Melda Roache Clark Reinvented, Rebranded…Whatever

A couple of years ago I started a small business for my storytelling and speaking events. It seemed to be the smart thing to do. That way, I could claim a portion of my taxes, electricity and telephone expenses. And I could recover my HSTat year’s end. I was certain that I would be rolling in money in a matter of a few years. Bahahahahahahahahaha! As it turned out, the money rolled out instead of in. Let’s see, what did…

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WILL SANTA CLAUS BE COMING TO HER HOME?

Last week, I wrote about a family I worked with many years ago. This family faced overwhelming challenges and the odds that the children will rise above their circumstances are slim. Please allow me to add a few more details about the mother in this family; let’s call her Jenny (not her real name). Jenny grew up in a home cursed with the scourge of domestic violence. She did not complete high school and had not attended college. I know…

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POOR CHILDREN BECOME POOR ADULTS

In the early 2000s, I worked as a childhood development worker/early interventionist for an agency that served families of special needs’ children from birth to six years of age. I remember each family, but one in particular, stands out in my memory — a single mother and her six children living in extreme conditions. The fathers of the children contributed nothing, financially or otherwise. The only source of income was the Canada Child Tax Benefit. “Poor” doesn’t begin to describe their…

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CHECK YOUR PREJUDICE AT THE DOOR

Once in a while, something gets under my skin and I just want to scream, and it happened today. This is my version of a rant: It is Sunday, November 11th. I just finished watching the televised Remembrance Day Service from Ottawa. I wept for the Silver Cross Mother and all mothers who have lost children to war. My heart overflowed with gratitude as the cameras panned the elderly and sometimes feeble male and female veterans from WWII. I was…

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ONCE UPON A TIME, A GIRL THOUGHT SHE WAS FAT

Anyone can battle an eating disorder. By looking at me today, you would never suspect that I have walked down this road. Never trust what somebody looks like. After all, I look healthy happy, hale and hearty and that is exactly how I feel in 2018. My struggles with an eating disorder began in 1975. The story goes like this: I was in my final year of high school at Lockeport Regional High School and got the notion in my…

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ALL GOOD THINGS MUST…SLOW DOWN…ONCE IN A WHILE

Nothing lasts forever. Really? Yes, really. When I started my blog in 2015, I did not know if it would last a week, a month, a year or years. My goal was to make people laugh. Why? Because there is so much sadness, hatred and stress in our world. As time went on, I aimed to raise the profile of mental illness and contributing causes. I promised myself I would continue to write as long as I had one more…

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Unleash Your Inner…..Author

My Dad was a natural storyteller. We begged him to retell the same funny stories at every family gathering. We had heard them so many times we could have told them ourselves, but we loved the twinkle in his eye and the chuckle in his voice. Fisher, Farmer, Videographer… As well, Dad dragged his video camera around recording and narrating all sorts of events. Hey, that makes him a videographer. Imagine that! Eugene Roache, farmer, fisher and videographer! Dad captured…

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Hey Mom, I’m A Survivor

Mental illness knows no borders. It can and does touch anybody, regardless of educational, social or economic status. Recovery has nothing to do with pulling up one’s bootstraps. It is impossible to pull up your bootstraps when you feel like you are wearing cement boots. Mental illness is real, just as real as diabetes, HIV/AIDS, cancer and heart disease. We don’t beat up on those people. Nor should we burden the mentally ill.

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LET’S STAND UP TO STIGMA

I went on to enjoy two more very rewarding, successful careers — first as a Child Development Worker where I worked with families of children born with special needs. What a wonderful fit! I could sit down in the home of a struggling and often discouraged parent and listen with great empathy. I could offer them help and hope. In a subsequent career as a Funeral Home Owner and Administrator, I could reach out to the grieving, wrap them in my arms, hold them as their body shook with sobs and let them know they were not alone. Eventually, I was able to put the loss of my teaching career behind me. It became a part of who I was, not who I am.

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