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

Independence Slipping Away

Independence Under Threat

 Everyday it is difficult to watch all the hate and horror happening here in the USA, my country. The constant barrage of lies and acts against the constitution, the violation of peoples rights, all happening out in the open, under threat. It’s hard to watch this- all of our independence being threatened by one fucking man and those who are carrying out what amounts to emotional dick sucking, afraid to do what’s right for us, the actual people of the country. 

It’s hard for me to understand how these people think they will never pay for their cruelty and lawlessness. I have to believe in the power of the people that will eventually overcome this era but no doubt we have been set back many years of progress in all areas of our life. Karma will happen and I hope I live long enough to see all of them brought to justice.

While I do worry what might happen to me by all this and I imagine it will likely hit me in the wallet and create even more struggles for my existence, I’m mostly concerned about the threats to my personal independence.

Retirement has been a true challenge for me. I definitely wasn’t prepared and had no idea what I might encounter. It’s been 18 months since I quit my job, refusing to be pushed into something that wouldn’t be good for my long term health. 

I know part of my struggle is how much personal value is placed on productivity and the things that you do. Almost 4 years in therapy has made me so aware of how I was and in some ways still am, dependent on external things to full fill my life. While walking away from my job into retirement, I just didn’t realize how much I would be walking away from.

To go from working a lot of hours every week to not having any thing on my schedule was very dysregulating. All the connections and conversations and hugs and friendly faces, all gone away. All the ways I used to feel good about myself, all those confident parts of me, kind of all abandoned, not being used. I feel forgotten and not needed anymore. That hurts. 

Figuring out what my days can look like or be for me is hard. I have no family, no partner, very few friends and no one who actually knows much about me. I’m still not sure of what I can accept but at least I have been able to slow down and value rest in my life. Is what I have enough; I know need more or different. Just not sure what that is or could be and where to find it. 

I now have a total understanding of how so many senior citizens feel so alone and useless in so many ways. No where to be, no one that really cares any longer. My sense of value poof- disappeared, left out there somewhere never to be found or utilized again. I didn’t build anything for myself. I gave it all away and here I sit with very left to sustain me, to find satisfaction or some enjoyment for what is left, for where I am now. 

So far it hasn’t mattered what I did for others, my emptiness inside, the hollowness and darkness I feel in my soul, the ability to find joy in myself or with my Self seems so pointless most days. It’s hard to be real and honest and recognize how fucked up some things are. It’s difficult to want to keep doing the work, to make changes and updates to some things existing more than six decades.

I get so tired. And discouraged. The hopelessness sets in and pushes so hard to make me give in or give up. I keep fighting, thankful for that ever so present survival part of mine Soul Survivor, and for Cog and Brain Train who keep me looking for knowledge, searching for something, anything that might help me. For Commons and the rest of my care takers for not allowing the Squad to end it and win out or surrender to their constant pressure of failure, of never being enough. 

All these things make living life alone getting more and more difficult. And now knowing I have a few MAGAts that live next door it adds more onto my plate. More things I have to protect myself against. I never considered the possibility of being forced from my place but now I must put new strategies for safety IN MY OWN HOME, for me, my home and property, and my pets. Unfortunately this is what MAGA is all about- fear and intimidation. It’s hard enough having internal battles so having these things happening in external world just sucks. Don’t know any other way to put it.

I have fought so hard to keep my independence, to be able to live alone in my own house. I just don’t know how long it will stay possible. I have to admit that it is one thing that really scares the crap right out of me as I don’t know that I can or will adjust to any other way. 

My physical health limits my ability to do many things I used to. My financial doesn’t always allow for me to get the help I need as people don’t work for free nor would I expect them to. I just can’t do it all like I used to and really have no one to help. My yard used to be the envy of the neighborhood with beautiful manicured sod grass, a lovely rose garden and many other flowers around. But work and time and loss of friends and relationships make things change. 

I’m doing the very best I can at this time and I know it. But is it good enough to keep my independence in a way that is healthy for me. What will be the tipping point? The deciding factor of I need more or better for myself and have to admit I can’t do it alone? I don’t know the answers but it does worry me a great deal. 

I’m older. I’m not ancient but there is much that has changed physically, mentally, emotionally, and financially. I haven’t prepared myself or put myself in a very good position to be here right now where I am. I am alone with very few resources and very few ideas or knowledge of how to get those now. Like U2 says…you give and give and give yourself away. It’s fine to give but when you receive very little back you’ll wake up beyond empty one day and just say to yourself

What Actual The Fuck? How did I ever get here like this.

My independence is being threatened in many ways. I’m still fighting and also still struggling to find a way. A way to accept, to want to be here, to keep going, to find goodness in Self. I take nothing for granted any more. 

Today I have some things to explore, to maybe find ways some new paths or doors to enter that have yet to be uncovered. Who knows what I might discover there. I’m also thankful to have some support to help me. I’m still fighting and trying and figuring out ways to move with and thru the challenges. Just a bit more reserved and silent. 

I’m not going to lie to myself- I am worried about what might happen to me. All I can do is keep trying my best everyday and hope it’s enough. 

I’m still thinking about the gun. It’s not very much like me but then I realize I also need to make changes when and if needed. I’m not going to do anything rash or spur of the moment. But it’s still on the table of possibilities; If I decide it is beneficial I will go all in, in the safest way possible. 

Independence is crumbling all around and within me, still I fight on. As long as I keep finding those glimmers, those small bits of hope, I’m not giving up yet! I don’t surrender easy. 

It’s hard being alone, isolated and invisible. 

Just some thoughts on this hump day….

7.23.25

When Hate Lives Next Door

When Hate Lives Nextdoor 

I wanted to write a post on the 4th of July but I haven’t been feeling very festive. What’s going on here in the United States is so difficult to watch. Racism, bigotry and hate out in the open. People being grabbed off the street for the color of their skin. Blatant lying from our government officials. Groups of people being denied their existence. No one seems truly safe. It all gets to be hard to take.

I know I’m not the only one. My neighborhood was built in the 70s. Lower middle class. It’s very diverse here with many immigrants. I have lived here almost 40 years now and this year is like no other. It’s frighteningly quiet. 

It’s summer right now here. My pool is at the perfect temperature for my enjoyment. I am taking full advantage of it but it’s sad to be out there when it’s so silent. I don’t hear any families enjoying their pool, barbecuing, doing karaoke, playing music, laughing, and having fun. Even the fireworks were scarce. It feels like everyone is scared, hiding inside their homes.

I get it. In such a short time this USA that I was born and raised in has changed in to something I don’t recognize. The amount of cruelty being shown against people that is a daily occurrence is truly unbelievable. 

I recently called someone I know and had a conversation about purchasing a handgun. Me, in my 60s thinking about getting a gun is not something that had ever crossed my mind. But I’m scared too.

I’m thankful I am white but I am alone and really would have no way to protect myself if anyone wanted to cause harm. I’m not in good health and physically it wouldn’t take much to overtake me. I’m not sure what I’m going to do yet about a gun but I’m so surprised to be having these thoughts and for a good reason. Who could’ve predicted how this administration would be behaving.

As I was sitting in my outdoor rocking chair on Friday evening, I began to listen to my neighbors. That house I refer to as a bachelor pad as it’s some young white guys with women in and out. This morning there were 7 vehicles attached to their house. They drive big ass trucks or SUVs. 

So this young man says “you know, I love rainbows and not the kind in the sky but the gay ones. They all laugh. And then he starts talking about cats and I very quickly realize he’s talking about me. At first I chuckled at the rainbow reference. I recently bought some new tye dyed night shirts that I’d been wearing and I’m sure he saw me in one. To be labeled as gay because you wear bright tye dye gives me a huge red hat warning shall I say. 

This young man went on to totally destroy me, calling me white trash, trailer trash, crazy cat lady, a bitch. He criticized and trashed my landscaping and my house maintenance, everything he could think of. I’m not going to record every ugly word he said about me but I was really surprised as not one person from that house has ever spoken one word to me, ever. They don’t know anything about me but that didn’t matter. And then I heard one whisper, they must’ve realized I was outside as the one that had been spewing the hate said fuck her and they all went back inside to hide. 

MAGAts living right next door. It took me aback. Of course I was pissed to sit and listen to some young MAGA punk spew so much hate towards me. And it hurt a bit being judged by a complete stranger on nothing more than what his eyes viewed. I wanted to say fuck you too MAGAt and much more but thankfully my common sense knew to zip the lips. 

It's moments like that that make me realize how I really don’t have much in the way of defense for myself. I need to not let my words get me into any situations that jeopardize my safety. This loud proud independent Aries old woman just needs to not engage. It takes too much energy. It’s safer that way. It’s still hard not to want to. 

Not going to lie. Hearing my neighbors views about me is a plus in the yes get a gun bucket. Still at the thinking it all through stage as it’s so far out of my normal. 

What makes this even more challenging for me is the external world is becoming as harsh as my internal world. Where do I find a break?

7.13.25

The picture at the top of this post was taken this month at Kilauea, Hawaii volcano. This photographer loves the heart shape eruptions. Such a powerful picture in so many ways ♥️

July

It’s July and this my first post for the month. I’ve needed the silence for a bit. I came across this article today and so much of it spoke to me. Hope you feel something too…

 To The Quietly Courageous

By Liz Koch July 7, 2025

There are lives shaped by struggle. By hopelessness that lingers so long, it becomes the air you breathe. I’ve lived that kind of life, where getting out of bed feels like a triumph. Where brushing your teeth, answering a text, or making it through the day without crying feels monumental. I’ve known what it’s like to be swallowed whole by something you either can’t or don’t want to name out loud.

I’m not in that place right now, and I’m grateful for that. But I haven’t forgotten what it took to survive those days. I carry it with me, not as shame, but as a quiet kind of knowing. A deep respect for the ones still in it.

This is for you.

You, who gets up when every part of you wants to stay buried under the covers. You, who takes your medication even when you feel conflicted about it. You, who goes to therapy, even when it’s exhausting or scary. You, who endures the hurt of living in a world that wasn’t designed to hold you. You, who is learning, maybe for the first time, that setting boundaries is not selfish, it’s necessary.

I want you to know that I see you.

There’s a courage in the choices you make that the world might never applaud. But I know how much they cost. I know how much strength it takes to do what looks small from the outside. Texting a friend and asking for help when your throat tightens with shame. Saying “no” to someone who’s always expected you to say “yes.” Choosing not to self-harm when the urge feels familiar and loud. Taking a mental health day from work or school when the pressure becomes too much to carry.

That’s not weakness. That’s resilience.

Sometimes it’s as quiet as making a meal for yourself, taking a shower, or cleaning the clutter from your nightstand. Sometimes it’s deciding to stay sober one more day, without recognition, without anyone noticing but you. Those choices matter. They are acts of hope in a world that can feel endlessly heavy.

People love a good comeback story. The crash, the rise, the triumphant return. I’ve learned that healing doesn’t arrive like a sunrise, sudden and full of promise. It’s more like a flicker, a candle in the wind. It lives in the in-between moments, the ones where you’re not quite falling apart, but not yet feeling okay. It’s in the pause between grief and relief, the expansion and contraction of daily life. That’s where quiet courage lives. And it’s sacred.

Most of the real work happens in silence. Day after day. Inch by inch. Choosing to keep going, even when there’s no finish line in sight. That’s where healing grows, not in grand transformations, but in a thousand quiet choices. I know this because I’ve lived it.

I’ve sat through therapy sessions where I couldn’t make eye contact. I’ve swallowed pills that tasted like surrender, only to find out later they were small vessels of hope. I’ve spent months numb, wondering if joy would ever return. And I’ve come out the other side, not fixed, but whole in a different way. A kind of kintsugi-wholeness, held together with golden seams.

That life—the one shaped by struggle—has given me something, too. A kind of knowing. Not just of pain, but of what it means to rebuild. Of what it means to live inside the “after.” There’s wisdom in that. A beauty the world doesn’t always recognize, but I see it.

So when someone says, “Easy for you to say. I can’t,” I don’t respond with clichés or solutions. I respond with truth. That I’ve been there, feeling stuck and defeated. That I found courage, not because I felt strong, but because giving up never led me to where I needed to go. I kept choosing the next step. The next breath. The next hour. That’s all it was. That’s all it ever is.

And that choice, made over and over, becomes its own kind of strength. A quiet wisdom that says: “It won’t always feel like this. You are not broken. You are doing the best you can with what you’ve been handed, and that is enough.”

To be quietly courageous means choosing life again and again in ways no one may ever see. It means carrying pain without letting it define you. It means holding onto hope—not loudly but tightly.

You are not weak.

You are quietly, powerfully brave.

And on the days you forget, I’ll remember for you.

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People need other people. You are not weak for wanting or needing support. If you’re seeking professional help, we encourage you to use TWLOHA’s FIND HELP Tool. If you reside outside of the US, please browse our growing International Resources database. You can also text TWLOHA to 741741 to be connected for free, 24/7 to a trained Crisis Text Line counselor. If it’s encouragement or a listening ear that you need, email our team at info@twloha.com. 

I am still here. Just trying to figure things out. 

7.11.25