Drive Time

I had a lot of drive time today, having had a doctor’s appointment in a city about 2 hrs away. 

It gave me a lot of time to think, since I like to do these drives & appointments on my own, independent little cuss that I am.

(Pain Management Clinic, went for shots in my hands – yeah, both hands)


I know that I write a lot of “dark” posts here on the blog. At least lately, anyway. There hasn’t been a lot of sunshine and unicorns popping up between the lines…not that there ever really were… I mean, really I’m not much of a glitter and frappuccino kind of gal.

I’m much more of a sarcasm and cigarettes kind of sort, you know?

But, honestly…

There are happy, good things in my days.

I laugh at work.

(Usually dark, self-deprecating laughter, but hey, a gal’s gotta start somewhere)

I love my cat.

(The other cat in residence is my son’s, & yeah, OK, I somewhat like her too…but Sally is my baby) ((and they’re both assholes anyway))

I have lilies growing in my flower bed that I planted last fall with my own two hands, and they’re almost ready to bloom. 

There will be many different colors, & I can’t wait to see them! (Cause I can’t remember exactly what I put in!)

I talk to the Beloved Nephew a few nights a week, & love the hell out of him. He’s my best friend, and some days, the only thing that keeps me off the emotional ledge.  We do that for each other often.

(OLLLD picture, from my redhead days, back from before he moved. I miss that kid!)

And, I have my plan in place, and begun, for my transition next fall.  Early stages yet, baby steps. Not quite ready to reveal all yet, as it’s still so new and fragile, but I’m certain it’s what I want. What I need.

But, in the darkness, there are glimmers…

And, while driving, I had a lot of time to reflect on those glimmers of hope, those sparks of light, those small coals of fire I’ll need to hold onto in the days/weeks/months to come.

The 5 day silence was broken today.

I received another email from E, trying to reach out to me, & got a phone call right before I would have normally been off from work, from a strange, unknown, international number. I’m assuming it was from him, letting me know that he’s once again back on this side of the ocean, back on his Caribbean island, and now much closer to reaching me.

I know he’s not finished with me yet…but I can only hope that my continued refusal to interact with him or respond to his overtures will show him how futile his gestures are.

Once trust is broken…

So, I hold the hope, and release the broken.

And the hope glimmers…

Background Programs

I suppose I should feel grateful.

My stats have gone haywire over this last week. My post about Doc Hordinsky must have been shared over Facebook again, because I’ve been receiving mass hits on my blog because of it over the last few days.

Exposure is supposed to be good for writers, right?


Instead, tonight, I’m sitting inside my house, in the dark, isolating myself. My anxiety has me in near-panic mode, for some unknown reason, and my evening has disappeared down a dark, seemingly endless well of nothing.

I’m numb to everything but the panic, and I can’t decide between flight or hide. “Fight” isn’t an option, since there’s no opponent, so it’s either “flight” which means medicating myself into oblivion… Or “hide”, which is to try to ride it out curled up in bed, hoping the morning will see it gone.


I haven’t heard anything from E (my stalker) since Saturday… This, to me, means he’s either out of his normal phone service area, or he’s making his way overseas… At least when I was seeing the auto-rejected phone calls, I knew where he was located. Now, he could be anywhere, & I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.

No wonder my anxiety is so high.

Rather like this post about Doc, which is years old, still garnering so much attention even to this day…

The programs running in the background always seem to carry the biggest surprises… Not always good ones.


I’ve been here for a minute or two.

Actually, I’ve been blogging since 2008, but started on a different blogging format, and switched to WordPress when I found out that one of my favorite authors blogged over here.  I researched WP to see what made it different from the format I was on, decided I liked it better, & flipped.

That was in 2009. 

I originally started blogging due to a falling out I had with my brother. I won’t rehash it here and now, but, needless to say, it was the catalyst for the whole shebang.

I fell in love with the whole premise.

That I could write anything…. A.n.y.t.h.I.n.g. 

I could, quite metaphorically, scream into the darkness that comprises the internet, and watch my words get soaked up… People, actual real people would read what I wrote and would sometimes like it… And *whispering* sometimes they would reply…

I could write my stories, even just the snippets – which people referred to as “flash fiction”, a thing I hadn’t realized was even a thing, they’d read my poetry (even the old crappy high school stuff!) And I could tell about my kids, my animals, my penchant for staying up late at night to watch the fog roll down my street, or what the grass feels like between my toes on my front lawn.

My readers were there, following me, as I went through my painful divorce, and bolstered my confidence as I tried to break into the world of dating once again after so many years of being married.

They held me as I wept, while I relived the trauma of being molested by a trusted family friend as a teenager.

They laughed with me as I talked about the foibles & follies of raising teenagers as a once-again single mom.

And they have held my hand as I watched my last child walk to accept his high school diploma, & 2 days later, move out of my home & into his father’s.

I’ve written about so many different things that have happened in my life over the past few years, that to try to encapsulate it is laughable, but it’s as the tag line above says “It’s just Life – Messy and Random”.

(Which also describes the inside of my head)

I’ve made friends in the blogging world, some have stayed, others have faded, but all have taught me lessons. And I’ve read many other truly amazing blogs – again, some which still exist – some which are gone for good, sadly. 

There was even a time, for a couple of years, where I took a hiatus from this blog…split my focus to others, due to outside pressures over what I wrote here, but I eventually came back. Some of the old writing has been permanently deleted, gone into the ether. (Yeah, it can probably be viewed on the “Way Back Machine” website, but, most of it was crap anyway, which was why it was deleted, so why bother?)

But I’ve never swayed from my original purpose for this blog.

This is my journal.

It is my therapist, my workstation, my anvil.  It is where I come to pound out my words. The ones I cannot, or dare not, say out loud. The hard, painful words. The hidden words… Sometimes even hidden from myself, until I see them here…slipped unconsciously through my fingertips.

They get slapped down, heated, tempered, shaped, flipped over, sharpened, filed, heated & shaped again…until they’re perfect for cutting through the – bullshit.

They might not be everyone’s Truth…

But they are MY Truth.

This is why I blog.

This is my story.

I write to express, to shape, to purge & to figure myself out for myself.

If it causes enjoyment, thoughtfulness, sorrow, joy, laughter, or any other emotion for anyone else… That is not my original intent, but if someone else can relate to it – it makes me feel good too.

I’m still not done here.

As Granny Esmeralda Weatherwax from Terry Pratchett’s Discworld books says…

“I ain’t dead yet”.

Here’s the Breakdown

For the past 6 years since my divorce (yeah, my divorce-aversary is fast approaching again), I’ve been working on who I am, who I want to be, where I want to go now with my life, & what I want.

I’ve dated, more or less (less rather than more) but I’ve spent most of my time, for all intents and purposes, alone.

It’s not what I want. 

I don’t want to spend the rest of my life alone. No matter whether I think that I am enough all by myself, thank you very much. I still want someone to share my life with – AND THERE’S NOTHING WRONG WITH WANTING THAT, EITHER.

Now, for the breakdown of how I’m feeling…according to the above, very descriptive image.

Bitter… Yeah…I’m a little bitter. After swimming in the shallow local dating pool, & trying to tread water in the vastness of the online dating seas, I can honestly say I’m bitter about the scumminess to be found in the waters. Geezus, men, have some class. The 70s porno pickup lines have never worked. 

Resentment… Oh, I resent the hell out of the fact that I spent 4 years waiting for someone to live up to even ONE promise… But, it’s my own damned fault, and we’ll get to my part of that debacle a little later.

Discomfort … There’s a whole lot of this floating around right now, as I sort through my emotional turmoil & kick my own ass around the house. But who else has the right? No one.

Anger… Oh, there’s plenty of this to spread around as well…and if my boundaries are crossed in the coming days, Vesuvius will have a new little sister.

Disappointment… Here’s where grief and depression step in at night. Because I truly thought, at so many times, that this was it, that it was finally going to happen for me… I was going to get that brass ring & live happily ever after. Ok, Tinkerbell. 

Guilt… And now I know that I’m not the person he wanted me to be, because I wouldn’t just roll over & do what he wanted. I’m not the person my family thought I was, because I let him talk me into becoming who I was for so long… I don’t really know who I am right at this moment, except that I’m not who I thought I was…

Shame… I lied to my family about things he wanted me to keep secret. I held onto this relationship for far too long, knowing that he wasn’t ever going to live up to his promises, I still held out, because I was so afraid to be alone… Because I’ve been alone for so long. And I’m afraid I always will be. And I’m ashamed of my loneliness.

Anxiety… I’m anxious most of the time these days, because he won’t give up. He’s still attempting to contact me, using friends here in the States to try to get ahold of me through other means. Panic attacks are happening a couple times a week now, instead of once or twice a month… They’re getting worse.

Sadness… Never goes away…I just hide it better.