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While perusing Facebook (FB) this morning, I read an entry titled Things I Was Convinced Would Change My Whole Life — But Didn’t. Curiosity. Mine. Hooked. Immediately. The FB author’s list also included things that did change their life. Thoughts. Mine. Whirring.

My list is relatively short, for now, but in the excitement of the moment I have no patience for delayed gratification to achieve a perfect selection. So here goes (in no specific order)…

Did Not Change

  • psychic readings ~ not one step closer to discovering my birth family origins or a myriad of other important-to-me stuff; a big step closer to being financially poorer
  • tea leaf reading ~ no second child has yet appeared
  • cabbage soup diet ~ just say ‘no thank you’ or just plain ‘no’
  • running as a sport ~ been there, done that & cannot remember why exactly
  • black leather jacket ~ maybe the leather wasn’t ‘buttery’ enough
  • years long search for birth family ~ nada
  • solo art exhibit ~ momentary rush, only

Did Change

  • down comforter ~ warmth as light as a feather (pun intended)
  • stopping smoking cigarettes ~ huge positive change
  • my daughter ~ no need to say more
  • writing memoir ~ although unpublished (yet), process clarified & aided healing
  • Annie Rosa Lee Dog ~ life changing, for sure; taught me joy
  • primary relationships ~ at least two, maybe three, truly altered my life’s course; okay maybe four
  • earning doctoral degree ~ better late than never

So, there you have it, my lists.  At least for now.  Something tells me that I will be pondering & adding for a while.

Tag.

You’re It.  Lists, please.

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This is where I've been in between my clinical work with clients ~

Oh my gosh, I have been absent for far too long from my beloved blog. My absence has not been due to laziness, lack of interest on my part, being in a pissed off mood at the blogging community or a churlish attitude in general.  Here is the true unvarnished, un-spun, authentic deal ~ I have been ill, very ill, for a very long time.  For over two years now.  I have shared about my Unwanted and Un-invited Bastard Buddy Vertigo (BBV) who swooped in for an extended visit and decided not to depart, right?  Well, nine months ago a new uninvited health hazard Bastard arrived on my doorstep and the BBV invited him into my home and my body.

All of this is to say, that I have been fighting, literally, for my ability to remain in my physical self on this Earth plane.  However, when I finally hit the lowest of my low a couple of months ago, I chose to re-claim my healing and to stop looking outward to supposed “experts” such as Western medicine and naturopaths, etc., who were not helping, to say the very least.  I also made the decision to place the focus of my energies on my spiritual practices and return to my creative writing and visual art, both of which spark my will to live and make the most meaning in my life.  Throughout this entire journey, I have continued to work and provide psychotherapy services to adolescent youth and their families.

I have missed my little blog.  I have missed being a part of the blogging community and the connections I have made here.  I maintain a Facebook account using my legal name, however, due to the nature of my professional life, am not comfortable co-mingling the two worlds.  What I am hoping is that now that I have taken this step of writing a post today that I will be more active once again with my little blog.  Most likely not daily but more frequently than once every quarter.

I am thrilled to report that my creative writing is on fire and there is much movement in that area.  There is goodness in this world and even though my faith and spirits come and go and I am a fickle creature, I do believe that my struggles are not in vain.  Sending out love, compassionate caring and peaceful energy in these early morning hours this Saturday morning.

When the missing out weighs the dragging of the feet, then I return.  Please consider yourself missed my dear little faithful blog.  The trite phrase that you are never far from my thoughts and always in my heart, is true.  The ensuing guilt of my absence when prolonged, true as well.

I have suffered physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually with an ongoing vertigo condition that has had me by what some state crudely the “short and curlies’ for almost two years.  I have been on a new regiment of medication and yesterday passed a milestone test at my specialist’s office of being able to lie down without a vertigo attack being triggered.  This my dear blog was, and is, huge in the life of me.

Last night was a rough one rest wise as I had a tough time trusting the process as the last time I attempted to truly lie down to sleep, I ended up in the emergency room due to the extreme nature of the vertigo attack.  So I experimented a lot with different angles and never did quite allow myself to totally lie flat.  That’s okay.  I can ease into this new “old” way of sleeping.  Just the fact that lying horizontally is now an option is a miracle that still has me in a bit of a humbled stunned state.

How long this will last or what comes next with the vertigo condition, I do not know.  That little saying of “one day at a time” seems very appropriate here.  For now, I am thanking the Universe, my Birth Day Gods and Goddesses (as that was my birth day wish as I blew out my candle), Annie Rosa Lee Dog’s spirit and my Guardian Angels that be for this respite and/or total healing.

All of that and a gorgeous blue skied day with an abundance of sunny rays.

Life is good, my friend.  Sweet.  Just like a cool glass of Southern tea.

My journey continues with me along for the ride.  At times, I am a stroller ~ meandering along, taking little detours here and there, following my heart, listening for the mermaid’s whisper.  Other days, I push my foot down on the pedal and blast down the highway, shouting obscenities at my slower moving travelers, giving them the middle finger while I weave in and out of traffic always seeking the fast lane.

Today, I am doing my laundry.  Attending to the mundane.  Sorting and sifting through bunches of stuff while searching for certain needed paperwork, an employment badge, two beloved pair of earrings that have somehow up and gotten themselves misplaced (damned cheeky of them if you ask me), researching Vitamixers, and upcoming schedules for a certain motivational speaker guru, and doing a bit of online shopping for Buddhist prayer bead necklaces and leather bracelets.

Life has been a journey this summer.  Changes have been afoot.  I am still me.  But I am a changed and changing me.  Meaning, life is unfolding as usual.

I have missed my blog.  So I have returned.

with each other.  You dirty dirt bags.  Medical doctors!  Jeeesh!  Make up your ever loving supposed to be brainiac minds.  already.

Unfair, you say?  Sobeit.  I respond.

Surgery.  No surgery.  This medication.  No.  That medication.

Meanwhile, my Bastard Buddy Vertigo is still living up in my house.  Sleeping in my bed.  Forcing me to sleep sitting up.  Going on 19 months now.  I hate his guts!

My absence from my blog has been due to my physical health related problems.  That, and my ensuing depression.  All of which have gotten me to the place I am today ~ inside the House of Truth.  At least The House of Truth as I know it today, in this moment at this particular juncture in time, at this fork of this road.

I have returned to therapy.  About time.  That’s right.  About motherfucking time.  Or would that be about mother fucking time?  Whatever.  It is time.  And I am doing it.  Not fucking.  Not even fucking around ~ not this time.  I am participating in therapy in a different way than ever I have done before two weeks ago.

Meaning?  I am raw.  real.  no pretenses.  no good girl persona.  no bad girl disguise.  defenses, gone baby gone.  Why?  How?  Why now?  I am just ready.  That.  And writing a check for $175 for a 50 minute hour seems to keep me on point.  Cuts through the bullshit.  Stops the spin before the tales get spun, if you receive my meaning.  And I hope she does.  My treating psychologist that is.

50 shades of grey.  50 ways to leave a lover.  50 episodes of whodunit.  50 ways to lose a life.

50 megawatts of power.  outage.  ongoing.  no end in sight. 

50  methods to one’s madness. 

Fifty.  Ways.

To the edge of the ocean, that is.  Yes.  I am fleeing to the ocean’s edge seeking solace, seashells, wind and waves.  Rainy forecast be damned, I am still heading out so I can arrive there, where the ocean meets the rocky shore. 

Fingers crossed that my V (as in my Bastard Buddy Vertigo) will allow me a grace period for the 4+ hour drive.  I typically relish driving the many miles as it is a beautiful drive, rain or shine, and this road and I are very well acquainted.  We know each other’s twists and turns, pot holes and all.  So please Universe above and within, please keep the green light lit and a Pink Bubble of safety around yours truly and Buster Blue (aka my trusty car companion) as we escape this city life. 

Because it is true.  The edge is where the good stuff often hangs out.  An ever tempting adventure of discovery.  So to the edge it is.

Mad for the series Mad Men, that is.  And I suppose if the truth be known, mad as in pissed.  Off.  Sort of.  Kind of.  Every now and now or then.  Then there is the full on rage, mad.  Slow simmer ~ full boil ~ lid blown off the pressure cooker, mad raging through me and all over the damned place.  Just every once in a decade or day. 

I wonder what the odds are that I could get Don Draper to come over and knock the everliving shit out of this mad. 

A snowball’s chance, you say?  Okay. 

Back to mad.

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