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Shoulda, Woulda, Coulda (Gonna)

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There is something I should have done in 2010, that I DIDN’T do because I was afraid. I was afraid for a lot of reasons, but mostly I was afraid that I didn’t matter, so I stayed quiet.

Someone who said he loved me, jammed his shoulder into my face, while I was laying beneath him on the floor. He did it twice. It was the second time he did it, that I heard a pop in my left eye. I was drunk, which is unfortunate, but it wasn’t a reason to bust the orbital floor of my left eye.

The actual reason he did it, is because I, was daring to become uncontrollable. I wouldn’t be told on this particular night, that it was time to go to bed. I didn’t have to work the next day, and I had just spent a week taking care of him, while he was drinking his way through his friend’s death. I just was taking a night, to listen to music, have some solitude and non drama, and a half a bottle of rum.

It’s always bothered me that I was shit faced drunk, because I really don’t drink that often. The details are blurry because of the drink, but in NO WAY, does that mean I deserved to have the floor of my eye busted, because I wouldn’t go to bed, or grabbed a cell phone.

I grabbed the cell phone, because he threatened to call the police on me for being drunk. Because I was drunk, I didn’t stop to think that the police couldn’t arrest me for being drunk in the place I was calling home. I was old enough, at home, and so fucking what?

It was the grabbing of the cell phone that set him off, and though I can admit, it was a drunkenly STUPID thing to do, knowing he had a temper, but I did not deserve to have the floor of my eye broken. It was stupid of me to stay with him too. We broke up, but true to form…I went back.

It’s not surprising that a year later, he assaulted me again.

I was still secretly paying for bankruptcy from the reconstructive surgery, that he told me NOT to declare bankruptcy on.

I didn’t have insurance. I didn’t call the police. I didn’t press charges. I didn’t sue him.

After the second assault, I left him. I lived in a closet in my mother’s studio for a year and a half, because that, was preferable to living with him while trying to go through bankruptcy and rebuilding my credit and my life. That is also when I went crazy. That was when the walls of hate that I had carried with me, for so long, crumbled. Overnight. Completely.

Pressing charges, doing all of that, would have impeded my spiritual journey, that slapped me in the face. It also would have meant, dealing with a lot of negative shit, and I really had just been so negative and angry for so long, it suddenly was toxic to me. I had to walk this path and learn the things I have learned with the Universe.

I probably had to get unafraid too.

The night before Mel died, I have said we talked about EVERYTHING. It’s almost weird that we spoke of so much and makes me think she knew something was happening to her. We talked about this man. I told her that I wished I had made a police report. She told me it wasn’t too late and that it would probably help the next woman, because we both know there with be “the next one”. I hung up the phone that night, knowing she and I would talk more about it and she would support me through it.

Well, I never got to talk to her about it again, but I am going to follow through on it. I don’t expect them to arrest, file, or do anything. Too much time has passed. It’s not about that. It’s about documenting. Not staying silent. Calling him, what he was to me.

Do I still forgive him? Yes.

Do I ever want to see him or have him in my life in any manner? No.

Woulda, coulda, shoulda…gonna.




I want to choose the word carefully, because there is a big difference between them.

I just realized today is the 18th. That means it is my 3rd trip around the sun, since I went crazy. Anyway…

I don’t necessarily feel empty, but I do feel drained. This situation has been going on since I moved in with my sister and the way it played out wasn’t pleasant. I just need it to be over, need to have a little distance, and need to get a good breather in so she and I can talk again.

I can’t say that the guy who hacked her, wouldn’t have done it, even if she didn’t draw things out, or even if she had been more honest with him. We will never know this, but I do know, it wasn’t long after I moved in, that I started getting weird vibes from him.

I don’t know her new guy, the fiance. He lives East of the mountains here. I understand when the bitter ex went whack-o on her, that it scared her. I wish she wouldn’t have so easily run off, leaving me know nothing really for so many months. I’m sad about stuff, and believe she and I will work it out, but I am just drained and really trying to come to terms with being here at Mr. Yummy’s house. I’m breathing though.

I have so many things to do still before Sunday, yet I awoke with an icepick jamming into my left eye. I took my very last migraine pill which I have been hoarding forever and stayed at Mr. Yummy’s. I saved this pill specifically to use on my last migraine ever. Guess this was it. I don’t have body aches, so I am pretty sure it is not the flu, but I have been feeling run down lately. I just keep hoping once I make the move final and have everything out, I can take the days that I will not be working due to the holidays and rest. I will worry about what to unpack and where to cram things later.

Maybe I will even stop worrying that one day Mr. Yummy will look at me and ask, “Jeebus, what have I done?”

In a way I am scared shitless because I got exactly what I asked for. I DID ask the Universe to bring him back to my life. I love him in a way I have never loved anyone and I feel this need to protect him, from me. Does that make sense?


Here I have moved in, but I don’t know what we are doing. I asked him if I had a time line I had to be out by, he didn’t answer. I don’t want to unpack every single box I have, set up like a happy little couple and pretend we are going for it if I have to pack up and leave here, and him. I don’t want to offend him and take his offer of help, as something he might not be looking for. Do you see how the neurotic takes over and starts to “what if” me?

I know my favorite time of the day is bed time, when I get to spoon up next to him and breathe him in as I fall asleep. My least favorite time of day is 4AM, when I get up and have to crawl out of his bed and start my day, and yet I love my job, where I go, what I do.

In time, I will have to meet the fiance, but I won’t be talking about the things that have rocked my world the last seven months. These things are my sister’s choice and well…I don’t need my words on a blog being used against me again by anyone in my family…so I just hope that time and distance from all the drama will help this feeling go away.

I am grateful I reacted to my life’s traumas three years ago, by going crazy. I am hopeful that everything I went through so intensely during that spiritual awakening, is helping me make the right choices as I navigate, instead of impulsively reacting to things. I know I have handled everything this last year in a way I have never been able to do, and mostly, it was without great effort. I DO NOT want to go back to that person again. I will not step back into being that person who allowed fear to control my life.

So, here I go. Lets see how long it takes me to do this other I want to do.

Five Months (part two)

Two posts ago, I told you to come back and I would tell you what I lost when I figured out who I am.

Ironic that I am now going to tell you, after writing about the break in.

On December 18, 2011 I found out who I am.

I am love.

Simple, right?

What did I lose?


It’s a really beautiful, almost scary thing to be flooded like I was with love, for everything and everyone I saw…including myself.


I Guess It’s Time

Hi again. So much has happened.

I’m still in the middle of moving. Should be done before Christmas. I plan on sleeping Christmas day away and hanging out on the interwebz doing not much of anything.

The last two weeks, I started getting sick again. Started as a UTI and quickly began morphing into PID (pelvic inflammatory disease). Tried to get into a doc. My boss gave me her natural doc’s name and even knew insurance covers natural medicine since my Queen Bee uses it. I was happy. They DID advise I call my insurance and confirm they cover natural medicine.

I called and we found out at that moment, I had no insurance coverage period, because the broker, didn’t get all his paperwork processed on time and company wide, no one was technically covered. I was free to pay 100% and wait for reimbursement. So I cancelled and didn’t go. I did however start doing massive doses of Propolis. Propolis is basically bee glue. It’s a heavy, sticky pollen product. It’s found around the entrance of the hive. As a bee enters, it rubs along the bee and is rich in anti fungal, bacterial and I think, viral properties. It is key to the health of the hive.

Holy fuck! I will be taking Propolis now. I’m not 100% yet, but I did in three days with water and propolis, what the doctors took almost 6 weeks to do last September, back when Mr. Yummy came and babied me.

As this was going on, I was also house/kitty sitting for a g/f. I was there for a week. The last night I was there was Friday of last week, I told my friend I was running boxes to Mr. Yummy’s and if it was really late I might spend the night unless she wanted me to dive back. She was fine with that. Just told me to feed the kitty and change her box before I left. Big Mistake on both of our parts.

I stopped and checked on the kitty and left at      around five and took the boxes I packed into my car after work, to Mr. Yummy’s house. I stayed the night with him. I wasn’t feeling well, so we snuggled. I remember waking up early Saturday morning and smiling because we started on his side of the bed with me cuddled (draped) all over him and by morning, we were on my side of the bed, with him all over me. It was so…us. History. Been there before so knew how it played out, and it just made me smile and feel good. Well…

That didn’t last long because I unlocked my friend’s door, walked in and saw that Kitty had knocked some stuff off some shelves. Started calling for the kitty and realized halfway into the house that one side of the french door in the back of the house was busted out. Actually it was busted IN. I was already walking into glass before I hit the back room. It took me a second, but it hit me what had happened. As I turned around and RAN outside, my peripheral saw the drawers in the bedroom, all open and spilling over. I called 9-1-1 to report the break in and couldn’t even tell them the street I was on. I had to assault a jogger practically, to get him to stop and calmly tell me what street I was. Although I am SURE I probably freaked him out, I guarantee, he was definitely calmer than me.

In that moment, I became afraid in a way I haven’t been afraid, since I went crazy. It didn’t just creep back in, it slammed back in. Running out I was wondering where kitty was, realizing I had to call my friend and tell her, and terrified there was a possibility I walked in on it and they were still there.


So four days have passed. Saturday I cleaned it all up, went back to Mr. Yummy’s, then Sunday went and met my friend who got in at dark thirty. Kitty didn’t run, she hid and was in one of her spots, freaked out when the police walked through. I had kitty go to a different friends, so my friend would go there, instead of her home at 2AM, to deal with what I left her. A boarded up french door, courtesy of the spoon wielding tax preparer’s hunny. Sunday was horrible and emotional. I felt bad, yet was glad I wasn’t there since Wednesday and Thursday I felt I was being watched. Monday I went back to work and just kept seeing the moments that fear slammed back in. I was teary and cried a few times. Today I wasn’t emotional, but am still shaken.

I wish I could run away to the coast and enjoy the winter storm. No such luck. I’m just happy to know that I will start the year out at Mr. Yummy’s and he is no fucking drama Queen. I will not have to deal with a Ginger, or  anyone else’s drama.

I want to let go of the fear again. Even if I have to chant my old mantra, “I deserve nothing less, as do you, than love” I will let the fear go.

My Struggles with God (big shock, it’s religion!)

It is not that I dislike God, or the idea of God.

Creation, is a thing of beauty.

The bible says we are created in God’s image. Some people, feel that this fits the image and cannot think of God without “him” being in human form, so creation would look sort of like this:


I have a problem seeing God this way. Mostly because I don’t believe in what main-stream-for-profit religion is trying to teach sell us. My issue is that good people, who just want to do what’s good and right, have been manipulated by some pretty smart, yet unscrupulous persons who saw what a tool religion could be.

We can use it to divide and conquer!

I see division with for profit religion. I see fear, hate, submission of will and thought. Why would God want to control creation? I think God would encourage his creations to create. He would get the fuck off on a bunch of co-creators exponentially creating! What a legacy that would be.

Do you really think God or Source, as I am more comfortable saying and still cling to as my primary name, really wants us out there pushing love like this?

God-No-Longer-Hates-FagsSeriously? This is hate, and if you go to any kind of church that promotes, condones, or uses this type of divisional tactic, you are being manipulated and used. You are masses being divided. Their holy water, has been poisoned the minute you anoint it with hate. It’s not always about the gay issue. You know…any other religion that isn’t Christian is suspect. As are people from other countries, people who are not the same color as us, people who live differently than those in the for profit and consumerism industry of God. And we shall stomp them with our boots, give them small pox blankets, or just reign war down on them.

Do you feel me? Get what I am saying?

When I think of God and creation, I think of something more like this:

1147990_f260I see the energy, the dust and magical “mojo” that has gone into each and every one of us.

There isn’t a lot to say to that really. It’s just what I feel and believe. I don’t accept the human hand version of God. But you are free to.

If what I see as Creation, God, Source…whatever you call it created us to be in the same image, and if we are all co-creators, then I also see Creation as this:

originalIs it blaspheme for me to insinuate that this could be part of Source creation? I don’t think so. I think the act and moment of creation itself is the image of God.

That last image is an embryo, prior to the act of fertilization, which can’t happen without XX and XY input.

I don’t feel it is wrong to insinuate, I have functioned as a creator. I had help. I didn’t do it alone. But I did create. God has touched me.

It’s too bad for profit religion has sullied the name for so many of us. We have had to seek out and find new terms. Well I think my last two years have been about reclaiming God. It’s kind of like how women reclaimed the word bitch, or LGBT reclaimed queer, or how African-Americans (I dislike that name as much as I dislike the name Native American) reclaimed the N word.

I’m taking God back. A deity deserves more than to be used as a tool of division. It is a personal relationship. It is more personal than any relationship I have had with a lover. So why would anyone have the right to stick their nose in it and tell me how to get it right? If I am communing with a divine being, who am I to believe, the Divine, or the for profit business who would be happy if I shit my pants with fear and let them guide my energy?

I write this without prejudice. If I have offended my creator, I will be held accountable and the liability of my words will be mine. I will continue to operate from a space of absolute gratitude and love.

Have a nice weekend!

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