Monday, September 1, 2014

Ha! "Well I guess it doesn't matter any more..." - Buddy Holly


Clean out the crevices that are encrusted with patronizing dust.
Clean up my mind of insecurities and hurt from old associations.
Clean sweep the cupboards of painful nonsense that is hiding in the corners.
Clean off the old wounds and see the soft and healthy new skin underneath.
Clean clear my heart from the cares and attachments that only cause pinching pain.
Clean the house of all ridiculous false remedies.


Done with bullshit.
Done pretending.
Done listening to lies.
Done in assuming the best-case scenario.
Done dealing with people who can't get over their own stupid shit.
Done trying to diffuse a silly blame-game that isn't real anyway.


Time to stop trying.
Time that you let go of being courteous; it's not appreciated.
Time you appreciate the people currently in your life who are honest, open, loving and true.
Time is there for the taking.
Time for a time-out from the destructive emotional crap that keeps bringing brought up.
Time lost to forgetting how long I've been trying to help situations that don't want help.


Throw caution to the wind and dump the crappy feelings after it.
Throw out the thoughtful garbage I've been carrying around.
Throw forcefully, the silly notions that I am responsible for anyone's feelings excepting mine own.
Throw to the heavens any left-over remnants of useless clutter.
Throw up the partially digested emotional matter that DOESN'T MATTER.
Throw through the crumbling boundaries that never worked and weren't strong anyway.


Shout forth all the feelings that are being felt strongly and haven't been acknowledged.
Shout to the earth, sky and sea that it's finally over.
Shout that the facts are that it never mattered as much as it was supposed to.
Shout the eggshells to dust, that I've been carefully walking on.
Shout over the floating debris of hurt feelings that aren't mine, that it's all a matter of perspective.
Shout clean down to my toes that I'm relieved of duty.


Stomp through the reeds of self doubt.
Stomp up the poor-me-mentality that things can't be helped.
Stomp to bits the web of blame that's been woven out of delusion.
Stomp viciously the false flowers of friendship that weren't real.
Stomp high and low for any escaped misconceptions.
Stomp delicately through the mud of the demolished feelings until they're thoroughly ground up.


Stop everything and breathe until it's all passed through your system.
Stop worrying and enjoy the release of the burden.
Stop wishing you could fix things; you're free and you were never broken to begin with.
Stop thinking about any of it.
Stop trying to preserve anyone's feelings, but your own.
Stop and give thanks that you're FINISHED!

Monday, January 27, 2014

We DO NOT Speak His Name:

There's a common feeling that perhaps occurs when someone tells you directly NOT to do something; if you're anything like me (or Curiosity's Dead Cat) you immediately feel the desire to DO said verboten action.

I am writing thank you notes.

Normally, I am crackerjack at this task and I have it done within a week of receiving the gift; unless it's say, a huge bunch (wedding, shower, etc.) and then I give myself a month.

Since our baby has been born (S.T.) we have received several "baby," items.

My recovery from his birth has taken over 2 months, and I am just now getting to the thank you notes; being it January (and most of the gifts having arrived around or before Christmas) I do not think that I am behind schedule, because January isn't over yet.

However, since I have a reputation for writing "lovely," thank you notes, certain members of my family are getting… shall we say, 'antsy' about my completing said tasks.

I had a baby, which is an ordeal, so needless to say, I am taking my time.
I got half done a day ago and I plan to finish them tomorrow.

Every time someone demands I finish writing them, it PISSES me off.

They WILL get done.

"Have I ever not written a thank you note?" I ask.

"No, but---,"

"I PROMISE I will get them done soon. January isn't over."



Why is having patience with myself so difficult?

Anyway… the next time someone starts getting fidgety and wanting to annoyingly remind me to do something, I'm going to shout,


                 and walk off.

Heh. Heh. Heh.

Happy Monday Everybody.

Saturday, January 25, 2014

Missed Meetings...

Am I the only person who thinks occasionally about the conversations that we so often don't have?

Those by-chance encounters in the parking lot, or coffee shop or university hallways… a quick smile or a brief wave exchanged that is never repeated… silence that is never broken…

I quite enjoy those meetings; I relish them, in-fact.

It's more and more rare to walk by someone on the side-walk and have your smiling eyes and warm glance returned, and I wonder why this is?

Are we afraid to reach out to others?
Is it the mystery that we're worried about?
Why is making a stranger's acquaintance such a discomforting thing?

Perhaps it's not really.

My father has always been the sort of fellow who talks to the person next to him in a queue. He is the man in the check-out line at the grocery store who makes a joke with his bright blue eyes all crinkled up in mirth and asks some sort of obvious question to get-the-ball-rolling and speak to the stranger.

I admire him for that. I have learned that it's much easier to talk to a stranger than I thought it would be, and that usually my harmless or warm comment is appreciated and my smile will be returned in kind.

Sometimes though, I'm amazed at the folks that pretend..

          Pretend they can't hear me.
          Pretend they're not responsive.
          Pretend they can't see the people or space around them.

Is it some sort of wacky survival instinct? Is this the same phenomenon that allows humans to become bystanders to a wrong-doing or injustice? To stop and stare and watch as though the scene in front of them was happening on a movie screen rather than real life?

This is why I won't stop inviting new and kind interactions into my life.

It doesn't always end up pleasantly, but it's very worth it to me when I consider the alternative of morphing into a numb and frightened individual.

When walking out to the parking lot, if I see a dog in the back seat of a Subaru, with a person sitting in the driver's seat, I will always smile and greet the dog and wave at the person, telling them they have a lovely animal companion.


Because I believe that sometimes, life's about noticing the little things.

Every one needs a reminder to be pleasant once in a while.

It takes much more effort and energy to be shut-off, anxiously guarded and awkward; or to be rude, unpleasant and perhaps mean.

Must remember to write about a few of my recently missed meetings.

Welcome back to the blog.

Thursday, January 2, 2014

A Cool Drink of Water...


Writing after an absence is akin to that delicious sweet and slippery taste of water when you come inside after running around on a hot day.

 The house interior seems much dimmer to eyes that have been out in the bright sun--- shadows dance before you as you lick your dry, lips with your sticky sandpaper tongue.

The sink.

In the kitchen it is cooler; looking out the window where the sunshine gleams off of glass and soaks into bricks and mud and wood… the green grass warm on the blades, but cool underneath…

The sink whispers.

Silver and dully glinting in the kitchen where no lights are on, you feel degrees cooler with every step closer to it.

Reaching into the cabinet above, your fingers wrap around the cool solidified liquid of a glass.

Your body so hot that your fingers steam around their edges, causing condensation on a vessel not yet filled with water.

You reach for the knob of cold. The silvery rushing sound of the water crawling and slipping through the pipes is faint and then grows louder as the sparkling, white rush comes forth from the faucet.

You hold the glass heavily under the flow; feeling it's clear, cold volume fill up.

Your eyes almost unfocused, you stare at the glass in the shade of the room-- watching the bubbles from the rapids crashing on the sides disappear.

Breathing out in a great sigh, you lift the impeccably smooth, cool edge to your cracked lips.


Sweet and juicy and intensely cooling.

You try not to gulp, but it's impossible.

You've  downed the glass so quickly, it almost hurts to swallow the chugs.


Must have more.

You drink until the water dribbles down the sides of your mouth,
until the splashes on the sides of the glass hit the chest of your shirt,
until you open your eyes light-headed with the sudden rush of hydration,
until your pounding head and heart cause you to gasp for breath,
until your belly is sloshing with the cold heavy liquid,
until you feel dizzy,
until you see spots in front of your eyes because you ingested it so quickly and your body is suddenly so tired and completely relaxed that you must sit or lay down to rest.

THAT is what it's like to write after an absence….

Daring December!

December came and went; like the snow that wasn't around for our gray Christmas.

Still no decorating for this Holiday… like Thanksgiving, I had to ask for help and I didn't cook much.

No trip home to New England, but rather a soft, messy Christmas at home with our new little one.

Visits to the grandparents newly ensconced in assisted living and out of their house,
Presents through Secret Santa at my Mother in Law's home,
Video-chat with my parents to say "I love you," and "Merry Christmas!"

Thank you notes piling up on my list of "To Do's," and I've not begun them because I'm still not fully comfortable in my body and I've hurt my back besides and things are STILL not over.

Much love was exchanged! Reminiscing over the visits from four DEAR friends and the caring they send: delightful.

Being thankful for my brothers-in-law, sisters-in-law and mother-in-law and the rest of J's family out here--- how could we have gotten on without a supportive family on both sides?

Blink, and December is over: can you believe it's going to be 2014?

Needy November:

I am not good at asking for help.
I have been this way my whole life; it feels as though if I need help, I am somehow a weaker person.
The truth about asking for help is this: You are a STRONGER person if you're able to ASK FOR HELP.

Our Sam was born the day after my birthday. He was 8 pounds and one ounce and 21.5 inches of amazing.

I won't go into the details of his birth on this medium, except to say that I did as I expected to almost the end, and then everything went wonky for me.

Sam was born safely; I birthed successfully, but things that I didn't expect to happen kept on happening.

The end of his birth was a shock.
Healing was a shock and never before have I been forced to ask for so much help.
I could not imagine going through any of this alone.

I had no idea that time would go through Christmas, and I am still not completely healed.

I am going to write out the story of our birth experience one day, but I'm not sure if I'll post it here.

The good news is: Samuel is an incredible baby. He and I have bonded and worked so hard for each other. My partner and husband Jody is amazing and has gone above and beyond the call of duty for a mate.

The bitter news is: I am still healing emotionally and physically.

Every day things get better, and of course I am grateful for our baby every day.

The thing is, when someone has something crazy difficult to deal with, and every one says "But focus on the positive outcome," it's INVALIDATING to the person who went through, or is currently going through something hard.

Handling a life-altering, insanely difficult task is an immense thing to have to process and continue processing; be it trauma or something that you thought you chose that continues to be a daily struggle.

Never judge anyone until you've walked two moons in their moccasins.

Be kind and don't tell someone to "Look at the bright side," until they're ready… so guess what? They KNOW what the bright side is, but it's not an option for them in their process right now. Maybe they'll get there, maybe they won't, but trying to force a person's perspective is like trying to shove a book through through a keyhole: it's going to be an impossible, tearing mess that makes you want to cry sometimes.

This entry is dedicated to Krissy and Heidi.

All my love.

The Missing October...

October was a month of leaves, introspection and wondering…

How am I going to get through all this emotion?

When will I feel quite like myself again and at home in my body?

October was full of weeks with nostalgia for something I couldn't remember…

A part of my past that was so completely through I longed for the familiar pain of it.

Silly things and old  baggage rearing up it's wrinkled muzzle to snuff around.

Halloween came.. my favourite holiday… no decorations…

No trick-or-treat…

Only a game of waiting and hoping and frustration and bewildering silence.

A week later my birthday… and events began to end.

Starting and stopping STOPPED.

November was the month of new beginnings; with turning 30 came another day to mark the calendar.

Our baby was born.