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Stacey Chillemi

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Books by Stacey Chillemi
The Little things We Take for Granted
By Stacey Chillemi
Posted: Friday, January 20, 2006
Last edited: Friday, November 06, 2009
This short story is rated "G" by the Author.
Share    Print   Save   Become a Fan
Recent stories by Stacey Chillemi
· Stranger Lurking In the Shadows
· Tish’s Story
· Living With Epilepsy
· Trish’s Story
· Mike's Story
· Shirley's Story
· Jane Gillespie Story
           >> View all 30
We take so much for granted. We do not appreciate sometimes the simplest things in our lives that bring us so much pleasure. We do not seem to realize that we have so much more than most people in the world.

 

We take so much for granted.   We do not appreciate sometimes the simplest things in our lives that bring us so much pleasure. We do not seem to realize that we have so much more than most people in the world.

We must understand that we must appreciate our lives and the things that bring pleasure in our lives, like love, friendship and shopping. We must appreciate the things in life that bring smiles to our faces and warm out hearts with pleasure and happiness. Only then will we all be able to appreciate and love the life we live.

The things we enjoy to do cannot be taken away from us.  The things we enjoy to the most are tools to help heal and cleanse the soul.  Unfortunately as people, we do not carry ultimate perfection.  We all carry with us some types of flaws, what I call old wounds.  But to live positively in a society of imperfection we must focus on things we enjoy, and  overlook and discard our inner and outward flaws.

 

I use shopping as a tool to heal my soul.  It is a personal enjoyment in my life that brings me happiness help heals any old wounds that I carry in my soul.  What are old wounds you ask?  They are episodes in your life that never will go away.   They become a part of us they journey the paths you take and go wherever you go in life. 

 

You can never get rid if them, but you can understand, accept them, and bury them inside of you with acts of pleasure that you experience in life.

 

My old wound was my epilepsy.  When I was five, I came down with encephalitis, which had traveled to my brain and caused me to develop epilepsy.

 

At eighteen, I was issued a license and I drove for a while.  I was so excited to get my license.  I always felt different from the other kids because I had epilepsy.  I always felt like I had to prove something.  Now I had something like all the other teenagers.  I was apart of them.  I was one of the gang the cool girl in school with a license.

 

I would pick my friends up from school we would drive to the mall.  I remember we would get there when it opened and shopped to till it closed.  I felt such happiness in my heart, my soul, a peaceful please that traveled throughout me.  We shopped until we dropped and enjoyed the precious moments of our friendship.

 

We would help each other pick our clothes, we would buy clothes like crazy and the next morning after a crazy day in the mall, we would meet each other at my girlfriends’ house and help each other get on our new pants that we purposely bought two sizes smaller.

 

One person would get on the bed and the other two would help pull up the pants.  I still remember my friend Marie yelling at me to stop breathing and hold in you stomach!

 

We would swap our new clothes and make three new outfits look 10 new outfits.  As our closets grew, so did our friendships.  We bonded, shopping brought us closer.  No matter how different we each were in personality, we all had something in common.  We all loved to shop.

 

At nineteen, I was driving with my boyfriend at the time; who now is my husband and we were traveling on a country road in New Jersey.  I was driving and suddenly I went into a seizure.  My muscles tighten, my arms curved to the left and my foot went all the way down on the gas pedal. 

 

Our future together flashed before us.  The car headed straight toward the telephone poll.  My husband said, fighting me for the wheel was worse than fighting a boxer or wrestler.  I had no control, because I was still in the seizure.

 

My husband finally, obtained control over the car. He was able to steer the car away from the pole.  An angel was watching and spared us our lives, but my license was revoked and my days at the mall slowly diminished.

 

I did not realize that not able to drive and not shopping would have such an impact on my life.  However, it did.  I became a prisoner in my own home.  I could no longer hop into the car and go to the mall, go to a Dunkin Donuts and purchase a cup of coffee. 

 

I had to go by other people’s schedule.  Our houses were an archer apart; people did not come out of their houses.  I felt lonely.  I am not one to ask for people’s pity or ask for help from someone.

 

I consider myself a strong, independent person.  I wanted to take care of myself.  I wanted to be that big cooperate woman working in New York, shopping heart out after work then going to bar to have my nighttime martini.  This did not seem realistic.  My dreams did not seem to have a chance.  I felt a blow to my heart like a stake was driven through me.  How was I going to be a success?  I had epilepsy; I cannot drive to the mall.  I cannot shop.  Where is my life going?  What is my purpose in life?  Do I have a Purpose.

 

I slowly was falling into a depression and not even realizing it.  I was withdrawing from the world and feeling hopeless inside.  Afraid to tell others how I felt.  I felt trapped in a corner.

 

Being able to have the freedom to go into car choose where you want to go, how you want to go is something we all take for granted.  I did not realize how my shopping helped me.  I would go to the mall focus on all the pretty things and my old wounds were becoming buried by the pleasure of shopping.  I was no longer able to feel the pain of the old wounds.  It was a healing tool. 

 

As time passes  I had to accept my disorder and the consequences it brought along with it.  I accepted I have limitations in my life.  We all have limitations.  We all have to ask for help.  I broke the wall that surrounded my prison.  The prison that I now call my happy home.  It is no longer was a prison for me.

 

I began to heal myself when I sat my family and friends down, open my heart, and let my feeling and emotion pour out.  I shared I hurt and explained how I did not want to feel pitied.   My family and friends reached out and I finally opened my heart and let them in. Something happened at that moment, something magical that brought us each closer to one another.

 

My family and friends always call and ask me to go shopping.  I always accept with open arms.  I like to shop on the internet.  It is always exciting to receive a package in the mail. 

 

Before I go, I want to also share through all this I was writing to help myself heal.  I wrote stories, poetry, books, through my writing I helped heal myself, and hundreds of others.  My purpose in life was to use my gift of writing to help others see the beauty with in themselves.

 

Now if I did not go through all this I would have never had learned all the things I did and I would have never had spent hours behind of a computer as a professional writer and most of all I would have never realized how shopping was more that a just another day out. 

 

It was an escape, a pleasure the brought peace to my soul and helped bury my old wounds.

... 


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Reader Reviews for "The Little things We Take for Granted"


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Reviewed by janslyn buffery (Reader) 6/14/2010
thank u for sharing stacy...
Reviewed by ananya kumar rapolu (Reader) 1/26/2010
this is really awesome!!!
Reviewed by shruthi singh 9/14/2009
article is simple but has lots to thought about in a daily lives
Reviewed by JMS Bell 9/7/2009
WHEN GOD CLOSES A DOOR, HE ALWAYS OPENS A WINDOW(SOUND OF MUSIC)SMILE. THIS IS A LOVELY STORY AND I AM GLAD TO KNOW THAT OUT OF SORROW CAME JOY. BLESSINGS AND THANKS FOR SHARING.
JOYCE * HIS INSPIRATIONS
Reviewed by m j hollingshead 7/20/2009
enjoyed the read
Reviewed by Inspire Hope 7/4/2009
Stacey, that story is so heat moving to me
and I can identify with your story, having
being born with epilespy, yet God is a Healer.
Thank you for sharing your story, with so much
compassion and love!!! I was blessed and encouraged
just reading it. God bless and prosper you, in all
that you put your hands to do!!

P.S. Love And Prayers Always!!
Reviewed by Cryssa C 4/1/2009
Thank you for sharing your gift...and through it...teaching us to each appreciate the little things in life.
Cryssa
Reviewed by robert perrine jr 3/7/2009
you're right of course "stacey" "WE" MEANING "MOST" AMERICANS! DON'T APPRECIATE THE LITTLE "BIG" THING'S IN OUR LIVE'S SO MANY OF THEM IF YOU "STOP" TO THINK REALLY "MAKE OUR LIVES"!!!"OUR LIVES" "SOMETIMES" ARE COMPRISED OF SOME OF THE LITTLEIST-BREATH-TAKING-away-idea's such as = "as you so elliquently puy it""LIKE RECEIVING A PACKAGE" in the mail"!!!rperrinejr
Reviewed by Marlene Affeld 3/5/2009
Powerful, healing words. Thank you for sharing. I look forward to more of your stories.
Reviewed by Mary Lynn Plaisance 11/5/2008
Very good write!!!!
I enjoyed it all.

Mary Lynn Plaisance
Mama of the Cajun Fairies~
Reviewed by Myles Saulibio 7/26/2007
Stacey---hello again,
I see and feel the powers in your words. You have turned your scars into stars. You constantly make lemonade out of lemons, and you definitely make ordinary average people sweat in their seats.
No excuses here---when people start to have a pity party they should think of you and, instead say themselves---"compared to whom--and compared to what?". Then they read your stories and get a "check-up from the neck-up" or attitude of gratitude.
Keep up the growth work, success is always right around the corner. The big "E" tried to master and control you but you declared victory instead.

Aloha and Best,
Myles
Reviewed by Richard Orey 4/30/2007
My dear Stacy,
I am so glad your friends rallied around you when you felt such a need. What a wonderful gift.

My reading and background suggest that contentment is wanting what you have. And you seem to have found that contentment by finding and using your ability to express yourself to others in writing. Any psychiatrist worth his salt--and many others not worth a flake of pepper--will tell you how therapeutic writing can be. Writing, for must of us, is putting the feelings and emotions and adventures of our soul into words. And "getting it down" in print is oftentimes getting our hurts out.

I invite you to my den to read a few of my postings, particularly:
Friends, Begin Again Ab Initio, and Be Still and Hear My Voice.

I think you will really relate to the first two, and the last may well give you a spiritual trip worth taking.

What a heartfelt struggle you have had.
But now the best is yet to come!

God be with you,
Richard

Reviewed by Julie Donner Andersen 2/15/2007
Stacey, another jewel! I enjoyed reading this, and as I did, I FELT your frustration and pain of living with epilepsy. Thank you for sharing this and educating me!

What I'd like to see is your third paragraph as your last, in order to pull the title into focus and round out the story.

God bless,
Jools
<> <
Reviewed by Michelle Kidwell Power In The Pen 5/18/2006
You are am amazing person Stacey, the Lord is using you in great ways
God Bless
Michelle!

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