The Wellness Basket

By Kelly Moore-Ogg

Seldom does one locate a collection of stories, bound together,
with faith it will provide inspiration. The Wellness Basket is just such
a book. Prose for everyone is contained within this creative process.
The Wellness Basket is a collection of inspiring, poignant and
amusing writing which all exist, as well as some stories which touch
moments in each persons life path, with a dose of wellness from the
Authors personal experiences.
As this piece is a collection, one can read passages, individually,
without having to turn the page to discover the end. It is interesting,
honest, and even may evoke a few chuckles. This is the Books goal,
to include everybody it touches, one chapter at a time.
Enjoy!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Nov 16, 2012
• ISBN: 9781479743094

Book preview

Copyright © 2012 by Kelly Moore-Ogg.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

Xlibris Corporation

1-888-795-4274

www.Xlibris.com

[e-mail]

121992

Contents

The Wellness Basket—An Introduction

How This Whole Thing Began

What Is Mental Illness?

How We Define Ourselves

Just a Little Bit of Me to You

Follow Me . . . Be a Part of Me"

What Is Bipolar Disorder?

Would-a, Could-a, Should-a

Just One Little Dream

Revenge

Forgiveness

We All Stumble

Schedule=Sanity=Stability

Keepers of the Kingdom

Animal Rights and Children’s Rights

Big Hair and Southern Flair

Just a Little Simple List

Let’s Get Political

Leaving a Legacy

What Makes a Friendship?

Just Be Thankful

Human Nature

The (Bi)Polar Club

Facing the Book

Through My Window

Playing by the Rules

Just a Little Bit of Your Time

The Friendship Quiz

Bent, But Not Broken

Hump Day

Dodging the Ball

Ten Trivial Things

Two Hearts Equal One

Someone Left the Gate Open

The Chosen Path

Sisters

When Enough Is Too Much

Movies That Moved

And the Winner Is

Little Miss Like Me

Little Grown-Up

How’s Your Balance?

Shake Your Groove Thing

How Well Did You Dance?

Not All Days Are Great

A Simple Sorry

Poetry, Prose, and Pirouettes

Catching Some Z’s

My Love Affair with a Mouse

Honor and Cherish

A Little Light in the Dark

Life-Lifting Literature

A Little Bit of Heaven

Pick Your Passion

Remember

Rain

Today Is Not So Great

A Little Oyster Tale

Innocence Lost

The Upside of Down

A Little Life Test

Five Faithful Fingers

Pride of Purpose

Itty-Bitty Signs

Pet People

A Little Prayer

Time Does Not Wait

Silly Situations

Situational Solutions

Musical Mondays

Song Solvers

This Is Me

Two Tiny Moments

Simply Sidelined

Driving the Detours

The Answers We Seek

The Likeability Factor

Ten Tiny Thought Provokers

Because We Are Human

Wickedly Fantastic Flicks

Take a Knee

A Perfectly Precious Petal

Little Flicks

Perfectly Perfect Poem

All Things Medium

A Little Written Word

Just a Short Break

Individual Inventory

Is That A Sign?

Rocked and Aged

The Bullying Beast

A Hall Pass

Boomer—Sooner!

Sooner or Later

What Makes a Mother

The Mommy Day

Truly GRAND Children

A Power of One

One Good Thing Comes to an End

An End and a Beginning

A Little Delay

The Wellness Basket—a Story of Success, Failure, and Self-Discovery

Hello, everyone! My name is Kelly and I welcome you to my blog. As the title suggests, I will be sharing my own observations, things I have absorbed from my life, as well as life around me, and my original writings about everything from here to the sun, moon, and back.

My promise to you: I will be brutally honest, except for naming individuals who have affected me, both great and despicable, in order to accurately depict my own writings.

All I ask of you: Feedback . . . feedback . . . share with others!

I invite you to share this scenic, dark, light, and extraordinary journey I set out on forty-nine years ago. I truly believe you will be touched.

Sincerely,

Kelly

This entry was posted on January 10, 2012, in Uncategorized.

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The Wellness Basket—An Introduction

Inspirational books for persons suffering from chronic diseases are abundant, but often miss the mark. This site is designed to change that, from me to you.

My promise to you: You will be inspired by something within my articles, observations, and other adventures.

All I ask of you: Give me your thoughts, feedback, and time.

Together, this will be an awesome journey!

This entry was posted on January 10, 2012, in Uncategorized.

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How This Whole Thing Began

Approximately ten years ago, my world, which I had so carefully crafted, fell down around my feet. After bouts of serious depression, obsessive-compulsive disorders, and anxiety, since my teenage years, something had to give. Stress and unattainable perfection had become my bitter friends, affecting my work, family, and personal lives. After a series of embarrassments, failures, and even thoughts of taking my own life, I found myself humbled, broken, and crumbled at my feet. Then came the diagnosis: I had bipolar I disorder, a disease inherited from a relative once in my life.

Well, needless to say, my strong will and stubbornness still rose up, as if to say, I can do this by myself. If you have any type of chronic disease, you may know what I am talking about. I kept my doctors’ appointments for the medications, and flippantly attended therapy because I did not want to lose the physician’s faith. In other words, I felt if I pleased everyone else, I would get better. Of course, I failed miserably, coasting along through psychotic episodes, isolation from friends and family, and countless hospitalizations. I felt horrible, from my body to my soul. Why couldn’t this torture just end?

Then, toward the end of October 2011, something miraculous happened. I woke up with a scratchy throat and low-grade fever, indicative of my yearly holiday pneumonia bout. I picked myself up and out of the bed, showered, and then took a large basket, filled it with my preemptive-strike medications, tissues, and other necessary items. It was at this time that I had an idea. Why not place other things in my basket, just in case I had to stay in bed for the day? So, I added a light-read book, magazine, favorite lotion, inspirational and relaxation CDs, and my home and cell phones.

After awakening from a small nap, I realized I had filled this basket with things I might need each day. In other words, my own survival kit. I decided to call it The Wellness Basket, which I now carry with me from day to night. If I need something, all I have to do is check the basket.

Now, the moral of this story, as seen through my eyes is this: creating The Wellness Basket opened my mind, heart, and body. I awoke the next day, feeling much better bodily, and my soul and mind were refreshed and well. Then, as if the floodgates had opened, I began to journal. After this, I began to have ideas for books, gifts, family histories, and the list goes on. It was truly the most important reopening of my creativity, something I thought I had lost, but which had now returned.

So, in conclusion, I had an epiphany, I could either manage my disease and make it the ruler of my life, or I could manage it and take me back. I chose me!

What Is Mental Illness?

Mental illness, a brain-based disease, is a serious and terrifying ailment. Technically, the illness is caused by chemical misfires within the brain, including serotonin, a mood stabilizer. There are a full range of mental illnesses, including obsessive-compulsive disorder, bulimia, anorexia, depression, anxiety, agoraphobia, post-traumatic stress disorder, bipolar disorder, and psychophrenia. Additionally, many alcoholics and street drug users suffer from some type of mental illness, using their vices as self-medication. Millions have experience with this malady. It is an equal-opportunity predator, choosing all sexes, ages, races, and income bases. Studies have shown that many of these described illnesses are hereditary.

Sadly, ignorance of these diseases by persons not specifically trained to treat these ailments causes many to go undiagnosed. Whether it be lack of insurance, inability to pay, non-approval for various federal funding, or even the lack of awareness by the individual that something is amiss, the masses are out there, aimlessly, sadly wandering, desperately needing help.

Help. It is such a simple four-letter word, but sometimes so hard to reach. Enter me, a typical type A personality, who managed to survive twenty years, rapidly completing both work and personal lives. As a single mother of two, I thought nothing of working, retrieving my children from the babysitter, cooking, cleaning, and sometimes going for days with maybe eight to ten hours of sleep total. I thought to myself, You are a great person, perfect in every way. You can do everything, please everyone, all without the need for self-care or rest. To me, this was normal behavior.

After I remarried, I had my first bout of serious depression. Although I had experienced mild ups and downs, until this, I was always able to pick myself up, brush away any feelings, and head back to the fast lane, unscathed.

I remember waking up shaking, with this ominous feeling that something was terribly wrong. I walked from the bedroom to the kitchen, where I then fell to the floor, crumpled like a dead flower, sobbing uncontrollably. It was 4:00 AM, far too early to wake anyone. I lay there until everyone was up, put on my good face, and sent everyone on their way.

As soon as the door closed, the shaking and sobbing returned. I managed to call my family physician for an appointment. After seeing him later in the day, I was advised that I had serious depression, a mental illness, more accurately, a brain disease that prevents the body from transmitting the correct amount of chemicals necessary for mood stabilization. I blindly took the prescriptions, filled them, and waited for them to work.

Six weeks later, I returned to work, confident I was cured. Little did I know, this was the first tiny step in a long, rock-paved road.

How We Define Ourselves

I remember when I began my childhood education, one assignment we would almost inevitably receive, at some point during this period, was to write What do you want to be when you grow up? To me, it was always such an easy task. There was no wrong answer, and you could pick anything you wanted. I always wrote something in this fashion:

I am going to be a famous writer, with many books published, and (in my spare time) I am going to work as a cartoonist for Walt Disney. I am going to marry a handsome man and have two children, a boy and a girl. We will live in a great big house, have lots of money, and travel both in the States and abroad.

This was very imaginative but not very realistic. You see, I was talking about what I wanted to be, rather than who I wanted to be. That would have been a much more challenging piece to pen. Who do anyone of us truly want to be?

Now comes the important part of this particular passage. We all know what we are. But, do we know who we are? What defines us as a person? It certainly isn’t our occupation, our personal or public lives, and certainly not how much money we have in the bank. How do we define ourselves?

A particular example I can think of has occurred in my own life. When I was left with no career, no money, and only a few close friends, I thought, Well, my life is over! Everything I have built is now gone. I am bipolar. I clung to these beliefs until just a few years ago, when I discovered, during therapy, that all of these things I had considered me were actually things that I did. For example, rather than saying, I was an assistant to the chief executive officer, I was the president of a state professional society, or I am bipolar, it is more realistic to say, I worked as an assistant to the chief executive officer, I served as president of a state professional society, or I have bipolar disorder. Uttering I am rather than I have, worked, or served," makes for confusing thoughts. We must learn to define ourselves through our beliefs. What good have we done in our life, are we using our God-given talents, and are we in touch with our true selves?

In conclusion, I urge everyone to take stock of their lives. Sort the I am from the I have. Self-discovery is a truly eye-opening experience. Follow me through this journey.

Have a blessed day,

Kelly Moore Ogg

This entry was posted on January 13, 2012, in Uncategorized.

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Just a Little Bit of Me to You

I bet you are wondering, Just who is this Kelly Moore-Ogg? Today, I will give you just a brief biography, which, I hope, will illuminate the purpose of my writings.

My name is Kelly. I am forty-nine years old, married, the mother of two boys, and one girl, all grown and on their own. I have five grandchildren, ranging in age from four years old to eleven years of age. I live in Oklahoma in a cozy farmhouse, built by my grandfather and father. On the front steps, which are concrete leading to the front southern porch, my name and footprint are engraved. I was two years old when we moved into the new home.

My great-grandfather, an orphan, was a miner from Kentucky. He married a Cherokee Indian woman, who spoke no English, and they moved to Oklahoma, acquiring a forty-acre Indian land parcel. During those times, their marriage was frowned upon as a mixed marriage. My great-grandmother never registered on the Cherokee Roll because of her distrust and fear of the United States government. They built a log cabin, common to miners in that era, worked the land, and set up house. Although they did migrate from area to area, based on various mining employments, the log cabin was always home.

Upon their death, my grandfather inherited the home and land. He worked as a miner, just as his father had, but he found he excelled in baseball. He played in the first Major/Minor League Baseball Association, founded during the depression. One of his teammates was Dizzy Dean. There were no rookie cards, million-dollar contracts, or fame; rather, they played for small amounts of money, groceries, and other items in exchange for their appearance in area towns. It was during one of his jaunts that my grandfather met the love of his life, my grandmother.

My grandfather had two sisters, who also married. Each had only one child, with my grandmother giving birth to the only male heir, my father. He was doted on, spoiled rotten, and dashingly handsome, as he grew