Category Archives: Life in the Fast Lane

Your Child’s Super Hero Tool Box…Climbing out of the Rabbit Hole ~ Explaining Violence to Children


Precious Jewels

Just thinking about writing my experience with this subject matter, gives me the heebie jeebies. My heart is racing and my body stiffens. But this is one of those important matters that are uncomfortable at best, necessary at the very  least, scary for all of us, yet could save a life that may be our own child’s.

Please know, as you read this, that these are my wisdoms in this growing area of violence with children. You may not agree with all that I say. Please take what you think will work for you and your family, and leave the rest.  We have seen this in action. It DOES work. Thank you for reading this and please pass it on if you feel it will help someone. 


 As parents, grandparents and caregivers, I believe, we must be brave and tell the facts in a way that children can best understand,and to me, that is through encouraging them with the tools they already have, and encouraging their own bravery in a way they will be able to remember, if they ever have to take these tools out of their young minded tool box and put them into fast action.

Maybe you are playing with your little one in the sandbox. Maybe you are going for a walk, looking for bugs, or cool rocks. I believe nature is a great cozy cushion, that fosters deeper listening and atunes all of us to be present and focus more clearly. This is the setting that I recommend for this kind of conversation.

As an early childhood educator for over 2o years, I have learned that children listen best, if you tell them FIRST what is going to happen. For example: “Joey there are some things I want us to talk about now  that are going to give you some extra special tools to add to your toolbox of life.  You may even want to reference their favorite Super Heroes….from Frozen….Batman, Peter Pan,etc. Ask them to remind you of their fave character and why they like them. This will give you information. Many a time they remark about how their hero saves others. Then I begin the conversation with, “You know sometimes Joey, we can be our own Super Hero. Let me tell you how..”

This is how I explained it to my 4 year old who is now almost 27. It came into use for him when he was 11 years old. 

Joey can you picture yourself having fun on the playground? What would you be doing?  Oh that sounds like great fun!  Now lets pretend that you were running around and having so much fun, that you didn’t notice the big hole that was in the grassy part of the playground and you fell down into it. What tools do you already have that would help you get out?  What would you do to get out? 

This interactive kind of conversation is so important as it gives you information as to what tools they know they already have …a baseline for you to proceed from , as well as it encourages their own  self esteem to say it out loud. They most likely will say, they would yell for help and try to climb out, which is GREAT!  So you want to encourage that by taking it to a slightly higher level. “Yes…you may have to scream really loud so other people can hear you right? What could you be doing with your hands and feet to try to help you get out?”  This visual infuses into their minds eye, for possible later use. You can add silliness to this…You may even want to stand up and act it out. Both of you wriggle your body around and pretend you are climbing,up up up….

So now you have set the stage for safety, as well as a possible scary situation, and  turned it  into positive action they can take with the tools they already have and you have described it as an adventure.

Here comes the transition. “Well Joey, you are such a great Super Hero for yourself! You would do all the right things to climb out of that rabbit hole. Hooray!  

“Now I want you to know, that sometimes in this world there are people out there that hear some loud voices in their head. They really want to make the loud voices stop, and sometimes they think that being mean to other people, will make the voices stop. Sometimes they try to do mean things, just like the villians in some of the stories we have seen in the movies, and on TV. Sometimes they will grab other people and try to take them away.

If this ever happened to you, what do you think you could do to get away and be your own Super Hero? Listening and acknowledging their answers is really important here and then you can add things like…”Yes! Screaming for help as loud as you can is a GREAT idea!  Just like you would do if you fell down the rabbit hole!   Yes!  Wriggling your body all over to get away is excellant! Now you know I have told you it’s not nice to bite your friends, but if someone is being really mean to you and trying to take you somewhere you don’t want to go, or even trying to hurt you, you have my permission to bite them….use all your super powers you have to get away! ”

If you and your family believe in God, or a Super Power out there, or a ritual that is very important to your family, it is a good idea to add this to the mix. For me, with my son, I told him to always BELIEVE  he has the power and right ideas to get away. I told him to pray to God to have him know the exact right super powers to bring forth as his tools.

I kept referencing the Rabbit Hole scenario, as that is something they KNOW they can do and it helps to reinforce other scarier situations.

I personally do not care for the saying…”stranger danger” as unfortunately many times the villian is NOT a stranger plus it is just a scary phrase to me.

The other tool I make sure to include is to remember to breathe. We all stop breathing when we get scared and that hampers the amount of oxygen that goes to the brain. That is why you see many people just “freeze” when encountered with drama as they are so scared they stopped breathing and can’t make any decisions.  Once again…the Super Hero comes in….”Remember when we are doing super hero work Joey, we must breathe breathe breathe because it is hard work!”

Through out life, I would bring the Rabbit Hole subject up and let them do most of the talking so you, once again, have a baseline for what action they would take. You will see as they get older the story changes and it gets cemented in their being. I have had these talks with two year olds. To me it is never too early.

The other things to discuss are reminders about where to get help. Cell phones. 911 of course, neighbors,etc.  If there are stores around….running away, into a store and screaming for help. I also added to the mix for some reason that came apparent later, that if you couldn’t find anyone right away, go to the next store.

My son was being chased down by a child molester.  I was only minutes from him, but not close enough. The man flattened my son’s tires on his bike, un be knowns to my son, who tried to get away fast and flipped over his handle bars and broke his wrist. He remembered he was a super hero for himself and he ran to the next store, as I was racing in and out of every store looking for him as he had called me on his cell.  The lady at the counter  at the next store, for some reason didn’t believe him but the produce man was walking by and he  DID believe his screaming, distraught face and hid him in the back until I got there as well as the police. We were blessed. We were lucky. My son remembered everything in his Super Hero Tool Box. Your child will too!

Thank you for reading this. I’m sure I have now  officially given you the Heebie Geebies, but hopefully, some added skills and tools for YOUR Tool Box as well!  🙂





Little children usually have a “manya” as we call it in my family. A security blanket, a stuffed lil animal creature, or some other colourful character, that they hold especially close and grip tightly with their little hands,  when they are feeling unsafe or frightened.  This is a good thing. 

When I “grew up” and became a Mom of my own child, I grabbed my refuge in “worry and dread” who became my new best friends for life. A soft little creature with a happy face looking up at me, would have been a much healthier choice.  I had good reason, of course. I became a single Mom unexpectedly. I had an irresponsible rascal, at the time for my child’s Daddy. The list goes on. Never the less….I was losing my soul. No one seemed to be doing what they were “expected” to do, and I was becoming a full time expert on what was best for everyone’s life….but my own.  My life was certainly at the very least…unmanageable, but I KNEW, if I could just MAKE the two men in my life responsible….my life would work! 

Fast forward to my son being a young adult. Handsome and charming as they come. I hoped and I hoped his talents and personality would overcome this big invisible black cloud that now came for him. This Deity that was turning him into something I could not name, but was making me crazy trying to control . I felt like a blind child in a dark forest, pleading for the light to shine thru  my wild,tear stained hands, madly waving for help from anyone, anywhere….a lost ship in the night,feeling we would both sink if we could not find a way out of this darkness. I consulted, with frequent terror, my two best friends, “worry and dread”, but they only made  for sleepless nights and worthless pleadings and bargaining chips that swallowed up what little dignity was left in each of our souls. Things  got much worse for both of us.  The time had come where  Truth was  finally about to exhale and burst forth the most fearful of thunder and lightening storms I had ever known.

It was February 28th Thursday. The Leap Year month. My Birthday Month. It was a gloomy  winter day’s  in San Diego, and my little boy was getting on a plane to Florida to go to DETOX. Would he make it on to that second plane? Would he instead…change his mind and drink his way back onto the streets or worse? Worry and Dread were pounding away in my head. I will always remember  getting that phone call from “Mike”. “I have your boy and he is safe now.” I fell to my knees sobbing with glistening streams of hope and thankfulness. 

 Those days before Detox,he spent five days at my home.  Had to drink tall Coors Lite Beer the moment upon awakening to just feel undreadful. We walked the streets, putting his life in boxes and  my tears in my sleeve. Closing up his music studio was pretty emotional for us both. I prayed for him on my knees at the foot of his bed. I wept. For Gratitude. My son was alive. He made many crying confessions to me. His turmoils came tumbling out of his tear stained face like marbles rolling out of a glass jar and scrambling to find shelter. He was not covered up any more.  He grabbed on to his “Manya” and for those moments….his Manya was his Mama.

I never thought in my wildest fears I would have detox,rehab,sober house, dual diagnosis, relapse…be part of my everyday vocabulary. Terror ran thru my bones as this was territory I had never traversed…but hope rang in my heart and I held on tight to that one. 

I found my way back into the 12 step meetings. This time it was Alinon. I had been to them all, for I had many an “Alcoholic” in my life, but NEVER (never say never! ) thought I would be back because my son was an addict. After all I had  “educated” him about this very thing!  Ha!  So you think you go to ALinon because of the addict in your life, and you soon discover that YOU are a big part of the problem!  And you have your own disease!  Mine was being a “helicopter”  “Worry and Dread” Mom.  Now I have tools. I have people who know what I am feeling. I have people who know what a dangerous neighborhood my brain can be…with the thoughts and “fix it” attitudes that “catastophize” all situations whether they “need it” or not. 

There was a relapse. It even involved racing to the emergency room, and then detox for the second time. His choice. I did not lash out. I did not scold. I did not even cry (until after…new for me!). I prayed. I had compassion. I listened. The more I listened…the more he gave. The more I listened….the more he talked of his pain. The more I let him have his dignity…the more he thanked me for being there and loving him.

I have had some big tests. I was going on a big trip that I was really looking forward to, the nite I discovered he was drinking again after 6 months of sobriety. I stayed with him which meant I was up all night and travelled on 3 planes all the next day. I MADE that choice. It was not done to me. I am no longer a victim and he no longer has to feel guilty because of me.  He has taken up boxing. He loves it. He looks marvelous. He is learning. We are BOTH getting better.

 Sometimes I have slight regret. IF only…..the “If only’s…..” set in. But it passes fast. Because I know if I could have NOT been a helicopter Mom back when he was little and bad things DID happen…..I WOULD have done things differently.  I think we can’t help but wound our children in some ways no matter how hard we try. We are not PERFECT little human beings. As Oprah says….”When you know better… do better.”  My son knows now where to go if he gets in trouble with himself again. He has worked hard on himself and he continues to, and I see it. The light is back in his eyes and his smile and he has a musical lilt to his step. I pray every day for his continued sobriety, success, health and happiness. I now know it is HIS Journey. I cannot do it for him. ANd that is REALLY SO RELIEVING!  I need to focus on my own life and my own dreams that I still have passion for. The more I respect myself and do what I love, the better it is for him. 

I was travelling up to the third floor in the elevator the other nite, and as the doors opened, I saw this strapping young man standing there. Full of smiles. He literally glistened in the moonlight. I thought to myself….”Oh, how nice! Another handsome young boy moving in here”.  I said a polite hello, and went to step out of the elevator when I saw his outstretched arms and realized it was my son!!!!  “Hi Mama!” He said as he grabbed me for a big hug!  I was apalled that I didn’t know it was him at first!  That has NEVER happened in our whole lives that I didn’t recognize him. The puzzlement stayed with me all week. Then yesterday at a meeting it hit me.  I was very busy with my judgements, my blame, my fears about his behaviors that were so scary and life threatening as this is a very deadly disease, that he “LOOKED” different to me all these months. He LOOKED like my fears….he LOOKED like other people who I have felt have hurt me in the past. The moonlit night at the elevator I saw HIM. His soul. His glory. His everything. The good, the bad, the ugly…the truth. I saw ALL of him. And I loved ALL of him and all of Me. We are Glistening.

Baggage Claim


In the past 18 mos, I have  let go of some major, pretty much, life long,  relationships ,that have been at the fore front of my life. Each time, it was more of a surprise to me then anyone. I would be the last person to do this kind of thing, as I am usually, a very loyal, giving  life long friend, kind of girl.

I suppose I have subconciously made a “claim” since I moved west to the land of fruits and nuts, and honey granola bars. I must not let other people’s lost luggage, or excess baggage, put me in the long, chaotic, waiting  line of trying to re~ claim,  what isn’t really mine at all. Nevermind that inside that luggage, lurks, anger, blame, irreverance, irresponsibility, “Dirty Laundry Lies”…and “I will throw you under the bus first chance I get” as soon as you help me out of my latest escapade.  This being their last “Thank you note” for your consciencious efforts, until next time. Good Ole Nurturing me, just shrugged these abuse tactics off, knowing they had a rough childhood. What was I thinking all these years?  My love and nurturing help would CHANGE them…they would be nicer? They would not be  so mean anymore? Well….thank you California, and my newly awakened self esteem!  Blinders are OFF now!

This is the first day in a long string of days, where I have some moments to myself. I do not have to rush out the door hoping I left my home and beloved Aussie in order until my return. This is the first day in a long time that I feel myself again. Like after a long winter of cold, the warmth seeps in thru the open windows and warms your body all over right down to your toes kind of feeling.

I have a clean slate now, to focus on me, and my dreams, and who I still want to become. These people, un be knowns to me, were taking up so much space in my life. I suppose they had their purpose. I know they did. They each have many , well ok, SOME, redeeming qualities that I will always cherish. They helped me become who and where I am today….maybe. Maybe not.

I am venturing into a WHOLE new kind of Me now. I am going to stop running soon. I am organizing my life, so it nurtures ME. All that help I poured into THEM is now FREE for ME!!!!  And those that I truely love.

I have a wonderful generous, offering from my dearest, most beloved soul sister, that I would love, more than anything, to go forth with. But now….I know I must say no. Only for now. There will be times to be together again soon. I will make this happen. But for now….I must hunker down with my plan, so I have the freedoms I have so longed for my whole life. I now see I have what it takes to do it!  I let these “emotional vampires” take my energy, my self esteem, my belief in my own talents….I let them dismantle these in their  own,cunning, baffling way. I am free now.

For whatever reasons, I have learned most of my lessons in this life,  thru pain and suffering. I am now embracing the joys and success’s of  navigating my life with no  self imposed chains stemming from narcissistic  luggage left in my baggage claim arena of life.

Time to stop hiding my light with their darkness.

I am free to be ME. I am free to swim  the wave filled  Sea, and know  the beautiful reflections I see, are all the “pearls” of wisdom  and kindness that  are  now “Claiming Me!”  🙂

Pasta Pretty



Any Pasta….can make you feel pretty again. Really. It’s true. Any pasta, made with love, can help you forget all your troubles, forget all your cares, lickidy split!  “Try it! You will like it! “

Lately, it seems that all I do is write about food! Nourishment for the soul. I guess that is what I am needing for now. How about YOU? 

I came home from work tonite, feeling sassy…not quite “Stella in her groove” yet. Kind of..”.I’m almost there”…if only I could……THEN I will be happy!” kind of mood. So….of COURSE…my pasta had to have lots of sultry seasonings, like capers, pesto, sunflower seeds and WINE!  The more I kept tasting the fruits of my labor as it kept sizzling over the flames….the better I felt.  Perhaps it was the wine. I like to think it was fate. I felt triumphant as I watched it all come to life in one big happy bowl of  over flowing yumminess as it slid it’s way into my beautifully designed, Pasta bowl. 

Perhaps it was …the long ago memories. Way back when. My son’s father left us.  The blue eyed boy…. he was very little. I was very scared. Our best friends moved in with us. We were all fledglings, or refugees or broken souls or something quite dreadful and foreign. But we became a new kind of family. Brought together by betrayal….and necessity. We…the Mommies, were too shell shocked to cook cool stuff. We had all we could do to not cry into the  spilt milk….the raising of these boys. We talked. We cried. We took them to the circus. We made Easter Eggs. We cried. We picked each other  lilacs and savored the fragrances of hope. We made Pasta. We made “kitchen sink”, elegant at times, ho hum, incredible….Pasta! The boys always loved it. We always ate it. We didn’t eat much in those hapless days of pain, but we always ate our pasta. We told each other we were beautiful. Pasta made us feel pretty amidst the tumultuous  job of navigating a new way of being for these fatherless boys. Hooray for Pasta. Hooray for Pretty. Hooray for strength and capers…..seasoned with LOVE!

“Food, Glorious Food!”


The great fresh smell of  cut peeled cucumbers always,  conjures up the sweetest memories of my Grandmother in the kitchen…one of my favoritist places to be when I was little. She snuck in those tiny little pieces of love  in every kind of sandwich she made for us and they were always delicious! I felt it a grande luxury that she would also cut off the crusts of the bread, even tho I grew to love those little crusts, because my Mom always left them on. My Mom and I were the only ones, that I recall, that went for the “heel” of a loaf of bread with great gusto!

So,it came as a great shock to me that I could actually become Anorexic, as I was, and still am, known to consume great amounts of food at every twist and turn in life. The Kitchen was always the main hub of activity growing up, and still is, many moons later, as our families always find ways to  meet together for reunions and celebrations of life. I believe healthy thinking and heartfelt soul wisdom, and  a body you can rely on and love, stems largely from what we pour into it. Consistent exercise is also right up there.

Well the anorexic thing happened upon me because  I suffered from a sudden shocking heartbreak. One day I was married with a toddler. Next day I was on my own with my little one trying my best to navigate this new world I found myself in. My  best friend who was getting married, had to keep bringing my maid of honor dress back to the seamstress to take in. I weighed 84 pounds,when my usual was 115. I went to aerobics every day. Front row. Feeling aghast at how fat I “looked”. True story.

After six months of  eating only sweet potatoes, hersey bars and coffee,I felt lucky to find my way slowly back to  a healthier self image. I attribute most of this to the healthy way I was brought up with food and because of the incredible love and support my family and friends showered onto me.  The constant exercise  I so ruefully demanded from myself,DID help get rid of toxins, and my self loathing thinking even tho it was WAY over the top of a normal  workout routine.

Why, as humans, when we are a victim of something violent, heartbreaking, or abusive, do we blame ourselves?I would never in a million years, pick myself out of a crowd to become befallen with such a fate as anorexia. I don’t fit any of the profiles,but a broken heart can bring on many a cold winter’s chill if you feel alone in the world. It makes me a firm believer that we must align ourselves with good thoughts and good people, and good food and exercise as preventative maintenance, for  we never know…what is around the next corner. If we don’t feel like we have a warm blanket of love around us before the snow falls….we could very well fall into the ice cold depths of despair,thinking we are naked, cold, and alone in this world. We are not.

“He’s A REBEL”


To Rebel….is…”to go against authority.”  My Mama use to always call me her “Rebel”. I was one amongst “seven angels”, which she also called us, but I was the only one that also got the special, and sometimes dreaded….”R” name. Then years later, we went skiing as a family which was the one and only time I recall seeing my Mom and Dad actually ski. I remember going up the chairlift with my Mom and she terrifyingly wobbled off the chairlift and  cut me off  with one of her skiis, as we were getting off . I was trying to be so COOL as a teenager, but alas I went crashing down off the chair lift,  instead of my hoped for graceful debut. I did spy a nice looking lad looking quite amused with the whole scenario before him and his name just happened to be Rebel!  We struck up a natural comradeship and I had a glorious, rebellious, ski vacation in New Hampshire that year!

Fast forward twenty kazillian years later. I’m broiling nachos in the oven, giving the dogs their supper…looking forward to finishing the Steve Jobs book that I can barely stand to put down: it is so riveting….and what song comes on the oldies radio but “He’s a Rebel”.  Well I have secretly treasured that song my whole life and tonite, as I sang along and danced around the kitchen with the dogs and the wooden spoon, I realized the words are just so profoundly chilling for many things going on today and most precisely…the way that Walter Isaacson so succinctly  describes the agonies and the ecstasies of Steve Jobs and  the tales of his incredible geniousness and precision in creating and manufacturing for  us a whole new easier, kinder, more beautiful, technical, artistic, productive  world.

“See the way he walks down the street. Watch the way he shuffles his feet. How he holds his head up high, when he goes walking by…he’s my guy. When he holds my hand I’m so proud. Cuz he’s not just one of the crowd. My baby’s always the one, to try the things they’ve never done. And just because of that, they say…hey!

“He’s a Rebel and he’ll never be any good

He’s a Rebel cuz he never ever does what he should do

But just because he doesn’t do what everybody else does…

That’s no reason why I can’t give him all my love….”

Just like  “It’s as good as it gets” makes you want to be a better YOU….just like OPRAH, and Gayle and Dr. Phil and the whole gang, inspire you to be a better YOU…..this book about this man…the  precision he empassioned the world with in  mending technology and artistic creativity into the most brilliant woven tapestry every time,  pushing the envelope WAY beyond his time….whether it be the Apple computer, Pixar Film, totally revamping the entire music industry so everybody wins, the ipod, the ipad, the iphone…….the enchanting  way that Walter Isaacson explains it all…where you are at times…laughing out loud in disbelief at what Steve Jobs gets people to do… the outcries of injustice for the bullying and down right abuse Steve Jobs puts the world thru to get what he needs to get us what we don’t even know that we so desperately want and need in this day and age….it is all …so very educational, baffling, entertaining and sad. Sad because Steve Jobs was one of the lost boys…he was given up and given away, and even tho he ended up with this incredible Mom and Dad who adored him and did EVERYTHING he Demanded…it never took away the lifelong dark sorrow of being “unwanted”.  It haunted and beguiled him. It brought him to do great things. It bewitched, bothered and bewildered him. He abandoned his own daughter….therefore goes the generational hand me downs of shame and confusion, yet he stopped it midstream. He was able to reach out to his daughter and they ended up having a relationship that mattered.

This is one of the stories you hear around the campfires from your elders.Ah…yes. The values of “right and wrong”.  I have always pushed the envelope myself. I have always stood up for what feels like should be  the right thing to do.  Many people continue to disagree with who I am and my points of view. I am a very fragile soul, full of a certain kind of integrity that must be heard. I instilled my son with the same philosophy which landed him in the principles office alot. Bob Dylan was one of Steve Jobs greatest heroes. Also one of mine. As far as Mr. Dylan is concerned…what ever you may think of him is none of his business. He does what he feels is right for him. I think he has done pretty well for himself and his family.

I guess this is what I find so exciting about living. The people that really make a huge difference in our world are usually the ones who push the envelope waaay out there. They are the doers of their dreams. They persist til they get it right…no matter what any one says. They have incredible focus and drive and discipline and passion. They are usually very colour filled characters…like Steve….going bare foot everywhere with holes in his jeans and having body odor much of the time. He was different. He gave us so very much it is really beyond words, but  I now have a very deep respect for Walter Isaacson as well as Steve Jobs and everyone …everyone who worked with Apple. It is all about connection. Finding the right people, who get you….who get the good , the bad and the ugly and still want to work with you and set their boundaries with you…..because they know you are on to something great!  Isn’t that just true of all of us?  There is no other human being like you on this planet. No one else….(yet anyway)…. who can DO YOU!  So what is stopping you?  This book is so inspiring because Steve Jobs let nothing stop him. Some times he would get very sad and cry. Then he was done and on to changing the world again. Let’s not…fit in. Let’s be the best me, we can be. Let’s be a rebel if we must!

Me With Dignity


    dig·ni·ty/ˈdignitē/Noun The state or quality of being worthy of honor or respect.

I think I had lost mine.For quite awhile. Dignity. In many areas. Not as a Mother tho. I had to swim upstream alone so many times: just to  survive for the two of us.  I did almost anything and everything. But I did that with dignity, because I was so grateful to finally be a MOM. Didn’t ever think I was going to go it alone, but you do what you have to do, especially when you have children.  You make lemonade or you die right then and there,forlorn, and alone on the lemonade stand.
I was always giving him…the Dad who left us when my son was 18 months old…the benefit of the doubt. Oh he had a terrible childhood, oh he was abused in all ways…He never learned how to give back…He never learned about Intimacy…Fast forward. I moved  back to  California.  Now here I am. In my beloved homeland. He is  here too.We are all here! One big happy family!  He apparently …very apparently, had started heavily drinking again. Last time he did this he totalled his car and almost himself, and thank God…not our son.  What ever was he going to do this time?  I had “words” with him.
War of the Text’s so to speak. Covert Text Operation. It had it’s effect. He ended up in rehab. for maybe five days.
Started all over again.  Drinking. Included our son whenever he could, which was easy to do because our son adores him.  He would do almost anything for his Dad. My beyond biggest nitemare. Fast forward again. He went to rehab. This time it was five weeks. I took care of his dogs. EVERY DAY. For five weeks. I became beyond exhausted. My choice. I did say I would do it. Because after all, he is the father of my child. He had a terrible childhood. That is why he is the way he is. I’ll give him one more benefit of the doubt. He came back. Seemed abit culture shocked and like a lost little boy. He gave me a hug after I initiated it. But he was  somewhat “present” which is new in my experience of him.
I had hope he would do the right thing. He would finally  make amends and make up  to me financially what he stole from me back when our son was so young and he left us. I was sure he would do something good for me.  I also made the bad choice to go work at his company when I moved here. It was nice that he offered me a job. I have gone in there once since he has been back. I find that I feel terrible physically when I am there now.
 I cannot tell my son all the evil thoughts I have toward his father right now. I never want to see him again. I cannot work there. I have to sew up loose ends and leave. I dont’ have any answers for my future. My financial future. It …once again has been snatched from me. My own doing in a way, this time around. I have to get away. I have to have my life become ME with DIGNITY.
I feel like I did when I found out he had the affair with my best friend. I feel ashamed. I feel dirty. I feel that I have lost all my respect and dignity in the world and for myself. I feel as tho I am a failure and I cannot move. Never mind move forward. I have some very painful back challenges and severe kidney pain,ever since it came close,  in days, to his coming home. This is all him. All this negativity is all him. In my body. In me. I am shocked and bewildered at the power of this.
I must get myself back. I will. I don’t have my dignity back yet, but I will.  I may be tarnished, but I have vengeance right now. Perhaps that thread of action, even if it be angry right now, will get me on the healing boat of recovery. Of re discovering me! Of healing the wounds of emotional vampire ism. No more ism’s for me thanks. I’ve had enough for all my life times and then some.

The Recovery Klinker


My stomach is a swirl of  butterflies. Ever since I talked to him unexpectedly this morning when I picked up a “Private Call”, which I normally don’t pick up. Something told me to take the call. I thought it was my son. I asked him where he was, that he was calling from an unknown number. Well it was HIM. I wasn’t expecting to talk with him for five  weeks. He was different. Slightly different. It is going on day three for him. He is talking with an ever so slight….bit of presence. Not empty words. There was a glimmer of warmth. His tone is slower. It holds meaning. I was shocked at this. I was not expecting this.  I have always wanted to have hope for him. I have never dared because of what has happened. All the things that have  “happened”. What AM I hoping for? Whenever I feel a slight tinge of “Hope”…my body starts to cry inside and I try to stop myself. I don’t want the shattering in to a million pieces, victim story again. I feel like I am in Sleeping Beauty , only I have waited 25 years for the sleeping giant to wake up and live. Come Alive! For Real. And what if he does? Who will he be? Will he finally BE who I have always thought he WAS? These little bits of information feel like droplets of tears filled with Rainbows. So unexpected. I will light the candle of hope for him every nite. I will pray for goodness for him. Lots and lots of goodness for him. The hope candles worked for my Mama alot. Maybe they will work for him. He is the father of my precious little Coyote Boy. He is being brave and he left here a scared little kid. He is trying to look in the mirror now and stare at his demons…naked. No hiding. No running. I am  trepadaciously scared for him. Scared for me. Scared for the boy. This is unchartered territory for all of us. This part. I want him to win out. I hate to admit it, but it is all of our turns….for him to win. We deserve it. He deserves it. I think he will cry a million tears. He will cry a river. Perhaps he will cry himself all over into a new beginning; A Happy Childhood of Innocence and Truth. Perhaps he can finally be…Happy, Joyeous and Free. Perhaps he will be able to look me in the eyes and smile and all his troubles and violations of his soul, will have finally been laid to rest in the deep  tangled Forest of  Recovery. Perhaps it is ok. To let myself hope. A little.



RAPE. It is the unspeakable. For me. STILL. I am 60 YEARS OLD. I have always prided myself on being a sensual woman. Really….since I was a lil kid. I always…always adored the world and everyone in it that came across my way. I always saw and experienced the glass half full. I loved my long swaying hair when I became a striking teenager. I loved that “Del” that handsome debonaire of a guy architect…called me his ” Nutbrown Maiden, and I was his Princess. No one told me. No one warned me. My innocence and my love of life and people…could get me into a world of trouble. I didn’t know.No one told me. No one warned me of the inappropriate glances….of the sutble nuances…no one said…this isn’t right.  Until then. Until…my innocence splintered into a million different pieces like a fire cracker on the fourth of July. Falling like helpless screams in the night of unspeakable terror. No one wants to hear now…what I have to say…no one wanted to hear then….what i screamed to say…..because it was….too much. It was too uncomfortable. I tried. I did. I tried to tell. Heads turned abruptly away from me. From my desperate eyes. They turned away and left me in the dark with all of the horrors. With all of the groping hands, and dirty forceful groans and disgusting,agonizing seconds of sweat and crescendoes of orgasmic agony for some stranger’s addictive, destructive violation of your soul ….forever leaving muddy …dirty footprints… marking your body, mind, and spirit,with a Darth Vader tunnel of darkness that you felt you would never awaken from. But. Lucky for me. I always loved my body. I wasn’t going to let this unspeakable…re occurring  horror …shroud my life for too long. I sought council. That ended up …once again…putting me in the wrong hands…at the wrong time….Ah…but there had to be hope somewhere….for me. There had to be someone…I could share my secrets with. My shame. My blame. It is all up to me… set me free.  Usually with me…I wear my heart on my sleeve….but in this long….midsummers nites dream…..things are never……what they seem…. I keep the cloak of dark somberness wrapped tightly around my heart and soul and I fend off any bright eyed…blue eyed beautiful coyote boy that has the audacity to think….he can just climb inside  that empy hole and nestle  comfortably amongst the tear stained windows  of my soul…He thinks that I don’t know……Hah! He hopes no scars will show. No love can really fill…the hole that once was whole.

Never say Never


How many times have we heard it? Don’t get your hopes up!  Try not to have any expectations!  You know…with this Dis Ease…not too many  people make it out alive….”Winning!”…not too many people make it to “Winning!”….It is a” cunning, baffling disease”…as they say. I know that. I’ve been in ..”the other” rooms…for years. I’ve been in the rooms for “the FAMILIES of alcoholics”…trying to get out of just surviving life…constantly licking my wounds from their constant, selfish stinging, emotional vampire ish behaviors. Trying to make a real authentic life for myself, while he continuously hides from his demons that leave chaos for others at every corner they turn.  Now here it is again. Staring me in the face. The embarrassing behaviors in the company of your loved ones on those “Special Occassions” ….the latest one being a very special Birthday for a very special boy. The boy minimizes his bee sting. He said it didn’t hurt so much,yet he hung on to me for dear life when he hugged me good bye that evening. I had to leave. I couldn’t watch. Anymore. I felt like  the dirty one , and all I did was abound to the club destination to be a part of something so special …a clean, healthy celebration. He ruined it. Once again. For me. For us all. Or did he? He  spent the money. Went to Rehab just days earlier. Only to pick up a drink again five days later. I’m looking around for the anialated part of me that I usually find on the pavement,heart broken in a million different, disappointed tear stained pieces. This time it was different. I had said everything, in my “Two Hour,Covert Text Operation” to him. He had a few minutes of insight and courage and drove himself to rehab. Only to relapse once again. But This time I felt free. This time I know I said and did everything I could. I was willing to let go of pride,ego,judgements from others, my job and more…to state the stern truths of how his spiralling down behaviors were affecting me and my life. He lost all power over me in those two hour text moments. I set myself free in a way I have never been before. “Freedom’s just another word for nothin left to lose” . Mildy shocked he went back to drinking so soon. I did have hope. I tried not to. Been down this road before, but I did. I did for my son’s sake. This time I am still left with such freedom! He has locked himself up in these chains once again, but I…am free! I have chosen. I have let go of hoping for …him to have a real authentic  life before he dies. I can only do that for myself now. He will “Zig…or he will Zag” and only he…can choose his way now. God help him. For I cannot. anymore. I let go with love as I leap into the “Promises and Blessings” that await me!