I value honesty so much.

In fact, it’s one of the keystones of my personality.

Without honesty, there can be no trust. There can be no friendship, and no love.

And I’d rather be disappointed by the truth, than comforted with a lie.

If I tell you I have feelings for you (didn’t say I was in love, for fuck’s sake, just that I had feelings, even I wasn’t sure what they were at that point), & you don’t reciprocate? The truth is much less painful in the long run than “playing along till you can escape”, then ghosting me, hoping I disappear. At least with the truth, I can say “Ok, that’s not going to go anywhere, so I’ll let it go, lick my wounds, & move on to, someday, find someone who will appreciate me”; Instead of being confused by silence, hurt by being treated as though my feelings don’t matter at all , & angry at being ignored.

Without honesty, what’s the point?
I actually sought out some advice, honest & blunt, from an ex-boyfriend today, knowing that he would be just as completely & totally truthful with me as I was seeking. And I wasn’t disappointed.

I knew that, no matter what I said, or asked, “A” would tell me the absolute truth as he saw it.  And it was a man’s perspective I was seeking, so he was just the one to ask.  No pulling punches, no tactful, biased by our previous relationship, answers – just his honest opinion. He wouldn’t back me up if he didn’t truly feel I was right in my thinking, he would’ve called me a twit (or a reasonable facsimile thereof), & laughed at me.

But, he didn’t laugh.

And I really appreciated it.

And in my questioning, I realized that I was right about thinking that someone else’s words & actions were inconsiderate, rude, thoughtless & hurtful.  

Not living up to your own word, shows that your words can’t be trusted at all.

“You do that/act like that because you’re a female”. 

When I told “A” about that (supposedly joking) comment, he rolled his eyes, and seemed to be offended, as I was when I heard it myself. It shows, at least to me, a complete lack of respect for women as a whole, to label us all with one broad stroke of a tarred brush.

When I told him about the refusal on the other party’s part to even discuss the breakdown in communication I had with this other man, he basically called it childish.

“A” and I may not be in a relationship as “boyfriend & girlfriend” anymore, but at least we can communicate. No matter what, he’s always remained the same in that regard.

And, that honesty I value.



The voice called softly from out of the darkness, and Corinn jumped a little.

“Yes?” Turning, she looked down the shadowed hallway she had just passed, expecting to see a forlorn child standing there, looking back at her. There was no one there.


Fiona, her 17-year old daughter, was fast asleep in her room. Corinn could hear her faint snoring now, through the thin walls. It wasn’t her.

Jake, her 13-year old, was conked out in his room as well. Rustling came from his end of the hall, as he rolled over in his sleep, undisturbed. It wasn’t him. He wouldn’t have called her “Mommy” anyway. He was too old for that “baby stuff” as he put it now.

Both children sound asleep, and yet Corinn had hear the voice as clearly as if one of the children had been standing right in front of her.

Of course, this wasn’t the first time this had happened. It wasn’t even the fifth time. Strange things had been happening for years now, and always around the same time of year.

Early spring. The same time of year she’d gotten so sick all those long years ago.

The same season when she’d lost the baby.

A “blessing in disguise” some had called it, “not meant to be” others had said.  Corinn knew that it was neither…and both, in some ways.  Still painful, although time had softened the edges of it, and she only thought of it occasionally now, instead of the constant, grating ache it had once been.

But now, almost 19 years later, the voice out of the darkness.

“Amelie?” Corrin whispered softly to herself. “Is that you, baby?”

Corrin waited, straining for any sign… but, nothing. Just like all the times before.

Then, out of nowhere… a small hand reached up and touched her own, hanging down next to her.

Solid. Real.

Corrin held her breath as she looked down at her side.

-Jan. 2, 2014


Do you feel cold and lost in desperation?

You build up hope, 

but failure’s all you’ve known

Remember all the sadness and frustration

And let it go.

Let it go.”

~Linkin Park – Iridescent

So that’s what I’m doing.

Letting it all go.

No more drama.

No more tears.

No more reaching and seeking and looking.

Close the doors, turn off the lights, and let the  lapse of emotional noise allow me to get through.

I’ll still be posting the stories, no worries.

Taking a Moment

I learned some very sad news today.

My father’s best friend, a man I’ve known my whole, remembered life, has only a year to live.

And I can’t seem to wrap my head around it.

I want to cry.

I want to rage at the sky.

I want to curl up and sob, uncontrollably.

And I’m not allowed to do any of those things.

I’m supposed to be strong. I’m supposed to be support for my parents, understanding, compassionate, supportive.

With everything that’s been going on in my life right now, this is going to sound extremely selfish, but I just want to go home, lock my doors, curl up on the floor, and Not. Feel. Anything.

I’m tired of being strong for everyone else.

I’m exhausted, standing on my own, with no one to hold me, tell me that they have me, and I can crash for a while.

Fuck this.

Ask for honesty, and get silence.

Tell someone you care about them, and more silence.

Why do I care about anything, anymore?

It only brings pain, silence, and distance.

So, I’m taking a moment to grieve.

To grieve for this family friend.

To grieve for my Mom and Dad.

To grieve for myself, and my own losses.





The possibility.


How do you decide between Quality vs. Quantity?

How do you make a choice so fraught with emotions, that, either way, someone will end up hurting?

How do you say, I’m going to live,  really LIVE for a little while, rather than spend months & years with loved ones…but be in pain, sick & tired?

How do you make this choice?

I don’t know.
I really don’t.

I know/knew 2 people who’ve made this choice. Both choosing Quality over Quantity.

And as much as I can say that I understand, even respect, their choice…

It still hurts.

And I know that it’s not my choice to make.

I hope that I am never faced with this choice…because honestly, I don’t know how I would answer the question.

Do you fight? Do you go down swinging, even if it’s a slow, pain-ridden ride?

Or do you finish out your time in a blaze of glory & adventure,  knowing that every moment could be your last?

How do you choose?


I was cleaning my house today, & was thinking about all the things I’ve gotten rid of…all the things I could get rid of… and all the things I should probably hang into.

And then, tonight, I had a thought.

Whose memories am I holding onto?

I’ve accumulated a lot of stuff over the years. Kid’s stuff, my stuff, ex’s stuff, shared stuff.

And I know that some of the things that I have in my life, belong partly to other people.

At least, the memories connected to them do.

A giant, oriental fan that hangs in my living room, was a gift from my ex-husband while we were dating. I still love the picture on it, but it’s time for it to go.  I’ve got to cut the cuttable ties that still bind me to that past.  My son has some keepsakes, an old family portrait, a couple of knick knacks… I don’t need to hold onto things from his father for him.

And I do need to clear away the detritus of the memories.  Leftover crumbs from a broken relationship are not something I need hanging around the house.

If I’m ever going to forge ahead with a life outside of the broken past, I have to clear away the rubble, first.

So, tomorrow, I begin.


375° for 45

I’m done.
I’m cooked.
I’m burnt.
I’m tired.
I’m tired of people who think that they have a free pass to comment on my life, and that they have any right to try to tell me how I should live.

Don’t tell me to “get out there and meet someone new”. I have someone. Whether you approve or not, doesn’t matter to me.
If I ever require your advice – I’ll ask for it. Until then… Remember how I don’t talk much anymore?

There’s a reason for that.

I’m burnt. Burnt out on the guilt trips. Stop making my silence “my fault”. It’s not me trying to punish, it’s me – Wanting to be left alone for a damned minute or 5.  I so seldom get time, to myself, to do what I want – Take Garbo’s words and apply them to my latest profile pic.

I’m cooked.
I’m so over being the bad guy all the time. Just because I’m not picking up all the toys scattered throughout the house; the clothes (size 3t), left lying wherever they were removed; not doing all the dishes all the damned time. I’m tired of having to be the one who has to say “no” to everything, & the one who gets the dirty looks when I ask that others chip in and CLEAN THEIR OWN MESS.  Sick a fork in me – Cause…

I’m done.
I’m done with men who think I’m only good for “right now”, but not good enough for keeps.
I’m tired of people who just walk out of my life without so much as a backwards glance, then think they can just pick up where we left off and it’s not going to affect me.

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