This morning, the dogs woke me at butt o’clock, A.K.A. 4:20AM. I bundled up and took them for a long, slippery walk. It was crisp, dark and slightly foggy. I was moved to take photos because it was just so beautiful outside. I was grateful to my pups who forced me to be out and about in the quiet, without any cars or cares. After I snapped the photos, I put my camera away so I could be fully present for my walk. I tried to extend my freedom from thought or worry about anything in my day to day life. My brain, body and spirit are continuously seeking a breather no matter how brief it may be. Continue reading “Single Working Mom Seeks Understudy”
Every so often, I get a wicked bout of insomnia. It used to strike with more frequency when I was younger and not so mellow and low-keyed, but it’s back and with a vengeance. Continue reading “The Insomniac’s Dreams”
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”
As I’ve been attempting to have a really good cry that never seems to come, I have started thinking about love, which almost immediately brought me to thinking about lust and the confusion (and periodic pain) lust, (if one or more individual expects love), almost invariably causes.
Let me be clear. Lust is a lot of fun and I enjoy it as much as anyone possibly can. It has its place, but I believe it’s best performed under a very short term contract that both (or all) participants understand and agree upon. As long as little or no return on investment is expected, I highly recommend going with lust for a gig or two. Continue reading “Love’s Litmus Test: As Lust Passes, it Fails the Test.”
DISCAIMER: This is a long ass post. I sure hope it’s worth the read. Writer (me), cannot be held responsible for winces, sighs, eye rolls or chocolate eating while reading said long ass post, unless reader (you), shares chocolate with writer (me.)
I can’t be 100% certain, but I don’t think I’ve actually written much, if anything, about my propensity toward workaholism. I am already loving the delicacy (slight touch o’bullshit) of this post, as I just mentioned having a “propensity” toward workaholism. Historically, it’s been far more than a propensity, slight leaning or minor tendency. It has been a…headfirst into any brick wall, full-speed ahead, balls out, whole mind, body and spirit, life-sucking activity. Continue reading “Labor Day & the Workaholic”