The Love that is Shattering My Soul.


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My 14 year old nephew has been with me for about a month.

Today I dropped him off for school and as I watched him walk in, hoodie pulled up, small, less confident than then the kids around him, beautiful, and with so much of his story in his walk, I was overcome with love. I cried all the way home.

I am angry. My sister who hasn’t seen her son in over five years is an addict, he is protected from her, it hurts him.

He pretends it is no big deal, but I know that children have an uncanny ability to blame themselves. Does he blame himself? Does he think she chose drugs over him? Does he tell himself if only? If only I’d been better..if only I’d been quieter..if only I’d been cuter..if only I’d been smarter…? I told myself these things as a child when my parents divorced, I carried blame. I think most kids do.

I want everything for him. I want him to live in a cocoon of joy, love, and peace. I want him to feel powerful, unbreakable, invincible. I want him to live as if his story  didn’t start out so shitty.

He has some healing to do in this life, I see his scars. He tries to hide them but they are blaringly present.

The family he has loves him so much, is it enough to offset the abandonment he has delt with?

I loathe drugs. I despise addiction. I am disgusted at their presence in this world, yet, I still love my sister, I still have hope, I still beg the universe to take away her sickness. I think though, her son will never forgive her. He has stated as much.

I am conflicted. I am angry she is an addict. I am angry she walked away from her only child, a child that is beautiful and sweet, and is my world right now. However, I’m glad she walked away, her addiction is poison. I wish I didn’t know who she really is inside.. she’s sweet, and kind, funny, and so so bright. I miss her. I hate her.

My only choice is to keep loving him through whatever hurt she’s caused. I am, after all the only one who can tell him the good parts of her, and how I see those good things in him. Someday he might want to know. Until then my cup runneth over, I am filled with love for this little amazing human.


…And all the Sudden I’m Over it….


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It has been a crazy summer. Everything has come in tens. My roof falling in, my husband getting sick, debt up to my eyeballs, family stress…

A bright light in all of this is that my nephew has moved in with us for a while. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a 14 year old in the house. I am trying to help his father out, and get him back on track.

…and all of a sudden I’m over everything else…

I’m human, so my sense of self importance takes over a lot of the time. Social media spurns this on more often than not.

I post my little thoughts here..but really, is it important? Am I changing anyone’s life? Or is it all about me and my need to vent?

I post random shit on Facebook..but really does anyone care about my day? Or is it boredom and narcissism?

I post my paintings on IG…but really, how much am I really selling? Am I showing off to no one?

I’m over it. And honestly besides my love for reading on this platform, your words..I don’t pay much attention to others posts..I’m simply too busy, and lately the negativity is rampant.

Family tends to put what is valuable into perspective. This perfect, smart, articulate, funny, damaged little human in my home puts it all into perspective. 

I haven’t had much motivation for the last couple years. Some of that stems from depression over my empty nest, I don’t know what to do with myself, so I tend to waste a lot of time on my phone as a distraction. 

I am starting to think about how self important, how absolutely self involved, how egotistical it all is. It’s exhaustive. No one cares about my self serving bs…

The busier I get caring for and loving the people surrounding me, the less important my online persona becomes.

I like writing, I’m not sure how good at it I am, and if I’m being honest I like ya’all reading it, I like the feedback, and I’m going to continue because I feel like it’s healing, cathartic, but everything else is washing away as I become more focused on reality. It will be less frequent, but I’m going to try to keep this blog active.

Teenagers as everyone knows are a full time job, I have no clue how I did this with 3. I was younger I suppose.

One thing is for certain though, I’ll end up getting more out of this than he will. I feel blessed.

Alopecia and Gratitude.


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I am not traditionally beautiful, whatever that means.

At 25 my hair fell out. I have Alopecia Universalis, which is a fancy way of saying I have no hair on my body. I have blogged about this before, but lately I’ve been thinking about beauty in general, and the notion that a certain set of features and checked boxes define beauty.

I am also getting older, so things are happening to my face that are perfectly normal, but society seems to think aging somehow diminishes beauty.

I am ok with being hairless, I am ok with ageing. There was a post a friend put up on FB a while back that I quite liked (thanks Noelle).

I like it because it’s true. I have never felt like the ripest juiciest peach, but just lately I feel blessed and grateful for my alopecia, I feel uniquely beautiful, I don’t know anyone else that looks like me. 

When I was younger, before my hair skipped town I was always considered pretty, not a super model, but pretty enough, after I lost my hair I was considered odd, strange looking, the comments I received were filled with condescension, pitty, and hurtful words in the guise of kindness… ” You used to be so pretty, I’m sooooo sorry”. ” You’re so lucky your husband stays with you”. ” You have so many other things going for you, beauty is overrated”. And my personal favorite: ” when your hair started falling out weren’t you worried you had cancer?”.  I am guilty myself in stating ” my husband thinks I’m beautiful”. I was never beautiful for him, my job in this world, my value on this planet, isn’t marked with a tag ugly or pretty. I like that he thinks I’m beautiful, but it has no effect on how I perceive myself.

I’m not even sure what beautiful is. I know a couple things about me though. When I wake up and look in the mirror, I have nothing to hide behind, I see my whole face, and I like me. I like how I look, no amount of hair can take away the eyes that look like my mother’s, the cheek bones that were built through Scotland and Ireland, the smile that reminds me that through all of this stressful life I remain happy.

What is beautiful? As cliche as it is it’s who you are on the inside, which radiates outward.

Liking yourself is a hard job. Insecurities run rampant, for both men and women. If you’re secure in how you look, you’re conceited, if you hate your looks you have low self esteem. I think it’s important to not give two fucks about what others think or how others perceive you.

Today I choose not to pick myself apart. Today I choose to love the skin I’m in. Today I am beautiful by my own definition. Today is all we have after all.

What is it All About?


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I’ve never understood life, it’s all so confusing, I think often about how much time I waste trying to figure out the meaning of life, my personal purpose, some kind of revelation. Is there an endpoint where all knowledge of what it all means will simply wash over me?

K-mart is closing. They are selling everything and emptying their store. Everything is super cheap, I headed over yesterday to try to find some curtains for my living room. As we were driving over we passed the place where I first met my huband, the first time I saw him at 14 was magic. We passed a church that later we’d sat and talked all night, and he kissed me. We passed the house where we’d first made love. We passed the apartment I’d lived in where I became pregnant with one of our children. We passed a street where we’d argued on the corner and broke up. So much of this city is wrapped up in us.

As we walked into the store he grabbed my hand, and kissed my forehead. 35 years later and I am surrounded by love by this man, this witness to my life.

That is what it’s About. Love. A series of moments that we live in together. Bad and good. Moments that are itty bitty, but in conjunction become life. 

I don’t need a huge life. I don’t need a lightning bolt revelation that makes it all make sense. Love. Love is the only thing that will mean something as I live and eventually die. 

The moments with my children, laughing and simply walking this path together reveal that searching for any other meaning is futile.

Sometimes I forget to just enjoy this. Sometimes I fail them and myself by not noticing.

I am filled with gratitude today for a life that has meaning. I am surrounded by love and understanding that I need no other understanding. 

Utah Hiking.


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I live in a beautiful state. It’s a shame I don’t take advantage of it as often as I should.

I hiked the desolation trail and made our way up to the Salt Lake Overlook yesterday, it was definitely a challenge. I have let myself get out of shape again. The hike was four miles up and back, and I nearly quit on the way up, I am so glad I didn’t. This trail is moderately challenging, with a ton of switch backs and a few little rock climbs along the way. My legs were pretty shaky on the way down but I’ll definitely do this trail again, the reward is an amazing 360° view of the surrounding mountains, and the city. 

Millcreek Canyon has many trails and is an awesome way to get out of the city without much driving. It literally took us 15 minutes from town to our trailhead. 

I’m glad I’m getting back in shape, eating right, and best of all hanging out with a great friend who was uber patient with me while I fought my way to the top of this hike.

Beautiful day.

Getting Back on the Vegan Track.


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Before I had headed to Ireland in May I had been a vegan for close to two years, in that time I’d slipped a couple times mostly with cheese, cheese is my’s a tough one. While in Ireland I made the executive decision to not be the douchebag that asks for a vegan menu, I always think in other countries, eating what they offer and what is available is best.

I did not eat a vegan diet beforehand because of the animals.. although I do care about everything involved in our horrible factory farming industry, but because of my compromised immune system. I feel better and get sick less with a plant based diet.

I haven’t returned to my pre Ireland diet, and I’ve gotta say, I feel pretty crappy. I have gained around 15 pounds, and am becoming pretty lathargic. I have decided to get back on track. Besides slipping back into an unhealthy spiral I started thinking of how very much I adore my dogs and how I can no longer ignore the cognitive dissonance of eating animals, lying to myself about all of this is unhealthy as well.

One thing I love more than anything is cooking, I’m good at it, and can transform any recipe into a vegan version..I once made a vegan “chicken” fried steak out of seitan and mushroom gravy made with almond milk..I can do this. I need to feel healthy again.

Today is day two of no animal products, I’ve been juicing to clear out my system again and already feel more clear headed. Veganism doesn’t work for everyone, but it certainly can solve a lot of health problems including immune system disorders, if I have the choice to feel better and don’t I’m not too bright.

I also understand the privilege I have in being one of the lucky people on this planet that is able to choose my diet.

I noticed as well that I’m more anxious and depressed when I don’t feed my body healthy foods, just read my blog…proof ha.

A rule of thumb that works well for me is to eat foods that the least amount of humans have touched, which pretty much eliminates anything processed. My mom grows an amazing garden every year so most of my food has only been touched by her. Win.

Today’s mantra: don’t look at the cheese.

Homemade Pho’

Social Media Blackout.


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I love this photo of my parents. I have been thinking so much about my dad lately, and really I always do. I miss him, 46 is too young to die..I am two years older than the age my father was when he died. Those who knew him and witnessed my childhood, know it was not ideal, today however I want to focus on the positive things I was taught.

My father was a pacifist, I spent the better part of my childhood on a hippy commune in Vacaville California. It was hard, we were poor, but I can’t remember a time where I felt more free. 

The lessons I remember from my parents the most we’re of peace, equality, lack of judgement, pacifism, love for all others, and treating people regardless of their background, color, religion, politics, etc. With dignity and respect. I try so hard to do this on a daily basis.

Recent events make this more difficult than ever. I can not seem to find any common ground with racists. I can’t, and I won’t. I came from a diverse family..Irish, Scottish, black, Japanese, Mormon, Catholics, Athiests, Republican, liberalism, Democrats, and yes, even racists. I am happy that I have distance myself from the racist factions in my family. Is this close minded? I think not. There is a huge difference between accepting say, someone who believes in buddah and someone who believes in Christ, and co-signing others who believe they are superior due to their color. Again.. I won’t and I can’t.

Political bullshit is killing me. Someone today said racism doesn’t exist because laws were passed against discrimination. I am beside myself. It isn’t about laws. It is about how others are treated in this society. I saw firsthand throughout my life the disparity between how my white family members were treated, and how poorly my black family members were treated. Even at 6 I understood the difference 

I try so hard not to be political..and yes, as a white middle class female I understand the entitlement and privilege that equates.

Peace is my only political stance. The world is a mess, what’s happening is disturbing. I, like many others believed that a ton of progress had been made, my head was clearly buried in the sand. It’s become clear that the divide is worse than ever. How do I balance being vocal and at the same time caring for myself emotionally and mentally? I am profoundly depressed at the state of my country.

My father is rolling in his grave..the saddest part of all is my releif that he’s dead so he doesn’t have to see this shit..I am certain his heart just couldn’t take it. 

I am so glad I was exposed to such diversity as I grew. I am so thankful that I was encouraged to think for myself, no opinion was pushed on me, I was free to make up my own mind, I was trusted to do what felt right and fair with my own heart and mind. I know the difference between right and wrong..I don’t need a law, a government, a religion, a political party, or a Constitution to clarify these things. 

Racism is wrong. Discrimination in any form is wrong. Superiority of any people is wrong. I don’t need a debate on this.

I need a break. I need a vacation from social medias constant negativity. As far as I can tell the divide and conquer the powers that be love so much are right on schedule, and will continue to be as long as everyone’s need to be right outweighs taking a good hard look at oneself and speaking out against Injustice. Maybe I am wrong but I think people know the difference between right and wrong, but lack bravery to speak out..I know I fall into this group too often. I am encouraging myself and others to not let hurtful hate filled people into your life. I am trying to figure out how to stand.



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It has been a particularly difficult month. I am overwhelmed, but realize life isn’t going to be a County Fair all the time. Besides my husband getting sick, and the possibility of crippling debt, I feel very alone. 

I am fortunate in the fact that my husband’s family have been a great support throughout my life, their friendship keeps me going most of the time.

I have a family that is fragmented, distant, and seems unconcerned. Unless it’s good news my family doesn’t want to discuss it.

I have yet to receive even a phone call checking in to see how we are. In all fairness though, I rarely received phone calls from anyone in my family with the exception of my mother, who I care for because of her mental and physical disabilities.

My grandmother’s death was essentially the end of my family. I know deep down they care for me, I have received monetary support at times, but I think I just come from a family that is unable, maybe incapable of being emotionally present, and I understand this considering the history of our lives. It hurts though. I am alone navigating through life with no advice or support from the people I admire the most.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about family. I know, for example that people who come from a close knit family tend to be physically, emotionally, and mentally healthier. I also understand that my continued attempts to create relationships in my family when there is no interest is unhealthy. My personal search for validation and love has nothing to do with them, it is my own needs I am trying to fulfill. Continuing a pattern of desperation and rejection is not only hurting me, but puts pressure on the people I love.

I need a new pattern. I need a new definition of family. Throughout the last month or so I have received support and concern from the most unexpected places. A virtual stranger showed up to purchase paintings in order to contribute to our medical bills, friends brought me food so I had less to worry about, I have received many messages online of concern and support from roller derby friends, car club members, and people whom I only interact with online, my closest friend spent hours helping me understand the inside and outside of creating a resume. I am humbled. I am grateful.

What exactly is family? Well, it’s the people who show up when shits rough. It is the people who love you even when you’re unlovable. It’s the others that participate in your life for no reason or reward other than love. I am not angry at my family, I love them, my expectations are the problem. 

I need to love my family for who they are, and accept what they are willing to give. I need to draw close the people who want to be in my life instead of demanding it from people who lack the ability to participate. I need to quit blaming myself and squash the self talk that continually berates me for not being good enough. 

Things are looking up. My husband is healing, we are working with the hospital on financial matters, we are selling off things we don’t need to widdle debt down, and we are learning to lean on people who love us. It’s a small blip in a blessed life, and reminding Ourselves that others have problems that far outweigh ours is a good place to sit in humility. 

In the meantime I am learning to breathe, I am learning to redefine family, I am learning… continually learning.

The Awful Way We Treat Ourselves.


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Yesterday while searching for old school records I opened The Trunk. The Trunk is a large riding container I have stuffed full of things starting in grade school. It is full of journals, notes all the way from grade school through yesterday, concert tickets, cards, old art, and the kitchen sink.

While looking through an old journal I came across the above entry. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. It is disturbing to me. I don’t remember writing it, my guess from the other entries is that it was written in my first year of High School.  I had to of been around 13 or 14 years old, around 1982 or so.

I analyze everything, I over think everything. I can’t shake how horrific my view of myself was, and in all actuality I can’t shake the fact that that view lingers at times. I have been feeding myself this line of bullshit for approximately 34 years.

How does this happen? How does a beautiful young girl get these messages so wrong?

This journal entry proves that this isn’t a new phenomenon, girls have been berating and tearing themselves to shreds for a very long time. The body positivity movement is certainly a response to this kind of self hatred.

So, is it society that has influenced this view of self? Is it parents who’s seemingly innocent jabs send young girls into this tailspin? Is it our peers picking each other to pieces? Advertising? Misogyny? What the hell causes this?

I certainly don’t want to discount the fact that males have these experiences as well, I do however believe females are extremely prone to this kind of self ridicule.

I am ashamed to say that thinking back over raising two beautiful daughters, that I may not have been as careful with my words as I should have been. I now remember times I offhandedly commented on my daughter’s weight, or stated “maybe we should see a dermatologist about your skin”, I know that I’ve mentioned how skinny one of my daughters is to her. I feel as if I have failed them. I am no psychologist but clearly my seamingly offhand comments had more to do with my self talk and insecurities than them.

It’s never too late to be a better mother, I am glad I found this, I am glad I can now apologize for words that may have caused them to think they are anything but perfection in my eyes.

I am sad. I am determined to talk to that young beautiful girl who wrote these things, I want to tell her that she is beautiful. I want to tell her that how she looks is a miniscule part of the whole of who she is. I want to heal the part of her that ever considered she was anything less than amazing. 

Until Death..


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We had a scary couple weeks. My husband got sick. Really sick. Vomiting, nausea, weight loss, lethargic, and then he turned yellow.. like a damn banana. We went from instacare, to emergency and were terrified. His liver wasn’t working…we didn’t say it out loud but we were waiting for the “C” word. He had all the signs and symptoms of liver cancer.

My heart was breaking. I was terrified. I kept thinking “I’m going to be a widow”. This is what til death feels like. 

After a million tests he was diagnosed with hepatitis A. Which is the first thing we asked them to test for, and we’re ignored.

I am raising holy hell with the hospital. 

Needless to say I haven’t had time to write. He is on the mend, thankfully but this has changed our lives. One of us will die, it’s inevitable. How do we live our lives knowing this?

We’ve realized that nothing is important. No possession, not our home, nothing.

Which is good, because our hospital bills may break us. It doesn’t matter, we’ll sell our house if we have to, and actually we were planning that anyway. No one needs a mortgage this large, nor a home this big. This house is wonderful, I love it. At this point life insurance and health insurance has to be the priority, and like a lot of others affording a home and all the bills that come with it make those two things restrictive. Being self employed pushes health care costs to around $450.00 a month. Who can afford that? 

In the USA these are the hard Choices we must make, food and shelter or health insurance, and before everyone gets on their high horse and says I just need to prioritize and quit buying avacado toast, I say no. How much avacado toast adds up to $450.00 a month? I don’t like that particular food item anyhow.

My big splurge? Fresh squeezed apple juice. Sue me.

Anyhoo I’m grateful for friends who’ve been so kind and supportive. People have pitched in by purchasing paintings, bringing food over, and most of all just listening. We’ll figure it out, I can now see that there’s a lot of people one medical emergency from being homeless, we are fortunate we’ll be ok. 

I’m not even going to get on the fact that the bumbling aholes in Washington give no shits about the health of their citizens.

I will gladly pay more taxes to live in a country where we take care of one another when in need.

That’s all I have for today, hopefully I’m back to writing regularly.