Deep Thoughts…of a Fragmented Nature

just another day in the life


when I was a little girl I had a mo.  It was just her and me until I was eight.  We were absolutely inseparable.  I went to work with her until I was too old.  Every picture is if her holding me. I was a very happy child.  She was an adventurous soul and she instilled every ounce of it into me.  She could make every event fun and I am just the same.  I thought she was the most beautiful woman on the planet and I felt so uncomfortable in my own skin being so different than her.  Yet I know that every piece of me is formed from being so close with her. 

My mo was a walking dichotomy.  The strongest and wisest and most caring person you’ve ever met and at the same time a terrified, lonely insecure spirit.  I spent my youngest years and many of my adult moments trying to take care of her.  Nothing made me feel more complete than making her laugh.  I used to stare at her hands.  They had the longest fingers and the prettiest nails.  Perfectly shaped.  She wore rings and as a child I would trace the puffy lines of her veins across the back of her hands.  She always wore mascara but never lipstick.  She had the longest prettiest legs and she always showed them off with short shorts or skirts.  It made me feel so inadequate as I got older because I stopped growing in 7th grade and my legs are short and sort of permanently muscular.  I wanted to be just like her and nothing like her at the exact same time.  And I was.  

It’s inexplicably hard to be so close to someone.  You can read them like a book with your eyes closed.  You can feel every feeling they have even across a phone line.  But it makes you hypercritical of them.  It makes you understand at a depth that no one can fathom.  Once my stepdad told me that he knew her better than me.  I’m sorry sir but that is impossible.  I knew every story my mother had and could repeat them all at the drop of a hat right this instant.  She talked to me like I was an adult my entire life.  I was her mini me.  Exactly like her but so very different.  

I knew her so well that she started lying to me.  It hurt.  But I believe that maybe I was too hard on her.  She couldn’t tell me the truth because my reaction was too harsh.  Like a child.  

I loved her.  I still love her.  I miss her.  Just talking to her.  And I know I need to be able to fill that void in myef with myself.  I need to utilize my friends.  I know what I’m supposed to do.  I just get so sad.  I want to be strong for my sisters and brother.  But I’m terrible and I can’t get out of this funk.

I find myself reliving the bad events more than the good events and that makes me feel guilty.  We fought.  And I felt like her mom so I was so violently adamant on my position.  I hated her for years.  I took advantage of her.  I felt paralyzingly tormented when she did certain things and I didn’t have a say over it.  I loved my mo but I treated her badly.  She loved me, and my sisters and brother, but life was a constant struggle for her to take care of us and take care of herself and I resented her.  I never learned boundaries.  But with all these feelings I would give absolutely everything I have to spend another day in the car with her.  Going anywhere.  Listening to music.  Playing imaginary instruments.  Singing.  Telling her my problems and listening to her wisdom.  I love my mo.  I wish so many things could have been different.  I wish I could go back in time and enjoy each and every moment now that I know how lonely it is without her.  I wish I would have treated her better and I wish I could have accepted things the way they were.  I wish she could have seen me fall in love, the kind that lasts forever.  I wish she could have seen my babies if I’m ever going to have any.  I wish we wouldn’t have fought about John and I getting together.  He can’t love me as a partner, just as a friend.  And I have to respect that and find my own life partner.  And she saw the bond.  I see the bond.  But he doesn’t and that makes such a union impossible.  So here I am.  Sitting in the purgatory of a life half fulfilled.  With no cheerleaders.  Just the support of friends who I’m fortunate to have chosen so wisely.  But I wish more than anything I could just make her smile one more time.  Making her laugh was my best and biggest success in life.  And disappointing her by not being able to make John fall in love with me when we are so obviously equal and opposites.  I know she just wanted at least one of her kids to be settled and I couldn’t provide that sense of comfort for her.  But I have to know that I’m doing a pretty fantastic job of taking care of myself and that has to be good enough for both of us.

Mo, if you are somewhere still guarding me with your spirit, I hope you can feel all these things going on inside of me and I hope you know I’m sorry and I love you and I miss you so much.  I wasn’t ready to lose you and I didn’t make all the amends I needed to.  I didn’t show you what I was capable of and I wasn’t prepared to do this on my own.  I love you.  I hope I can make you proud still.  I hope I didn’t miss my chance.

fat kitten named James Taylor

In my mind I see your outline.

I see your details.

I see your heart.

I want it.

For my very own.

If I could possess such a beautiful thing how could life continue

To be so lonely.

But the fire in me

Is not reciprocated 

By even a spark

In you.

How can it be so possible

To feel your shoulder

Against my mouth

After so many minutes

And days

And years?

How could I ever kiss another

Knowing what you taste like?

You once said you could spend

18 years with me.

As life’s cruel joke 

I got three months.

And your memory

For the rest of my life.

I am ruined for any other

Because I saw myself

In your eyes.

I am ruined

Because I gave all of me

And all you could give me

Was a fat kitten.

OK.  I lied.  I said I was back, but I wasn’t really.  And I may not be this time.  This Capricorn’s life is in a huge swing of transition.  Like HUGE.  But instead of the tedious job of lamenting all these changes on my blog, I want to write about the things that I have grown grateful for since beginning this metamorphosis.

1) Sun rises – Who knew, but the sun rising is just as spectacular an event as the sun setting.  Huh.  Only took me 31 years to figure that out.  Being graced by morning’s first spectral rays is a fantastic way to start the day, very similar to meditation.  Now that I wake up at 4am to embark on my drive across the state to work, I actually see the sun rise, and it lays a happy protective arm over the rest of my day.  I dig it.

2) Audio books – I’ve always been a big nerdy reader.  I was quite literally reading novels in first grade.  Reading was and still is my passion.  But it’s time-consuming and when you don’t have a place to call home, or to put your feet up while you enjoy a good book, reading becomes almost impossible.  Enter audio books and their never-ending convenience.  Right now I’m commuting a minimum of 12 hours to/from work each week.  Filling this time with book narratives has greatly reduced my suicidal tendencies in traffic.

3) Coffee – OK.  This one isn’t new.  Surely almost everyone in America understands and enjoys the splendors of coffee by now.  I’ve been partaking in the joy juice since 7th grade, where I learned that it could help me stay awake while catching up on a years worth of incomplete math homework.  Coffee takes on a completely new meaning when you have to wake at 4am to drive 3 hours to work.  I’m pretty sure I no longer have blood, I survive on coffee.  And thank the heavens for it, or else this chaotic journey would be that much less successful!

4) My Counselor – I was on anti-anxiety and anti-depression pills for the past year and a half.  I felt great, but I also felt nothing.  My passion was gone and I couldn’t write.  I was eternally satisfied, no matter what the situation, but my skin also started breaking out like a 14-year-old boy.  I decided to get off them.  My skin is better.  My brain on the other hand, well it’s still there, being mean to me, doubting my every move, causing panic attacks at inopportune times, feeling things.  Thank the good lord I met my anger management counselor a few years ago.  I’ve started going to her a few times a month to help sort out my thoughts and feelings.  She’s great, clearly helps me define my own boundaries and teaches me to self talk myself out of a crazy spell.  It’s nice.  Yay counselors.

5) My best friend Jim   – Did I tell you that I no longer have an apartment and that I bought a house on the other side of the state for my sisters, but still work in the Metro Detroit area and thus can not afford a place of my own?  Yeah, that’s happening.  I’m beyond grateful that my best friend Jim is letting me sleep on his couch during the work week.  I feel like a loser.  I feel lost and scared.  But at least I have a place to rest my weary head, store my almond milk, and work on my resume.

I know everything will work out.  I fear that it may work out differently than I want, but I’m becoming more prepared to deal with anything that comes my way.  Growing up.  Man.  Welcome to the unknown.

One thing at a time…

I need a new job before I can get a new apartment.  Repeat.

I need a new job before I can get a new apartment and move my stuff into one place.  Repeat.

I need a new job before I can get a new apartment, move my stuff into one place, and stop sleeping on my friend’s couch.  Repeat.

I need a new job before I can get a new apartment, move my stuff into one place, stop sleeping on my friend’s couch and be closer to my boyfriend.  Repeat.

I need a new job before I can get a new apartment, move my stuff into one place, stop sleeping on my friend’s couch, be closer to my boyfriend and see my family on a regular basis.  Repeat.


I believe I know what my next course of action is supposed to be.  Let’s make this happen some how.


Sometimes you just need to take a quick moment to reflect.  At this exciting time in my life there are so many unknown variables that it could be easy to get overwhelmed or to become a slave to fear.  

I am not that kind of person.

I am having the time of my life.  Being single suits me very well.  I’m a flirt.  I’m social.  I’m free.  I have the best friends on the planet.  I’m full of love for my fellow mankind.  I’m still working hard but at my own pace to accomplish all the goals I’ve set for myself.  Every morning is a new opportunity, a new challenge and I’m pretty sure I’m going to end up on top.

Sure there are bad days.  Sad days.  Overwhelming days.  But they don’t last if you don’t dwell on them.

I’m looking forward.  I’m content and filled with anticipation at the same time.

I’m proud of the people I’ve chosen to surround myself with.  I’m proud that even after all the things I’ve been through, I’ve managed to turn into a pretty rockin’ chick.  I’m proud that I never settle for less than I deserve, at least not for too long.  I’m proud that I don’t let fear drive me.  I’m proud that I’m continuously growing and becoming the person I want to be.

Thanks for sharing this journey with me, because no matter what part you play, or for how long you’ve played it, you have helped me become who I am and I cherish you.

Operator…just because that’s what I’m listening to right now

Sometimes, when you’re growing up, you want something so bad you think you’ll die.  You wish for it, and you dream about it, and you cry about it, and you write about it in your journal.  Maybe you make phone calls that make you sound and/or feel like a total loser in efforts to make it happen.

Then, like magic, you grow up into a determined 31 year old with a plate full of potential and scores of hard work running through your veins. Say one miraculous day as you’re calmly going about your business, you open your eyes and there in front of you is the very thing you wanted so bad 16 years ago.  And it wants you too.  Now what do you do?  I say go with it.  What’s the worst that can happen?

I can honestly say that there have been a number of events in my life that have been particularly good fodder for the motion picture association, and what is happening right now may top that list. I can not say I understand it.  I can not say it will work out.  But I can say it’s thrilling and scary and beautiful and everyday I wake up wondering what will happen next.  I wish I could harness the energy in my life and bottle it for future reserves, but alas this blog will probably have to be my record of these incidents.  Luckily you get to take the ride with me!

To be continued…


While I’m going through a break up right now, I’m suddenly overwhelmed with the desire to write.  I can not guarantee that it will be interesting or anything other than depressed fodder for my sad mind, but write I must.

I’ll tell you what the hardest part of this is for me.  Dealing with it.  By nature I’m an escape artist.  This goes back to my younger drug and alcohol addled self.  Run away, don’t deal with it!  I’m having a hard time staying present for the dissolution of this relationship which has lasted four of the best years of my life.  I don’t want to deal with it.  I want to lunge past the hurt and dive headlong into a new relationship that feels all fuzzy and warm.  I want to feel loved and adored, not resented because I can’t commit via marriage or children like a “normal” grown up should at this age.  I also want to drink.  Lots of white wine.  Because I’m sad, and a little scared.

That is where I am today.  There are lots of other things going on, but this is the most important on my mind right now.  Hopefully I’ll get a little more poetic and interesting now that I feel like writing again.  Nothing like a little Poe-ish depression to get the artistic juices flowing right? 

the bane of my existence

As a disclaimer before I begin, I do not fully know the definition of “bane”.  I know that this term is used frequently to describe things that irritate people, things that maybe ruin their day or a large portion of their lives even.  I’m assuming it’s a general term used to invoke a mental picture somewhat like being chased across a thin fiery bridge toward a steep stone wall with no  ladder to escape by with an angry pack of rabid dogs at your heels.  That is how I envision “the bane”.  It’s something you can’t get away from and that continuously puts you in a position of personal compromise.  At least to me.

The bane of my existence is smoking.  Cigarettes.  While I was busy wasting brain cells and hours, hell years even, of my life, I started smoking.  This was actually the first habit that I picked up at the ripe old age of 14, and (un)fortunately it’s the only habit that stuck.  I started quitting in 2006.  I tried quitting 15 times before it worked, which happened to be on my birthday in 2009.  I did not smoke for 1.5 years.  At all.  Not one cigarette.  I had two puffs at various times and was disgusted.  When I was really craving one, usually while drinking, I would buy a Black & Mild and a couple of puffs off that would cure me for months.

Then I started taking a medication.  This medication has all sorts of weird side effects, like random heart palpitations, muscle pain, for the first two weeks I yawned constantly.  For real.  I yawned all day, uncontrollably and had to take naps at lunch time.  There’s more – it causes my hair to fall out in clumps.  I grind my teeth horrendously while sleeping.  I bleed uncontrollably – after popping a zit I bled for 15 minutes (cured me of that bad habit).  And it also made me start craving cigarettes.  Out of the clear blue sky I would have the strongest cravings which would render me inconsolable.  I bought a pack.  Then another.  And another.  I am smoking again, only about 4-5 cigarettes a day – but that’s 4-5 more than zero.

Smoking cigarettes is the bane of my existence.

When I quit, I was so proud.  The last time I quit, it was so painless, so easy.  I was sure it was the end of my nicotine addiction.  I had no cravings.  I had almost no mood swings.  I gained weight but whatever, I’ve been pudgy for years now.  Better to be pudgy for a while and smoke free then the alternative.  I told people I’d never start again because it took me literally 15 times of quitting before it stuck.  I said things like “I’ll never start again because I could never quit again, quitting is so HARD!”  I am now a liar.  And a hypocrite.  And a smoker.

The absolute worst part is that I’m enjoying it.  It gives me excuse to go outside and sit on my stoop to enjoy our unusually mild fall weather.  I’ve gotten to know my neighbors quite well, if not by name then for sure by schedule.  I’m climbing the stairs 5 times more than I was before.  I get a little buzz and it’s legal.

My boyfriend hates it.  I am the only person in my firm who smokes.  My clothes and hair reek constantly.  I have to go outside to smoke everywhere, no matter what the weather.  My teeth are already yellow.  My breath is killer.  My complexion is reaping the awesome benefits of smoking.  I have more zits now than I did when I was 18.  I have stopped going to yoga because I feel like an unhealthy, stinky outcast.

Oh smoking.  The bane of my existence.  Please put me in your thoughts because I could sure use some good vibes to get out of this pickle.



I know it’s my fault.  You may get an idea of how I speak from these blogs, but even they hide the true harsh reality.  I talk like an idiot.  My verbal vocabulary is much smaller and far more valley girlish than my written vocabulary.  My ability to convey ideas is far more succinct and effective in writing.  I sound like a babbling moron when I talk.

What I’m dealing with now, is that people treat me like I’m much younger and less intelligent because of my eternally vivacious personality and ludicrous spoken ability.  I am having a hard time transitioning into a much more mature persona.  As an almost architect I feel like I need to be taken seriously because the truth is, I’m fairly intellectual and really do have ideas and perspectives to share.

I meet people often and find that I don’t really like “mature” ones.  There’s a difference between being smart and being condescending.  I’ve found that most people are cool and can hold interesting conversations with you, but there are some people who want to view you a certain way and dismiss all of your contributions to the conversation.  I absolutely hate that.  I mean, I can’t even explain how irate it makes me to be dismissed.  Have you ever met that person who talks down to you.  The one who talks louder than you and who has a contradictory stance on everything you say.  Someone who purposely takes what you say and twists it to make it wrong, even if you’re just restating part of what they said earlier to tie the two thoughts together?  WTF is that?

I’m not seasoned enough to know how to deal with it yet.  I’d really love some perspective because right now I’m just disgusted.  Flat out nauseated.  I don’t understand it.  My first instinct is to psychologically analyze him.  I feel like maybe he has problems with his wife.  Could it be possible that she emasculates him to the point where he feels the need to exert power over other women?  I don’t know, I’m just trying to make sense of it all.  I guarantee you that I’m not threatening professionally.  So what could it be?  I don’t think he’s just a jerk.  It appears that he’s just a jerk to me.  And I’m pretty easy-going and fun to talk to.  The other people in this group seem to enjoy my company.  It’s frustrating, people really wear me out.

I can tell you one thing, I’m not going to sit there every few weeks and be treated like I’m less important or stupid.  I can’t deal with that.  Maybe joining this group was a mistake but I’m sure he’s not the only jerkface in the universe.  I’m going to have to learn to correct the situation without beating him up.  If only there was a manual to read to guide me through situations like this.


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