And I love personal development blogs for a quick dose of reality, perspective or controversy especially if they are unconventional or inspire me to think differently.

The internet is drowning in these type of blogs but those that are unconventional stand out and are worth following because these bloggers are true leaders. They have their own style and take on life. They don't have a 'me too' self-development blog.

Here are five great ones I read regularly.

You do?

It reminded me of a conversation I’d had with my primary care doctor once about the many parents she spoke using similar practices with their kids as they do with their dogs! It slightly appalled me.

The need for parents to be alpha dogs

But I can see the similarities. Parents do need to establish themselves as the alphas in a family. Kids fight, sometimes to a frenzy, like dogs. They need to have their youthful exuberance moulded and focused into behavior that’s tolerable and productive.

I found the following parenting technique in a book called ‘The Manipulative Child.’ Like the idea that dog owners should be leaders of the pack, the book was clear about the necessity for establishing parental authority and overall the text was pretty brutal and rough.

But something is nagging you. You feel tired. Breathless. You put it down to post-partum depression and birth recovery but it doesn’t get better. One day, it is so bad, you can no longer tell yourself  that it is nothing, so you go to the doctor. And you get a diagnosis.

Cancer.  Contracted from the asbestos your father brought home from work on his boots, his clothes, his hands, when you were little.

How would you feel? Everything you expected would happen, looked forward to, suddenly thrown up in the air likes leaves, swirling around in the wind. Who knows where they would land? Would you even see them land?

This happened to Heather Von St James.  When her daughter, Lily, was three months old she was diagnosed with mesothelioma, a rare form of cancer caused by asbestos exposure. She was given three treatment options: Do nothing and live only another 15 months; undergo conventional chemotherapy and radiation treatment with an expectation of living another 5 years; or undergo surgery to remove the affected lung, pleura, diaphragm and pericardium. This final option was the riskiest but also held the most promise - 10 years or more.

Formerly a homeless, drug-taking ex-con, he transformed his life and became a social worker working with troubled youth in residential treatment centers.

He developed the Total Transformation Program and despite wearing a shirt and tie in many of his DVD’s, his face couldn’t lose the hallmarks of his early years.

He talked the talk and he’d certainly walked the walk.

I often quote him, and have written about his program in the past.

When I was in the depths of despair over my son’s extreme behavior, I would walk over to my fridge where I’d posted his wisdom.

I would review the points, considering that I may have handled this latest situation poorly, but I had hope with this list that I would do better next time.

I usually find myself raving about the latest this or that to people who are a) bored or b) horrified they know such a laggard.

And so it was with storing my phone numbers. Just as people got on the Internet and tiny little pocket computers, I fastened on to the salesman’s BFF from the ‘80’s - the trusty Rolodex.

Oblivious to the complete and utter nerdiness of my state, I would get quite excited as I took out a new pristine white card and write down the number with my favorite pen. I even searched high and low for a special hole punch to make my own cards.

Such was my thrall.

Meanwhile my kids were wondering how I never charged my cellphone. No-one seemed to understand that with two kids and all their clobber, I could never remember to carry my phone to and from the car. I couldn’t understand how just about everyone else managed to do what I apparently could not.

I wasn’t sure how the meeting would go. It was important and potentially far-reaching.

It was, in short, tricky. And I was a power player in it. I had to have my game on. Perform.

After abluting myself in the early morn and getting my thoughts together, I turned to my wardrobe.  I am someone who does a better job if she’s looks the part.

I didn’t want to wear my ‘mom’ uniform of a tank top, sweat pants and tennis shoes. (That really is me depicted up in that header.)

But I didn’t want to be too formal either. I opted for a pair of blue culottes and a blue top.

But then I got to my feet.

Memorial papers.

Those programs you receive when you attend a funeral.

What do you do with them?

If you're like me, you take them home.

Unsure of what to do.

You're not sure how to deal with them respectfully.

And you might want to look at them again, anyway.

Clients usually came together as a couple and always with a 45-minute appointment. Counselors were in short supply and our waiting list, long. Payment was made by way of a pay-as-much-as-you-can donation.

So as an alternative, we decided to open a drop-in clinic for people to come in, quite likely alone, for a short counseling session.

We weren’t sure how this would be received. Would we be sitting twiddling our thumbs for two hours or would we be overrun with people desperate to talk to someone?

Adding an element of the unknown was quite a departure for us.

We advertised the dates, stated our hours and held the first two-hour session in a downtown strip mall (we call them a parade of shops in England) in a low-income area.

And waited to see if anyone would turn up.

The response was immediate, 1,000's of views.

Facebook shares currently stand at 99.

Dean over at Being Primal sparked an idea when he commented, "You could probably commit a whole website to people who have to go this alone."

So I did.

And now we have...(drumroll, please!)

PaleoNonPaleo - Living paleo in a non-paleo world!