for fadra nally and her beautiful, smart brain that pours good things into the internet and the world.

for maggie ginsberg-schutz and all the hundreds of voices at violence unsilenced. speaking the words, i cannot begin to describe the power. and the power of a healed woman cannot be duplicated.

for my mentor, my spiritual teacher, my fairy god-grandmother, dr. clarissa pinkola estes i can really only say that if you aren’t familliar with her, or her works, become familliar. she is a place of peace and solace in this world.

for myself, for these women and their courages acts of humanity, for all the good in small and large ways we can each do, i will resume my writing here.

my life the past five years has not been a sham, no matter what my broken heart wants me to believe. i loved, deeply, purposefully. and it got all fucked up, as things will. and i am some moments mad as FUCK about it, too. none of it was fair. i know that seems a naive thought, but dammit it just wasn’t. and that’s a pain in all parts of me.

the up side, the true side, is that i am where i am. still standing. i am blessed beyond measure. i have this voice. and i’ve never been able to sit down and shut up, anyway.

i remember.

hoo wee, was i wrong. i hit the fucking locksmith-slash-towtruck driver motherlode, do you hear me?

the first thing i notice, after the raw sex rolling off his deeply tanned skin, was his attire. lazy cargo shorts, worn tee, reef’s, hat on backwards, costa’s. on a 40-something year old man. reminding me that lesbianism has not knocked out my ability to spot a sorry ass beach rat a mile away and want to make him ALL MINE.

the tow truck he was driving? diesel, black and chrome, and yes oh yes, ladies: naked girl cutouts on the back windows.

about the time he slid out of the driver’s side, i noticed the air took on a…i’m not sure the words, but a fragrance. i’m not sure about y’all, but my first love had this cologne called “l’hombre”. you mix that with yesterday’s beer and marlboro reds and it was a panty dropper every single time. i was one classy lady. and apparently still am.

looking closer, once i stopped batting my eyelashes as though i had a terrible tick, i noticed the absolute end-all-be-all of the look he was going for. he was wearing gold-tone chain bracelets on each arm, a gold-tone figaro necklace with a marlin pendant, and…are you so ready for this? THIS was on his left middle finger:

so, i’ve been lying to you all. i never came home. we’re getting married, my man and me.

but it…it’s all already happened. that woman was there. i was there. i have all the memories, the good and the bad. the funny. the devastating. the screaming. the pain. i have it all.

and it’s time, for me, to move on a little farther away from that mountain.

today, i remember. 

tomorrow, i wake up and i crawl out of bed and it’s been 3 years and i move the fuck forward.

today, it hurts like hell to remember. the sounds, the smells, her screams, my over-comforting, the blood, the knowledge, the searing hot pain, the whole of it. every bit of it is like a ragged knife in my spirit.

there is no miracle cure for moving on. there is no trick. it happens day by day, minute by minute. tomorrow won’t be magic…but it will be tomorrow.

tomorrow i can love me more. tomorrow i can be gentle. tomorrow i can thank god the sun came up again. 

tonight i’m gonna cry.

these things, they will heal me.

i’m going through the motions with an entire cadre of calm prayers running on loop in my brain. i suck at taking care of myself. hopefully practice will make at least possible.

i’m wondering tonight, though…what’s their defense? what happens when the tiger or dingo or whatever is ahead of them on the food chain comes along?

my friend, the interwebs, told me that they have humongoid claws, so they can swipe to kill or wound. but better than that, they rarely are faced with danger. they move as little as possible and only when absolutely necessary. they rarely come to ground level and blend in so well with their surroundings that they, for the most part, go unnoticed.

i’m beginning to understand that this, theoretically speaking, deadly sin goes deeper than the surface cliché of laziness.

so much to think about.

i’ve been an ER nurse for 7 years. i consider it one of my gifts, because, really, i’m good at it.

i’ve been a pleaser for 33 years. again, really, i’m good at it. so this whole getting in trouble thing? guess what? it was exactly what i needed.

the past few months have been…what’s the safest term? challenging? trying? how about the emotional mental physical roller coaster from hell? yep, that fits. undoubtedly it has affected my ability to be fully in the moment in my work.

also, i’ve been an ER nurse for 7 years. just long enough to be experiencing my first true case of burnout. they don’t call it the 7 year itch for nothin.

i had noticed that my reaction emotionally to some very serious and upsetting cases had become incongruent. i’m no softie by anyone’s definition, but i’m typically not an ice princess either. what i started to notice was that i was neither: i was uncomfortably numb. i began to experience deep apathy, which i hoped was going unnoticed. turns out it was blaring like a neon sign above my head.

after a chat with my emergency director, who happens to be an old friend who i truly respect, i was able to perform some ADPIE on myself and my career.

i don’t have a 5 year plan, yet. the carnival ride run by a drunken marauder of a summer i’ve had isn’t that far behind me…yet. but i did arrive at the hospital this morning with renewed resolve and some tools in my scrub pockets to help me get through the day functioning at the high level i’ve always been so proud of. the rest will come. i have faith.

this feeling? cool car after beach still in wet bathing suit sleep. i long…

so i got my domain back. and i’m still here. and i love you. you’re beautiful. and glittery. did i say i love you? cause i do.