Overwhelmed with Doubt

 Life is still kicking my ass. I feel lost and stuck and confused, overwhelmed with doubt. I am questioning every single thing that goes thru my mind.

I have been going to therapy for 4 years now and have worked extremely hard. What have I gotten from it, what has changed for me in my life? I’ve been running that question over and over for the past couple weeks, trying to figure out what’s happening with me right now.

I don’t feel better about myself at all. In fact if I’m being honest, I feel like more of a failure and a loser as a person than I ever have in my lifetime. All the awareness, all the things that have been uncovered with peeling back my layers, has only made so many parts of me feel like the piece of shit I’ve always believed I was. 

At first I was hopeful that I might find ways to make changes, updates in my system that are so needed. I’ve found nothing like that at all. Instead it seems like I have to discover my own answers, my own ways to help myself. 

Don’t get me wrong, I like going to therapy where I find safety and support at times, but I am tired. Tired of hours of being interviewed but no input, no results, no real answers. Tired of being hurt by the actions and words from people who are supposed to be helping. I take full responsibility for where I am right now; I’m not looking to place blame. So why do I keep trying? Because where else do I find any answers? Where else do I find hope? If I knew of any thing else to do I would be trying it. 

I am doubting everything- every choice I make, every word I speak, every action I take. I’m so disengaged in caring about myself. I haven’t written more than a sentence or 2 in my journal for many weeks. The past few weeks I haven’t really been very involved with my therapy, with my healing, doing zero work between sessions, just having light conversations. I haven’t used my cards or had any parts conversations and all that makes me feel like I’m failing therapy but trust was lost and safety interrupted and I don’t know how to restore it. In some ways it feels like I’m giving up and I have no clue what to do about it. Do I even want to? 

Lost and stuck. I have very little confidence that I can be successful in making much change for myself. It feels like I’m just resigning myself to this is as good as it is going to get but that’s just not acceptable. Another internal system conflict which won’t resolve because there are no good choices, no acceptable to me options and I don’t know where I will find any. Instead the war in my head will just continue to torture me. 

The darkness of hopelessness. A place all too familiar for me living with depression. Oh how many times I have visited the basement, my dark place on the edge of the ledge. I wonder how many times I will find my way out. Is the day coming that I won’t have the ability to take those steps and rise once more? A scary thought. 

I get so frustrated with the cycles of depression. The toxic positivity of statements out there, the gold standards, the affirmations- all so incredibly annoying to me these days. I have tried so hard to believe some of it- that 1% of something is better than 0%, that all progress is worthwhile, it all counts and adds up- but today that all just seems like a big bunch of bullshit to me. 

To make progress, start to feel good, feel hopeful, and then my friend Lola, my depression, kicks me right back down, at times lower that I was before. And I have to start over and take those steps once again to even try to get back to where I was. How is this progress of any kind? How is this worthwhile or helpful to keep repeating the pattern? I never get anywhere but instead spend all my time and energy trying to get back to where I was. It’s disappointing and so discouraging for this to continue. That’s why I call it a cycle because it just keeps repeating. Round and round like a carousel that never shuts off, following the same path, over and over. I can’t trick my brain that keeps searching for answers. 

Will I ever feel good again? What does that even mean? What does that look like? What does that even feel like? The Squad is enjoying what they are saying is a pity party. Is it so wrong to just want to find some space in my life that isn’t dark, that isn’t painful. It’s not a mystery to me why Numb Helga, dissociation, is a friend. 

I’m tired. I’m feeling so raw and unsafe. How do I trust anyone if I can’t even trust myself currently. Internal conflicts with pressure and even more unsolicited accusations and attacks coming from the outside too. 

Exposed is another good word I’ve been feeling. Sensitive. Unprotected. Tender. I don’t see where I can go to hide, or how to get out of the storm. Options. I’m almost out of them. 

Where can I go

What can I do

Caring is optional

Hope seems so lost

I don’t know what’s next. 

Any clues? 

Still trying but the desire is fading. Alone. Isolated. Invisible. Exhausting. There’s nobody coming. Time for a nap.

11.19.25

I saw this picture a few years back and the word doubt just seemed to fit for me. Doubtful Mickey. 

Where Do I Feel Safe

Safety

Safety and feeling safe is something I struggle mightily with. I recently lost that safe feeling within my therapy and not sure how to find it again. Some parts of me are so incredibly sad and grieving, hoping to find a way but we are not really sure what that looks like or how it will feel. Many other parts feel so disengaged, not wanting to share or believe anything will ever change. It’s all seems to be about how much hurt am I willing to endure to keep trying. Trust is absent. 

I saw this series recently and wanted to share it here. This is what was written to go with these:

The ideas in this carousel come from clinicians and researchers who changed how we understand the human mind. Across different eras and approaches, they all arrived at a shared truth: people grow when they feel safe enough to be honest. Their work spans humanistic therapy, developmental psychology, trauma research, neuroscience, existential therapy, and relationship science. But together, they form the backbone of what modern therapy considers essential for healing: acceptance, steadiness, connection, curiosity, trust, and repair.

Feel free to click on the picture for a larger and clearer view

 Safety. Please let me find you again. It’s so hard without you. 

11.17.25

Life Has Been Kicking My Ass

 Struggling

Life has been kicking my ass lately in so many ways. Just when I think I’m catching a break, finding some space, some inner peace, it all goes away and here I am back in the darkness of hopelessness.

This week a young man in Dallas took his own life. He was a 24 year old second year player for the Dallas Cowboys. On Monday Night Football he recovered the ball in the end zone, scored his first NFL touchdown and 80,000 fans cheered wildly as he celebrated. Thursday evening after a police chase for a traffic violation, he took a gun and ended himself after calling his family to say goodbye.

This was extremely heartbreaking to read because I get it. I fully understand the dark places your depression mind can take you and the lies it can tell you. I’ve been living in that darkness with visits to the edge; I just haven’t taken the final leap, selected my final option.

To me, this young man’s tragic end to his life speaks volumes about the stigma of mental illness; how many suffer but few reach out to ask for help. Most people don’t get it because they haven’t experienced it themselves or just don’t see what’s going on inside someone with mental health struggles because outwardly it seems like all is great in their lives. The thing is, we get good at masking, pretending instead of sharing or reaching out for help. For many, the stigma of being seen as having mental health issues can be seem harder than reaching out. Instead it’s simply I’m fine. 

He seems to have had it all. He played football at a small college and he dreamed of being in the NFL. His hard work paid off when the Dallas Cowboys drafted him and he signed a contract for 7 million dollars. He was an active part of the team. He had a family and girlfriend that loved him and supported him. He had all his team mates and the entire Cowboys organization. He had plenty of money, seemingly living his dream, his best life. But today he is no longer alive. The stories and lies his brain told him overwhelmed him and he chose that final option. 

It’s hard for people to understand how the darkness of depression makes you unable to see or hear anything but the lies of the illness. It doesn’t matter how intelligent you are or if you’re a CEO, bus driver, or NFL player. You may intellectually understand but it still doesn’t matter. Sometimes being told how much we have to live for or how good our lives are just makes it worse. 

Sadly I don’t see the stigma of illness getting better in this current atmosphere of lack of care and concern for our fellow humans. It’s the same type of judgment many of us are subject to when we are given a health diagnosis like fibromyalgia or dysautonomia. I get not wanting that stigma, prepared to get the eye roll from the physicians, told it’s all in your head because they can’t seem to find anything else. So you give up and just stop asking, stop going to doctors. The darkness gets darker. See my recent post about chronic illness. 

Reaching out for mental health issues can be so difficult  and there is no guarantee that therapy will be helpful either. The mental health industry has it's good and bad. Unfortunately there are way to many "quick fixes and gold standards" that aren't actually helpful and can and does cause much harm to many. There are a ton of modalities out there and who knows what will actually help. Finding the right assistance for what you need can be very difficult; I am speaking from personal experience here.

This young mans death reminded me that for me and so many others who battle mental illness and depression that it doesn't matter how much money you have, how successful your career is, how much love and support you might have, it still might not be enough to let the light in when the darkness surrounds and overtakes you. 

Life has been kicking my ass lately. I feel so alone. I am so tired, so discouraged, and so very lost in my stories that I wonder if it's all slipping a way. For people with depression, life can be a daily battle simply to stay. 

24 years old. I hope he found the peace that all of us living in that darkness so desperately crave. RIP. 

11.8.25

Silence and The Changing of the Seasons

  Silence and The Changing of the Seasons

It’s been seven weeks 

It’s been seven weeks since I’ve written. This blog has been important to me, something that’s mine to utilize in anyway I’d like. To share, to work things through, to out myself and hold myself responsible, to brain dump, to just simply write words and stories floating around my brain. I write sometimes to just make sense of my reality that is sometimes so challenging it’s hard to believe. 

I have come here several times over the last weeks, but could never gather the words to actually write anything. It’s not that I’ve not had anything going on or a blank mind. Quite the contrary, my mind has been on overdrive and when it gets like that, with so many conversations going on, I tend to be scattered with my thoughts, not able to find a coherent complete story to write, instead I am wrapped up in many different things all happening at once. I refer to this as my hectic and chaotic brain mode. 

Outwardly I am silent. Even my private journals have snippets and sentences that are not related. A bunch of random thoughts that have to be processed and put together. This is where I've been and what I’ve been doing. 

Now to quote The Terminator…..I’m back……

The Changing of the Seasons

Growing up in a small town in the Midwest, Ohio, the changing of the seasons were easy to notice. Spring, Summer, Fall, and Winter were always distinct in the scenery and the weather. Spring brought the renewal outdoors with the trees growing leaves, flowers started blooming, grass greening up. Summer with it full nature, warm weather and vacations. Fall with the beautiful colors of the changing trees preparing to shed it leaves for their yearly renewal, schools back in session, Halloween. Then comes Winter with the cold and snow, Thanksgiving and Christmas; a time for a sort of hibernation to rest and restore before starting the cycle of the seasons over. 

These are all part of what the changing of the seasons meant to me growing up. While I still think fondly of them , living in the desert Southwest for the past 44 years, I have come to know some different clues to know the changes are happening. We don’t have the typical change of landscape and weather like there is in the Midwest. 

Since it’s currently Fall I’m going start with Winter and end with Fall.

Winter is about cooler temperatures. I didn’t say cold because compared to so many other places, we don’t get that cold. Yes we do have days of freeze but very few and far between. In my 44 years of living here, I can count on two hands how many times it’s actually snowed here. Flowers bloom all winter and we joke that our winter shoes are adding socks to our flip flops. Thanksgiving and Christmas celebrations can be held outdoors with only a few patio heaters. If you grew up in a snow state, late Fall and Winter are truly glorious as far as weather. We have many “snowbirds” who come here to live and enjoy during these months. 

Our annual rainfall is only 7 inches total. Florida can get 7 inches in a day so our normal is very dry. I don’t see the green foliage but instead I just pay attention to our desert plants. The saguaro and many other cactus start to bloom in the Spring. If we have had enough rain, the Palo Verde trees and desert ground plants green up. Winter rye grass starts to die off and the Bermuda will be planted and begin to take over and green up. Yes we have different grass if you want to have a green lawn all year! 

Summer brings the extreme heat, warms up the swimming pool, and reminds us how wonderful air conditioning is as we would have a difficult time surviving the summer without that cool relief. I do enjoy being in my pool outside but otherwise most of us seek out and stick to the cool places. For me I consider Summer to be official when I turn on my tap and the cold and hot are close to the same temperature, when I can enter my pool and my body doesn’t have a reaction as it feels like a nice warm bath. Summer also brings what we call the monsoons, which consist of dust storms called haboobs with wind and often rain. 

Fall is here now. I can feel the coolness in the air

Fall is here now- finally!. While there isn’t colorful changing leaves that drop from the trees, there are other clues that have become part of what I notice changing. My tap and hose water is back to being cold. I sit outside in the mornings and evenings and can feel coolness in the air, something that has eluded me for many months. 70 degree weather hadn’t been seen since early Spring. The last few days my AC did not turn on once. My cats are able to enjoy my front door being open. I do welcome the changes but also am grieving the end of my pool season as it is such a resource and support for my own well being; just something I’ll have figure out how to replace. My cats feel it too, enjoying the cool down, being playful and frisky, not worrying about the stifling heat any longer. We all can enjoy this welcome change that allows us more freedom being outside. 

If you’ve been reading or have read any of my other recent posts, you know I have been struggling with my mental health, with my internal system having a huge conflict and split. I have been working everyday to figure this out, to work thru and listen to my parts to find a way to move forward. 

I’m happy to say that there has been a shift. I’ve been able to reunite my system and create a little more internal peace, to be able to make movement. With that has come a bit more calm, feeling a bit more patience, more understanding and kindness towards myself and my parts. I haven’t been alone on this journey. So grateful for the steady support of my therapist. 

Within all that comes some glimmers and hope. I’ll take it. It’s been a very long time. I still have lots of work but I’ve never been afraid of that. That tells me I still haven’t given up.

No Kings Day yesterday was so inspiring to see so many millions worldwide to come together to speak out against, fascism, racism, bigotry, discrimination and hate. And that also gives me hope. I’ll take all I can get!

10.19. 25

Chronic Illness

Chronic Illness

This month was my 4 year anniversary of my journey with breast cancer. I started this blog talking about my cancer experience. Feel free to check out my posts from 2021 where I have shared not only about my cancer but how much it affected me and was the start of my mental health struggles. The great thing about having a blog is it’s like my own personal history book that I can look back to and see what happened then, what’s changed, and what’s continued. I have not really struggled with memories of my cancer and everything associated but this year seems different. 

I started working a real job at 15 and have only ever missed a handful of work days until the last 4 years. As a self employed person for 25 of those years, most weeks I worked 60 plus hours a week, on call 24/7/365 for many years. I was always considered very dependable and a good hard worker, willing to do whatever was needed to help. 

Recently in conversation it was said to me how I have chronic illnesses that really affect my life. It caused me to stop and take pause as I never thought of myself in that way. Not that it isn’t true now, but for me having illness period let alone chronic illnesses is new and sadly now my reality. I never really considered how people who have met me in the last 4 years perceive me. But they’ve not seen me any other way so of course they can only go on what they know. It kind of shocked me and makes me sad at the same time.

It’s hard to adjust to my new reality. Yes, it’s been 4 years since things started for me, but to think so much has happened that it’s now chronic is challenging and frustrating. What makes illness chronic is the lack of a way to make changes or improvements to the illness. In other words, western medicine has no answers, so you’re stuck with whatever it is because they have nothing to offer you. 

Some things like osteoarthritis can be chronic but it can also just be a disorder that can be helped through joint replacements, physical therapy, medication, and more. But it can also become chronic if none of those things work for you. When you have something there’s no answers for like I do, I’m now considered and labeled chronic. 

I know how that label makes me feel but I also know how that label affects others judgement of me. I have seen so many health care providers roll their eyes at patients when issues like fibromyalgia and other immune system or umbrella term diagnoses like autonomic nervous system disorders, are discovered in their history. It’s like you aren’t taken seriously anymore because of your illness, like you’re some kind of attention seeking hypochondriac.

Years ago many thought these things were all just bullshit diagnosis in order to give a name to things that medicine couldn’t figure out. Thankfully much has changed in testing and knowledge of all these “chronic” type disorders and we now know there really are reasons for all those symptoms. 

Lately the narrative seems to try to say all illness and pain is your head and therapy can cure just about anything. I don’t buy that totally but that’s a subject for another blog post as there’s much I’d like to say about it. Stay tuned as it will be upcoming!

Here I am, retired but struggling with chronic illness, physical and mental. I’m not always sure how to navigate it, especially alone, as it is fairly new in my life. Sixty two years with no issues turned into 4 years of health struggles. 

Breast cancer was just the start of it all for me. Luckily I can say I am cancer free but the other stuff isn’t going anywhere anytime soon. I don’t know, deal with it, get over it, move on seems to be the messages I get each time a provider tells me they have no answers, dismiss me and tell me to go see someone else. Eventually I ran out of places to go and I do just deal with it because I don’t have any other options or hope for any other way. 

For me, these health struggles suck but it truly is my new reality. Chronic illnesses. I’m told non acceptance of things keep you suffering. I’m not sure about that as for me it feels more like giving up and giving in. 

8.30.25

The Great Divide

Fractured 

Depression sucks…

My depression, Lola, is still so very present. She’s foggy and heavy and currently unrelenting. Underneath feels different this time. My system feels in such disarray with cohorts and clans sparring over actions and reactions. 

Fractured. Such a great word. One that I would’ve never thought would apply to me but it’s a truly perfect description of what’s happening in my internal system not in the sense of being broken like a bone, but being fragmented, where many of my parts are at odds with each other. 

How does one’s system fracture? For me it’s about self betrayal and going against your own morals, values and beliefs. I’ve been ignoring the first serious instance of this for myself for 48 years and now it has happened again, in a bit of a different way but just as serious of an issue. 

I have no idea how to begin to repair this fracture from the past or present. I’m frozen. No options I find feel right so I just go to my modus operandi and ignore and avoid. I recognize it’s not the best strategy but as I always say, I have to work with and use what I got. 

Failing my Self in so many ways

It seems as though I have abandoned myself, failing my Self in so many ways. At some point I assumed it would catch up to me. Most days I look around and see I am within the darkness, with disappointment, defeat, deficiency and futility.  It’s hard to breathe, so we just stay still and take it, allow it all to continue to hurt, to destroy. 

Spending time with a person you loath, that you don’t like or respect, that you believe is honestly a horrible person, wears on you. Imagine that person is your own self. That’s where I’m at. I’m not living. I’m just existing and some days are excruciatingly challenging to get through. 

I’m told I have all I need inside yet don’t seem to find answers there. While I know what I don’t need, I have no idea what I do need, what might actually help me, at least help me become unfrozen, to make some type of movement towards something different. Those are two entirely different things. 

Right now I'm so lost, aimlessly wandering, searching for something that might not exist at all because I don’t really have a clue what I’m looking for.  This so called “strong and independent” woman is just a shell of what used to be there.

But is it really? Maybe I’ve always been this way but I just never noticed because I had so much else to distract and fill my time. Now with it all absent, all stripped away, all gone away, is what I find here now my true reality that I have simply ignored and avoided all these years? More things to ponder. 

Glimmers are hard to come by

Hope is fleeting. Glimmers, although not totally absent, are hard to come by. The heaviness of my reality can be crushing but is that the truth?? Or, is the absence of acceptance what’s genuinely creating the heaviness??

Acceptance often feels like abandonment and giving up on myself, my Self. That if I accept what might be true, it will end me. In some way I do believe this latest fracture happened because I think I must accept something that I absolutely do not believe in. 

Revolt. Rebellion. Mutiny. I so badly crave inner peace but the conflict currently is large. No clue what, where, when, why, how to raise the white flags, to surrender the fight, to bring myself, my Self back together. Fearful.

I haven’t found answers or even anything that might be helpful. I’m still trying but it’s hard. We’re not afraid of hard but giving up scares the shit right out of me. Self torture is slow and painful and sadly recognizable.

Are there any answers for me? No clue. 

8.19.25

 

Stuck in the Muck

Cycles of Depression

 My good friend Lola, my depression has been kicking my ass the past few days. She’s such a good thief and just as good a liar. While I might be cognizant of her ways, she still knows how to take me right out and put me back down, down in to the basement.

One thing I do appreciate about the field of medicine is how so many keep curious about how we humans work and new ways to help us heal. In my lifetime I have seen so many advancements but yet there is still so much unknown. The brain is one of those mysteries that continues to be unraveled in so many new ways. 

Depression is one of the many things that keeps being studied and for someone who lives with it I am always on the look out for new findings and knowledge. Neuroplasticity, the ability to regenerate and change neural pathways, was one of the biggest findings in recent times. Now I see more and more articles and research finally recognizing that depression isn’t always a chemical imbalance in the brain. 

Up until recently, it was widely accepted that depression had to do with low serotonin levels in the brained thus the reason for the development of anti-depressants. Thankfully medical researchers didn’t just accept that fact and continued to question the findings ruled by that only around 60% of people found any kind of relief while taking these meds.

What is now being said is depression doesn’t universally show up as low serotonin in the brain. They have now identified sub types which can help predict what treatments may be helpful. They  are also talking about the roles of our genetics and our gut microbiome and brain connection, recognizing that 90% of our serotonin is found in our gut. 

Alternative treatments including different psychedelics, deep brain stimulation, and trans cranial magnetic stimulation(TMS), in addition to correcting our gut microbiome, are just a few of the things they are looking into, trying to create a more personalized treatment for each individual person. 

https://cpdonline.co.uk/knowledge-base/mental-health/depression-research/

All these things can help keep me hopeful, to know that maybe one day Lola can give up her lying, cheating ways and find a different place in my life that’s not so dark, not so sticky, not so heavy and doesn’t keep me stuck in these cycles, these loops of hopelessness, suffering and despair.

Stuck in the muck is such a good way to describe what happens. I sometimes call her my messy brain as she can make it hard to see clearly, to know what to do, to keep my head above and just keep breathing. She makes me lose trust in my Self and question everything I am doing. When you don’t really have anyone you trust for help with the fog and doubt, it’s so hard to keep going, to know you will make it back up those steps without falling. 

The cycles of my depression are such a challenge. Often so unpredictable, like a tornado in my brain, she can wipe out all those small glimmers that may be sustaining me and kick my ass right down those steps, back to the basement, where darkness lingers. The cost of getting out is getting steep.

I can only do my best everyday and as I have mentioned many times previously, that isn’t always good enough anymore. And so it goes, up and down and all around. Kicks me when I’m up and harder when I’m down. I ride and ride and some days I just want to get off but that’s just another battle with the rest of the Squad. I can only use what I got. 

 

How much more hurt can a person endure before OD’ing on life’s torture?

Be safe out there. 

8.13.25

Sometimes you gotta let it flow…

Tears of Love

 I’ve been quiet lately as the dates can be difficult when the memories flood in. I had a really good healthy cry in the pool this week. Tears aren’t easy for me and these were so welcomed.

Losing my brother was one of the most difficult things I’ve gone through in my life and of course I miss him everyday in so many ways. It had been a while since I’ve actually remembered his last day and the details I have never shared with anyone. 

My brother had lymphoma, which is a type of cancer. I remember the day he called me in a panic as he woke up with a baseball size lump on his neck. He was working in a different state but I gave him some advice what to do. 

That began an eight month journey to a diagnosis for him. He went through so much trying to figure out what was going on. When it was finally confirmed it was lymphoma, I felt kind of relieved. Lymphoma is one of the cancers that has cure rates in the 90%. Seems silly now to have felt reassured almost at the type.

He started chemo and the first week was rough. He thought he would be able to work so he was in CA at his company condo and not here at his home. We spoke everyday and I tried to answer any questions and concerns. Week two was the beginning of a tragic end.

My brother finished his second chemo treatment, collapsed in the parking lot, and was rushed to the nearby hospital ICU. He was in and out of a coma for 47 days. Myself and his husband flew back and forth taking turns each week to make sure someone was always with him.

He was in and out of consciousness but there really wasn’t much conversation as he was very ill. His condition declined no matter what they tried. Here I am, a person in the medical field, knowing what was happening and feeling so helpless. Even with that high 90% cure rate, he was one of the unlucky few that didn’t survive it. 

My brother and I had spoken many times about our wishes in this situation of end of life. I was his medical power of attorney and also his personal rep/executor of his estate. He had everything set up through an estate attorney and I knew about all of it.

Sadly there became zero chance of him recovering and the time came. I knew what I had to do. I do not wish this responsibility on anyone. As I signed the DNR which is do not resuscitate, and ordered the withdrawal of all life support, my heart was so heavy. I held one hand and his husband held the other as he passed away, hopefully in peace. 

Signing a document and knowing that someone you love is going to die is so fucking hard. My brother picked me because he knew that I would follow his wishes and that is what gives me solace. I did what he wanted, not what anyone else wanted. It broke my heart, shattered me but it was giving him his last say to die with dignity. 

I’ve see it so many times with families trying their hardest to keep someone alive even when they’re suffering. It’s very difficult to let go but death is not about us, but about that persons journey to their next adventure and their right to choose. 

I stayed with him for almost 2 hours. The staff all knew us and were so kind even when we were a pain in the ass advocating for him. I was the last to leave, but I knew that they had to get him prepared. It was so hard to know I would never hear his voice, see his face or hug him ever again. 

I pulled myself together and spent the next few weeks getting everything ready for his services. I didn’t stop until everything was set and planned. It was all very lovely and finally after all the guests left and I was alone with my thoughts, those tears finally came.

This week that grief of these memories overcame me and I added to the volume of the pool. Probably a little bit salty but that’s OK. Tears of love flowing freely from my eyes, so needed and embraced with gentleness. To be let out and to know that feeling of love with my brother.

 It’s so hard for me to allow myself to cry and I find it so difficult to cry in front of others, but this felt so good. I think I just need the right reasons. Not every hurt deserves tears. Now my pool time is a little extra special the rest of this season, knowing it has those tears of love to embrace me the rest of the summer.

It’s the Sturgeon Full Moon tonight and the Lions Gate Portal is still open until the 12th. Some amazing energies happening out there.

Be safe! 

8.9.25

A Tribute to My Big Brother

 My BBF…Big Brother Forever

This week is my oldest brother’s birthday. He would’ve been 72 but 21 years ago next week and one week after his 51st birthday, he passed away from the side effects of chemotherapy for Lymphoma. It’s hard to believe it’s been so long ago as so many things still so clear in my mind, like they just happened yesterday. 

We didn’t really get to know each other or become close until I was in my 20s. While his presence and brotherly support in my life was short in time considering the big picture, it was much needed, welcomed, and very powerful. 

I call him my BBF…big brother forever. He became my best friend, confidant, and support system. I could not be more blessed to have had the relationship we forged; it simply was ended way too early. There has been nothing to come close to what we had. No replacement. 

I’m trying to not let my feelings of loss and grief overwhelm me this year but instead remember and honor the brother, the man, the friend he was. I decided to make this post a tribute to our relationship and memorialize a day we spent together; one that made us both almost pee our pants every time we shared it with others. 

My brother purchased his first home and moved close to me for the last 5 years of his life. Before that we got to know each other by his yearly vacation to visit me. Depending, he would bring his husband or come alone. He started to love this state and would choose a few things he wanted to see and do on his vacation. I would always make sure to take time off to be able to go with and spend time.

This particular trip he wanted to visit The Biosphere 2. https://biosphere2.org/ This was during the first experiment when a full crew was living inside. I had not been there and so we were both looking forward to the trip. 

He decided he wanted to drive and I’m always fine being the passenger, so we set off in my Ford Grand Torino for a 2 hour drive to our destination. When getting off for our first exit, the car was behaving strange and started smoking. We pulled into the nearest garage and it was then we realized he had been driving in second gear all those miles at freeway speeds. Oh shit was heard simultaneously!

When the mechanics heard our story they grinned at us. When the hood was opened, the entire engine and compartment were filled with oil as the wrong gear had caused high engine pressure and allowed the oil leak. The mechanics were super nice but I’m sure laughing at us. 

They told us to go 3 blocks to a car wash and use pressure wash and get as much of the oil off as we could and then come back. They even showed us where not to get wet on the engine. My car still had a carburetor. Off we went, washed the engine the best we could and headed back to the garage. 

The mechanics refilled the oil and test drove to check for leaks. There were none and they assured us everything would be fine with my car but it would take a bit for all that oil to burn. That meant it was pretty smoky for the day. We asked if we should return home and they said they saw no reason to not go ahead with our plans to visit Biosphere 2. Off we went.

We had a good time touring and learning all about it. We then headed back to my house. I decided to take a back route so we could stop every 20 minutes and check for oil leaks. Paranoid of course! Smoking yes. Leaking oil no. Yay! 

When we arrived back in town we were both hungry. He loved the sourdough burgers from Jack in the Box as those weren’t available where he lived. We pulled into to the drive thru and placed our orders.

As we pulled forward, my car was smoking like a sonofabitch! A cloud of smoke enveloped us and because we had mostly been driving since it happened, we had no idea just how bad the smoke was and we started to laugh. As we pulled up and the young man came to the window, all the smoke started sucking right into the store. I roll down my car window and he says to me “ma’am do know your car is smoking”? We both started laughing harder. I replied yes thanks, I have an oil leak (obvious understatement of the year LOL)

I roll my window back up so we don’t get any smoke but the employees at this Jack didn’t close their window and soon all the people inside the store, employees and customers, were coughing from the smoke. We are rolling with laughter inside the car, my brother says I hope we get our food soon before they are all over come by the smoke. He said we would be reading the paper about them becoming sick or passing out from exposure to the smoke, maybe hear the emergency vehicles arriving as we left. LMFAO! He’s killing me……

By this time we are both dying with laughter as not one employee thought to close that window. They just allowed all that smoke to accumulate inside. We both wondered what kind of qualifications it took to work there….no mean intentions, just laughter about how just closing the window would have prevented the whole incident. I’ll just be thankful for that young man not closing it and for giving me such a fun, funny memory of this day I spent with my brother. We got the the hell out of there with our food in hand and laughed for hours afterwards, 

We told the story many times to friends and family. I’m not sure if anyone else ever thought it was as funny as we did but then they weren’t there. Retelling and sharing was always good with us. One little slip of a gear made our entire day into an adventure of a lifetime. One I’ll never forget and I’m sure he doesn’t either. Forever our memory, brother and sister sharing time and having fun, 

A few years after he died, I wanted to get a tattoo to honor his memory. This day came to mind as what could be better than this memory, this trip turned adventure, this fun and laughter to have with me forever. I told this story to my tattoo artist and granted him creative expression to make a unique and personal tattoo for me. 

It took 18 hours which I did in 3 different sittings; it’s a full lower leg/calf. There’s no denying that getting a tattoo is painful but I always loved tattoos and I have a few. I didn’t mind any of these sittings. Each of mine tells a story of something in my life that was important. I have others but always have kept them in places where when dressing professionally, they wouldn’t show. Back in my day tattoos weren’t nearly as mainstream as they are now. 

Here is my leg in four different sections. I did my best taking these pictures of my leg and hope you can see it well. Remember you can click on any picture on this blog to view it clearer and larger.

 In the first photo you will see it starts with a window with smoke coming out and then you see a Jack In The Box with a gas mask on and holding a cheeseburger, the second picture the smoke fades into the depiction of the Biosphere 2. Below you can see one the pictures of B2 that we used for reference. (See it’s really not a penis 😂)

I love how it came out. I get many comments on it even though I know people don’t have a clue what it is but the art is fantastic, courtesy of https://www.adriandominic.com/  It’s a very personal tattoo that I’m proud to wear, to have that with me everyday but the story doesn’t end there.

About 6 years ago I decided I wanted to add to my tribute. I went in with the idea of having something to represent eternal life and wanted to combine two different elements, a skull and the Eye of Ra. Again I gave AD creative expression as I so love his work. Here is what came out of this collaboration. This is located on my thigh above the leg sleeve.

One great thing for me is how my skin takes the ink so well. My guy commented so many times about how color just loves my skin. I talked him into that purple as he told me for most people this purple usually looks more like gray. We both enjoyed how the color came on this one too! I have taken good care of all my tattoos, being diligent with sunscreen and moisturizer, and the colors are still very vibrant. 

 

As I was taking these pictures with writing this post in mind, I noticed something about this tattoo. I have had this on my leg for six years and many have seen it but not one person ever noticed or commented on this. While I do still love it I realized something about it I had never seen before, an “error”. While the broken apart skull is fantastic, the Eye of Ra is not the Eye of Ra, but instead the Eye of Horus. Ra is the right eye and Horus is the left and I had hoped to get Horus on my left side to match Ra. They have different meanings. 

I had quite the chuckle the other day when I saw it. In some ways, it’s so perfect for the add on to my BBF tribute. Another adventure with a suprise to laugh about! Apparently Horus wants to be on this leg too as it would work on the back of my thigh. At age 66 yes, I am still considering adding to my collection. 

Happy Birthday my big brother. I love and miss you every day. Your actual presence here is so missed but you are always in my heart. I hope you’re having the time of your life. I know you’re watching and would still say how proud you are of me. 

Love you ♥️. Gone too soon. Always in my heart❣️

I am happy to share this here on my blog for all to see. Permanently on the internet. Permanently on my leg and in my heart and mind! 

7.28.25

Unexpected

 Unexpected

This is Henry. He’s one of my yard cats that I feed. It seems I’m attracting all the panthers (the black cats) lately. He showed up here at my feeding dishes last fall. I feed the outside feral cats and do what I can to keep them safe and healthy.

One thing mandatory at my house, whether you live inside or outside- absolutely no gonads allowed! I always watch to try to get the females spayed as a priority as they have the uterus that makes the babies. The males all will lose their testicles eventually but I can tolerate them and their male hormone nonsense until I can afford it and safely catch and recover them. 

TNR. Trap. Neuter. Return. This is the standard for ferals. The idea to get them fixed and release back to where they were found. Of course the spaying and neutering keeps the population down by no longer breeding but also releasing them back to their colonies will help reduce the numbers as there is usually a set amount in each colony so others don’t join. Don’t release them elsewhere or try to relocate as more just come to fill the open spots. A well maintained colony will eventually die out. What usually happens, unfortunately is more unfixed strays show up because of irresponsible owners. It can be frustrating as it never seems to end. More on this another time.

About 6 months ago I saw a spay neuter clinic being offered at a very reasonable price. I had one female at the time who needed trapped and spayed. I always make 4 appointments as I own 4 humane traps. I set my traps the night before and watched while I was able to get the female  and 2 males. Henry was of those males.

All 3 did well after their surgery. It always makes me feel good when I can release them, knowing they can just be a cat now and not have worry about those hormones and drive to breed. For the females, no more babies and worries of keeping them alive and safe. It warms my heart to see them transform out there with just a little bit of care.

Henry seemed a bit older as he moved slower. I could tell he was struggling to survive when he arrived at my house. His coat was rough and he had patches of hair missing and some typical tomcat scars on his body. He’s on the smaller side but he didn’t take any crap from others and was well mannered for a feral. But he wasn’t neutered. 

About 2 weeks after his surgery, I was sitting outside enjoying the evening like I do on most nights. Henry walked over to me, gave me a good look and stare and then he jumped into my lap and began to purr!!!

I was shocked to put it mildly. He had given no indication of being friendly for all those months. He obviously was not feral, but instead someone’s pet who was abandoned in the neighborhood. One of many I have cared for over the years. Whatever happened to him made him not trust humans but he never gave up. 

I have to believe that he knew he found safety here with me and the others in my colony he joined. He finally realized he can trust me and now gets a lap purr party with me most evenings at his insistence. He has food and water and a yard to explore with friends to play with. His coat is looking great again even during this summer heat. I can just see such a difference in this little older man. He even greets me at the door in the mornings with his timid meow. Makes me smile! 

So unexpected was Henry, my little Hen Hen. Life can be that way- unexpected. By now, I shouldn’t be surprised but I guess I never really think things will turn out to be much of anything good for myself. But yet I still keep trying. I continue to search for anything that might be helpful for me and the things I struggle with. 

I have had my own unexpected find this past two weeks. It’s made a significant shift for me, way more than a glimmer, some actual hope of a path. It’s been good to make that “find”, to feel myself shifting a bit. To see some new cracks formed that are letting some light back in after being so shut down and closed up, stuck in the hopeless darkness. 

I don’t want to put labels or expectations, or anything that might limit my possibilities or ways of thinking about what’s happening. I am happy to even be able to have these thoughts again. I am grateful to those parts of me that never give up looking and searching and willing to try new things in hopes of finding change, however that looks. I’ll share more when I’m ready and able. 

Henry never gave up and look what he found 😻. He’s living his best life out there. I affectionately call him Hen Hen, my sweet surprise. I hope I’m taking a page out of his book, out of all the strays stories of survival and finding their way to better life by getting help. 

Maybe one day finding hope and new paths of possibilities won’t seem so unexpected to me. Maybe one day….. Until that time, I will keep looking, keep trying. 

 It does not matter how slowly you go so long as you do not stop.

–Confucius (551-479 BC), philosopher

I don’t want to be shattered once again.

Be kind. 

7.27.25