Shock and Awe

I’m nearing the two-year anniversary of what I affectionately call the “Shock and Awe” part of my journey.  Back when the shit hit the fan in my life and I basically cracked open and let the pieces fall where they may. “Traumatic” is one of many words that easily comes to mind when I think of those times. Wow. Two years. So weird how it seems like the blink of an eye, while at the same time, an eternity. A lifetime. Can a lifetime really fit into just two short years? I think so. I feel like a completely different person compared to two years ago. Except I didn’t change into someone different. I just became more myself.

Settling into myself feels good. I wish I knew this version of me a long time ago, but that just wasn’t the plan. I don’t think it would feel the same, if I had always been this version of me. I don’t think I would appreciate it nearly as much. No, I think one has to go through the shock and awe of it all in order to appreciate the value in finding one’s “self”.  Funny, I never even realized I had no sense of self, until I found it. Until I found her. And damn, she’s amazing. I love her…

 

 

The Friday Reminder for #SoCS & #JusJoJan Daily Prompt, Jan. 20th, 2018

 

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A Single Ray

Last Saturday night, I wrote here about shining a light on the dark places in peoples hearts, minds and souls. Sunday morning, I went to church and we had a guest pastor fill in. I love her sermons. She’s a confident, empowering woman. She spoke to us about the star of Jesus shining brightly around us, on us…within us. Just beautiful. And that night, I attended crystal bowl meditation, and at the end, I drew an Oracle card. The last sentence of the affirmation I chose read, “I am light. I am love”. Can you believe it? The Universe is telling us something here! And just to make sure I’m paying attention to the message, I received a card in the mail from a friend the other day…



And just for GOOD measure, Linda G. Hill’s writing prompt this week instructed me to look next to me and find the 6th, 7th and 8th word of whatever’s next to me and use it as the base for this post. So yes, Universe…I am most definitely paying attention. A SINGLE RAY of sunshine. Simply divine!
 

The Friday Reminder for #SoCS & #JusJoJan Daily Prompt, Jan. 13th, 2018

 

 

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Bubbles, caves and ecosystems

Relationship dynamics are so complex. It doesn’t matter which type of relationship you look at…romantic, friends, coworkers, family…there’s fragile framework in a lot of them. Sure, some are pretty rock solid, but as far as I can tell, many are like a house of cards. It can look nice, and be fun to participate in…but you’re always mindful and know that one misstep can make the roof collapse.

It’s funny how you can live in a house of cards your entire life, and not even realize it. Maybe you think everyone’s house is made of cards. Or maybe you know your house is made of cards, but you don’t want to let anyone else know about that shoddy construction. Or even more likely, you don’t want to admit to yourself that there’s just no real support around you.  So, you tell yourself everything’s just fine. “This is SO normal”, you say,  as you walk on eggshells, trying to keep everything in place.

OK, this analogy is getting away from me, sorry. It sounded so good in my head when I started. Let me switch gears here… some people create these little ecosystems of lives. Like Sandy Cheeks on Sponge Bob. She’s a squirrel living in the ocean. As a land animal, she needs to put her entire home in a bubble in order to survive…her own little ecosystem. Except Sandy is living there because she wants to enjoy life with her friends. The people I’m talking about, well…they create these ecosystems because they are hiding. Not so much from people, but from the truth.  I’ll let you interpret the truth in any way you choose…the truth of a painful past, the truth about their insecurities, the truth about their guilt, the truth about toxic behavior, the truth about shame… pick whichever one suits your fancy. Or maybe they’re hiding from a toxic person. An abusive person. Or addiction, or abandonment, or neglect.  Or past failures. For this conversation, let’s call the truth and/or the toxic person/environment “The volcano”.  So, if you spend enough time in their ecosystem, you don’t even realize what’s going on isn’t normal, because everyone living in the bubble is acting just like you are…walking on eggshells to keep the volcano from erupting. Acting like it’s perfectly normal to live in this giant, explosive shadow. Or like it’s normal to live with shame and guilt. Or like it’s normal to live with abuse. Keeping the lid on the volcano becomes automatic. It’s a survival technique. No, it doesn’t always work…that sucker still blows it’s top from time to time, but if everyone tiptoes around enough, it settles down. Till the next time….

The trouble brews when you finally realize, “Hey, I’m thinking maybe this isn’t so normal, after all”. You take a step back, outside of the bubble, into the sun. At first, it’s too bright….so bright, it hurts. Because you’re used to living in the dark. Like living in a cave. It’s so much easier to hide in a cave. The dark corners can feel safe, although they are cold and lonely. You sort of end up picking your poison. So, you find some sunglasses and do some hard work…facing things no one else wants to face. You face the truth. You face the toxicity. You face the guilt, the shame, the insecurities, the pain…you even start to talk about it. And trust me, that’s a big deal. NO ONE talks about what goes on in the bubble. No one. But you do it, anyway. Because it’s freeing. And once that’s said and done, you realize walking on eggshells hurts like hell. You can’t believe you never noticed the pain those shells cause you. And then you look at everyone else in that bubble and wonder how the hell they can stand it in there, bleeding from walking on shells, just to keep a volcano from erupting. The sun doesn’t hurt anymore. You throw your sunglasses to the ground and yell to your loved ones “Just leave the volcano, for crying out loud! Save yourselves!” They look at you like you’re crazy.  They are wincing, from having to look at you in that bright light of the sun. “Leave the volcano? God no!” and just like that, you are the black sheep, because change is hard. They get mad at you. Maybe some of them gaslight you. Maybe some of them shame you for talking. Maybe some of them resent you for doing and facing what they are incapable of doing and facing themselves.  They might even allow you to come back in, IF you stop talking about “it”…whatever “it” is that makes them so uncomfortable. God, you even think about it for a while. I mean, these are the people you love, for God’s sake! You want to be with them, to be loved by them… accepted. Chosen. You really think about it, without even noticing that these conditions they are putting on you means they aren’t choosing you at all. So, you try, but soon discover, in order to survive in their bubble, you need to let go of your light. And you find you can’t do that, even if you wanted to…because you realize, you ARE the light.  They just don’t realize that the light will stop hurting once they face it, and there’s not a damn thing you can say to make them understand. Oh, you try alright. But it doesn’t work.  They just become more angry, more reactive, more withdrawn.  All because you cracked open their bubble, their fragile ecosystem, their house of cards. The light shined on them, and on all the things they are hiding from. It’s blinding. They are not ready to look at those things.  You really can’t blame them…you lived in the bubble your entire life, just like them. Coping. All you can do now is love them from afar, and pray for God to give them just a touch of grace, like he did to you…back when you found the light. A touch of grace to allow them to see the light. Just enough to find their path out of the cave.

P.S. I will always be waiting at the end of the path to share my light with you.

The Friday Reminder for #SoCS & #JusJoJan Daily Prompt, Jan. 6th, 2018

This post was written in response to Linda G. Hill’s Stream of Social Consciousness Saturday. No edits allowed! (none needed…this flowed from my soul…)

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Resolutions

 

 

 

I can’t say I’ve ever been big on making New Year’s Resolutions. Always seemed kind of cheesy to me. I guess I figured if I wanted to change something, I would. I guess I never wanted to change much before last year.

On New Year’s Day 2017,  I joined a few friends at our local beach. We braved the winds and gathered some flat rocks. Using a sharpie, we wrote intentions on the stones…positive affirmations of what we desired in our lives for the upcoming year.  Boy, did I have a lot of desires…I gathered EIGHT rocks! I scribbled my wishes on them, cast them into the ocean, holding on to the faith that the Universe would return them to me. I was not let down.

I came across a photo of the stones a few days ago. I teared up a bit when I saw what I had written.  A few of the tears were from sadness, because it really was a shame that on that day, I did not feel like I had any of those things in my life, or in my soul. But, most of my tears  were from happiness, or really…gratitude, because as soon as I saw the picture, I knew that I really did have all of those things in my life, and in my soul. Actually, I’ve had all of these things inside me the entire time… my entire life. I just had to learn how to uncover them, how to see them. A year later, and my eyes are wide open. Amazing how some of us can just stumble blindly through life, thinking God forgot about us when he was handing out these qualities. We all have them, you know…all of us.

I’ll be returning to the beach again on Monday. It’s a tradition now.  I was thinking about writing the same intentions and casting them into the waves, just for good measure. Or maybe I won’t write anything at all.

 

This post was written in response to Linda G Hill’s stream of social consciousness Saturday. No edits allowed!

 

The Friday Reminder and Prompt for #SoCS Dec. 30/17

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All I know

You’ll probably be surprised to see I’m writing about love and shame and worthiness and acceptance tonight. Just kidding. We all know it’s pretty much all I know…

I spent a good chunk of this summer treading in the swamp of unworthiness, barely keeping my head above water, trying to force relationships into being what I need/want/expect them to be. It was a struggle. Sure, I’ve struggled with this many times before. Actually, it’s been an unconscious cycle throughout my entire life. Sure, I broke free from it somewhat last year, but to really break free from a lifetime of this shit takes a few tries, you know?  And life tends to throw you curve balls just when you’re least expecting it. That’s what makes it so interesting, right? So, yeah…I started to repeat my old cycles, the one’s I go back to with every relationship I have with emotionally unavailable people, because that’s all I knew. That is, until now.

I can’t say for sure which experience triggered this newfound acceptance. Maybe it’s a combination of the landslide of rejection and betrayal I thought I was experiencing. (Perception). Maybe it was the result of all the therapy and meditation and writing I’ve done over the past two years. (Most likely) .Maybe it was that I’ve just had enough of treading water for people who really don’t even want to swim. (Ah-HA!)

I can vividly remember the day it started to unfold. December 3rd. As I shamefully uttered persuasive words to someone who I had spent a great deal of time trying to turn into someone they just aren’t ready to be, I realized the words I was uttering weren’t really true anymore.  I was just so used to saying them, to feeling that way, that it’s all I knew to say. I heard them coming out of my mouth and a small voice in the back of my head said, “Why are you still saying that? It’s not true anymore”. I hung up the phone and felt a shift inside me. And I realized it wasn’t just about this particular person, but about multiple people in my life who I’ve become codependent with. No, that should read had been codependent with. Because at that point, I knew I was codependent no longer. To me, codependency is like setting yourself on fire just to keep others warm. That’s an awful thing to do to yourself, isn’t it? So, I’m not doing it anymore.  I miss them. I’d love to have them in my life in a healthy way, but I don’t need them.

I think I got to this point by finally learning how to not take it personally when someone can’t love me the way I need to be loved. God, that sounds so simple, doesn’t it? Intellectually, it is. Emotionally, not so much. But, somehow, I’ve finally figured out how to match my emotional self up with my intellectual self, and it’s pretty damn amazing.  I mean that. Amazing. The dark swamp in the bottom of my soul is gone now. Replaced with a glowing light that shines so brightly, so strong…no one can dim my sparkle now. I’m a rock star, dammit.

These people, they are on their own journeys. Just like me. Hell, I took 45 years to even realize I needed to start my journey. And it’s only by the grace of God that I figured it out. Who am I to demand someone start theirs RIGHT THIS MINUTE, just because I’ve started mine? Just because I tell them to? I mean, of course I know they should start their journeys, but we all know you can lead a horse to water… you just can’t make it drink. It is NOT a reflection of me that these people are incapable of loving me, or incapable of facing their own darkness, or incapable of meeting the expectations I place on them. It has absolutely nothing to do with my worth. So, I’m learning to let them be. Just be.

I’ll close with a quote I found on Jeff Brown’s Facebook page. It’s enlightening and beautiful and so appropriate for me right now. My light is shining.

“Sometimes people walk away from love because it is so beautiful that it terrifies them. Sometimes they leave because the connection shines a bright light on their dark places and they are not ready to work them through. Sometimes they run away because they are not developmentally prepared to merge with another- they have more individuation work to do first. Sometimes they take off because love is not a priority in their lives- they have another path and purpose to walk first. Sometimes they end it because they prefer a relationship that is more practical than conscious, one that does not threaten the ways that they organize reality. Because so many of us carry shame, we have a tendency to personalize love’s leavings, triggered by the rejection and feelings of abandonment. But this is not always true. Sometimes it has nothing to do with us. Sometimes the one who leaves is just not ready to hold it safe. Sometimes they know something we don’t- they know their limits at that moment in time. Real love is no easy path- readiness is everything. May we grieve loss without personalizing it. May we learn to love ourselves in the absence of the lover”

This post was written in response to Linda G Hill’s Stream of Social Consciousness Saturday

The Friday Reminder and Prompt for #SoCS Dec. 23/17

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Thinking ink

I’m thinking my last post was kind of heavy. Well, I suppose most of them are, aren’t they? Anyway, I’m changing it up tonight, people! Tonight’s topic: ink.

I have three tattoos, and they all suck. I got them when I was immature and impulsive and I regret all three of them.  At least they are tiny and easy to hide. One of them, I am thinking about getting covered up. I actually have been researching tattoo artists in the New England area for the past couple of years, because I don’t want to rush into it like I did the first time. I’ve been searching for someone who style I like. I finally came across someone last year and made an appointment for an evaluation and really decided what I wanted to get.  I had been focusing on this tattoo that my brother had for several years now. I figured, if I liked it for this long, I wouldn’t regret it. His children have the same tattoo and I thought it would be awesome for all of us to have a “family tattoo”. I was so sure!  And then I changed my mind, ha ha. That’s the thing about tattoos, permanent is more permanent than you think. It’s a lot longer than having the same idea for three years and thinking that it will never change.

So,  what made me change my mind was the connection to nature I discovered while going through this crazy journey of mine.  This tattoo artist that I found asked me to describe what I wanted and why I wanted it and all that, and I told her that if I could have the perfect tattoo, it would consist of a deer, a hawk, a butterfly, and a buffalo skull.  Doesn’t that sound like a horrible tattoo?!  I would have to devote my entire back to a nature scene like that, and there is no way that’s happening. Each one of those animals symbolize something important to me though.  Everyone is telling me that a butterfly is the obvious choice. I think they are right.  Maybe I can condense it down to a butterfly with a hawk feather and maybe a deer footprint. Just like editing my article… “Trim that shit down, girl!” This artist is pretty amazing and can design some spectacular nature scenes,  so I’m sure we will figure out something together.  I was actually supposed to have the meeting with her in April, but it just so happened to coincide with the date of my Reiki certification class, and I felt like that was more important at the time, so I postponed her. Unfortunately, she’s super busy and in DEMAND and I have to wait until next spring. I guess that will give me plenty of time to decide on such a permanent decision. Any thoughts?

 

 

The Friday Reminder and Prompt for #SoCS Nov. 25/17

 

This post was written in response to Linda G. Hill’s Stream of Social Consciousness Saturday….which is pretty much the only thing that seems to get me to write lately. Thanks, Linda.

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Open letter to the man who groped me last night

Hey.
You came to my birthday party last night with my friend. She didn’t know anyone on the guest list, so I told her to bring a friend. She chose you.
You seemed harmless enough. Confident, talkative, easygoing. You jumped right in when we were drinking shots and having cocktails. You shook all the men’s hands and chatted with all the women.  You were generous with the smiles and cracked a few jokes. You blended right in. It was a great party, wasn’t it?
When my friend and I were dancing in my living room, you were sort of dancing next to us. I say “sort of”, because at this point, you were pretty drunk, so to just say “dancing” would be an exaggeration. You were swaying, holding your drink, staring at both of us. Not in to our eyes, but watching our bodies. As soon as I noticed it, you went into the kitchen for something, probably another drink.  As you walked past me to get back to your spot in the living room, you sort of squeezed behind me, between me and the coffee table. As you did that, you brought your hand around my waist in front of me…and rubbed your palm across my crotch. I didn’t say anything. I’m still wondering why I didn’t, which I suppose is the reason I’m writing to you now. You know how after someone does something to you, like way after, you think of all the things you should’ve said? Well, that’s exactly what I did, so I’m saying them now. I didn’t say anything because it was easier not to. It was easier for me to hope it was just an accident. That because you were drunk, you maybe stumbled behind me and I just didn’t see you stumble and your hand just so happened to fall down on my crotch. God, that sounds ridiculous, doesn’t it? I told my friend, right there as we were dancing, that you touched me inappropriately but I wasn’t sure if it was intentional or not, and if it happened again, I was going to have to say something. She was mortified. She brought you there as a guest, because she didn’t know anyone at the party. You were there in a supportive role to her, you know. I felt bad for telling her. Can you believe that? I felt bad.  I didn’t feel comfortable dancing in front of you anymore, so I walked into the kitchen and told the story to a few of my friends, saying how maybe it was an accident and how you might have stumbled behind me and I just didn’t see it. Because that would be so much easier to deal with than admitting a man I didn’t know touched my privates in my own living room in front of all my friends and I didn’t say anything to him…on my birthday.  One of my friends cut me off and said, “No way…I saw everything from in here. He touched you down there and it was completely intentional and completely inappropriate.”  She looked serious. Her eyes were saying “This is not OK“.  The women I was talking to all stared at me. God, that left me feeling like an idiot for even trying to give you the benefit of the doubt. And still…I said nothing. I didn’t want to embarrass my friend who brought you here, as it’s not her fault. I’m sure she didn’t know you liked to touch women inappropriately in a sexual way without their consent. So, I minimized it. I said, “Well, I’ve had a lot worse happen to me in my life”, laughing it off. They still stared at me. I just wanted the party to go back to being the fun celebration it was, before it turned into this. I didn’t want to ruin the good time by making a big deal out of it. I didn’t want everyone else at the party to think I was looking for attention, or blowing things out of proportion. I didn’t want my friend, the one who brought you here, to feel badly about me talking about you groping me, so I laughed it off . That’s right… you groped me, and I’m the one feeling like I’m ruining my birthday party. That’s how sexual assault goes,  you know.  But no, you probably don’t know that. Because most women don’t do anything about it, so you think your actions are OK.
Not too long after, my friend comes over to me and tells me it’s time for her to get you out of there. I’m not sure what you did to make her feel this was urgent, but I can imagine. After you leave, TWO other friends tell their story of being groped by you at my birthday party. You reached out and touched one of my friend’s breasts. Another one, you stared at her body for several minutes, making her very uncomfortable, before reaching out and grabbing her ass. The other two women didn’t feel comfortable saying anything about it until after you left. After you left. Are you starting to see how men keep getting away with this bullshit? Needless to say, once the men here heard about it, they were fuming. They were angry that they weren’t paying enough attention so they could have seen it happening, because they would have taken you outside and taken care of you. These are military men, so I think you can be assured you would probably not be walking today. Later on, when you came stumbling back to get your coat, I left it on the porch, because I knew if you came in, my party would become violent and I didn’t want that.  This was supposed to be a night of friendship and love.  And I also think that part of me felt bad for you. Part of me didn’t think it would be fair for you to be punished for touching me, when I didn’t say anything to you about it in the first place.  Like it would be my fault for you getting hurt because I didn’t speak up.  Did you read that? I didn’t think it would be fair to you.  Even as my mortified friend waited for you in the car, and you put your coat on, you tried to come back in my house. You reached for the door to come in, smiling at me. Swaying in your drunkenness. Leering. I can only imagine what you thought you were going to do. I shut the door tightly on you, and you stumbled to her car. I was glad you were gone, but also worried about my poor friend, having to be that close to you. 
Jesus, you sexually assaulted three women last night, and none of us said a word to you. I was so worried about looking like I was making a big deal out of nothing, or ruining the party, or making my friend feel badly about bringing you into my home, or anything except what I should have been worried about. Isn’t that crazy? I was worried about me ruining my party by reporting being groped. I would have blamed me for my friend feeling bad. I would have blamed me for you getting beat up.  This is how men like you keep doing what you do. It becomes normalized. We become conditioned not to say anything, so you think doing things like that is harmless. That it’s OK. That it’s no big deal. You know, because no one ever says otherwise to you. Well, I’m saying something now. It’s not harmless. It’s not OK. It’s a HUGE deal. There were over 25 people here last night, all local people, and they all know about what you did. Not just because I said something, but because the other women did, too. The entire party talked about you being a “groper”, and not one person had ever met you. I felt ashamed for not saying something to you, for not doing something to stop you. My friends were surprised to hear about how I froze. They were surprised, because I’ve just spent the past 2 years in therapy, overcoming a very long and varied history of sexual abuse. I am now an empowered woman who speaks up on behalf of other women. I verbally challenge people who minimize sexual assault. I knew better than to stay quiet…yet I did. Because discussing this type of thing and experiencing this type of thing are most definitely two separate things.  I was ashamed. Me, of all people, should have said something. But I didn’t, and that’s OK. I’m still learning. I’m still healing. I’m still traveling my journey. So no, I didn’t say anything at the time, but I sure as hell am saying something now: “Hey....This. Is. Not. OK.”
This post was written in response to Linda G Hill’s Stream of Social Consciousness Saturday

 

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Cut short the funk

Id like to thank the universe for cutting short the funk I’ve been in these past few months. I knew something was about to happen. I could feel it building up over the past few weeks. Amid all the inner turmoil, I would catch glimpses of whatever “it” was…little glimmers of hope, of putting puzzle pieces together in my brain. I kept up with my “work”…meditating my ass off, writing in my journal, researching attachment types, abandonment issues and emotionally unavailable men. The other night, I tearfully sat in my friend’s driveway, telling her how desperate I was to change my attachment type, knowing full well the only way I was ever going to stop the pattern of only being drawn to emotionally unavailable men was to believe in my own self worth, and to make peace with the first emotionally unavailable relationship in my life… the one with my dad. Easier said than done, people. Easier said than done.

I spent another day soul-searching. Reading. Listening to podcasts. I knew I had all the answers in my possession, I just had to figure out how to make them work. I could feel an impending shift inside me. I went to dinner that night with my friends, still tearfully talking about the same thing, but telling them “something big is about to happen to me…I can feel it.” And wouldn’t you know it… I woke up the very next day, and the angst was gone. Just like that. It lifted. I exhaled. I smiled.  I thought about trying to figure just what it was that made it go away, but I stopped… No need to. I just wanted to enjoy it.

I felt like a damn rock star.  I kicked ass at work that day. I ended up finishing early because everything seem to line up just right. I noticed a lot of synchronicity throughout the day, and knew it was the universe falling into place for me.  I ended up completing a lot of tasks I had put  off for months. Every interaction I had was joyful and purposeful. I was mindful of everything. I was walking on air and felt unstoppable.

Are you waiting for me to tell you about when the other shoe fell? Well, I’m not going to. The synchronicity is still happening. I still feel no inner turmoil. It’s been days now, and I’m still a rock star.  Carry on.

 

The Friday Reminder and Prompt for #SoCS Nov. 4/17

 

 

 

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Sad Season

We had another unseasonably warm day today in New England. At least, that’s what they say. I don’t really think we should be calling it that anymore, because I can remember being out on my boat the last two Octobers. I would have been  out on it today for sure, if the marina hadn’t closed last week.  Everyone’s been asking me if I’ve put the boat away yet. Each time they ask, my smile disappears and my shoulder a slump a little bit as I nod my head. It’s almost like I’m slightly in mourning. Then most of them end up feeling bad for bringing it up. I know, I know…it’s a first world problem.  I don’t really mind having first world problems. I mean, if the worst thing I have to worry about is boating season being over, I’m doing pretty well then. Of course, I always have bigger  things to worry about than that, but I’m making a conscious effort to try to not worry about those ones. This one’s easier because I know it’s temporary. Summer WILL return!

So, what’s a single woman to do on a sunny, warm Saturday in October? Well, seeing how I live on Cape Cod, the possibilities are ENDLESS! I’m sure your mind is racing with various exciting scenarios. Well, whatever it is you’re imagining, just stop. I went to the dump. I mowed the lawn. I did three loads of laundry INCLUDING all our sheets. I took my mom to two yard sales. I pulled weeds from the walkway. I helped the boys clean their rooms.  I’m sure I did some other things that are  apparently not even worth remembering.  However, I find all of this to be somewhat satisfying, as I neglect ALL these things during boating season.  With me working this new job and trying to squeeze in time on the water on my days off, there just isn’t time to keep up with the house and the yard.  There were many days over the past few months where our house looked like one of those houses on Cops…trash littered everywhere, hungry dirty children wandering around without adult supervision.

Not to mention, I’m still getting used to the yard being my responsibility. So, I’m sorry to my neighbors who had to watch things get kind of out of control over here the past few months, but a single working mom just has to prioritize things sometimes. Besides, my crappy yard just makes yours look nicer, so… you’re welcome.

 

The Friday Reminder and Prompt for #SoCS Oct. 21/17

 

 

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Well, finally

Well, I finally received the print copy of my article. I started this whole “getting something published” journey back in the spring, and it’s kind of like waiting for a baby to be born. No, not really. Bad example. It’s more like waiting for a vacation you planned well in advance. Yes, that’s a better comparison. You plan the trip, and once you book it, you’re PUMPED. You tell everyone you know about it, you are so freaking excited to go there, and then you kind of have a let down, as you realize you have to spend the next several months just living your ordinary life until the day rolls around. Kind of like the trip I just took to San Diego. I bought it LAST November on cyber Monday (BEST day to purchase online trips, FYI….$600 for round trip airfare and 4 nights in a hotel ON the ocean). We were so excited when we bought it, then had to face the reality of a New England winter and spring (basically just one long cold shitty season), go through the summer and then get excited again as the date finally neared. We just went last week, and it was amazing. And the day I returned home, the paper copy of the American Journal of Nursing was waiting for me. Perfect homecoming after a perfect vacation.

And, I read a book on attachment relationship types on the plane, and it allowed me to let go of the angst which had been building up inside me regarding yet another failed relationship. Sometimes, just having the answer to “why” is good enough.

Well, I am happy again…finally. Feeling at peace and ready to conquer the world again. Thank God….


 

The Friday Reminder and Prompt for #SoCS Oct. 14/17

 

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How I escaped from my cocoon while running a business and raising two kids without completely losing my mind

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