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My Life Story - Part 8; Car Accidents, Near Death Experiences, and Lost Children

Again, it seems quite odd to spend some time focusing on the negative aspects
of my life because I am a positive thinker. However, it’s those challenges
and the lesson I learned, or have not yet learned, that have made me the
person I am today. It will help you, my readers, to better understand
where my writing comes from. So here is the first of several posts
that will take you into the trauma of the next twenty years of my life:

AmbulanceIllness Strikes

As I continue my story it is several years later now. I’m very, very ill. I’ve contracted some type of lung infection. I simply just cough and cough. I’ve lost weight down from 103 pounds down to 94 pounds. It’s gotten so bad that I can’t keep food down. My hair is falling out. I feel like I’m dying.

The doctors keep trying antibiotic after antibiotic, but nothing is touching the infection. Finally a new doctor decides to X-ray my lungs (duh!) and do additional tests. He discovers that the infection is quite rare and only one antibiotic in the world is effective against it. But he warns me that the antibiotic wouldn’t be enough.

It’s winter in Salt Lake City. We have a major inversion that is keeping the fog and pollution close to the ground and in my lungs. We haven’t seen a blue sky in months. The doctor told me I’d have to get to a warmed climate immediately. It didn’t need to be long term, just long enough for the antibiotics to work and for me to heal somewhat.

So we got in the car that day and headed to my grandparents house in Yuma, Arizona. I spent most of the time there sleeping. But I came back with much improved health.

Still the coughing and vomiting lingered for another twenty-one years. In fact, until three or four months ago I would regularly vomit five times a day. This had gone on at the past 18 years with consistency. Each illness made it worse. And no it wasn’t bulimia. I’d cough too hard and anything I had in my stomach would come up.

Automobile Traumatize

A few years later my finance and I are sitting at a stop light when a car plows into us. I’m injured and had to undergo months of physical therapy and experience pain that never seemed to go away. I’ve lost feeling in some of my fingers, and experience lingering back, shoulder and neck pain.

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My Life Story - Part 7; Fear Manifesting Itself in the Form of Rape

Doctor Giving InjectionPreviously I told you about the trauma of being watched and stalked like a animal hunts his prey. It was at that time my resilient spirit decided she no longer wanted to fear strangers. I became determined to minimize that fear, to shrink it, and dissolve it. But there was still a huge underlying fear. The fear of sexual assault.

I’m sure the fear first manifested itself when I was young and stemmed from my ability to sense what people felt. It is easy to fear something that feels so cold and dark, and full of such evil intent.

God blessed me with a body and face that many men found attractive. (Ignore that picture on the left of the site. I’m much older now, much more worn out, and not nearly as attractive as I once was.) And I hated the way guys looked at me.

I hated walking past construction sites and being whistled at. I hated the lust I saw in peoples eyes. I remember many, many times wishing that I was fat and ugly. I thought that if I was fat and ugly I’d be safe from sexual assault. Something I now know isn’t true. But nevertheless, that’s what I believed, at the time.

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My Life Story - Part 6; I’m Being Stalked

I’m telling you my life story in themes. I’ve started with the more tragic portions of my life so you, my readers, can develop a better understanding of where I came from, and how these have shaped me into the person I am today. It is our trials that cause us to grow, and how we handle them determine the type of person we become.

I first told you about my highly tuned perception, and then about how I began to attract to me the things I feared, and about how intruders shattered my vision of a safe home, about nearly being abducted by a masked man, and finally about being watched.

When my story continues I believe I am sixteen or seventeen, and in high school. I really should look up the year, but that doesn’t really matter.

I’m Being Stalked

Have you ever been startled awake by a sound that you tried to dismiss as nothing. Perhaps you laid there not totally convinced? That’s how this installment begins…

One summer night I was woken by the sound of someone trying to get in my bedroom window. Now I sleepily tried to talk myself into believing I was dreaming. I said, “Leisa you were dreaming. Just go back to sleep.” But then I heard it again, and this time it was so very obvious. I was not dreaming. My heart was racing when I realized that someone, yes someone, was definitely trying to get in my bedroom window!

(more…)

My Life Story - Part 5; Someone’s Watching Me

Man Staring In WindowA couple of weeks ago I began telling you about my life’s story. I talked about a few traumatic events and a little about the fears that I carried with me.

And yet the traumatic events continued…

You’ve probably all had the experience of knowing that someone is watching you. What if your fears were confirmed?

Were not talking about the sense that someone is walking you walk through a restaurant, or walking on a busy street. We are talking about the sense that if you look up at an open window, right there in your own home, you’ll see someone staring back at you. Someone that has no right to be there. Someone who is violating your private space.

You sense the staring, you don’t want to look, but yet you have to look up. You have to look up because you just have to know. Is there someone really there? (more…)

Why Such a Sad Song?

Dear Reader,

Thanks for bearing with me. I know the last few days posts have been a little on the depressing side. It’s not that I want to depress you. It’s because I hope that my story may be of help to someone.

Several months ago I shared just a portion my story on stage at a writers conference. I just felt I should. As soon as I had I quickly regretted it. I thought, “I can’t believe I just told all these strangers that.”

I regretted it for about 30 minutes at which time we took a break. Several people came up and thanked me for sharing just the few sentences I did with them. Some had tears in their eyes when they told me that they realized that they didn’t have excuses, that they could be courageous, that they felt inspired. They said, “Thank you.”

So I promise, what I having been sharing has a purpose, and I will share more with you next week. But I don’t think I can stand any more sad songs around here for a little while. So tomorrow I’m going to get back to some dreaming, acting, planning, and believing.

Leisa Watkins

My Life Story - Part 4; You Get What You Think About

Shadow of stalkerOur street was long and dark. We lived at the uphill end of a circle. My friend Shelly lived at the bottom of the street. I would often walk to her house. One side of the street had a grumpy old lady whom the neighborhood kids feared. We got yelled at if we spent to much time in her yard or we accidentally veered off the sidewalk when riding our bikes. The kids speculated she was a witch. Doesn’t every neighborhood have one of those? Someone the neighborhood kids fear.

So when I ran to Shelly’s house I usually choose to walk on the opposite side of the street. But that wasn’t really much better because of THE TREE. The tree was a very large pine tree and it scared me. It scared me because of what lay on the other side. You see I always pictured someone waiting on the other side of the tree. Every time I passed that tree I feared that someone would jump out from behind it and grab me. That was pictured vividly in my mind every time I passed that tree for years. And it was the reason why I always ran past the tree.

I was older now and it was the first time I had walked to Shelly’s house alone in the dark. It had just gotten dark and the seasons were changing. It wasn’t really that late, but the darkness permeated everything.

I remember being determined to not let the fear control me so I determined to slowly walk past the pine tree and not run as I always did. For the first time I wanted to be in control and not let my fear control me.

So I walked slowly past the pine tree. But then I heard them foot steps.

Directly behind me. They matched my pace. I glanced back and saw a masked man. He seemed to tower over me. But then again I as tiny, so he literally did tower over me.

I quickened my pace. His quickened as well. I glanced at the house we were in front of. No lights were on, but I noticed that the next house had lights glowing within. I ran. I ran up the porch. I could see into the kitchen, but no one was there. I so hoped that someone was there and could see me. I pounded and pounded on the door, and prayed. Prayed that someone would come quickly.

The man had reached me now. I saw his hands reach out for me. His hands were just an inch from my shoulders when someone walked into the kitchen. I remember thinking, “look up, look up” because my neighbor was looking at his feet as he walked through the kitchen.

But still it did the trick. The man fearing that he would be caught, jumped off the porch and ran into the back yard. My neighbor answered the door with a big smile and said, “Hi, Leisa.” But I was speechless. I couldn’t say anything. I just wanted to be safe at home. And what I did next still surprises me today. I turned around and ran. I headed for home as fast as I could. I ran home, closed, and locked the door, and leaned against it to catch my breath.

I want to pause here, in my life story, to point out that what I feared happened to me exactly as I imagined it. And it was one of my important life lessons, you attract what you think about, and you attract what you fear. I wish I had learned the lesson when it happened, but it wouldn’t be apparent to me until years later.

I wish I could tell you that this was the final traumatic event, but it was just beginning…

Leisa Watkins

My Life Story - Part 3; Intruder Shatters My Vision of Being Safe at Home

My apologies if you’ve already read this. I’ve decided to break
the last post down into more manageable chunks.

 

Thief - Home InvasionI was probably twelve at the time when the next traumatic event happened. My parents had gone out for the evening. My friend and I were co-babysitting by younger brothers and sister. We were sitting in the basement, watching the Miss America pageant. We had one set of stairs, and at the top of those stairs was a door that opened to the garage.

Suddenly, we heard the door from the garage open and then close. We heard someone walk through the kitchen to the living room, down the hall, and into my parent’s bedroom. We heard them open the drawers and begin rummaging through them.

My friend and I glanced fearful glances at each other, but didn’t want to alarm my siblings. But they heard it as well. David, my younger brother,said, “Leisa, someone’s upstairs.”

Now this was before they taught us about 911. Perhaps it wasn’t even around then. Probably not. But we couldn’t figure out what to do. Why we didn’t think to call my friends dad is beyond me. But hey I guess we were too scared to think clearly.

My dad had a phone in his office and we decided to call a neighbor. We chose them because they had an easy phone number to remember and it was the first thing that came to my mind. So we went into the office and I picked-up the phone to call. But what I heard next terrified me…

I picked up the phone and there was the intruder on the line. I could hear him breathing. I must have gone as white as a ghost because my friend kept saying, “Leisa, what’s wrong?” over and over again. Thankfully he hung up and I quickly called, under the sound of movement upstairs. Luckily someone answered the phone quickly. The neighbors called the police and rushed to our house and rang the doorbell.

Now here we were, in the basement. Trapped. Or so we thought. How were we going to get upstairs and open the door?

We all grabbed something from the office. I grabbed a big heavy hole-punch. The others grabbed my dad’s antique bottles (and we were really hoping we wouldn’t have to use them) and we slowly made our way upstairs to the front door. We let the neighbors in who took a look around. He had fled and we were safe.

The police arrived and took a report. I remember vividly my younger brother staring with big wide eyes at the policeman’s gun. I remember thinking that the policeman didn’t believe us, and that they thought our imagination got the better of us. It only they had seen the looks on everyone’s faces when they heard the door open. It was simultaneous. Over active imagination. No! The second traumatic event in my life. Yes!

And planted within me was the slight belief that cops couldn’t protect us. And I realized that day that I wasn’t safe in my own home. That belief would manifest itself in more detail later…

The third traumatic event occurred not to long later…

Leisa Watkins

My Life Story - Part 2; The Law of Attraction at Work

Masked ManI recently told you about my sixth sense or highly tuned perception and some it’s effects on my life. Much of what I tell you next is a by-product of that gift. You see, I learned to fear a lot when I was very little.

The fear wasn’t because I had a bad home life, in fact I had a great home life. It was because of the energy I felt around me. I didn’t yet know how to protect my own body and soul from the effects of my highly tuned perception and this led a great amount of fear. I was afraid all the time. I had a great fear of men in particular. That fear of men was probably due in part to that man in the mall I told you about earlier.

Now, if you’ve studied anything about the law of attraction you know that you attract to yourself what you think about and that your feelings greatly affect the speed that things come to you. If you haven’t heard about the law of attraction yet, then let me tell you about how I first learned about it. What I learned has proved to be a highly valuable lesson.

The first signs of stress…

The first signs of illness appeared when I was just six years old. I developed a cough. The doctors had no explanation for it. At that point in time the asthma I developed later in life wasn’t apparent. I simply coughed and coughed. Almost 40 years later I still cough, but not as much. Personally I believe that it was my body’s way of trying to get rid of the toxic energy I was feeling all around me. It was the fear trying to escape.

The fear first manifested itself when…

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My Life Story - Part 1; My Highly Tuned Perception

BrainwavesMy life has been a great one in so many ways. It truly has, and for that I am very grateful. However, I’ve had my share of trauma and periodic depression, but I believe it has had a purpose. You’ll learn more in the next few weeks. I figured it was time I shared with you, my blog readers, my story. So here is it part one, of my life’s story.

I was born in a cold Army hospital weighing close to 4 pounds, but I was not premature. I was simply tiny. I remained tiny the rest of my childhood. So tiny in fact that I weighed 50 pounds in Junior High School. But it wasn’t from lack of eating. I had just received an award at camp for the girl who went back fifths, sixths, and sevenths through the cafeteria line. I ate a lot.

Later in life it would prove to be a novelty with my dates. They were shocked that I would order a large meal, eat it all, and even eat dessert. They said it was refreshing to take someone to dinner who wanted more than a salad and ice water. I still weighed close to 100 pounds so it was very unexpected. How could someone so tiny eat so much?

People heard rumors that I ate more than my brothers, but simply wouldn’t believe it until they saw me eat. I had a high metabolism, but was also a ballet dancer.

I was also born with a very highly tuned sixth-sense.
I could sense peoples thoughts and feelings.
I regularly knew things before they happened.

(more…)


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