that I deal with afterward will make it very hard to even have the desire to communicate with you in the future. This then will place a separation between us that will undo so much good. I am a people pleaser, that’s not a surprise if we have ever been more than simply acquaintances. IF you know that about me, I ask that you care about me enough, respect our relationship enough, to let me know what you are thinking if it involves me. In turn, that will help me feel I can come to you the same way.
Let’s talk.
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Other things are deadly too
There are things worse than cancer. Things that destroy us from the inside in an even more hidden, deceitful way than any physical disease. Why can't we have grateful hearts? Instead, we live each day wrapped up in our selfishness, worrying about things we shouldn't worry about, arguing with people on social media, typing ugly things we would never say face to face, safe behind our keyboards. Our relationships every day in life should be most important. Time with family and friends, talking with each other, instead of about each other, making allowances that we are all imperfect, and all need help sometimes in fixing our own idiosyncrasies. We should lift each other up, in prayer, good thoughts, out of the way kindnesses, whatever our heart is stirred to do that is good, merciful and loving. Why can't we do that? Why do we let anger and others' human faults become a burden of unforgiveness that eats away at us and is so much worse than cancer!? I want to learn more each day about reaching out and loving others and sometimes I fail because I simply don't know how to love myself. Knowing I have frailties is always a beginning to being the person God put me in this life to be. #deepthoughts #canthandleanymore #bekind #love
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He Walked
I started writing this because I wanted to share with people the day of Riley’s graduation. As I was forming the words, however, I realized that so many of my friends and family may not know much about his history, and therefore, the story may not hold a lot of meaning. But that day for us, as his parents, grandparents, siblings and so many others, was full of meaning. And that’s what I want most to convey.
We had family from out of town and it was a day we honestly never were sure would come. That Friday night was rehearsal and, although I had three kids graduate ahead of Riley, they all had their ceremonies at Hampton University. His, however, was to be held at Hampton Coliseum.
Let me note here that Riley has a tremendous fear of buildings with high or vaulted ceilings. The airport in Norfolk, for example, is a place we always have to walk the perimeter with him once we get to the giant room with the extremely high, windowed and pitched ceilings. He clings to us shaking with fear, eyes cast down, snuggled up under our arm as we make our way around to the side where we wait for flights to arrive. Usually as he becomes familiar with a place, he does better but it has to be a regular occurrence, like in the schools’ gymnasiums. The airport, though he has been many times, isn’t familiar enough to him that he has found any way to deal with it comfortably. I explain all of this to say that when he attended the graduations of his siblings at Hampton University, it was difficult for him for that reason, but since we all stay seated together, he was able to manage and hang on through the ceremonies. When we got word that his would be held at Hampton Coliseum, I was afraid for him. He had only been there once before years ago with his dad and brothers when they went to a monster truck show, and unfortunately, he couldn’t stay as it was just too much for him, not only because of the vaulted dome, but the noise of the trucks was unbearable. So I picked him up that day and he’d never gone back.
As we walked in for rehearsal that Friday, he hovered in the back, allowing the entire class to enter before him. He clung to dad and cringed as the students began celebrating their liberation from public school. As the students were seated under the large dome, we stood under the normal ceiling observing. He was in a panic. Crying and holding onto Drew. You would have thought we were taking him to an execution. In the middle of it, although my stomach was in knots, I spoke to him with a calm I didn’t have inside myself. “Riley, you don’t have to do this. You will still graduate, but you don’t have to walk.” Drew repeated the same to him and we stood there surrounding him, I expected we’d be walking out. However, within a minute, he calmed himself and said he was ready. We slowly made our way to the seats under the dome, still staying back from the crowd of students. As the principal began talking over the microphone we saw one of the teachers approach. Though I couldn’t remember her name (Ms. Bailey), she knew Riley well and smiled as she began talking to him. He giggled nervously as she spoke and within minutes he followed her to his seat. As he settled among his peers, I held my breath.
They talked through the ceremony and the first couple of rows walked up and across the stage. They stopped rehearsing right before Riley’s row. As the kids exited at the end of the mock ceremony, we spoke with his teacher, Ms. Lane, who assured us that she would be looking out for Riley and that the students on either side of him would also be looking out for him, should he need anything.
When we prepared the next day, I was skeptical that Riley would be able to go through with it all. Drew took him to the Coliseum that Sunday evening, as he needed to be there quite earlier than the actual ceremony time. Drew wasn’t able to go in with Riley, but was able to speak with his teacher and hand him off.
When everyone arrived we sat and waited anxiously for things to start. His brother, sisters and brother-in-law were with us, as well as his grandparents. My stomach had butterflies and I waited impatiently. The music began and my stomach flipped. The tears started welling up but all I could do was wait to see him come out. One thing we didn’t think about was the amount of noise in the auditorium as the band played “Pomp and Circumstance” and the guests cheered and yelled. Soon we saw him and I knew he was having trouble. His hands were over his ears and he was walking so fast I was afraid he’d run into the poor kid in front of him. He looked frantic to us and I was waiting for the moment he would break the line and beeline it through the exit. But he didn’t. Instead, with great duress he made his way to his seat. I breathed a sigh of relief as the students sat for the ceremony.
Something we forgot to explain to him was how to move his tassel from the left of his cap to the right when the principal declared them graduates of the class of 2018. I grinned inside because he didn’t move his and continued to wear it on the left. Such a small thing to have forgotten, I didn’t even worry about it.
When it came time for his row, he walked up with everyone and waited in line. Because we had a great vantage point to see him, he grinned when he saw us all sitting there, waiting for him to accept his diploma. Teachers guided the students up the steps and he waited his turn, then walked out to shake hands with administrators and accept his diploma. For me, that moment went by so fast, my heart was racing, and I was filled with emotion.
At some point after he was re-seated, one of the guys helped him move his tassel to the right, but not understanding the reasoning behind it, Riley simply put it back on the left. Another grin. At the end, he exited with his peers, walking fairly tall and not as afraid.
The day had come, and it was so joyful for us, as his family. Everything from the past flooded back to me, but mostly I thought back on the doctor who foolishly told us when he was a toddler that he may never walk, and that all the work he was doing in therapy and at home, wouldn’t really make a difference as to whether or not he did.
But, he did walk! He took his first steps at 2 1/2, when Grandpa Walters dubbed him “Riley Alexander Walker Friend.” And he walked for his graduation from high school. And we find ourselves extremely and forever grateful!
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Riley’s Story! - Part I
The doctor told us that working with him in physical therapy wouldn’t make a difference, that he would either walk someday or never walk.
We had seen many doctors, specialists and therapists. Riley was a mystery from the moment he was born. He was our fourth child and, following in his siblings shenanigans, he was not ready to come into the world until well after 40 weeks gestation. With the prior 3 pregnancies, my water never broke, nor did I have productive labor followed by a normal delivery; instead, with my first and second being 42 weeks, my water was broken and I was induced. With the second child, mercifully, I was induced with an epidural in place!
By the third child, we knew the drill and I waited so long to go to the hospital that when I got there, I was quite further along and the baby was ready to make her appearance. Unfortunately, as with her mama, she wanted to take a stand quite literally and was coming out upside down. To further complicate matters, she was compressing the umbilical cord and so, in the middle of a February ice storm she was held in place for 45 minutes until the team was ready for an emergency c-section.
Naturally then, when I was coming up on 40 weeks with Riley, I explained to all the doctors and nurses who would listen that my kids didn’t like to follow protocol and I was bound to have a delay in appearance with him as with his fellow siblings. The hospital still insisted I go to 42 weeks until they intervened, though I urged them to break my water and induce, as I knew active labor had come, though slowly. Non stress tests indicated the baby was thriving in utero, despite the fact that when I didn’t lay on my right side and drink juice, his heart rate and movement slowed.
Oh the things I would do over! I could’ve opted for another c-section at 40 weeks, but I was cautioned that a vaginal delivery after c-section was the way to go because it carried less risk; less risk to the mother anyhow. So well past my due date, after crying and laboring in my bed, my husband insisted I be taken to the hospital and have that baby taken out of me, by c-section if necessary.
When we arrived and was checked I expected the doctor to proclaim as usual, that I was only about 2 centimeters dilated. Much to my shock, however, I was 8 centimeters and almost ready to begin pushing. So, when the time came and I was pushing (or rather my body was pushing as I learned previously that it was out of my hands once the heavy contractions started. In a blur, I remember the doctor hollering at me that the cord was around the baby’s neck and I must quit pushing. Of course, I couldn’t and he continued to reprimand me. So when Riley came into the world, like his siblings, he was quiet. No cries, whimpers or moans did he produce. He was rushed to me so I could see his face and then quickly taken to the table where they clean the babies up. He was then promptly intubated and soon had no trouble breathing on his own. To this day, I don’t understand his high apgar scores.
I remember that day the doctor explaining that not only was the cord around his neck twice, but that it was tight and he produced old meconium indicating it had been in his lungs which further indicated he’d been in distress for a while. That day I asked him what it would mean for Riley, and would he be okay? He was quite blunt as he stated time would tell.
The following day, he couldn’t maintain a healthy body temperature and was kept under lights. I was exhausted as was he but we were sent home the following day in a timely fashion.
The days and weeks that followed seemed like the norm. He started smiling and responding to sounds on time and he cooed and made other noises when that time came as well. What followed, though, was delays in his development and confusion and our pushing that something didn’t seem right, before the doctors really listened and proclaimed that we needed to send him to a specialist.
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Hippie Me
I’ve noticed a black hair above my lip. Not a hair that brushes off, mind you, it’s stuck fast to my upper lip. It bothers me tremendously. Not the hair part. I’ve had hair above my lip for some time now, probably forever. But I never noticed it before like I do now. It’s aggravating. I notice, too that when I put concealer on it, it just makes it look like a patch of fuzzy concealer. Like I’m hiding a mustache. It’s one of the many things about my face that has changed in recent years. When I look in the mirror I see an older woman. But I don’t identify with her at all. I feel the same inside as I did at 16. At least, I suppose that. I can’t remember 16 very well. Of what I do remember, it’s not pleasant. Acne, peer pressure and being too skinny. Yeah, that was a problem for me. I’d almost love to have THAT problem again. At any rate, the thing is, no one tells you as you get older you won’t FEEL older.
My whole life I’ve been a people pleaser. I worry constantly about what others think. I’ve carried it over into every part of my life. I find myself asking my kids now if what I’m wearing is acceptable. I used to find that hard to imagine. How many of us don't do things, don't dress a certain way, talk a certain way, exist a certain way, because of other people's scrutiny?
I don’t worry about being too skinny anymore. I worry about being too fat. I really hate that. It eats up whole days for me sometimes. Ha-ha EATS! I would like to stop worrying about it. I’d like to not care about what anyone thinks of how I look. I’d like to be happy in my own skin. As I get older, I keep waiting for the change to happen. Sometimes, I felt like getting older all kinds of things would change, mostly in my personality. Boy, that is far from the truth.
I am overweight. But I love wearing leggings. Mind you, I cover my butt all the time, even though that’s not the part of me that’s big. I read about people being overweight and wearing leggings and how ridiculous that is…how silly they look. We are inundated with pictures making fun of folks wearing leggings and other clothing that shows their most unflattering side. People like to judge other people who look worse than they themselves do. We like to find fault in others but find it hard to admit it ourselves. It prevents us from, God forbid, committing some similar atrocity.
On the cusp of 52 I’m deciding some things. I’m deciding it’s okay to wear leggings and be overweight. It’s also okay to wear them and be underweight. I’ve had the lucky advantage of being both and find that either way you are equally made fun of, ridiculed or offered unasked for advice. I don’t care anymore. And neither should you. I heard a report on the radio recently that said people over 30 shouldn’t wear denim. Seriously?? I broke that rule a long time ago. Who makes these inane rules anyhow? Reminds me of when I was little and mom told me how important it is to not wear white shoes after Labor Day. I didn’t understand it then and I don’t understand now. Rules like that are just pointless.
I have long hair. I went short for a long time when I just didn’t have time to take care of it. I always heard that the older you get; long hair just makes you look older still. I’m keeping my long hair. I love it. It feels good brushing across my back, except when a hot flash spins by me and the sweat causes it to stick to my skin. That’s what ponytails are for.
My favorite boots are like the ones a character wears on The Walking Dead. I’ve been told right out that they are ugly. I suppose that on a woman past middle age, they might look ridiculous to other people too. With all these rules, I can’t get any of it right.
In fact, my whole life I’ve been someone who goes against the grain. I was told once by a very good friend that when we were young their family thought I was a little “strange.” I am. I drive a yellow vehicle with giant lights on the top. It’s probably a younger person’s ride. But I love it. It looks nothing like anything anyone else drives. And since there were similar rides in the area, I changed mine by adding the giant lights. I don’t want to fit in.
It’s taken a long time to realize it just isn’t who I am. I want to be different. I hope I’ve shown my children that it’s OK to not fit in. I’m not always comfortable with my own decisions. I rebel against myself at times but in my heart, I know I’m doing what feels right to me.
Stop looking around at other people. Be who you want to be. Fit into your own skin comfortably. It is yours and isn’t meant to fit anyone else. We also aren’t meant to live in someone else’s skin. Our own is exactly right for who we are. Be individual. Be yourself.
I’ve been called a hippie. I hold onto that wonderful label now. I cherish it. I imagine when I have grandchildren someday I might even be called eccentric. I will cherish that too.
Meanwhile, I’m going to change into some wildly colored leggings, slip on my totally rad boots and hop in my Baja for a spin!
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That Time of Year Again
It must be that time. My head is filled with nonsense. I’m in a hole, a rut, a stuck place. I hate it here. I am bored yet lack motivation to do anything. I’m tired all the time. What keeps me alive is my family....always. I am so grateful for my parents, my siblings, my husband, my children. Without them I really wouldn’t know a reason for pushing forward. I am trying to talk to God. I want that closeness. But I feel like I’m in a far away place...stuck.
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Abandoned YMCA #abandoned #abandoned_junkies #abandonedamerica #abandonedplaces #abandonedohio #abandonment_issues #decay_nation #urbanexploring #urbandecay #urbanphotography #urbanexploration #urbandecay #abandonedphotography #beautifulabandon #autopsyofamerica #beautyfromrot #mustexplore
#decay_nation#beautifulabandon#urbanexploring#abandonedplaces#abandonment_issues#abandoned#autopsyofamerica#urbanphotography#abandoned_junkies#abandonedamerica#abandonedphotography#beautyfromrot#abandonedohio#mustexplore#urbandecay#urbanexploration
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#abandoned #abandoned_junkies #abandonedamerica #abandonedplaces #cleveland #abandonedohio #abandonment_issues #decay_nation #urbanexploring #urbandecay #urbanphotography #urbanexploration #urbandecay #abandonedphotography #beautifulabandon #autopsyofamerica #beautyfromrot #mustexplore
#decay_nation#beautifulabandon#urbanexploring#abandonedplaces#abandonment_issues#abandoned#autopsyofamerica#urbanphotography#abandoned_junkies#abandonedamerica#abandonedphotography#beautyfromrot#abandonedohio#mustexplore#cleveland#urbandecay#urbanexploration
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Join us @watersedgechurch tonight! Doors open at 6:30, Newport News Campus! #lovemychurch #wec #watersedgechurch #betterthanarockconcert
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