I was at work the other week on customer services at my local shopping centre when during the busiest time of the day two frail old ladies came up to my desk and asked me all the usual routine questions. During our conversation one pointed out a sign that said that we, as a centre would be participating in the ‘SOS - Parcels For Afghanistan’ appeal which is where all donations given by the public (food toiletries etc…) are sent over to the Solders who are battling in the current war during the Christmas period when they are away from their families.

The women soon left and it wasn’t until my work shift was near an end when they came back to my desk with a shopping trolly overflowing with everything which they thought would comfort those fighting for our Country. Upon unloading the trolly I thanked them both on behalf of the centre as a whole and to this they simply smiled politely and said ‘it’s nothing’.

Upon checking the items before they left the desk there was all the finest food and high quality products among the load, nothing was own brand and everything had had some thought put behind it. As they turned to leave I thanked them again for all their support.

It’s selfless people like this that Give Me Hope, they didn’t know the people who they were buying for, they weren't the richest women in the world, but none of that mattered to them, they just wanted to do something to help those fighting for our freedom.

I wish that everyone I met in this world was as selfless as this.

This summer my parents and I visited family in LA and Indonesia. I'm not close to any of my extended family, and, to be honest, I'm not very fond of my aunts and uncles. They like bringing up the fact that I'm fat, and they all do it in different ways. Sometimes it sounds like they're joking, sometimes it sounds patronizing, sometimes it just sounds mean. I don't mind poking fun at myself, but it's never felt good coming from my relatives, and they've always managed to make me feel bad about myself.

When we went to Indonesia, we visited my grandmother who I hadn't seen since I was seven. Communicating with her was difficult. I don't speak Indonesian, though I can understand it. But my grandmother had Alzheimer's, so her mind wasn't all there. I could only understand about half of her tangents.

Most of the time, I don't think she knew who I was. Still, she would talk to me a lot, sometimes tell me the same story over and over. But there was one moment when she turned my way and pinched my arm. She laughed. She said she couldn't believe how fat I was, but she still thought I was beautiful. And the whole time she spoke, there was this huge, toothless grin plastered across her face.

Granted, I could of misheard her. She could of been out of her mind.

Still. It was the first time I believed someone when they told me I was beautiful.

It was hard to ignore the massive 3rd degree burn scar on my left hip, growing up, and it wasn't exactly something I could hide from anyone. This isn't a sob story about how much I hate my scar; on the contrary, I love it. I love how it's a part of me the only thing that won't change. I refused, from the start, to get a surgery to hide it. I love all of it.

I got the scar when I was a baby but...what I hadn't known, up till yesterday, was that I had gotten it less than two hours after my mother gave birth to me. Apparently, she had not been cleaned up and I hadn't even been bathed for the first time yet! During cold weather, babies are wrapped up with a hot water bottle beside them, right? The hot water bottle beside me had been made of steel and rubber and I wasn't wrapped up - understandable because it was summer and summer back home in Pakistan is very, very warm.

The bottle came into contact with my hip and, well, burnt it. This fact was hidden from my family until they actually took me home for the first time, bundled in a blanket. Once they unwrapped me...well, you can imagine the shock. My grandmother kicked up quite a fuss in the hospital, even more so than my parents, threatening to file a case against them and what not. My parents stopped her; nothing could be gained from suing the hospital. But my grandmother was furious. My parents were too, obviously, but my grandmother...

Around that time, she sat down in prayer, beseeching to God in her own words that I had been through so much pain upon entering the world, that I deserved to never feel any pain for the entirety of my life, that even if she was not around to see me grow up I would be graced with blessings and love and happiness.

My grandmother is alive and healthy, even though she lost her husband - my grandfather - this May. She continues to be the strong woman I have admired for so long. She's the keystone of our family, always the pillar of support, and she has never failed to be there for anyone if they needed her. Her selflessness gives me so much hope. Her love gives me so much hope. My grandmother gives me so much hope.

I love you Umba <3

I've never really told anyone how much of an impact my dad has had on me, even at my young age of 17.

When he was younger, my dad went through the abandonment of his father, the abuse of his stepfather, the airforce, and the serious depression. He never really knew what it was, stuff like bi-polar disorder wasn't really talked about when he was younger, so he never got help until much later in his life. When my half brother and sister were born, my dad was a struggling addict. Addicted to drugs, and alcohol to cope with the severe high and low mood swings that came with his disorder.

He had even made several attempts to end his life, and even when he married my mom, he wasn't okay. He was abusive, and still strongly addicted. When I was born, we went through several homes, he would leave randomly and come back, to this day I don't remember a lot of what happened during my childhood. But when they went through their divorce [around the time I was 5 years old] everything changed.

My dad was addicted to heroin, alcohol, and pretty much whatever he could get his hands on to alleviate his pain, and he hurt alot of people throughout those years, but he got clean, and he did that for his children and himself. I won't say that's enough to make him a hero, but the amazing odds he surmounted to get to where he was, amazed me.

After getting clean, and getting his life together, he started a welding job, and made the best of what he had, which wasn't much. He lived with my grandmother for as long as he had to until he could afford his own place, and even at that it wasn't anything better than a trailer. I very clearly remember going to see him and him helping me with all of my school work, and everything I ever needed guidance on. He became my best friend.

Everytime I would visit him, he would teach me something, anything. He taught me how to make pancakes, he'd teach me a new word, he'd teach me about Ireland, he wouldn't stop until all of my questions were answered, and even then he'd try to tell me more about anything. He never let me give up on anything, when I'd be doing a project, and be frustrated over not knowing the answer, he wouldn't just tell me, he'd help me look it up to learn it for myself.

Later in the years, I started showing symptoms of bi-polar disorder too, and I wasn't really being the best kid, and I'll admit that I fell into the "cutting" phase. When my mom found out, she quickly sent me off to my fathers, and I remember that weekend so clearly. We spent two days silently, and the third day, the last day that I was going to spend at his house, he opened up to me about his life, and how he had the same problem once, too.

We talked to eachother about everything, and he said "It took me 35 years to get help" made me promise that I'd stop, and I have. But that's not the only thing I have to be thankful for having someone like him in my life.

He later got emphazima from his welding job, sleep apnea from the weight gain Lithium caused him, diagnosed with Obsessive Compulsive disorder, he was on disability for the remainder of his life, and after bills and everything only managed to have about $10 to his name for every month. Yet, nothing stopped him from giving to others.

He took in a stranger who had just arrived in America from Hungary knowing very little english at all, who later became to be like a second father to me. I was with him when he gave the last $20 dollars he had for the month to a homeless man, because he knew that man needed it more than he did. Anything anyone needed he was there to give his best, and he never stopped being optimistic. Every time I had a problem, I'd go straight to him, and he gave me the advice, the comfort, everything I needed to get far, and he was the one person that believed in me no matter what I did, or how bad I got myself into something.

My dad gave me hope that, no matter how bad things can be, and how far into rock bottom you can hit, you can still rise up above your ailments, above the people that tell you, you can't do something, or don't stand by your side. He was living proof that everyone has good in them, and every person has the potential to shine. He showed me that, even a drug addicted, suffering man, can be the very person that changes your life for the better.

In 2005, my dad took his life. I can never blame him for what he did, he suffered so much that he just wanted to be at peace, and I will never resent him for that. He showed me so much love, and compassion, that I will never be the same. My dad was a pure example of hope in darkness, atleast he was for me, and he still is. when I think of what he's done for me, for others, I still feel that love that he never gave up on anyone, and in Heaven he's still watching me make my mistakes, and make it through, while nodding with approval.

He wasn't perfect, no one is, but he changed my life and I'll never forget that.

As a senior, the theme around me seems to be "what it's like to become an adult." What felt so far away is now coming toward me at a very fast pace. Seventeen is a tender age to be, and I feel as if I'm quickly growing away from it. Sometimes I feel sixteen, young and full of mistakes. Sometimes I feel eighteen, with my head on straight and everything figured out.

I just wanted to share this feeling, and with it some hope. I know that right now there are trials and I'll be tested everyday by people who want to make me a lesser person. But I'll always try to rise above it all. To not become like the people I see around me. This is the way I want to be, my would-be self.

And I'm sure so do many other people around me too.

So this is a really long and involved story and has many facets to it, but I'll do my best to keep it as straight forward as possible!

When my Mum was 19 years old she had a stroke down the left hand side of her body - it was completely unexpected becuase she was very healthy and didn't smoke or drink alcohol or anything like that. The doctors discovered it was because she had an AV Malformation (basically it's when a cluster of veins in your brain get tangled and can cause an aneurism - think of what happens to a hose when there's a kink in it) and it was causing pressure in her brain. She was told - at the age of 19 - that she had two options - either she could not have brain surgery and have a 95% chance of dying at the age of 30 or she could have the brain surgery and have a 90% chance of dying in the surgery, a 70% chance of having severe brain damage after the surgery and then, after all that, still have a possibility of dying young due to the surgery.

She took awhile to decide and wasn't sure what to do. This all changed when she met my dad, got married and fell pregnant with me (at the age of 20). She decided then that she would rather have the surgery and have the chance to live along life then to die young and leave her children without a mother - she needed to wait though, till after she had my younger brother.

When I was 2 years old, my Mum had another stroke and was paralysed down the left hand side of her body. The doctors told her she would never walk again and would always be in a wheelchair and dependent on her husband to look after her. My mum would not have a bar of it and is today walking again and has full use of her left side - she limps and tires easily and had to teach herself to write with her right hand (some of my earliest memories are my mum and I sitting down and doing our handwriting homework together) but she can walk. That's the first inspirational thing.

When I was 3, my Mum went in for her brain surgery. It didn't go well - the left side of her skull got infected from the stitches and basically had to be taken off completely, so she only has half a skull. Over the years they tried to put in titanium plates, but her body rejected them all. She tires very easily and if she over works her body, she'll have a seizure. She lost the ability to reason, to control her emotions and is very very forgetful. For the next 6 years she was in and out of hospital because she was always sick, she was unable to control her emotions at all and would spend most of her time in bed, crying, yelling, laughing, throwing up. People tell me that before the surgery my Mum was a completely different person, but I've only ever known her as the woman she is now.

When I was 9, and my brother was 7, my Dad had had enough and left my Mum and I. She wasn't well enough to look after myself and my brother (who had ADHD), as she was still recovering from her various surgeries. I took over the household as best I could, with my Oma helping out where she could. My brother was sent to foster care not long after and I stayed with my mum. My dad was never around in those years.

Even though my mum was irrational, moody, very nasty at times and violent (she became an alcoholic not long after that and it just made her mood swings even worse), often kicking me out of home and saying awful things which are still with me to this day, I know that she did the best she could - she couldn't help that she had brain damage, she couldn't help that her husband left her when she needed him most - there was a lot of things she couldn't help, but she never ever gave up or let her circumstances beat her.

I have alot of issues with my Mum, but I am so proud of her, for those first few years of my life, before she became an alcoholic and her mind started to deterioate. She just proves that no matter what other people tell you, if you have the heart and the determination, you can even walk again after having multiple strokes and brain surgery.

Hello and welcome new members!
We're glad you found us, and ecstatic that you decided to join and/or watch this community!

Our rules are few and can be found in the community profile. If you haven't read them already, please do.

I'd also like to step up right now and correct something that was written in our spotlight.
The spotlight says "this community invites you to document moments of kindness, generosity, and pure human love in 350 words or less." THIS IS A MISTAKE.
No posts here are limited to 350 words or less!
In fact, this community was created for those stories that cannot be contained by 350 words, though that does not mean that 350 words is any kind of minimum posting length. Post whatever you want, however long or short you want it to be.

We also invite you to post more than stories.
Is there a video that you feel gives you hope? A song, a picture, a website, a charity, an event? Post those as well!
Of course, keep in mind that if you wish to advertise an event/charity/etc you must first make a request here.

If you have any questions that need to be addressed, please visit the page-a-mod post.
During the spotlight period, we are doing our best to have a mod online at all times, so things should be running smoothly for the next week.
Your moderators, by the way, are: tahu, awkwardjonas, and raved

Cheers! :D

In preparation of the community getting spotlighted in four days (!!!) all posts are now filtered.

Likely, no one will get turned down; this is just being done to save your flists and as a cautionary step towards trolls. When the spotlight is over, it will be lifted provided posting has slowed down.

We've already made our first change in preparation for the spotlight!
It's nothing big, nor will it effect you, but we not have a Page-a-Mod entry.

The purpose of this entry is to answer any questions you may have, and to solve any problems that may arise.
If you have questions, concerns, or even suggestions to improve the community, please vist the Page-a-Mod post.

All comments to the Page-a-Mod are screened, and will only be accessible to mods through the anon-sock, givesushopeanon. All issues raised will remain confidential and will not leave that entry.

In addition, a link has been added to the side-bar that will bring you to the Page-a-Mod post.


Besides this, the only change we're planning on making for the spotlight is to moderate posting.
This will slow down the number of posts, so your poor flist does not get flooded, and we will also be able to regulate tags (which people are likely to forget) as well as keep an eye out for possible trolls.

Again, if you have any questions, comments, or concerns, feel free to leave a comment here or bring it up privately at the Page-a-Mod.

I apologize for the double update, but I thought you all deserved to know about this before it happened.
Today, I received a very exciting email from Livejournal. It read as follows:

Congratulations!

We would love to place your journal, givesushope, in the LJ Spotlight, starting November 16, 2009.

Spotlights generally last for seven days and result in increased activity, posts, and comments. They can also bring anywhere from hundreds to thousands of new members. If you don't already moderate posts in your community, you might want to do so during the spotlight period. Everything will calm down after it's over, but it's a good idea to keep an extra eye on things while you're in the spotlight.

THAT'S RIGHT. It all paid off.
Starting November 16th, this community will be featured in the LJ spotlight!

Just as is warned in the email, this can sometimes bring hundreds or thousands of new members.
It is likely that we will take the suggestion of moderating posting to the community, but I just wanted to give a general warning that leading up to and especially during the spotlight period, there will be changes made to the community.

A mod post will be made to let you know whenever significant changes have been made--we don't want to knock anyone off-balance or leave anyone unawares.

If you have any suggestions or questions, feel free to PM any of your mods (myself, awkwardjonas, and raved). We would be more than willing to listen.

In addition to this, there has already been a change made in regards to anonymous posting.
A new option has been added and you can now post anonymously by sending your story to givesushope@gmail.com where it will then be re-posted by givesushopeanon.

Preface: I'm a child of lesbians. For convenience's sake, I call them Mom 1 and Mom 2 online. Mom 1 is my biological mother, but this isn't where the titles originate (they're both equally my mothers); rather it was just that I was relaying a funny story about them online back in the day, and Mom 1 was the first to have dialogue. It stuck because it's simple and because I'm paranoid about passing out too much personal information on the Internet.

Anyway.

When I was thirteen, Mom 2 was diagnosed with breast cancer. I remember that when she sat us down and told us that she had a lump in her breast, I said, "It's cancer," and she nodded and I burst into tears. Beyond that, I don't remember much. Most of my memories of the entire year she fought it are blurry or simply gone. I know I did a lot of waiting in doctor's offices as she had appointment after appointment, and that I grew to loathe that antiseptic hospital smell. I almost flunked out of school. I did not think about what was going or the possibility that I'd lose her; I was repressing everything I felt. However, I remember the day she went in for her double mastectomy with perfect clarity. I have a crystal image of her being wheeled away from us on a gurney, I remember the layout of the waiting area in which we sat and the terrible food, bought from one of the hospital's establishments, that we ate, that my aunt talked about the benefits of medical marijuana. I also remember going in to see her afterward, how woozy she was on the morphine and how strange her flat chest looked, the view from her room and how much pain she was obviously in. But she survived.

( Read more... )

My mothers are my heroes. I love them more than words can express.

They give me hope.

I've been meaning to make this post, trying to find the courage to be this brutally honest with all of you, and there's no better time then the present, right?

( Behind a cut for length and some privacy )

Crossposted at my journal and anywhere else that will have me.
I also apologize in advance for this being super long. I dare not cut it.

Last year, I participated in supercharitygo. It was one of the most fulfilling things I have ever done. I made no money off of it, and I only got one commission, but the feelings of fullfillment and hope for humanity have not yet left me.
Last year, we raised $1,036.52 for various charities.
Right now, they are running an emergency fundraiser to help the people in the Philippines.

For those of you who don't know, the Philippines was hit by Typhoon Ondoy, flooding it with a month's worth of rainfall in the span of only six hours. Twenty-five provinces have been turned into utter disaster zones, with hundreds dead and millions affected. And to add insult to injury, there's another one on the way.

Copypasta from supercharitygo:

The Philippines needs help, and I want us to rise to the challenge. Any amount of money or possessions you can donate is invaluable. Skip lunch. Dig up an old blanket. Hold out on that book you're dying to get. It is much, much, much more important that we give the Philippines our attention right now.

You guys already know how it's all going to work, because this drive is going to run just like normal. The only difference is that, since this is something that needs a response NOW, we're not going to break the charity drive up into sections and will instead do the whole thing in one big manic run from now until November 30th. This means that there are no applications, people can jump in any time they want, and donations will be accepted the entire time. So, this is more of a FAST AND FURIOUS mini-drive, just to lend a hand.

MANY ARTISTS HAVE LOWERED THEIR PRICES.
Seriously, I'm probably going to donate and you all have heard of my ~*money situation*~. There's some amazing art being offered from as low as TWO DOLLARS.

[DONATE]

[PROVE YOUR DONATION]

[REQUEST ART/SIGN UP TO GIVE ART]

Seriously, I know how awesome you are and I cannot stress enough how JUST A COUPLE OF BUCKS, or a SPARE BLANKET YOU NEVER USE is utterly, utterly needed.

The Philippine Red Cross does not take just money--they also take anything from clothes to canned goods--but if you are looking for other ways to donate or just more information about the situation, you can find more info here, here, here, and here.

I KNOW HOW AWESOME YOU ALL ARE, SO LET'S GET OUT THERE AND MAKE A DIFFERENCE! :D

IF YOU REALLY CANNOT DONATE, OR SIGN UP TO GIVE ART/FIC/ICONS/MUSIC/ANYTHING, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE SPREAD THE WORD. IF YOU WANT ME TO MAKE A STANDARD PIMP POST LIKE I DID WITH givesushope'S PIMP POST, I WILL BE MORE THAN HAPPY TO IN 20 MINUTES. I'M JUST IN CLASS RIGHT NOW AND THIS WAS WRITTEN KIND OF ON THE FLY.

REMEMBER: THE MONEY YOU DONATE IS GOING TO THE CHARITY, NOT THE ARTIST. NO ONE HERE IS TURNING A PROFIT.

If you are interested in pimping, here is a template:
<big><b>THE PEOPLE IN THE PHILIPPINES NEED YOUR HELP!!</B></big> <b><lj user="supercharitygo"> is running an emergency fundraiser</b> to help the people in the Philippines. The premise was: DONATE SHIT, GET ART. For those of you who don't know, the Philippines was hit by Typhoon Ondoy, flooding it with a month's worth of rainfall in the span of only six hours. Twenty-five provinces have been turned into utter disaster zones, with hundreds dead and millions affected. And to add insult to injury, <a href="http://www.facebook.com/video/video.php?v=1045522435538">there's another one on the way</a>. Copypasta from <lj user="supercharitygo">: <blockquote>The Philippines <i>needs help</i>, and I want us to rise to the challenge. Any amount of money or possessions you can donate is invaluable. Skip lunch. Dig up an old blanket. Hold out on that book you're dying to get. It is much, much, much more important that we give the Philippines our attention right now. You guys already know how it's all going to work, because this drive is going to run just like normal. The only difference is that, since this is something that needs a response NOW, we're not going to break the charity drive up into sections and will instead do the whole thing in one big manic run from <b>now until November 30th</b>. This means that there are <b>no applications</b>, people can jump in <b>any time they want</b>, and <b>donations will be accepted the entire time</b>. So, this is more of a FAST AND FURIOUS mini-drive, just to lend a hand.</blockquote> MANY ARTISTS HAVE LOWERED THEIR PRICES. There's some amazing art being offered from as low as TWO DOLLARS. <center><big><big><big><big><b>[<a href="http://www.redcross.org.ph/Site/PNRC/wtd.aspx">DONATE</A>] [<a href="http://community.livejournal.com/supercharitygo/5056.html?mode=reply">PROVE YOUR DONATION</A>] [<A HREF="http://community.livejournal.com/supercharitygo/4814.html">REQUEST ART/SIGN UP TO GIVE ART</A>]</big></big></big></big></b></center> It cannot be stressed enough how JUST A COUPLE OF BUCKS, or a SPARE BLANKET YOU NEVER USE is utterly, utterly needed. The Philippine Red Cross does not take just money--they also take anything from clothes to canned goods--but if you are looking for other ways to donate or just more information about the situation, you can find more info <a href="http://behindinfinity.deviantart.com/journal/27461246/">here</a>, <a href="http://sanggre-habagat.livejournal.com/106988.html">here</a>, <a href="http://users.livejournal.com/_ligaya_/149200.html">here</a>, and <a href="http://greyrook-22.livejournal.com/90652.html">here</a>. <BIG><BIG><BIG><B><center>I KNOW HOW AWESOME YOU ALL ARE, SO LET'S GET OUT THERE AND MAKE A DIFFERENCE! :D</BIG></BIG></BIG></B></center> IF YOU REALLY CANNOT DONATE, OR SIGN UP TO GIVE ART/FIC/ICONS/MUSIC/ANYTHING, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE SPREAD THE WORD. <I>REMEMBER: THE MONEY YOU DONATE IS GOING TO THE CHARITY, NOT THE ARTIST. NO ONE HERE IS TURNING A PROFIT.</I><textarea>

My step father grew up in a broken home, not only were they very poor, but his father was very abusive, and his mother could not help. He was left on the streets at 14, yet continued his schooling and worked his way through college and university, earning the highest marks in all his courses. He eventually became a chef at the international board of trade, and travelled the world. Yet during this, he was taken advantage of by his two wives before my mother, who abused him and their kids. Yet he still worked long hours, and supported the kids and his wives, out of kindness.
In the early 80's, he fell down 14 stairs and broke his neck, he was in therapy for years and still went to college an got more degrees. He's disabled now with Diabetes, arthritis, asthma, a bad back, and even more. Yet he takes care of my mother and I, who had left an abuse husband/father. He spends all the money he makes on his pension on us, not even buying himself shoes. He says this is because he wants us to have what he didn't. He's even putting me through college.
He's the only real father I ever had, and every day I make sure to say I love him.

When I was 15, the police removed me from my family. Because I was 15, DOCS (Department of Child Services) decided that I was old enough to "make my own way in the world", and they didn't organise an official foster-home adoption for me. Instead, my school counsellor set me up with this old Dutch couple. And when I say old, I mean old. They could have easily been my grandparents. Anyway, that didn't work out, for a variety of reasons, and after about 6 weeks this couple kicked me out. I had nowhere to go, I had nobody I could stay with (I didn't have any friends at the time), and I ended up on the street. DOCS still wanted nothing to do with me, which still makes me angry to this day. Actually, I think now that I'm older it makes me even more angrier than I was at 15. When all this stuff with my family and my homelessness was happening, I couldn't even properly focus being angry at DOCS. When they said I was "too old" for foster care, I guess I just accepted what they said without thinking of the reasoning behind it. But now that I'm an adult I can see what an absolutely FUCKED UP system they have. 15 is too old for parents? Get the fuck out.

Okay, I'm starting to ramble. Sorry. On with the story.

Anyway. I wasn't on the street for very long, only about 4 weeks. I finally found a female boarding house in the northern suburbs of my city, and they took me in. The boarding house was a very horrible place, full of teenage crackheads who got knocked up at every opportunity. But the woman who ran the place was the most wonderful person I have ever met. Her name is Di. It's been nearly three years since I've left that place, and yet I still think about her every day. Without her, I don't even know where my life would be right now. She took a special interest in me for some reason. To this day I still don't know why. She did so much for me. I was in a very sad and lonely state of mind back then, as you could imagine, with what I was going through. But she came over to the house three days a week and she would sit on the balcony with me and held me while I bawled my eyes out. She told me I was a beautiful, intelligent young woman, and that I would get through that difficult time. When I had no money for food or rent she would tell me not to worry about the rent that week, and she would also give me money to buy me groceries and cigarettes. All the money she gave me came out of her OWN pocket. When I told her I didn't want to go to school anymore, she helped me find my first job. When I was admitted to the psych ward in the hospital, she came to visit me - outside of office hours, in her own free time. When I needed advice, she gave it to me, and when I didn't follow it and fucked up majorly, she wouldn't get angry, she just said she understood, and that I had to make my own mistakes in life, so I could learn from them and move on and become a better person.

Just thinking about her right now is making me start crying. She is the closest thing I've ever had to a proper mother figure. I haven't seen her in nearly three years. Sometimes I think about catching the train up to her office, but I'm scared she won't remember me, and I don't want to spoil the amazing memories I have of her if she has no idea who I am anymore.

So, yeah. This woman, Di, was the person to Give Me Hope to keep going.

OK, so I know I already posted? But when this community was created, this was the story I really wanted to tell.

It’s a bit… unusual, I guess, to be described as ‘inspirational’, but it was one of the biggest experiences of my life. Several years later, I've found the inspiration within it, and I hope once you've read it, you'll see it too. (It also went on a bit longer than I was expecting, but this is the first time I’ve typed it all down, and it’s been a cathartic process.)

You know how in schmaltzy songs they say life is a journey? If my life was a road, this was a huge freaking crossroads. No, not even a crossroads. A diversion. One tiny decision from me set a huge roadblock in my path, which for ages I tried to figure out how to get past, before eventually realizing that my path had turned in a different direction.

( And this decision was to go buy a DVD. )

I just wanted to come forward and say how proud I am of this community.
I know that 6 posts is probably not something to get too excited about, but the world be damned if I'm not going to get excited. Already, this community has become something more than I ever anticipated.
I'd like to thank all of those who have posted, especially our first anonymous--it's hard to go first (thank you hobbit_eyes!) but it's a much harder thing to be the first to post anonymously.

I really think that this community has every opportunity to go somewhere, so I'm going to right now and ask you to do a couple of things.

Firstly, suggest us for a spotlight!
If the community is selected for a spotlight, it will be featured on the homepage (just below where it shows your comments, if you use the newest version.) In my experience (I've joined a few featured communities in my time,) these communities explode with activity, and word spreads fast.


Second, pimp it out! This community deserves to be heard!
You can pimp it out on your flists, in communities, and even on outside websites so go go go!

For a code like this entry:
<center><a href="http://community.livejournal.com/givesushope/profile"><img src="http://i306.photobucket.com/albums/nn248/tahu_graphics/profile_header001.png"></a></center> <i>This community is based off of <a href="http://www.givesmehope.com">GivesMeHope.com</a> which was founded in May 2009 in response to the popular site, FMyLife.com (FML). On FML, people share stories explaining how their day was completely ruined. GivesMeHope.com is a positive spin on FML. Some stories just cannot be contained in 350 characters, and those stories moved to Livejournal. It started off as a meme, but all those magnificent stories deserved to be documented, and the idea became something much more; it turned into this community. This community is for sharing those stories that inspire hope within you--random acts of kindness, your own experiences, overheard conversations--that cannot be limited to just 350 characters; this includes <b>long stories</b>, <b>images</b>, <b>music</b> and <b>videos</b>! Whatever fills you with hope or inspiration! Because with all of the hurt and suffering in the world, who couldn't use a few more reasons to hope each day?</i> 【<a href="http://www.livejournal.com/community/join.bml?comm=givesushope">Join!</a>】【<a href="http://www.livejournal.com/friends/add.bml?user=givesushope">Watch!</a>】【<a href="http://www.livejournal.com/update.bml">Pimp!</a>】【<a href="http://www.livejournal.com/misc/suggest_spotlight.bml">Suggest it for a Spotlight!</a>】 <b>If you participated in the meme</b> by posting in your own journal, please <a href="http://www.livejournal.com/update.bml?usejournal=givesushope">repost your story</a>. If you participated in the meme, but would <b>prefer your story to remain anonymous</b>, please <a href="http://community.livejournal.com/givesushope/670.html?mode=reply">leave your story in an anonymous comment</a> and it will be reposted using the anonymous sock journal, <lj user="givesushopeanon">

For a banner with a link:
<center><a href="http://community.livejournal.com/givesushope/profile"><img src="http://i306.photobucket.com/albums/nn248/tahu_graphics/profile_header001.png"></a></center>

Suggested links (I suggest you include these if you make your own post about it):
【<a href="http://www.livejournal.com/community/join.bml?comm=givesushope">Join!</a>】【<a href="http://www.livejournal.com/friends/add.bml?user=givesushope">Watch!</a>】【<a href="http://www.livejournal.com/update.bml">Pimp!</a>】【<a href="http://www.livejournal.com/misc/suggest_spotlight.bml">Suggest it for a Spotlight!</a>】

I've even sent an email to the folks responsible for GMH to let them know this community exists. I didn't ask for anything, but I do hope that they will feature a link somewhere.

Thanks for reading, and keep sharing! :D

In High School, we had to take a writing class one trimester per year. Our teacher was also the Psychology teacher, we called him Doctor D. I remember he always encouraged me to keep writing, to keep working at what I loved. My senior year, I took AP Psychology and told him I was planning to go to College for Psychology. He didn't tell me not to be a Psych Major, but he did tell me that I should go for what I really want and love to do.

I switched my major less than three weeks into the school year my freshman year at college, and I'm always writing. Whenever I get to the point where I don't think I'll ever be able to finish (and sometimes even start) a story or a novel that I've got an idea for, I think of the faith Doctor D had in me and the encouragement he gave me.

If I ever get anything published, I plan on thanking him in the acknowledgments.

My mom has been best friends with Dawn since highschool--like 8th grade or something like that. They practically lived at one another's houses. (Seriously; My mom would get grounded at Dawn's house and Dawn's parents would call my mom telling them that she was grounded from leaving the house so she would be staying over night that night.) When my parents were still together, Dawn also lived in Irondequoit and she was basically a second mother to me.

When I was in my sophomore or junior year of high school (can't remember which d'oh,) Dawn was diagnosed simultaneously with breast cancer and bone cancer. She battled it, and overcame the breast cancer, but bone cancer isn't something that you can't overcome. She went through lots of medication and lots of chemo, and the doctors gave her something like 6 months to live. It's been five years, and two more bouts of breast cancer since then.

And there's still more.

Dawn doesn't work, she lives in a tiny apartment with her daughter and two cats. Her medication costs a lot of money, as does her treatment, and she just had a double mastectomy in addition to a hysterectomy this summer. She can't work because of her bone cancer and how much chemo wears her out, and yet any money that she gets (after medication) goes straight to helping others. She doesn't buy anything unless some of the proceeds go to a charity, namely breast cancer (everything she owns is PINK!) and she's constantly spending her money on her friends. She takes joy in seeing other people happy, and she continues her battle against bone cancer with an upbeat disposition. She is the most inspiring person I know.

Her sheer courage and selflessness gives me hope.

My godmother has had MS for fifteen years. When she was diagnosed she told her doctor that she wasn't giving the disease an inch. I've seen people receive a diagnosis and just fall down and let the disease run over them, not Auntie Lorna.

She has never used MS as an excuse to say no or turn someone down, even when she was ready to collapse from exhaustion. When her mother was diagnosed with lung cancer, Auntie Lorna was at the hospice every day after and before work until the day her mother died. She took care of her mother and her mother's house even when she barely had the energy to get out of bed.

Auntie Lorna has always been a caretaker to anyone around her. When her best friend was diagnosed with lung cancer and her husband collapsed under the diagnosis, Auntie Lorna took her friend to every appointment, every treatment. She laughed with her as her hair fell out and comforted her when the disease took her breath away. When her friend died, Auntie Lorna was there to help the grieving family with everything from housework to funeral expenses. By this point her doctor forced her to retire. It was one thing to fight MS, it was another thing to ignore completely the toll it was taking on her body.

Her baby brother was diagnosed and died last year of lung cancer, just like her friend and mother. Even while her brother fought a terminal diagnosis, Auntie Lorna never lost hope or optimism. She set up a hospice in her house where her brother would eventually grow sicker and die. Her MS progressed in the mean time but she refused to complain or acknowledge it when there was someone else to care for.

Auntie Lorna has always found the energy and will to fight her disease and care for those around her. She has never complained about MS or used it as an excuse to give up.

 

Auntie Lorna is my biggest hero. She gives me hope because despite the emotional tolls she has faced, and glaring warnings from doctors that she would be in a wheelchair in five years, she is still up and independent fifteen years post diagnosis and aiming for another fifteen years.