It’s no secret that here in Chicago, most of us have the World Series on our minds. While I don’t watch any of the games, (not due to lack of interest, but to keep peace and quiet within myself), I have been following these games periodically through Facebook and other social media streams. Continue reading “Fickle Facebook Fans, Fan the Flames”
Until yesterday, It had been more than 40 years since I’d seen Toni Durchin Werner.
As wee toddlers/preschoolers, Toni and I used to be schlepped around to “ORT” meetings and events by our mothers. Both of our moms were unwavering in their dedication to this organization, but we really didn’t know why. What I did know, was that, the lox boxes were awesome because they had this cool telephone key chain in them. Toni loved this one particular event that was solely dedicated to chocolate. I’m sort of pissed that my Mom never took me to that chocolate event. Toni got chocolate. I got smoked fish. Oh, the injustice. Continue reading “There’s no crying in baseball, but my recent sp-ORT is the ‘World Series’ of feels.”
DISCLAIMER: I have been on a writing strike. Bear with me. Thanks.
When I was a child, I couldn’t fathom the idea that anyone was a Tom Petty fan. I disliked his singing style so much, I balked at listening to the meaningful music. Of course, I felt the same way about Bob Dylan and Janis Joplin. Now that I’m older, (and CLEARLY wiser,) I’ve grown to fall in love with and appreciate extraordinary talents that transcend a “purdy” or lyrical vocal quality. All of these artists’ songs strike deep chords inside of me and are among my very favorites.
Beginning on April 4th of this year, I celebrated spring, by springing free from a job that resulted in deep pain and angst in me. Once I left that position, I couldn’t help but notice that I was hearing a ton of Tom Petty songs. Perhaps I was just listening for them. It seemed that almost daily, I’d hear, I Won’t Back Down, The Waiting, Free Falling, and Learning to Fly.
I didn’t understand the meaning, or if there was any meaning for me. I just knew that feeling trapped and waiting to leave that job was the hardest part. I had to learn to fly again and while I was free falling, I was not going to back down or retreat.
Continue reading “Loving the Petty Moments, Truly.”
I also thought attractive winter gloves that successfully utilize mobile devices, (with real human hands actually inside of them), Starbuck’s delivery and eye make up magnifying glasses were also my original, great ideas.
I’m brilliant, I know.
People who may be smarter and more creative than I am had these ideas looooooooong before I had them. (Although, I don’t really think mobile device winter gloves are attractive, and I also think if you’re looking so silly wearing those eye make up magnifying glasses, who needs make up? But, these are simply an opinion from me, who at best, is a questionable fashion plate.)
Wait. There’s no question. I’m not a fashion plate. Continue reading “I thought Tinder for Business was my INNOVATIVE Idea.”
I almost hate to put the anniversary of 9/11/01 beside National Recovery Month, but everything seems to connect somehow to that fateful day, getting real and honest about the impact of it, and getting real and honest about how we cope or can’t cope is what connects us to recovery.
Today, in the year 2001, everything changed. I can only speak for me, but as inherently fearful and geared toward sadness as I was before 9/11, the volume of my fear and sadness resounded at a higher decibel and with more frequency.
It still does, but I work very hard to locate a peaceful and serene volume and that happens almost solely by working with and helping others.
I am currently in my 19th year of sobriety, but up until this year, I had absolutely no idea there was a, National Recovery Month. Continue reading “This Day and National Recovery Month.”
Every so often, I don’t want to post or go public with the truth about myself. Right now, I’d prefer to post a comparative analysis of my body measurements, weight and BMI from age 18 to present day, or even post a daily food intake journal that demonstrates my consumption of three pieces of cake, more than I want to publish a post that states that I had, over the past several days, been feeling pretty down. I was stricken with fear, self-doubt and partial paralysis of my left brain, which in Pam-speak, translates to, “Quit now because you’ll never do or be anything you can actually feel good about. You’ve already failed, and when push comes to shove, you are wholly unlovable.”
Now, where’s the rest of that cake? Continue reading “A Bout of Doubt is not the Death of Breath”
I was given up for adoption at birth. When I was five-years old, my parents informed me that I was chosen by them because that’s how much they wanted me to be their child. I still recall the lovingly perfect way they told me about their reasons for adopting me. I have vivid and wonderful memories of the experience. What I specifically remember is that the kitchen counter was around my height and that I felt completely loved and wanted.
As I got older and entered into my teens, I began to feel totally abandoned by and resentful at my birth family. Like so many children who are given up for adoption, I felt an enormous void inside of me. (Later, I would realize my void had nothing to do with me being given up for adoption and everything to do with me being a teenager with baggage.) Continue reading “I am Chosen and so is She: My Free Sister, “Ibby!””