Aloha! So you’d like to know who I am, would you? I know have some unique philosophies on things; but that is because of what I have experienced in my life. I am keenly aware that I am a nerd and sometimes critic within just about any movement or belief system I am a part of, especially if I find hypocrisy.  Call it idealism. Call it the ENFJ personality style. Call it being a survivor of just about every form of abuse that there is, but what you see is what you get. I have found my voice, and I am using it.

I began this blog as a place to talk about Young Living essential oils, because I was an independent distributor at that time.  Soon after, I began to add my thoughts on the School of Natural Healing. However, over the years, my writings have changed from their original focus on hypothyroidism and health. This blog morphed from it’s original focus into a conservative LDS commentary on women’s issues and the world at large until about the middle of 2018.

As of today, July 5, 2019, I openly confess that I am in the midst of a bona-fide faith crisis, but one which has been simmering and cycling in the fires of my mind since early childhood. Until last year, I always answered my questions and doubts with self-reproof. Until last year it never dawned on me that my relationship with my Church and it’s leaders was neither a relationship of equals nor completely and genuinely reciprocal in expectations, loyalty or honesty. Especially honesty.  I decided to create a chronological list of my posts to demonstrate my metamorphosis. I don’t know where I’m going, either, except toward what actual truth and real light I can still find.

‘A‘ohe pau ka ‘ike i ka hālau ho‘okahi.
All knowledge is not learned in just one school.


C’est moi – 2019

My apologies in advance if I surprise, shock or hurt you, but I am a truth seeker and try to be a truth speaker.  I honestly try to be kind. Be informed, however, that I come from a long and royal maternal lineage of opinionated women, stretching back to the ninau-pio High Chiefess of Maui, Kalanikauiokikilo… and beyond. Though, in the past, I tried mightily not to turn into “one of those meanies”, I have now accepted that I am my mother’s daughter.  I have discovered that if I had spoken my truth earlier, more often, more forcefully and without wavering because of fear, I could have spared myself and the ones I love most a lot of heartache.

The Truth-Speaking Girl-With-A-Brain legacy ain’t stoppin’ with me. I, too, am one of those mothers who know.


Song: Mama Was Always Tellin’ Her Truth by Iris Dement

In the process of my journey toward true health: physical and spiritual wholeness, I’ve learned a lot and keep on learning more.  It is my hope that this blog will be of help to other seeking individuals and their families.

Aloha and welcome to OilStories!


My husband and I in 2016

This is blog is dedicated to my children.
May you be wiser than I have been,
and if not,
may you be honest and loving enough
to admit it to your own children.


“There’s a literary form I haven’t mentioned yet: The literature of witness. [The protagonist] records her story as best she can; then she hides it, trusting that it may be discovered later, by someone who is free to understand it and share it. This is an act of hope: every recorded story implies a future reader. Robinson Crusoe keeps a journal. So did Samuel Pepys, in which he chronicled the Great Fire of London. So did many who lived during the Black Death, although the accounts often stop abruptly. So did Romeo Dallaire, who chronicled both the Rwandan genocide and the world’s indifference to it. So did Anne Frank, hidden in her secret annex.

There are two reading audiences for [the protagonist’s] account: [the scholars at their] academic conference in the future, who are free to read but not always as empathetic as one might wish; and the individual reader of the [protagonist’s writings] at any given time. That is the “real” reader, the Dear Reader for whom every writer writes. And many Dear Readers will become writers in their turn. That is how we writers all started: by reading. We heard the voice of [an author] speaking to us.”

– Margaret Atwood