Best Anti-VD “Love Yourself” Day AND The Week Of Disease

It’s like two oxymorons rolled into one –

First – I miss my blog sooooo much! I’ve been so busy making a living that journaling my life has been riding in the back seat rather than shotgun.

I am going to work backwards today, which is not too unusual. I do a lot of things backwards.

The Week Of Disease

Today is my final sick day – My final day of being home-bound with what may be the flu, if I can just self-diagnose. The dizziness remains, which I would be more concerned about except Middlest has the disease too and she is also dizzy.

In my week of sickness, Captain Amazing did play Trivia Crack with me – He has yet to beat me 🙂 It has been a battle of wits, and he has come unarmed. Ha ha ha!!

I believe my kids have accepted his role in my life, even though he and I haven’t yet defined terms as other than just “something awesome that we don’t see ending, yet we are not tied down or labeled but reserve the right to tie each other up.”

It’s a long title but we have a lot of ground to cover.

Anyway, I told Youngest this morning that I was enjoying my sick day with her company today, although I was really grateful that I spent the other days alone. I said to her, “I am actually glad I’m single because I didn’t have to take care of anybody else but myself.”

“So you consider yourself single?” she asked.

I said, “Yeah. I am not married, and I live alone except when you’re with me.”

She said, “Yes, but there’s this other little annoying bug called [Captain Amazing] – Explain that.”

I paused and wondered why am I still receiving snarky relationship advice from my youngest daughter.

“Can I blog what you said?” I asked her.

She said, “Of course. I’ll text him for you too.”

**Sigh** Smarty-pants teens.

She really likes him, which warms my heart, and further, she respects him, just as I do. She told me yesterday that she has to do some readathon event at school and that she wanted to ask him what book she should read.

“Is that ok?” she asked me.

“Of course. You can text him and ask him,” I said.

She did…and then she said to me, “Mom, your boyfriend is being a tool.”

“He’s not my boyfriend – Stop calling him that!!” I said (please note that I was offended by the use of “boyfriend” and not by the use of “tool.” – She knows this; therefore, she continues to call him “boyfriend” just to see how I cringe at that word.) “Why? What did he say?”

She said, “Well, I asked him what books I should read, and he said, ‘Dr. Seuss.'”

She and I cracked up!!

Going back a couple of days then, I started not feeling well a week ago, dizziness and just weirdness, which I understand may not be new symptoms for me. However, Captain Amazing looked at me across the table at dinner and asked, “Are you feeling ok? You don’t look well.” 

I said, “I think I’m just hungry.” Famous last words …

The next day, Sunday, my head started feeling dizzier and weirder. Youngest and I had gone over to his house to hang out, help with some chores (avoiding our own, of course), but every time I bent over to pull a weed, I felt like I was going to fall.

He had gone to run an errand, so I mainly just wanted him to drive up while I was bent over pulling weeds. Perhaps the view would hit him where it counts, you know? I like it when he squirms in his jeans and we have covert conversations in mixed company. 

I just like to create an enjoyable environment – keeping it real.  The next day was to be our “date night” and I always make sure, within my area of control, that “date night” exceeds expectations 😉

However, after lunch, which I did not partake in because I was not hungry, Youngest and I decided we need to go. I felt like I needed to lie down, and she had homework.

After a short nap, it was evident by the gushing nose, extreme dizziness, and body aches that I was not “hungry” or “tired,” – I had caught some kind of germ bug. I immediately texted the next day’s clients to inform them, and they all canceled.

During my bed rest the next day, Monday, I knew I wasn’t going to make it anywhere, so I asked him to call me. We talked and I explained the situation, stating of course, that he could bend me over so as not to be exposed to my germs. In the end, we decided I should stay home…where I have remained for 6 days.

BEST Anti-VD “Love Yourself” Day

I have a new doctor friend checking on me – ordering me around – Dr. Z. He’s excited to be a character in the blog…Let’s all give him a warm welcome – Hi Dr. Z!!!

He and I met in the fall or last summer, can’t remember, but I’m sure I blogged about a shooting date. Anyway, it wasn’t until Anti-VD Day that we actually had quality conversation.

The story of this little adventure began the Tuesday prior to February 14th, when Captain Amazing and I were quickly finishing coffee and gather up our work things so we could depart in a timely manner.

I asked him, “So what do you have planned this weekend?”

He said, “Hmm, I think I have a dinner Friday night, maybe something Sunday night, which is not set in stone. I don’t have kids. Why?”

I said, “I don’t have kids either, and I don’t have in-person clients. I just have a few writing deadlines, and I would like to do something.”

He pulled out his handy-dandy cell phone with calendar and looked up his weekend agenda…he scrolled and found Friday…then he saw it…

“Oh!” he said with disgust. “Saturday is Valentine’s Day.”

“Yeah,” I said, equally morosely, “but that’s purely coincidence. I don’t celebrate that holiday.”

He said, “Neither do I. You do realize that we have to break up on Friday, right?”

I cracked up! “Well we could just get the toys out and take care of ourselves next to each other and dirty text from opposite sides of the room!”

He burst out laughing and high-fived me; he said he was going to share that with the guys at work.

I wish you could hear his laugh because it’s awesome!

I said, “Well, see what you can come up with and we’ll chat later.” …and then our usual “have a great day” stuff…

…Friday the 13th came around and I received a grand text: “You up for shooting Saturday at 3 with Dr. Z and me?”

My reply: YES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

His reply: Cool.

I was told to bring my happy self 🙂

My Friday the 13th was quite adventurous and long – and by the time I got home around 5:30ish, I ate, put The LEGO Movie on, and fell asleep.

Saturday the 14th, I woke up around 3:30 am to begin the monster writing project that I needed to complete. It was a lot of tedious copying and pasting links for marketing emails, so I decided to have movies on –

I positioned my Ipad next to me, fired up Netflix, and settled in on Notting Hill to launch my Anti-VD Love Myself Day marathon – Just so I have something chickish to say that I watched because I know the girls out there just think I’m too weird. Spike is my favorite character, hands down. Classic.

I followed that selection up with Terminator 2, the movie that inspired me to have great arms. Linda Hamilton demonstrated that a woman could be a badass, kick ass, and not look like a bodybuilder.


…and then I started Mission Impossible 2 – Just because…

I finished my project by 2pm, showered, selected a pink tank top and my jeans, and went to meet the guys.

When I arrived at the shooting range, I was not greeted by just 2 men – but 3!!!!

Ahhh, what other woman can boast such an encounter on Valentine’s Day???

My shooting was looking sharp, especially toward the end the session, when Captain Amazing instructed me to fire the 3 remaining clips, while he walked his brother out, and if he was not back, Dr. Z would walk me out.

I unleashed my determination and bullets all in the center of that target. I was so happy and proud, and I had to show him my target. I even received a compliment in the lobby! “Nice shooting!” said the super hot stranger.

“Thank you! – I know, right?” I replied.

We walked out to the cars, where Dr. Z said, “She can come.” 

Captain Amazing looked at me – probably with a bit of debate in his head – and he said, “I’m going to Dr. Z’s to watch the UFC fight. Want to come?” 

“YES!!!!!!!!” I said.

They both looked at me kind of funny. I’m too old to even care if I’m inviting myself along to something I want to go to, even if it is a guys’ night out.

“You like that?” they both asked.

“Yes, surprising right?” I said. “I was surprised too, but yes I do, and I know Ben Henderson.” 

So the stage was set for the ultimate “guys-night-out plus me.” My life rocks!!

We had to make one stop before we hit Dr. Z’s house –

I met Captain Amazing at his house so we could drive to Dr. Z’s together. He grabbed his things to put them away and as we were walking in the house, he handed me an envelope….with my name on it….


“Is this from you?” I asked him in disbelief.

“Yeah,” he replied.

“Holy shit!!!!”  I exclaimed.

The gesture was so unexpected that I was utterly unprepared. I didn’t know quite what to do. I put the envelope, which clearly contained a card, into my purse. I decided to let it sit. Since I wasn’t expecting it, I wanted to have a little anticipation…a little buildup for the big moment when I would open the envelope’s contents and see what he had been thinking about …Intrigue….

The thing is – I was happy with just the envelope 🙂 – Don’t tell him I said that!

In the car, driving to our first stop, he asked me a quasi-serious question – “What are your relationship goals?”

WTF?????!!!!!! Really? A card on Valentine’s Day and now this??? Shitty shit.

“Um, let me think…This is it,” I said. “I really don’t have any. I know that sounds kind of under-achieving but I don’t believe in goals when it comes to this stuff. I want to ride things out and see where they go.”

“Yeah, I know,” he said, “and I’m not asking for me.”


“My position has not changed,” he said.

“I know,” I said. “I’m just really happy that it’s lasted more than a year and I’m happy that I’m happy…and I really like you.”

“Me too,” he said. “I really like you too. I’m just not ready to be tied down.”

“I know,” I said.

…and then we arrived at our first stop…did our quick errand…and then off to Dr. Z’s house.

We arrived at his beautiful house, accompanied by Jack Daniel’s, and the three of us immediately began a great evening of dining and conversation. I was nonstop chatter –

…and inside my head, I noted that I was spending my Valentine’s Day with two handsome and successful men. My life rocks!!

The food was great! The fights were great! It was such a great time. I did let my lack of filters go crazy – Dr. Z noted how overpaid the ring girls are.

“I don’t know,” I said. “Think about how hard she had to work…”

He said, “Ok??”

I said, “She had to give a lot of blow jobs to get that position!”

The guys howled with laughter – Apparently that was quite unexpected. Dr. Z said he was expecting something really profound. 🙂  Could have been, depending on how you look at it.

The fights were finished (Ben won!!), and it was time to go home. I had been awake for 20 hours (high-five me!), so I was a little dozy.

…and fell asleep before my head hit the pillow…and I slept in!!! …. until 8:45!!!! That’s unheard of! I was so proud of myself!

“Do you want coffee?” I asked Captain Amazing, as I said good morning.

He said, “How about 20 more minutes in bed, and I’ll take you out for breakfast.”


And then I remembered – THE CARD.

I waited for about 15 minutes, and then I got up and went to my purse. I carefully opened the envelope.


I pulled out the card and looked at the front, and I started laughing so hard!


And the inside read:  “Thinking of you at this sad time and wishing you comfort.” …”Happy Valentine’s Day”

I was dying! THE BEST CARD EVER!!!

I went back to the bed and thanked him for the card. He died laughing too. “I totally forgot! I have to tell you the story of when I bought it.”

“Ok,” I said, and settled in for the story.

“I was at the store and finally decided on this one, and when I was checking out, the cashier said, ‘I’m sorry,’ and I said, ‘Oh, it’s a Valentine for a girl I’m seeing.’ She said, ‘Oh, I see’ and gave me a funny look, and then I said, ‘I had to break up with 3 other girls so I only had to buy 1 card.'”

We both howled!!!! I was laughing so hard!!!! THE BEST! I’ve told that story at least 20 times, and it never gets old, although I’m not sure everyone appreciates it just as much as I do.

We settled from the fit from laughter – and then played hard – and settled in from that too 🙂

I said, “I won’t tie you down.”

He looked at me.

“But I might want to tie you up occasionally,” I added.

“DEAL!!” he said.

Since it’s the last day of the month and a Saturday – More fitting words were never spoken than whisky distiller Jack Daniel’s last words, which were “One last drink, please.”

So here’s to new friendships (Dr. Z – Welcome to the Blog), outstanding lifetime ones (whatever we choose to call it), Tools and Quick-Hardening Caulk, and a toast to all my guy friends for making February the best month of the year.


And a huge hug and thanks to my beloved clients and well-wishers!! I was single and alone during my sickness but not lonely. I feel so incredibly blessed! xoxo

An Old Fashioned

An Old Fashioned “Good” Relationship Relationshit

My friend, The Professor, posted this article from Housekeeping Monthly published May 13, 1955 – It’s a guide for wives on how to be “good” for their husbands.

First, let’s reflect on my friend, The ProfessorMmmmmm…. He’s nice! #hottie

hottie professor

Second, his post was in response to the many women out there looking for an old fashioned man.

And he was right to do this because these women do not know what they are talking about.

the good wife

 “The good wife’s guide” – The highlights

1. “Have dinner ready. Plan ahead, even the night before, to have a delicious meal ready…This is a way of letting him know that you have been thinking about him…”

My response: My wet panties are THE BEST way of letting him know that I have been thinking about him…and that AA batteries are on the top of the shopping list.

2. “Prepare yourself. Take 15 minutes to rest so you’ll be refreshed…” 

My response: Yep – Every time. I groom, make sure every inch of my skin has lotion and smells good – is smooth. I appreciate the effort and it makes me feel good and confident about myself. It’s not just for him.

…skip ahead to the underlined parts… #wtf

“…catering for his comfort will provide you with immense personal satisfaction…”

“…remember his topics of conversation are more important than yours…”

Ok – I can’t read any more of this – It makes me want to punch something!!

I agree with a few things Professor:

I definitely groom;

I will wear an appropriate outfit or costume;

I’ll prepare drinks for both of us – naked;

I’ll help get the toys ready and make sure the ropes aren’t tangled;

…but I don’t clean the house unless I’m getting something for it –

…and I know my place – it’s called “my place” – and if I’m not having fun, that’s where I’ll be 🙂

…with a real Old Fashioned…



old fashioned

Ever Have One Of Those Days??

To Be Crazy Or Not To Be Crazy On A Cray-Cray Day

This post is absolutely an outpouring of my soul – with the hope that anyone reading it is helped by its words. Because I know there is at least 1 person who will benefit from what I am expressing…well 2, if I include myself.

…otherwise, I wouldn’t put it out here…


Last night, we were studying spirit animals. Middlest discovered her spirit animal – Rocket Racoon from Guardians of the Galaxy.

He represents her true essence on the big screen. I love that about her!

We were sitting on the floor next to each other, Middlest with her iPad and me with my ancient 82-1/2-year-old computer that I medicate with Viagra to keep the hard drive hard. #cantgetitupanymore

Anyway, we wanted to find out what our actual spirit animals are- It’s for a book I’m writing – and it’s related to the Hot-Crazy Matrix, where I am ranked as a borderline unicorn. 🙂


Middlest commented, “But you’re totally crazy.”

I said, “No I’m not.”

She said, “Yeah, certifiable. You wear kids’ T-shirts and sit on the floor.” 

I said, “Yes, but he likes that about me. ‘Crazy’ in the eyes of a man is ‘nagging,’ ‘bitching,’ ‘complaining, ‘making no sense,’ etc…that kind of stuff.”

She said, “Oh, ok. Well, then no, you’re not crazy.”

I said, “Thanks!”

She said, “Let’s take another quiz…”

During the entire evening, however, I was under a cloud of anxiety because I couldn’t find something that I was requested to find. I had everything else except that – the one thing that was requested of me –

We went to bed, and the nightmares started.


This morning, my walk was interrupted by an awesome rain and magnificent lightning storm, so I chose to drive to fetch my coffee. I returned and woke the little darlings up so we could get ready for school.

In our little microcosm (apartment), we are a close-knit band.

We are so close, in fact, that when one of us is feeling off, the rest of us can feel it too.

This morning, my heightened stress was palpable even though I was outwardly calm…with shaking hands…

Middlest finally said, “I think we all just need to mediate.”

…and we took in a collective deep breath.

I asked her, “Do you have anyone in your life that no matter what you do or say, it will always be wrong? That you’ll always be a fuck-up in their eyes?”

“Every day of my life,” she replied.


“That’s how I’m feeling right now,” I said. “I shouldn’t care, and I can’t figure out why I do.” 

It was over that request, which really is a little thing, because it usually is…the molehill that gets turned into a mountain.

The thing is, it hasn’t even become a mountain – Nonetheless, I’m beating myself up because it probably will, so I am anticipating it. And I am mulling over all the various scenarios in my head that could possibly happen next.

And since the worst has come to fruition in the past and, therefore, remains a very real possibility; it is always a looming dread in the background of my existence, (i.e. taking my kids or yelling at me or punching a wall near my head) –

It’s extraordinarily difficult to not dismiss those things as possibilities, even though that is entirely irrational.

I know and accept that I will always be a royal fuck-up in the eyes of Mr. Ex.

The truth is, I probably make 1,000 tiny mistakes a day and I continuously correct them. They are small, never the end of the world, and it took me years of retraining myself to correct the “self-flagellation” ….to be able to breathe again and not fear what might happen next.

That said, when someone you love and trust continuously is the one stabbing you, it becomes a very deep wound.

And when I hear about the ones I love most being stabbed by someone they love – It stabs me again…new fresh wound.

After sending my “slices of heaven” to their destinations, I decided that I should talk to someone about what I was feeling.

I didn’t make the wisest decision.

It started well, and as the words left my thought bubbles and came out of my mouth, I started to feel better.

…until…I was offered a criticism that stabbed me again, over something completely unrelated and something that is “me” to my very core – the outpouring of my soul – my writing.

This time, however, I defended myself, and for that I am proud.

I know not everybody is going to resonate with what I have to say. They may not enjoy it or laugh as much I do when they read it. They may even be offended by it. I kind of hope so sometimes, even though that scares me a little bit.

I am acutely aware of this every time I hit “publish.”

I do not take that action lightly.

It probably takes me 10x longer to produce one post than any other author because I read, re-read, re-read out loud, correct format, read, re-read, re-read out loud, correct, add, read, re-read, and re-read out loud until I’ve run out of time.

I have issues with perfection.

I have issues with not being perfect.

I also love not being perfect – It’s very freeing.

But this time it’s hitting me in a different way….and now I have connected the dots…

I have to live with the fact that I will always be a disappointment to someone whom I never wanted to be a disappointment to.

I have to live with the fact that in the eyes of the one person who was supposed to have cared, I will always be boring, unattractive, unlovable, and a complete fuck-up, repeatedly, even though I put forth a tremendous effort to live well, be honorable, and try hard to be my best.

It will probably haunt me until the day I die and every time another fuck-up occurs – and in each occurrence, I am reminded of the disappointment I represent to the person who chose to marry me – the boringness, the unattractivenes, the unloveableness, the perpetual fuck-upness.

I have issues with perfection.

I have issues with not being perfect.

I also love not being perfect – It’s very freeing.


With my head spinning from being insulted and criticized on the phone when I was asking for help, I decided to walk to the bank. I approached a driveway that cut through the sidewalk. There was a car waiting to make a left turn into it.

I hadn’t yet arrived at the driveway, so I stopped walking and looked behind, saw no cars, and waved to the car to turn in ahead of me because he would have had to wait for a bit before I arrived at the driveway and then walked across it.

I waved to him again to indicate that he could turn in – that I was in no hurry – I couldn’t see his face. I was still a little lost in my thoughts and wiping a tear from my face.

He then turned quickly, proceeded to roll down his window, and yelled at me, calling me a bitch.

Yep, it’s one of those days.

I felt like Gamora walking through the prison with all of the inmates yelling at her, wanting to kill her because of who she was and what she represented. She walked gracefully, silently.


I love who I am – I really do.

I love the tribe of people in my life – I really do.

I am taking courageous steps that I know I need to take but are hard anyway and scary anyway.

I have zombies chasing me everywhere, wanting to smother me with that insecurity blanket.

Why now? Why is all of this coming up now?

  • Because I’m adding new necessary dimensions to my work and career – and change can be daunting.
  • Because life is ups and downs and I have chosen to feel rather than to be numb.
  • Because I have an amazing friend who means the world to me.

So here I am, faced with the only things I can control: ME, my actions, my feelings, and my crazy.

Honestly, I feel like I’m standing on the tall platform at the first zip line, feeling like I am going to free-fall into an abyss – or a pit of zombies that are going to pull me down with them – kind of dizzy and sick to my stomach.

I have talked about how scary that was to many people, standing on that first zip line tower, especially because I’m scared of heights.

I had to face that fear alone, with that dizzying queasiness – I felt like I was on a swing at the very top of the arch and that I was going to fly out of it.

During the many times I told that zip line story, I remarked how I couldn’t remember the one thing that made me step off – that made me decide to take that leap.

I remembered it today, two things:

  1. “You’ll be so disappointed in yourself if you don’t this.”
  2. “You’ll have to tell Captain Amazing that you chickened out – YOU BIG NINNY – and he will be disappointed in you too.”

I am not gonna lie – He is so cool!and I never want to disappoint him.

“Never” is a fucking long time, I know that, so that’s a completely unrealistic expectation to put on myself.

…so is being a unicorn, but I’m striving for it anyway…

The point is, sometimes shit gets a little crazy and shit comes up. It just does. When it does, how I handle it determines my level of crazy, which will not go above a 5, no matter how cray-cray things get.




Aha Moments

Aha Moments: AKA My Spirit’s Rotten Tooth

I’m catching up and catching up – and will be going to bed soon.

I hadn’t sent in my evaluation for The Daily Love retreat, so I typed that out and emailed it to our coordinator.

I wasn’t sure if I wanted to just spill my spiritual guts all over the place – This shit is deeply personal.

I didn’t know some of it was inside of me still. I figured there must have been something rotting in there because I know that there is so much BIGNESS inside of me that is just yearning to be seen and heard….

…yet I trip myself up and my voice gets weak along with my strength.

Yes, I have been revealing the intimate details of my private life to my audience; however, that is in celebration of my voice and confidence.

So what is it that has been keeping me small?  Especially when people tell me all the time how strong and brave I am, which doesn’t feel like bravery to me. It’s just me!

I Know My Life’s Purpose

I was close to knowing it. I’ve been reviewing some of my writing – and I was sooo close. There are two key words (well three for me because I need a descriptive adjective) from which all other yummy good feelings derive.

The main one was the hardest to figure out. It took me a day and a half, looking at what emotions I don’t want to feel, and finally dining with Mastin to figure out the word.

I discovered that in the past, in order to be “seen” or feel “belonging,” I had to be perfect, sneak it and seek it (gym, tennis, friendships, work) or be alone.

The main feeling I don’t want is “unworthiness” which I had all the time in the past because I existed, wasn’t perfect, and wasn’t seen or included. The others are “disempowered” and “imprisoned.”

I was stumbling over the fact that I love being alone, but when Mastin and I talked about it more, he said I was like him – and that the “being alone” was my quality time with my SELF and Ms. Higher Power – #truestory

When I wrote this in Hawaii, my main awesome feeling word was “belonging” – and the other word was “playful adventure.” At the time, my purpose state was: The purpose of my life is to feel belonging with my Authentic Self and my Higher Power and feel the playful adventure that results while inspiring others to feel the same.

After time passed and much meditation and trying the purpose on for size and fit, however, I realized that there was a better word than “belonging” – remembering that these words are the “master” words from which all other goodness derives. My belonging has been something I created, as well as my adventures, sometimes out of nothing, sometimes out of just paying attention – so “creativity” is actually my master word.

The purpose of my life is to cultivate creativity
within myself and my Higher Power
and enjoy the adventure that results
while inspiring others to feel the same.

From that, I developed the purpose of my life’s work is to inspire creativity in my clients’ lives.

That opens the door to everything I want to do – and has opened the floodgates of infinite possibilities for myself.

Bigger AHA: Permission

On Sunday, July 6th, my real emotional breakthrough occurred. I was finally broken open enough to pull out the rotten tooth that was buried deep inside myself.

I happened to wear my swimsuit to class that day because we planned on going to the beach on our afternoon break, and I didn’t want anyone waiting for me.

I didn’t know how significant that decision was going to be.

We talked about “permission” – and that we are all probably still seeking permission from someone in order to really be present and live fully.

My assignment was to write a letter to myself from that person, giving me permission to do whatever it is I want to do, and then to write a second letter to myself FROM myself, again giving me permission to BE.

As my pen started writing, the tears started and my hands shook. I couldn’t believe that this stupid little feeling was the cement block I was tethered to. I cried and cried as I wrote, and then again as we partnered up and shared our letters.

When Mastin asked, “Who would like to share?” I raised my hand and told him that he had finally broken me open.

He handed me the microphone, and as I grabbed it from his hand, I decided that sitting in the group was not where I needed to be to declare my freedom.

I stood up and walked the short way to the “stage” and turned around to face my new friends.

I sat my bikini-clad body down in the chair with poise and elegance, and I told them the back story of these letters….

…that Mr. Ex (aka Lex Luthor) refers to me as “kids mother” on all correspondence, and actually spent quite a bit of time denying my existence. It was an emotionally abusive marriage and a far worse divorce.

Interestingly, the way I have been treated is how my kids are treated as well, so I wrote this letter for them also, with very profound consequences that reached across the ocean.

Here is my letter to myself from him:

Mindy – 
I used your name here because you deserve to have one.

You have been the most amazing mom to our kids. They thrive emotionally with you, and they are so incredible. I’m so proud of them and who they are – and I have to thank you because I never have in the 22 years I have known you.

I have never thanked you or believed in you, even though you demonstrated more times than I can count how capable you are of doing anything that’s asked of you, anything you set your mind to, and you did it all, not just to do it, but to be great at it.

Mindy – I used your name again because you deserve to have one.

When I told you what you should wear, that you weren’t attractive, not good enough, and that nobody liked you and certainly nobody would hire you for anything, I was wrong.

I understand that the more successful you are, the more you’ll give to others, especially our kids.

So if I held you back with those words, let me say this – Go and be successful, and I will send you my best wishes with peace and forgiveness. BE success and BE yourself.

Mindy – You deserve a name.

….and then I read my letter to myself from myself…

Goddess –

You’re beautiful.
You’re smart.
You’re brave.

You exude magic and joy to everyone around you…

…and the more than 5000 clients you have had in the past 5 years should be more than enough proof, if you really need proof, that you belong to the planet and everyone in it…

…that you have a voice that expresses awesomeness and you believe in others so they can express their awesome voices. 

You never have to change WHO you are to BE who are…

…Go show the world WHO YOU ARE and tell your story – because you inspire me.

I’m so proud of the incredible difference you’ve been in making the world a better place for you and your kids…

…and I’m excited for the adventures to come!

Your Authentic Self & Ms. Higher Power

PS – Celebrate your awesomeness and WEAR WHATEVER THE FUCK YOU WANT!!!

It was at that point, that I received a standing ovation, screams, cheers – Mastin looked at me, applauding.

I tried to hand the microphone back to him, but he pushed it back. I bowed and curtsied – and then Dylan the DJ (also our valiant spider fetcher) turned up the music, and we had an impromptu dance party.

Mastin had me get up on the cushions and dance – I bounced like I was on a trampoline – and all of the girls were dancing and cheering and singing and laughing – It was so amazing.

Freedom was finally mine!

I don’t think Mastin had planned on having that kind of celebration after each share – but each person who followed me came to the front of the room and faced all of us –

It’s far more powerful to speak your truth face to face than sitting hidden in the audience.

Freedom, belonging, and playful adventure are giving me all that I want – and my bravery has been ignited, as I am being encouraged to speak to larger audiences and be involved in really changing the world.

It’s terrifying and exciting – Like facing that first zipline – or the top of the roller coaster.

I love my life ❤

It’s time to get that Mystique costume ready!

me dance party

Adventures In Irrational Anger

Adventures In Irrational Anger

The Tale Of The Insecurity Blanket:
Unwrapping Myself From The Menzie-Induced Burrito

Ladies – Let me know if you can relate.

I don’t know how we put up with men or zombies or menzies! #thestruggleisreal

I’ve said it a million times #boysarestupid – #stupidheads

Boys are stupid #truestory

I despise feeling stupid myself. It’s paralyzing –

Therefore, I really don’t understand how boys walk around being so stupid, so content in their stupidity, and continue to function in society –

And we let them??? #wtf

Throwing more fuel to my fire is exhaustion, and there may or may not be a fat man sitting on my uterus!


This week consisted of my walk commute to work, working 12-14 hours per day, and not having a car. #walkingtherapy #sweatyhell

Kudos to Middlest though for her outstanding responsibility and champion mad driving skills getting herself to work  – Suck it, Danica …

I have had absolutely no balance in my life this week – No fun, no play, no time for me – which is my own damn fault, and I accept full responsibility for that…

…and I’ve been carrying the mama-bear fury for events of last weekend, rechanneling that energy into constructive Karmic success… #powercareer #sweetrevenge

Even still, I feel like I was shot in the back and left for dead…


…just bleeding out on the side of the road…

…and then a stupid-head boy drives by and throws the Insecurity Blanket on me in an attempt to turn me into a zombie!!! #stupidhead #boysarestupid #zombiesarereal

The Insecurity Blanket is like an Invisibility Cloak because it causes me to disappear from the face of the Earth.

The difference is that the Invisibility Cloak comes off easily, and I control whether I wear it or not – like on my self-prescribed off-grid days where I choose to disappear. #goingoffthegrid

Whereas, the Insecurity Blanket is forced upon me by circumstances (or stupid-head boys), holds me down, and then turns me into a zombie. #zombieapocalypseishappening

When angry, count to 10. When very angry, swear.

It leaves a disgusting zombie film of weakness over me, and requires a great deal of my strength to throw it off.

It makes me feel vulnerable; makes me feel very strange, spidey-sense, creeped-out tingles throughout my body…feelings of dread and despair…like a free-fall inside an elevator straight to hell.

It also causes me to become very irrationally angry.    #getthefuckoffme #seriouslydon’tfuckwithmetoday

This morning, I woke up to find that I had been sleeping under the Insecurity Blanket all night – after I had been shot in the back and left for dead, of course.

I tossed and turned, getting all tangled up – and I felt like crap. Specifically I felt sickening nausea, overwhelming grief, starvation, and white hot rage.  #suckstosuck

I feel like I want to murder someone, and also I want soft pretzels.

I started to write a different post entirely, while I drank my coffee. #caffeineformynerves

But the Insecurity Blanket was wrapping itself tighter and tighter around me, choking me out – for no good reason! #getthefuckoffme #don’tmakemehurtyou

I looked at my silent phone and shook it. I had officially disappeared from the planet. #literallydead

I could feel the zombies closing in, and nobody was going to rescue me from this living hell. #zombiesinarizona

“Fuck this – I’m going to go hit something.”

If any of you cross me, I’m gonna kick the testicles clean off your bodies! Clean off! You’ll look like Ken dolls down there!

Sweat is usually my remedy for such a situation…it typically makes the Insecurity Blanket slide off –

– and walking around with my “angry bitch face” is also helpful –

So I took myself to the gym to do my Zombie Apocalypse Survival Workout, which clearly I needed, since the zombies were trying to get me, and I had a wicked case of irrational anger. #stepoff #badasschick

I’ll push if I want to push!
I hate doors!

I gave everyone the look – “Fuck with me, and you’re dead.” #gettingmycrazyon

In my head, I was walking around looking like this: #supremebadass #iamlaracroft


At the gym, I fueled my irrational rage with the melodic screaming and heavy overtones of Breaking Benjamin– I wanted to get the fucking Insecurity Blanket off me.

I ran 8 miles, consisting of the 200-meter sprints. It was more miles than prescribed by my Zombie Survivalist Coaches… but dammit – I needed to sweat!!

I also slammed the medicine ball, which always makes me feel extraordinarily powerful.

I finally felt the anger dissipate…

…And I sat on the floor, sweaty, stronger, and satisfied.

It was like having angry sex, but I didn’t have to share it with a stupid-head boy… #boysarestupid #truestory

I was finally released from the clutches of the Insecurity Blanket. #icanbreathe

The zombies ran away in fear… #savedmyselfagain #strongwomansavestheworld #whoneedsboys

I don’t usually lose my temper, but if I get angry, it’s true – I’m scary.





Frenemies ~ Myself And I

Frenemies: Myself And I

AKA – How To Start To Lose Weight And Be Happy


The most important part of my in-person work is listening.

I listen all day long.

You’d think it would be “touching,” since I’m a massage therapist. But no, in fact – I do more listening than anything else.

I do listen with my hands as well as my ears though 🙂

I’m a certified health counselor too – It’s funny how the two come together. I understand why there is a couch in the therapist’s office.

A client lies down – and once comfortable, they tell me things. #igotdirt

The story below is not unique. I hear it so regularly that I feel compelled to share it, with the hope that we can start some sort of support group or something – #helpusall


My client Ms. Ponygirl arrived for her appointment. I asked her what was new and different this week.

Her “new and different” this week was overwhelming fatigue…needing to crawl back into bed after waking up and then taking a nap just a few hours later.

The ever present “need to lose weight,” approximately 20 pounds, was weighing heavy on her as well.

I think she was extremely concerned about each, as if both were indicative of a life-threatening health problem, but she beat herself up about both.

She was extremely agitated and frustrated by her week, and she shared (unloaded) her stories. #watchtheFbombs

She vented about work – various circumstances that occurred during the last two weeks that caused her to have too much work – so much so that she had to approach her boss about getting some help for her…

…and then family frustration…pets, boyfriend, housework…etc., etc.

As she described all of this, her frustration caused the volume of her voice to escalate.

I listened until she took a breath.

I also found a tasty trigger point in her neck that was somewhat paralyzing and forced a pause. #ilovemyjob

She then calmly said, “I think that I’m so tired because I might be coming down with something.” #denial

“The story you just told me would explain your fatigue,” I reassured her.

Our fatigue is often caused not by work, but by worry, frustration and resentment.

We dove a little deeper into the weight issue. She described staying on track with regard to her “diet” during the week but then she was “bad” on the weekends.


I said, “Please describe how you sabotage yourself. What happens on the weekend that is different during the week?”

She explained one weekend where she had a house-warming party to celebrate her yard being finished. She invited friends over and had the party catered. It was a fun time, but she ate the party food. She explained she didn’t eat too much of it and only drank half of a homemade margarita.

Hmmm…that doesn’t sound so horrible…

She said she is tired of making excuses and just needs to do it, but she also feels sabotaged by her boyfriend, who has also gained weight (20-30 pounds) since they have been together.

He likes to eat junk food. She makes him keep it in is truck so it’s not in the house because if it’s in the house, she’s going to eat it because she can’t say “no.”

She expressed guilt at asking him to not have the junk food in the house. She said that it wasn’t fair to him.

However, it’s her house, and they technically don’t live together.

She claimed that he’s not supportive because he wants to go out to eat, and he likes to have drinks, etc., etc.

She also said that she has no willpower and she can’t figure out why she can’t say “no” to her cravings.

She wondered if she was bored or tired or just hated her job…


Here’s where my out-of-the-box thinking and what I know about the human body and the “spirit that resides within” come into play.

Because it’s not about the food…not 100% of the time…

It’s not about the food, but it’s NOT not about the food.

Since this weight problem has been an issue for about a year, I asked some deeper questions.

When I go deep, I explain that I don’t need the answer for me –

It’s for her to answer for herself. Just something for her to think about and see if it applies to her situation.

…just something to break up what’s possibly buried underneath…

But she needs to explore it for herself and she needs to see what comes up.

I said, “Maybe it’s not just working too much. Maybe the work itself is also a symptom of a larger problem…” 

Her anger went into a holding pattern as she listened to me.

“Perhaps there’s a bigger problem that you’re avoiding when you binge on chips and you binge on work…Something else in your life that is not quite satisfying, and you’re avoiding THAT when you binge,” I said.

She said, “I don’t know what that would be.”

I said, “If you were alone, how would you handle this situation? What would you do differently to support yourself if you didn’t have another person to blame or feel guilty for?”

She got very quiet.

And then I added the “cherry on top” of the non-sugar-coated bitchslap sundae:

“At what point did you break up with yourself?”

She didn’t say another word.

And I listened to the overwhelming sadness fill the room.


I’ve been there – Traveled on that road where I am no longer my own friend, but my own enemy.

My previous dating experience was a valuable lesson in just how this process works and what I have done to myself when I enter a relationshit that is in the middle of the zombie apocalypse –

It gave me the “aha moment” of just what I had done to myself in my marriage as well.

I broke up with myself, and I broke my own heart.

And it was not the relationshit with the guy – It was never really about that. It was all me.

Here’s what happened:

I actually had a talk with my other half (me) where I said to my beloved self:

“Look, we need to have a serious talk, Self. I’ve met someone else…

…You’re great, but he’s the jealous type – doesn’t want to share me with anyone…

…He said he would take care of me, and I’ve never had that, so you’re going to have to go, Self…

…I have to be there all the time, so I have to give up some of the things that I really love, and that means time with you, Self…

…I really want to make this thing work because I don’t want to die alone, and you’re not enough for me, Self.”

I actually gave myself the stereotypical line, “It’s not you, it’s me.”

I broke up with myself and I broke my own heart.

I knew the second I did that because I cried every day after that.

…and I found myself ensconced in dysfunction that I accepted – and actually broke up with myself to be in – and I was in the zombie apocalypse.

…and then I was too ashamed to crawl back to myself and ask myself to take me back…

…until I knew without a doubt that I was causing my own pain – until I just couldn’t take the heartache anymore…

…and until I knew that making amends and correcting the situation I had put myself in was the only thing that would save my life.

From a purely diet/body perspective, my heartache was actually causing my body to hold onto fat…

What is the role of “fat” in the body? Protection.

My body was protecting myself from the enemy that I had become to myself.


Ladies (and guys) – Have you broken up with yourself?

If you have, please take the necessary steps to forgive yourself for making a huge error in judgment and take yourself back – and love yourself.

Because until you do that – no diet will help you lose weight.

No man (or woman) will be right for you.

There will be no joyous, well-balanced, fully functional relationship (or whatever you want to call it) –

There will only be a dysfunctional relationshit filled with blame, complacency, fighting, guilt, and zombies.

…and you’ll probably be a fat zombie who moves as fast as a sloth stuck in syrup…


Where do you start?

Get back to basics:

  1. Take that step to love yourself.
  2. Write in a journal.
  3. Ask yourself deeper questions before you eat something – “What am I feeling?”
  4. Get to know yourself without judgment. Do you know what closet your skeletons are in? What do you love to do? What’s your favorite seat in the movie theater? If you were by yourself right now, how would you feel? If you could do anything right now, what would it be?

Get your body moving:

  1. Walking is awesome. You don’t have to kill yourself to move yourself.
  2. Pick up a copy of the Zombie Apocalypse Survival Workout – and then do it. It’s a great workout and you’ll learn what to do in case the zombies are hunting you down.
  3. Yoga and/or stretching.

Do something silly and fun:

If you want to ditch the judgment, you have to be silly and accept every nerdy thing about yourself and celebrate it!

  1. My buddies at Nerd Fitness suggested doing something you suck at –
  2. Have a crazy hair day.
  3. Take stupid selfies.
  4. PLAY like a kid!

Book some time for a chat with me

Take a moment to schedule a chat – or a few sessions:

New Client <<== Here if you’ve never met with me before

Already a client <<== Here if you already know and love me ❤

Because – maybe a non-sugar-coated bitchslap sundae is just what you need to get you out of your funk.

She called it a slap, but I called it a high-five to my face. Love is so encouraging!



Quotes above are by Dale Carnegie; Geneen Roth; Jarod Kintz.

Voices And Other Things In My Mouth

Voices & Other Things In My Mouth

I get asked this question a lot ~ “Why are you single? You’re so great?” …

…to which I answer… “I know I’m great – that’s why I’m single.”

It’s followed up with a look of pity.

WTF????? #pompousass

The truth is – I love being single! #strongsexysingle

…and I still love boys and sex… #wolverine

There are too many nonsensical rules that accompany being part of a couple, and most of them are subliminal and conditioned through societal influences.

The nonsense is – Once you become partner in a “relationshit,” you lose your identity and your voice. You’ve basically sold your soul for sex. #welcometotheapocalypse

Ms. Spa and I were discussing where and when we have choked on our words – past and present – and why we have had struggles with simply expressing ourselves with men.

We became full-fledged, well-trained, extraordinarily disciplined zombies. And the sad truth is – We had allowed this to happen.

If you are silent about your pain, they’ll kill you and say you enjoyed it.

In my experience, which is not unique to just me, I had to stuff my voice for years and deny myself the expression of who I am – because the guy I was with wasn’t confident enough to handle what I would do or say –

I had to bite my tongue – I represented “the man” so I’d better watch what I say and whom I say things to.

I moved from single, fun, awesome chick to girlfriend/wife/zombie, which meant that I could no longer be slutty vixen, especially in public… but also behind the scenes –

Because zombies do not have great sex. It’s routine, boring, obligatory – It’s not the sport of champions. #theceilingneedspaint

(I’d rather be alone with my Majestic Purple toy or my Waterpik shower massager than to have zombie-boring-obligatory sex)

And instead of insisting that the man/zombie grow more confidence, I censored myself because I was scared shitless about the consequences. #whatthefuck?????

…and that left me with nothing… nothing left of my heart or my voice, except a grunt. #zombieapocalypseisreal

When people don’t express themselves, they die one piece at a time.

As a single female, I’ve read just about every self-help book when it comes to men, dating, relationships – in order to rectify this loss of voice and self – and 90% of the time, they have made me nauseated and confused –

The self-helpers say things like: “This is the head game you need to play – This is who you need to be. This is what a man wants. This is what you need to say and do to get a man.”

Again, what the fuck???

I love my whole authentic self.

Why in the world would I want to give up my awesomeness and become a zombie just so I could have a man and sex in my life????

I’ve already explained that zombie sex SUCKS #suckstosuck

…and if I’m going to “suck” – then put something awesome in my mouth and allow me to do it properly! #slurp

(I’m lacking filters right now because it’s been a few days…)

While I do consider sex a sport, I don’t consider head games to be recreational.

I received a comment from an adoring fan about Captain Amazing’s amazing phone call – The fan suggested that I “should have made him sweat and not given him an answer right away.”

Well, I suppose I could have done that, except I would have been punishing myself by keeping my friend away… Punishing myself is not acceptable to me.

I was really excited to have him back (great conversation and great sex returned!!)…

… and I was sure as shit not going to pretend that I wasn’t excited or instantly wet … #wetnessrules

(…again…filters are escaping me at the moment)

I love being a slutty vixen – I love flirting and being outspoken and forward.

I still have morals and boundaries. Some would consider them blurred, but they are mine and they exist.

It’s actually possible to be a slutty vixen, she-demon-ho, shameless flirt, walk around in a Mystique costume AND have morals and boundaries….

The rule here is… Your morals and boundaries have to fit YOU. And it’s within your right to express that!

For example: When I am engaged in my competitive contact sport with a man, I am monogamous.

…and it’s an effortless moral boundary that makes me feel good about myself. He has not imposed this boundary upon me.

However, I’m still single, I still flirt, and I can have coffee or happy hour with whomever I want, etc., etc.

My moral boundary is not a prison sentence.

These are the ground rules. I hook up with one guy a season…

…And despite my rejection of most Judeo-Christian ethics, I am, within the framework of [that] season, monogamous.

It takes a very confident man to accept that about me. Let’s face it – I present quite a dilemma for a man – #thestruggleisreal

Society will tell him the following:

  • If she’s monogamous, then she wants a relationship.
  • If she’s a flirty slutty vixen, then she’ll “cheat” on you and treat you like crap.

Fortunately for me, Captain Amazing has the confidence to not give a damn what society says or thinks about me, and he has formulated his own opinion. It’s one of his super powers.

I want him (and everyone actually) to just take me as I am, with my outspokenness and lack of filters, even if I say the wrong thing at the wrong time.

Usually, if I say the wrong thing at the wrong time, I had a good intention, not an evil one. I know myself, and I know that I would never be mean on purpose. #i’masuperhero #notavillain

…and it’s usually about sex… and usually I end up just embarrassing myself – It is what it is. 🙂

Besides, I’d rather that he not have me at all, than to have a censored fake version of me. #ihavetobereal

If he needs to impose a “gag order” on me, he has to do it with his cocky manhood – and while I’m handcuffed. 🙂

That was so much fun! Is it time to play again??

My Advice

Ladies – Take the opportunity to find your voice – To practice saying difficult things. To practice standing up for yourself because you have nothing to lose.

… and be a little forward…

The post-apocalyptic world of the living is a place to find out who you really are, how you want to express yourself, reinvent your moral code.

There is no one left to judge you – the zombies don’t matter and the rest of us accept you for who you are.

Life is meant to be enjoyed and celebrated.

Your mouth needs a voice … and a pole to play with… 🙂


Quotes above are by Zora Neale Hurston, Laurie Halse Anderson, and Annie Savoy.


Handcuffs vs Velcro

Handcuffs vs Velcro

I was reading through some of the volumes of journaling I have written, and I came across some relationship definitions, which are just as relevant today as they were when I wrote them, oh about a year ago.

The beautiful thing about a journal and writing from the heart and soul – I have discovered what is profoundly ME. It’s awesome.

So even when I was a zombie (i.e. a wife or a girlfriend) and dreamed of something better – like maybe LIVING AGAIN, the “dreams” were really truly ME, and now that I am a goddess who walks and plays with the living, I really AM living my dreams. #adioszombies #goddessforever


Once upon a time…

One of my many spiritual teachers wisely noted that we learn about life and heal ourselves through “relationships.” Hmmm…

To me, based on my experience, “relationship” means being a zombie with another zombie.

I’m talking about the day-to-day bullshit of the business side of society’s traditional definition of a “relationship” – or worse… marriage.

Marriage sign 11

Marriage: Better start drinking now. It only gets worse from here.

The word “relationship” is too serious or something incomprehensible to me. #zombieatemybrains

“Making love” is also a phrase that I do not use. It kind of creeps me out. It takes the fun out of sex.

Sex is my competitive recreational sport – competitive in that I strive to be the best 🙂

I told this to Captain Amazing over cocktails and sushi one fine Sunday afternoon – yeah we can do that.

As a matter of fact, we both said it at the same time – not that THAT means anything – but it’s so nice to have common ground –

I said, “I want to be able to call you and say ‘I need to work on my pole vault – can you help a girl out?”

He said, “YES!” … and then we high-fived each other across the table and took another sip of whiskey.

God – I love my life right now! It’s just so awesome!

I’m still trying to invent another word for “relationship,” one which doesn’t have the negative connotation attached to it; a word that encompasses my view which includes the freedom and connection of two beings.

At this point then, society’s traditional definition of a relationship is my new word “relationshit” – and I don’t want one of those at all.

On the other hand, “friends with benefits” may be too cavalier – too much like a booty call every now and then with no substance or meaning, no talking, no hanging out. #onenightstandssuck


So I don’t want that either. I find myself somewhere in the middle of the spectrum between FWB and society’s definition of a relationship (i.e. relationshit).

When I open my handy-dandy dictionary, I see why the word “relationship” has the effect that it does, especially as it pertains to me and my interactions with members of the opposite sex.

Definition of RELATIONSHIP (as relevant to this piece)

1: a romantic or passionate attachment

2 : the relation connecting or binding participants in a relationship

I’m all for “binding” – with S&M popularity in fiction right now, Fifty Shades of Grey and others, a “binding” is extraordinarily appealing, at least the idea of it, especially when it is fun and games. #showmethehandcuffs

Perhaps the actual word “relationship” is not the anti-hero here. It’s the method of binding the participants.

My experience has been starting out as a romantic or passionate attachment, and then ending up being imprisoned – stuck, enmeshed, emotionally constipated. #exlaxplease

The binding becomes more like Velcro, and to detach, there is a very loud RIP and the constant risk of re-sticking rather than a clean break.

…or worse – cement shoes and you get pitched in the river of despair… #underwaterzombie

With handcuffs, you just unlock and they fall open – and you walk away. #don’tlosethekey

AND it’s mutually agreed upon – There are no assumptions. It is what it is.

I pulled out an old tarot card reading that I had been given at the onset of another special fling – and I realized that I was actually not too weird or broken for feeling the way that I feel – #findingmypeople

This describes me perfectly:

Being with others is beautiful and being alone is also beautiful. Then it is simple, too. You don’t depend on others and you don’t make others dependent on you. Then it is always a friendship, a friendliness. It never becomes a relationship, it is always a relatedness.

You relate, but you don’t create a marriage. Marriage is out of fear, relatedness is out of love.

You relate; as long as things are moving beautifully, you share.

And if you see that the moment has come to depart because your paths separate at this crossroad, you say good-bye with great gratitude for all that the other has been to you, for all the joys and all the pleasures and all the beautiful moments that you have shared with the other.

With no misery, with no pain, you simply separate.

Ahhh – that’s it!!

Of course, I have the caveat that there has to be “life upgrade” upon separation – No downgrading or backsliding allowed. That’s included in the contract 😉

I realize that life is not always blissful and people in any friendship can have disagreements or moments of awkwardness – Those are not reasons for separation. Those are moments of learning and growth.

And if you remove “fear” from the environment, then both of you will be allowed those moments of learning and growth without judgment and without the need to bolt.

The key is to lay out the needs/wants, the ground rules, the ideal method for problem-solving, what’s acceptable and what isn’t, along with the appropriate exit strategy…

This negotiation does not necessarily need to take place around a conference table, unless you’re going to do it” on the conference table.

– It can be over sushi and cocktails, or in your underwear in the kitchen. #victoria’ssecretnegotiates

I had the great fortune to have him as a captive audience and seductively speak in his ear … my terms were agreed upon.  #dirtytalkispowerful

OK – so I don’t have one word to describe my “enlightened intimate friendship of awesomeness” – nor do I have a label to describe the participants in this “web of relatedness” that society would comprehend.

I might have to create a symbol like Prince did when he changed his name. It actually doesn’t matter.

If we were at a party, I would introduce him simply as Captain Amazing, and if anyone decided to question what the nature of our friendship is –

  1. It’s none of that person’s business.
  2. We could provide a demonstration, sort of an impromptu, highly erotic “flash mob,” because I would be in my Mystique costume and he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off me – not gonna lie.

That should clear up any confusion. 🙂 We would score 10s across the board. #sportofchampions

My friends will call it whatever they want in order to grasp what it is I am doing with my life – Ms. Spa already does… #callaspadeaspade


At the end of the day, bliss is what I have been seeking and BEING my true awesome self – and just hanging out with someone who can be his true awesome self, without a timeline or the burden of society’s warped expectations of how we relate to one another.

We do have a meaningful connection, without Velcro, and that’s all I really care about.

…PLUS we also have handcuffs – and they are so awesome! ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤


The Plight of Drama Queens

The Plight of Drama Queens: AKA Dramaqueenitis

There is a common condition that I have seen time and time again among my friends, but had not personally experienced until recently, because I tend to avoid the dust cloud of devastation that it brings and not allow certain types of people to wander freely in my world.


I call the condition “dramaqueenitis” –

Let’s break the word down, so we have a clear definition –
drama • queen / itis:

Drama queen:

  1. A person given to often excessively emotional performances or reactions.
  2. A person (often but not limited to a woman) who acts as though things are much worse than they really are.

– itis:



Therefore, dramaqueenitis is an inflamed event of excessive emotional reactions, where even the littlest things have horrific traumatic consequences, in the eyes of the drama queen. #ohmygodyourshoesaretouchingthecarpet #youdidn’tsayhi

Taylor Swift waved at a boy yesterday, and he didn’t wave back…

…So she will have a new album coming out tomorrow.

Furthermore, the drama queen suffers from extreme paranoia, in that every action performed by anybody surrounding the DQ is an attack against the DQ.

If a man tripped, she might say:

“That guy fell on me on purpose just to piss me off!” #puhlease

While dramaqueenitis is common, it is insidious and is a direct link to obesity, cancer, heart disease, stroke, low back pain, and erectile dysfunction. #cantgetitupanymore #nolongeraman #lifeishardsoiamnot

I used to be dumbfounded when a male friend would unload his frustration about his latest session of histrionics being perpetrated by the drama queen in his life, frequently in his living room, bedroom, front yard, driveway, and via cell phone, and most often at the same time. #shitstorm #thestruggleisreal

…and then I earned my experience…I gained wisdom, enlightenment, and deeper understanding.

Drama queens are not limited to just women. Both men and women can create such an affliction.

One of my exes was the queen of all drama queens – and male drama queens are the WORST. #iamnotalesbianquitbeingagirl

When I ended the relationshit (please refer to my zombie story for an overview of this experience), I really thought I had been quite clear that we were done, there would be no reconciliation, that we were done, that it was over, that we were done, that I had moved on, and that we were done. #wearedonehere #itisover #doyouspeakenglish

However, I was kind #mymistake – rewording sentences so that I owned the responsibility of preparing the exit strategy without blaming him. For example, I would say things like:

“I feel like crap all the time in this relationship,” rather than “You make me feel like shit all the time.”


“I want joy in my life, and there is too much stress here,” rather than “Dude, you stress me out way too much.”

My BIGGEST mistake was – I left open-endedness, avoiding the dreaded answer to the horrific question: “Can we still be friends?”

To which I developed absolute pain on my face, like someone had just punched me and I was holding back a seizure and maintaining self-induced paralysis in order to avoid screaming: “NOOOOOOOO,” because I had never said that to anybody before…

…and instead said, “…well, I usually stay friends with the exes that I like…”

I hoped very much that the caveat (that I like) would be noticed – I learned my lesson. #keepitsimplestupid #statetheobvious

Apparently my little answer aversions were seen as breadcrumbs to lead this individual back when the empty hole inside him grew to massive proportions and he needed to feed the monster within with another fight resulting in supremely negative toxic drama – like the MUTO in Godzilla, consuming negative energy like it’s candy.

He arrived at my sanctuary after a glorious month without a single fight in my world #happiest30daysofmylife –

My sanctuary is my gym – a domain to which he does not belong. I was on my treadmill running and looked down – he was standing there, looking up at me. #uhohnowwhat

“What are you doing here?” I asked, not pleasantly.

“I came to see you,” he replied.

I stopped my treadmill, extremely annoyed that my precious workout was being interrupted by what was sure to be an episode of dramaqueenitis.

“How did my crackerjack security staff let you in?” I asked, and I was serious. They card everyone at the desk – how did he get in here??

I offered to go for a walk. I know, sometimes I do really stupid things. #iamnotperfect

He began by telling me how hard the last month had been for him.

“I understand,” I said. #killwithkindness

Then it began … and he said, “When you unfriended me on Facebook, it was like you stabbed me in the heart. You devastated me. Why did you do that to me?”

#howoldareyou #crymeariver #whatthefuck

I replied, quite calmly, “You know that Facebook is not really real, right? It would be inappropriate to have you read my posts, and it would be more inappropriate to censor myself.” 

Silence – Ahhhhhhh ….. I love silence …..

Then it started again… “But you didn’t text me or call me…”

DQ’s typically start sentences with “You did this,” or “You did that,” or “You never,” or “You, you, you.” #lookinthemirrordq

It went on and on and on – I felt the zombie apocalypse closing in on me. It was like toxic green gas choking me out.

toxic green gas

…and then I finally did it – I said what I needed to say –

“No, I do not want to be friends. We are toxic to each other, and toxic people are not welcome in my life. Please do not seek me out.”

I crossed the street.

He yelled, “Can we have lunch this week?”