Still Pondering Mariam Makhniashvili’s Death

It’s days later since police have announced the discovery of a body in Toronto and I am still having a very hard time believing that Mariam Makhniashvili, also known as “Marika”, took her own life.  I simply cannot believe that she left that morning, deciding to deceive everyone and leap to her death at the Don Valley Golf Course from that overpass.  I don’t know why I cannot let it go.  Call it a gut feeling if you will but, something just is not sitting right with me with the idea that she ended her own life in that manner.  I cannot let it go within my own mind and intuition.

First of all, in order for her to have gotten to that area on foot (as has been speculated), she would have had to have passed all sorts of security cameras along both Eglinton Ave and Yonge Street.  Not ONE was found.

Secondly, did she simply walk along the 401 to that overpass?  Even were she to have come up a set of stairs that led to the overpass (from the grounds below)…with all of the traffic that goes along that overpass at all hours of the day and night, how is it that NO ONE apparently saw her on that stretch.  Most people committing suicide usually do not just instantly “leap”.  Instead, they take a moment, thinking before they do so.  Someone would have seen her scaling the wall/barrier to leap.

This all leads me to believe that she was in a vehicle to get to that point in the first place..unnoticed by either video surveillance along her route, people she passed by (there must have been dozens of people if she walked along two very busy routes as well as the 401 hwy).  Perhaps, she leapt from a fast moving vehicle?  Perhaps, she had a struggle with someone and it became an accident that she went over the wall?  There are just too many questions that don’t fit the profile of a suicide.

To assume that she was depressed because she was quiet, a bookworm and stayed indoors, is nonsense.  She was at the Dragon Boat Races as a volunteer with the YMCA a day or so before her disappearance and George had said that there was nothing out of the ordinary.

To assume all that has been assumed due to lack of evidence otherwise, concluded on a badly decomposed set of remains, is doing an injustice to the memory of this young woman in my personal opinion.  To assume that she had not known anyone or had a boy in mind that she liked?  Who is able to say that she hadn’t met someone who she kept as a secret to herself?  Who is to say that she wasn’t communicating with someone here in Toronto while back in Georgia?  Who is to say that she hadn’t intended on meeting someone (where two other highschools were situated) at the apartment complex where her backpack was found?  How can police come to this conclusion based solely upon the autopsy report of death due to a fall from the above bridge?  Perhaps, she did fall.  That doesn’t mean that the fall was a result of her wanting to end her own life…unless police have kept information from the public all along such as a suicide note having been found in her backpack?

Something is amiss but, I will not believe that this young woman has taken her own life.  At least, not until it is proven in some way.  It’s a convenient way for police to give an ending to a search for a missing person’s case that went cold and still has no leads at the current time.  I hope it won’t be closed as such.  At least, not without proof that she did, indeed, end her own life and why.

Not A Suicide: Mariam Makhniashvili

How is it that because there’s a lack of any sort of evidence and a young girl was new to a city, police have declared that Mariam Makhniashvili has commited suicide?

The young woman’s body was found some two and one half years after she had been reported as missing, on a golf course.  A forensic autopsy has deemed that her badly decomposed remains were consistent with the cause of death by a fall from a great height.  There were no witnesses having seen her beyond when her brother last saw her and no video of her anywhere.  The sole clue was her back-pack, found in front of an apartment building a distance away from her school.  There was “nothing of interest” found in her backpack to indicate either a potential for suicide nor, a struggle or foul play.

Mariam was new to both the country and the city so, police have conjectured that she ‘might have been depressed’ and decided to end her life.  With half a brain, one has to question how it was that Mariam would have known about the overpass that she allegedly used as her jumping point in the first place?  Police have estimated that it was at least a full hour’s walk from her school yet, no video surveillance cameras along two major streets have yielded any sighting of the young woman throughout her entire walk and no one has come forward to say that they saw her during that hour long stroll.

More key to this case is the idea that Mariam happened to be simply ‘strolling’ along the 401 overpass atop or near Yonge street and no one noticed her?  This is a sprawling six or eight lane, highway.  It’s not pedestrian friendly in the least and therefore, highly unusual to see anyone walking there, let alone, over to the side of a steep drop to the bottom of 17 meters or better.  How can it possibly be that not a soul saw her there, let alone, how she even got onto the highway by foot in the first place.

Police are surmising to the public that she may have walked along a cracked sidewalk through the golf course area below, climbing a set of stairs which led to the overpass and jumped once at the top.  It is highly unlikely that with the amount of cars that travel that highway at all hours of the day and night, that no one would have seen her standing or climbing over the cement barrier wall that led to the grounds below and not, at the least, felt strange about seeing a young woman doing so.  It’s also highly unlikely that she quickly climbed the stairs, walked along the highway to the overpass area, climbed over the wall and instantly leaped.  Most suicide victims take a few moments, at the least, to consider what they are doing before actually doing it.  Yet, no one allegedly, saw anything.

There are several inherent flaws in the idea that Mariam commited suicide.

First, is the fact that Mariam left her back pack in front of an apartment building that would have taken her quite a bit of time to have gotten to via walking.  It is more likely that she took the bus as her school was within a two minute walking distance from Eglinton Avenue West, which is part of Toronto’s major transportation system.  If she took the bus to that area and dropped off her back pack, at that point, did she get back onto another bus after that?  Why did she stop there in the first place?  Even had she walked to that area and simply got tired of carrying her back pack, there are countless stores along that route with surveillance cameras yet, none of them have yielded any video of the young woman passing by.  That fact is more consistent with the idea that either she took the bus to that particular area or, she was picked up by someone in front of the school and driven there.

Secondly, from that point on, to the area where her remains were found, were also major roads with stores and businesses all along that route.  Surely, one of those businesses had video surveillance cameras that would have picked up her image.  Not one has yielded any sight of her according to police after a two and a half year investigation.  This, again, seems to lead one to believe that she was not on foot but, either by bus or in a vehicle.

Lastly, and most importantly, Mariam did not know Toronto all that well so, the idea that she knew how to get to this particular area, which was far above and beyond where she lived for such a short period of time, makes it highly unlikely that she had decided to go to that spot to leap to her death.   That is coupled with the fact that she would have had to have walked along a major highway system in North Toronto in order to get to it.  No public transit runs along that highway so, other than by car, foot travel was the only way to get to that point.

I cannot fathom that a 17 year old would have decided in advance to plan her death in that fashion.  I cannot begin to believe that she plotted to get to the school with her brother that morning, walking with him from the transit system, letting him go in, then walking to the rear of the school before leaving to walk miles to a point where she would leap to her death.  Nor, can I believe that this young woman, not knowing the city well at all, would take public transit to get to that area to end her life.  None of it makes much common sense at all.

What does make sense is that Mariam’s death is likely more consistent with having been in a car with someone else whom she knew or thought she knew.  Perhaps, it was a leap from a car out of desperation or fear that was traveling at such a high speed that she was propelled over the edge of the wall?  Whatever it was, this young woman likely did not commit suicide nor, was this done purposefully by her.

It appears to me that police have either found a simplistic way of explaining her death in a two and a half year old case that had gone cold with no leads or evidence to follow.  Either that, or they are hiding evidence from the public to flush someone out.

Remains found at golf course belong to Makhniashvili | CTV Toronto

Remains found at golf course belong to Makhniashvili | CTV Toronto.

If you don’t live in Toronto or even Ontario, you are likely not even aware of who this young girl was or her family.  For Torontians, this has been a big story for a number of years.  Most people have watched this story unfold, hoping for a miraculous outcome with Mariam Makhniashvili being found alive and well as the Elizabeth Smart case had unfolded.   Unfortunately, that has not been the case.

I cannot even begin to imagine the pain that this family has gone through and, will go through with another perspective now that this news has come to light and nor, do I want to even try.  Any tiny glimmer of hope that they had been holding onto, has now been put out and taken away.  The reality that she will never return home, is likely setting in though, I’m sure, not unexpected.

The stress that this family has endured for the past few years has been unfathomable and it’s taken its toll on the family.  This young woman’s father has had mental breakdowns and been convicted and incarcerated for six years since her disappearance.  It is said that he is suffering from a delusional disorder.  I’m sure it was likely set off by the stress of losing his only daughter.  Mariam’s mother, Lela and brother, Georgi are left to cope with the aftermath of all that has happened since they came to North America.  I’m sure they are now wondering why they had left their home in a distant land to come to this one.

The questions will linger on in the minds of the members of this family though as there is still the mystery of who, why and how.  Police will hopefully, continue to search for these answers that may never be known.  All that this family can now do, is to go on as best that they can, their minds, hearts and lives, scarred forever with this tragedy and what it has cost them.

May the answers to her death be found and whomever else may have been involved, brought to justice, sooner rather than later for everyone’s sake but, especially for Mariam’s family.  They need that type of closure and it won’t be there fully, unless those questions are answered and the murderer, brought to justice.

Blogging Without A Cause

I have asked myself over and over again, what it is that my blog is or, should be about.  Most bloggers  have a fairly definitive category for their blogs.  Mine is simply about whatever I’ve encountered within my days.  Essentially, they are akin to writing out an obsessive thought or a stick-out incident during my days.  Does that make me a journaller rather than a blogger or, are most blogs more like a journal?

I’ve also asked myself why I’m writing a blog rather than simply writing in a book with a key like in highschool and calling it my diary?  Do I have an ego and feel that my points of view are so valuable that anyone who stumbles across my blog should read?  Afterall, who am I really?  Why does anyone care what I think or what happens during my day?

As I look at the stats that run across the top bar of this entry while writing this, I have to wonder who cares anyway?  The views are approximately one per day.  Essentially, that means that no one is really paying attention anyway so, what does it matter whether I have a focus or cause or not?  What is the real intention for me blogging in the first place? Why does anyone blog to begin with?

I suppose that I’m just like everyone else who decides to start a blog.  It’s the same as anyone who likes to tweet on Twitter or, post what they’re thinking or doing as their Facebook status.  Unless you’re a celebrity, it’s simply a social way of expressing or sharing our thoughts and feelings or, experiences.  Maybe, that’s enough.  Perhaps, that’s all that there should be to it.  And, perhaps, one day, more than one person, other than myself, will find something that I have shared, of interest or help.  Who knows?  At least there’s a chance that someone will comment.  A journal can’t respond.

Facebook, The Social Evil?

Has Facebook become The Social Evil Network?

Facebook may have taken us down new paths towards finding other ways to upset one another.  As if Life isn’t fraught enough with misunderstandings, we now have cyber ways to create even bigger slights and more methods to upset one another.

I don’t know about you but, I’ve been finding that going onto Facebook can be an act of “do so at your own peril” activity.  In spite of talking to people regularly in person,  I often end up finding out something about someone over Facebook and wish that I hadn’t have seen it. I’m at the point now of figuring that ignorance is bliss and what we don’t know can’t hurt us.  Sometimes, we’re just better off not knowing.  It saves a lot of heartache and headaches at times.

I’m no Spring Chicken and didn’t just fall off the turnip truck.  I’ve been around the block and back a number of times throughout my life and yet, I can still find myself ticked off and hurt by something someone’s done or said on Facebook.  It’s feeling more like I’m back in elementary or highschool.  I guess, in some ways, that might be a good thing but, in other ways, it’s feeling more like a backwards slide in Life.  Afterall, at a certain point, we’re supposed to have grown mentally and emotionally to a level where we’re overlooking these types of things and letting them roll off of our backs with a mature attitude, right?

I recently found out some great news about a friend via a posting she’d made on Facebook.  I was thrilled for this friend and her family.  Quickly, I typed in a congratulatory note then, asked myself what I was doing in just writing to her and picked up the phone to give my sentiments of glee to her in person.  Just yesterday, I found another friend with similar news having been posted on Facebook and did the same thing.  Then, it dawned on me that I had been speaking with both of these people all along but, there had been not a word from them about their news during our conversations.  Not only that but, instead of having picked up the phone to tell me in person, as good friends often do, they both had simply posted their news on Facebook and I’d gotten their good news at the same time as others did who have seemingly no contact with each other except for Facebook.  They don’t even know one another in person and have never met.  That was a kick in the rear to realize that fact when I did realize it.  However, it didn’t stop there.

Both of these friends had been calling or visiting me with their “problems” all along. I’d literally spent hour upon hour, listening and trying to help out in whatever ways that I could help them and yet, when it came to the good news,apparently, I was on the same ranks as everyone else, including pretty much strangers.  What an awakening that was.  To add insult to injury, it became apparent that other people on their Facebook Friends List had known about this joyful news months prior.  Their posts of, “I was so happy for you when you told me about this a few months ago…” hit me square in the face.  It was at that point that I wanted to re-dial both of them and give them a good piece of my mind, telling them to not bother calling me again when they had problems as they could call “Jane or Jack” instead.

I found myself boiling over with feelings of anger, hurt, frustration along with an overwhelming sense of having been used and abused by them all along.  I wondered why I was “good enough” for the bad times but, not on equal footing with the good times.  Was I the opposite of a “Fair Weather Friend”, only there when they need a shoulder to cry on but, not deserving of having the good times shared?

Suddenly, I was transported back to being a kid in a playground where others were sharing secrets that I wasn’t allowed to be privy to and, feeling like the outcast/outsider.  All of the old feelings of rejection and clicks came flooding back.  The sense of being the pariah was as fresh at this point as they were back then and I had a few miserable days and evenings, pouting over and licking these fresh wounds, just as I would have done way back then.

Yesterday, as I was thinking about all of this emotional turmoil I was feeling, I suddenly began to remember having been a “go-between” for two other friends who had developed a total misunderstanding over a stupid technical glitch in Facebook where one friend has seemingly restricted view for the other.  Knowing both, I wasn’t convinced that this was a purposeful slight so, I set about to do some detective work to figure it out.  In the end, it turned out that I had been right.  There was no slight or rejection but, rather a technical glitch and all was righted within a day or two.  However, the damage that was done through school-yard hurts was fairly significant.  The “rejected one” was certain that she had been ousted by the other and didn’t understand why.  Instead of thinking about it more fully and picking up the phone to call the other where the air would have been cleared instantly and all of the hurt, avoided, she’d sat back as I was doing with these incidents, brooding, fretting, crying and feeling totally like yesterday’s garbage.

Have I solved all of my issues with these two friends of mine quite as easily?  No, I haven’t yet come to that point.  I have though, realized that Facebook can be a source of trouble between people if they don’t confront it head on, person to person.  I intend on finding a calm way to approach this with these two friends.  I think I need to have a friendly, open dialogue with both, asking for their sides of the story rather than ignoring this and letting it become an acid that simply eats away at me.  The issue of being talked to about the bad or troublesome issues and not let in on the good, needs somehow, to be addressed on a mature level.  At the least, I’ve come to realize that even though we are grown-ups, the old and primal feelings of hurt can still very much be alive and well and child-like as they once were.  The only difference is how we deal with it all internally and externally.

Sometimes, ignorance is bliss but, these incidents have reminded me that we never outgrow being hurt or feeling rejection and that Facebook can take us back to a school aged level if we’re not careful. It seems that it can turn us back into the giggling, snotty, emotionally immature little freaks we might have been or hung out with while in school.

Be careful of what you post on Facebook.  If you don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings, make sure that what you post is thoughtful and respectful to all.  Afterall, it’s really just another playground where hurts can happen and none of us are totally grown up in that aspect.

Credits and Knocks

Hey…Angelina…ppssstttt…what’s with the leg and the poses?

Call me a freak but, I find the Academy Awards nothing but a ridiculous showcase for fashion designers.

“Who are you wearing?”

Were they wearing people or, are they people?

One stuck out amongst the hundreds of other “stars” in this vast sea of designer outfits as she stood upon the stage as a presenter, posed and flashed her leg throughout the entire segment…Angelina Jolie.  What was with her?  Is she getting some type of a kick-back from the designer for promoting their designs or, is she so enamoured with her anorexic looking stick leg that she feels the need to stick it out constantly?  It seemed that every shot taken of her throughout the night last night, entailed her pulling back the dress or posing in such a way that her right leg was protruding through the slit in that dress.

Has she gone to the point of finally feeling she’s thin enough and proud of it?  What gives with that leg?

The height of the evening was not all that obvious at first, during a moment of hurrah for the receipients of an Oscar but, when Jim Rash, did his impersonation of Jolie’s presentation pose, it spoke volumes. Though, has said that it was only a joke, Rash seemed to echo what a lot of viewers were really thinking and feeling about the absurdity of Jolie’s “look at me” posturing.  Bravo to Rash.  It gave us all pause to laugh instead of still scratching our heads in befuddlement as to how someone could think that much of themselves.  He brought it back to human level.

Amongst the throngs of the bulemic and anorexic looking stars, stood a true star, Melissa McCarthy.  Plus sized or not, McCarthy’s humour in her little skit with Billy Crystal a la “The Bridesmaid” style, was priceless and showed the world that stars don’t have to be stick thin to be beautiful.  They also don’t have to be unreal.

Though plus sized in a world where The Skeleton Look is considered beauty, McCarthy stood out amongst the rest.  It wasn’t because of her size but, because she was daring enough to be beautiful in spite of what Hollywood would consider to be ugly and disgusting.

Brava to Ms. McCarthy for allowing her true beauty to shine through without fanfare, without being stick thin in a world where the thinner you are, the better you are adored.  Credit is due where credit is due and knocks are due where knocks are due.

McCarthy deserved the credit and Jolie deserves a knock.

Bobbi Kristina Needing Rehab?

It’s so sad that Houston’s daughter has had to face the loss of her famous mother.  Equally sad, is the loss that Houston’s mother has had to face in losing her daughter to a likely, drug related death.  But, now…in spite of her efforts to save her daughter’s life and losing that battle, she now has to face the fight to get her grandaughter, Bobbi Kristina off of drugs and onto a healthy path in her life.  How sad for everyone and totally unnecessary pain caused by the ravages of using drugs to escape or party.  From the Huffington Post…..

Bobbi Kristina Gets High After Mother’s Funeral

Ironically, from the one who introduced drugs into Houston’s and therefore, his own daughter’s life, (Bobby Brown) comes this statement…. “Bobby is terrified she’s going to do something stupid,” said the source. “He wants her in a treatment center, getting professional help to get her through the grieving process without falling back on alcohol or drugs to mask her pain.”

This is a battle that I’m sure we all hope Cissy (Houston’s mother) can win.  She’s watched one child die.  Let’s hope that she can save her grandaughter.

The Journey of Finding Self

The Journey Into Finding Self

Ever watch your life, knowing that it’s slipping into the toilet but, feeling unable to stop its free fall?  Kind of like one of those dreams where you know you’re falling but, you can’t stop it and hope to wake up before you hit the bottom.

I’m not talking about substance abuse or a deep depression here.  I’m talking about knowing that you’re at a crossroads of change where things within your life have changed so drastically that you haven’t had the chance to catch your breath and figure out who you are or, where you’re heading next and wanting Life to just slow down a bit so that you can catch up with yourself in the process.

There’s always a stage in our lives where these types of feelings will happen.  They seem most prevalent though, through the teen years, after graduating from higher education and entering the real work world, the getting married and starting a family years, then, not again until the empty nest and retirement years hit.  The common theme throughout each of these stages appears to be change and new roles.

Every time we hit one of these stages in our lives where either our roles are changing or we’re entering a new phase of Life, it becomes necessary to learn new coping strategies as well as finding new roles to fill.  Often, these milestones mean a graduation of sorts that may feel more like torture than anything else.  We are often left, finding ourselves, having to re-invent ourselves and our lives just to cope.  It’s no easy chore to say the least.

I’ve always been a caregiver throughout my life for one person or another.  Even as a child, living in a dysfunctional home, I became my parent’s caregiver more than I was a child.  After that, I became a mom which involves a great deal of caregiving.  During that time frame, I helped take care of dying grandparents and parents and, that continued on up until the past couple of years.

Now, when I should find myself feeling freed of responsibilities because there is no longer the need for caregiving and being an empty nester, I’m finding myself once again, totally lost in Life.  I am asking myself, who I am, what I want, where I want to see my life go.  I should be rejoicing that I finally have this opportunity to do that after all of the years where that was not a choice, let alone a thought.  However, I am finding myself, actually quite lost.

I once thrived on necessity and roles, knowing what I was supposed to be doing every moment of every day.  There’s familiarity with routine and “must do’s”.  There’s a certain sense of grounding to know where you’re supposed to be, what you’re supposed to be doing, when and how you’re supposed to be doing it all.  When all of that has been taken away, we can find ourselves feeling like we’re afloat on an open ocean with no land in sight to head towards.  It can become a frightening feeling rather than the freeing feeling that we once thought it would be, should we have this chance.  The question of “who am I?” becomes a frightening question to delve into.  The question of “what should I do now?” becomes almost overwhelmingly empty and we tend to want someone or something to give us those answers because we honestly don’t know anymore.

Pardon me while I pull up my chair and look at these questions a little more closely.

If you’re finding yourself in a similar boat, no matter what your stage of Life, I hope you’ll join into a discussion and journey with me.  It’s one that is done best with company and empathy.

It’s the journey of finding oneself.  A journey that we all have to take all throughout our lives…or, at the least, at some point or another.

Love Is Like A Box of…..

Love, sweet love…

Box of Chocolates LoveI remember Valentine’s Day.  That was the day when we all used to go to school, dressed in something red/white, hands full of cards that our mothers had gone out and bought us, and we spent all night, trying to remember the names of everyone in our class so as not to miss giving anyone one of our precious little cardboard cut-outs.

None of us really knew what the meaning of Valentine’s Day was supposed to be.  We just knew that it meant getting little candies that tasted horrible with sayings on them that meant nothing to us at that age and counting how many Valentine’s Cards we each got.  The one with the most was considered, “Most Liked”.  How sad that was to have set ourselves up for such rejection.

My husband is a teacher so, I watched him sit down and make up 30 little cards with his class list in front of him, taping a Hershey’s kiss to each one.  It took him well over an hour and a half to do.  Off he went to school this morning with his treasures for his little charges then, phoned me at lunch to tell me that he got a whack of cards in return…probably more than some of his collegues.  I guess old habits don’t get tossed easily.

Some nearly 40 years ago, when I first met my husband, I remember being excited over Valentine’s Day.  The thought of a single rose or some chocolates with a card, telling me that I was the one for him was exciting.  I was just 16 at the time so, everything he said and did was BIG.  Now….meh……

I can’t eat chocolate because it gives me migraines.  I can’t stand the thought that the cost of even a single rose could be spent on something else that doesn’t wilt or the cats will tear apart, leaving petal trails throughout the house that I’ll have to clean up.  After some nearly 33 years of marriage now, it somehow just doesn’t pack the same intrigue and excitement that it used to hold.  The love is there 365 days a year so, we don’t really need to say it with flowers or cards or candy.  As a matter of fact, at this point, it seems rather silly.  His everyday gestures, like making me a tea when I’m busy with other things or, making Sunday brunch for me, complete with turkey bacon to save us both cholestrol pills, means more than anything that could be done on a commercially produced day.

Choose Carefully


Looking at this photo of Whitney Houston’s daughter, Bobbi Kristina Brown, 18, being taken to hospital after learning of her mother’s sudden death, shakes me to the core.  It’s hard not to empathize with this young woman in the shock that she must have felt in receiving the crushing news that her young and vivacious mother had passed away so unexpectedly and suddenly.

From what has been reported thus far today under leaked reports, allegedly, Houston was found face down, having drowned in the bathtub of her hotel room.  Bottles of prescription sedatives were found amongst her belongings and it has been reported that Houston had partied heavily the evening before, drinking alcohol extensively.

Her eighteen year old daughter, Bobbi had reportedly, also been drinking at the time of her being rushed to hospital.  It’s questionable at this point in time as to whether she was already drinking or whether she had begun to drink upon hearing the devastating news.

Having lived with alcoholics throughout my young life, I learned early on that other people’s choices affect us in one way or another, intended or not.   It’s one thing for someone to say that it’s “their life and they can do what they want with it” but, it’s another to recognize the reality behind that statement.  Nothing we do, has no effect on someone else unless we are living in a cave, alone.

I remember many a night in my childhood where I’d pick my mother up off of the floor after having drank herself into a stupor.  Her choices did affect my life, whether she intended them to or not.  I remember begging and pleading with her, doing everything within my limited powers as a child and teenager, to coax her into getting help to quit her drinking.  The answer was always, “It’s my life and I’m going to do what I want with it!”  The problem was, in her having her right to do what she wanted with her life, those choices took my rights away to have a decent home life and some peace.  It created responsibilities for me that never should have been mine at such a young age.

I made a conscious choice to seek out help for myself in order to never become an alcoholic and put any future children that I had through the type of life that I lived as a child.  I raised a child and gave her every freedom to be a child, without the types of responsibilities that I had endured.  She was offered every support and possible opportunity that my husband and myself could possibly give her.  Very unfortunately, she made her own choices in her life to move out with a drug abuser loser who has suckered her into his web of lies, manipulation and deceit.  She now uses as well and has chosen to have nothing to do with us because of those choices.  Once again, someone else whom I love with all of my soul has made choices that have affected me greatly and deeply on many levels.  In that aspect of Life, I have been affected deeply and hurtfully by the choices of two people I have loved and cared about deeply.  There are wounds that may never heal left behind.

When I look at Whitney Houston and her daughter, Bobbi, it strikes me that when we bring a child into this world, we have the responsibility to make choices that are in that child’s best interests.  Our choices do affect others who love us and depend upon us, whether we like that fact or not.  Sadly, Bobbi will now have to live with her mother’s choices for the rest of her life.  There will be scars and there will also be choices that she will have to make for herself as a result.  It has become the domino effect.  Bobbi will now have to decide whether she will choose to follow in her mother’s footsteps and allow addictions to rule her life or, whether she will seek out proper help and refuse to go down the same path.  Early indications appear to be that she is already on a similar path as her famous mother.

No matter what we feel our rights are, our choices will affect someone else who loves us if we aren’t carefully choosing our paths in this life.  We owe it to not only ourselves but, also to those who love us, to make the best possible choices that we can possibly make.  It’s one thing to not live our entire lives, living for everyone else and another for us to be responsible while making our choices for our own lives.  One need not be a doormat but, one certainly needs to be somewhat responsible.  There’s usually someone else whom we affect in some way or another with them.

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