Flowers in Winter

I’m very acquainted with the random things that life throws at us. Sometimes they hit you in the mouth and every once in a while you get hit in the feels. I admit, I can be sappy. I actually prefer it over acting like I don’t care. It makes my life easier. I’m a very conflicted person. I’m in constant turmoil. This is just the way I am. It’s not what I want but it’s just me. When I find a moment of stillness then it’s a blessing. Peace comes so little that I must hold on to it as long as I can. I went to sleep early and woke up at 3 am with a stillness and peace. Am I dead? Is this what it’s like to be happy?


Here I am pondering the idea of happiness at 5am. I am tired but my mind is on fire. I’m comfortable with this moment of peace. I do not want it to leave me. I know that the time will come and I will be left to me own devices. I can’t worry about that now. Right now all is well. Life is full of trickery and surprises. people cross our paths and our lives intertwine. Sometimes they disappear then come back and leave you full of questions. I can’t begin to understand why some things happen. Whenever I am so lost I can’t find a way back someone takes my hand to lead me from the darkness. It’s usually shocking when you see their face. It’s always someone you least expect. It’s not often I am comfortable with someone. The connection and chemistry are on point.


Sharpie Fun

I sit here and stare and the flower drawn on my hand. I can’t say I’ve ever had anyone draw for me. It makes me smile. I needed to smile. It’s healthy. Yesterday was a good day. I love good days. The world outside couldn’t compete with the good times that were had yesterday inside my home. The things some people take for granted are the things I long for. No matter what happens yesterday can’t be taken from me. I don’t know what today holds but I’m ready for it. I’m going to smile a little wider. My laugh lines won’t stop me. I wear them like a badge of honor. This week has been the coldest of the winter. The snow and ice have been pretty but I long for warmth. I want sunshine and grass between my toes. It will be a while before the weather turns and the season changes. Today I was blessed by flowers in Winter.This flower won’t ever die.



Sestina: Tin Can Call

This makes sense to me. We all want touch of some sort. A hug or a brush against the shoulder by a stranger in passing. It’s what we crave. We go around blind and looking to crash into someone else even if just for a moment. This author is on point. Enjoy!

this translation

The summer I turned sixteen, I learned
the burning that happens when contact
is made: flesh and mouths, a new kind of touch.
Kids really, trying to smash ourselves together,
atoms mingling, heeding the old call
looking for The Other who would hear—

The low buzzing we made, like bees, hear
not just our desires but everything we’d learned
about desire—that birth is a call
to the universe; from conception we have contact.
We only survive when we are together.
We learn from being touched what it is to touch.

Hands, eyes, lips, hearts, touch
and understand. Without speaking, we hear:
all that our ancestors have learned
to cultivate society, not just sex as contact
but contact that issues forth the greater call.

String stretched taut, tin can call:
We twin sisters sleep at night, while parents forget to touch.
The line is in place, but loss of contact,

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Holding on For Dear Life

I’m writing after being hit with all sorts of emotions. I need everyone to understand some things about me. I ask you to pacify me for five minutes. Carrie Manolakos is singing a song that I feel was written about me. This is a beautiful song and the original artist did not do it justice. Carrie sings it with such depth and feeling. If you can take 5 minutes out of you time and listen to this song you won’t regret it. The thing is that I want you to clear your mind first and hit play. Close your eyes and listen, FEEL. I did this earlier and I cried uncontrollably. I relived a painful time in my life, actually many of them. Give it a listen and see if you can see me or even yourself. Close your eyes and see it.

I hope you could see and feel it. If you couldn’t then I will tell you what you missed. This is somebody so wrapped up into depression, loneliness and addiction. She blocks the pain with alcohol. She drinks until she’s numb and fearless again. She is the IT girl. You notice her when she walks into the room. She has haunting eyes and oozes confidence. Her smile is just for you. She makes you feel special when she gives you a look and she grins ever so slightly. She has no boundaries and she is everyone’s friend. She is kind. She drinks one after the next. She dances on bars and swings from ceiling fans and whatever else she can find. She dances alone in the corner. Then you see a tear escape her eye. She drinks more and more until the pain leaves her. You wonder why a girl like that could ever be sad. What is she hiding in that pretty little head of hers? She walks over after she catches you looking.


This girl makes you feel like you are the only one in the world. She laughs at your jokes and hangs on every word you say. Then you realize it is last call that she’s so drunk that she can’t drive home. She argues that she’s fine and needs to go. You take her keys and she shows you the devil. She tries to fight you but falls down and bursts into tears. This girl is broken. She has caused a scene by now and it attracts “vultures” they talk her into coming home with them. Do you let her go and fall victim to God knows what or do you scoop her up and get her out of there? it’s a fight and finally the vultures leave. You pick her up off the floor and throw her over your shoulder. You buckle her in the car. Luckily her license is with her keys so you drive her home. She wakes up enough to thank you. When you get her home she stumbles out of the car and makes her way to the door. Finally she makes it inside. She smiles and waves. That girl haunts you now.


I’m sure you know somebody like this but don’t really know their story. We all have a story. My story is one of pain, death, heartbreak and hurt. Most of it I did to myself. When the pain hit I numbed it anyway I could. I don’t numb it much anymore. I embrace my pain in all its’ ugliness. I’ve run so many good men off with my antics. Like the good guy above that saved me from more pain. I have a way of getting rid of good people in my life. Fear is a powerful thing. The demons rear their ugly head a lot lately. I try not to listen. Sometimes I fail. I hope today isn’t one of those days. On this day in 1998 I started dating Chance. Thirteen months later he was gone. You never get over putting someone you love in the ground. It’s a different kind of pain when your lover dies. I can’t explain it and hope y’all never feel that pain. I almost let it destroy me. Some days it does then I go on. Today I feel like swinging from the chandelier. I’m holding on for dear life.

The Burning of Blueberry Hill

“There’s no place like home.” L. Frank Baum

You can always go home

Some days I want to watch it all burn

Death brings many changes. Most of them aren’t anything I find pleasant.  She went home to join my Papa.  They are no longer at home on Blueberry Hill.  The house on Blueberry Hill was the only home I had left.  My parents divorced when I was an adult. My home was sold. Some years later my father sold his cabin so my grandparents’ home was the only home I had left.

Anytime I’ve dreamed of home in my adulthood I’m at my grandparents’ house.  Sometimes I dream of the home that I lived in with my parents and siblings.  These aren’t good dreams. I am scared. The house is in ruin and I am hiding inside. I run out the back door and head up Blueberry Hill to my grandparents’ home since it’s next door.  Papa is outside doing yard work. He was a fanatic when it came to the lawn.  My Granny is inside cooking the best food I’ve ever tasted. I wake up crying because they aren’t there anymore.  They are just across the road and over the railroad tracks underneath an old oak tree.

I was lucky to have lived next door to my grandparents and my great grandparents. I spent a lot of time at those two houses.  My great grandparents’ home sold some years ago after their deaths. I remember how their old house started to look run down. It was sad to watch it go downhill. I was always taught to take care of my things. I just couldn’t fathom someone not taking pride in their home. I tried to ignore it as best I could. Life went on.

I got older and moved out. I lived in the city for a few years.  I came home when my parents split up.  I moved back in my home and lived there for a few months with my sisters and my father. It was nice being home again. It was much different the second time around. There weren’t any rules. We were all adults. I worked a lot so I wasn’t there much. We moved out in early spring. My mom moved back into the house with my youngest sister. I rushed into a marriage, my dad went to the cabin and my middle sister went to another town.

Years later when my son was a baby my mother decided to sell the house. I wanted so desperately to buy that home but it wasn’t in the cards for me. I was devastated. I grieved when I went to collect my things from the attic. It was surreal standing in that empty house.  The emotion was unbearable. All those years we spent there rushed my mind. I cried as I left the driveway for the last time.  I had so much anger built up over the house selling that I wanted to take a bulldozer to it. It was a long-running joke between my dad and I that we should have just burned the son of a bitch down or knocked it over. We always got a good laugh out of it.

Years passed and my old home started changing. I wasn’t pleased. It wasn’t well-kept anymore.  It was painful to watch it change. I was bitter as hell. I tried to ignore it. It was sort of hard to since it was next door to my grandparents’ house.  I was glad the new owner installed a huge privacy fence around it so I couldn’t see it anymore. My imagination ran wild when I thought about my old house. I worried about what it looked like. I knew I shouldn’t care because we didn’t live there anymore.  I let it go for a while.

Things changed over the course of the next several years.  My grandfather fell ill again with cancer. He fought long and hard and left us on a sunny Tuesday in September. It hurt for a very long time and still does. A year after his death I had another baby boy.  He helped to restore the balance. Things were good for a while. Granny coped the best she could. I was blessed to still have her in my life. She adored my boys. One day she got sick and things started to unravel. She was never the same after having surgery for heart blockages. She would have more and more health problems. Eventually her body got tired and her heart just gave out in the wee hours of a Saturday morning in June.

I was lost. I couldn’t come back from this. How in the hell am I going to move on without them? I was happy that Granny and Papa were together again. I still missed them and wanted them back. The next few months I changed my entire life. I had to. I was miserable and couldn’t continue that way. I got stronger and I coped. I was happy. I started to enjoy life. I spent more time doing things outdoors. I mended fences with people. I was better. Then everything came crashing down around me. My grandparents’ house was empty and for sale.

I was crumbling just thinking about the house being sold. I had a few drinks to calm my nerves. All the memories I had left were in that house. I was a wreck. I cried for hours. I kept drinking in hopes I would calm down. I thought back to how painful it was when my old house sold. Every single emotion came over me. I was in a rage now. It became clear to me what I must do. Blueberry Hill must burn to the ground. I couldn’t let the same thing happen again. I had to burn it down.

The next morning I woke up with swollen eyes and a headache. I’d hoped I would have different feelings about Blueberry Hill after I slept on it. I’m a rational person. I also obey they law. Apparently some crazy person had taken over my mind. I still wanted to set the place on fire and not give anyone the satisfaction of soiling my memories or that house. I’ve lost my mind and I’m not going back. I knew it wouldn’t be an easy task. How in the hell am I going to torch a house and make it look like an accident? I guess I need to learn without raising suspicions.

I went to the library and went old school with books. I didn’t dare use a computer. I didn’t check out books either. I read what I needed and kept the information under my hat. I was scared but I had to go through with it. I knew every inch of that property. I knew I’d have to get in quick and get out. I would have to hide in the woods until it was safe to make my escape. I couldn’t make any mistakes. I’m not made for jail. Arson would land me in prison. I had kids to raise. What the hell is wrong with me? This is so risky but I was driven to see it through to the end.

That Saturday was like a hundred other Saturdays before. My boys left for the weekend. I hugged them extra tight and told them to have fun. I got plenty of rest that day. I got up as it started to get dark. In the winter time it was pitch black by 5pm. I ate lightly because my stomach felt queasy.  I dressed in all black. I didn’t wear anything loose. I didn’t want to burn myself. I pulled my hair back and wore a black toboggan on my head. I brought gloves. I had a change of regular clothes in the trunk of my car along with my purse.  It was time to go.

I made the long drive to the house.  I parked my car in a wooded area back behind the property. It was far enough away from everything that it wouldn’t be spotted.  I came up the backside of Blueberry Hill. It was 11pm and still. There wasn’t a soul around. I crept up the hill and made my way through the back yard. I picked the back door open and went inside. Never in my thirty-eight years had I seen this house empty. I started to cry and I hit the kitchen floor. This house meant everything to me and I was about to burn it to the ground. What the hell is wrong with me? I can’t stand to see it mistreated and all my memories stolen. I have to be in control of this situation.

 I walked through the house and went room to room. I felt Granny and Papa holding my hands. All the joy and laughter, the pain and heartache was there. The good times hurt the worst. I couldn’t touch any part of the house or yard with out it having an overwhelming memory. I smiled through my tears. I knew I’d be haunted forever if I didn’t burn this house and put these memories to rest. This was the house my dad grew up in. Lucky for me it needed some electrical work. I went to the breaker box and took a look. I flipped off the kitchen breaker and got to work. I pulled out the dishwasher from the counter and cut the hot wire. I wired it back together the wrong way. I put it back in the wall and put my tools back in my pockets.

The dishwasher was back in place. I sure hope this works. It took me a while to memorize the wiring diagram for it. It had been recalled a few times. I made my way back to the fuse box and flipped the breaker back on. I had left the dishwasher on the drying cycle.  Sparks started flying from the dishwasher. I heard fuses starting blowing. The smell was awful. Then it happened. The insulation around the dishwasher caught fire. It started to go up the wall. I watched it dance up the wall and to the ceiling. Damn I need to get out of here. I turned to go for the backdoor and I tripped over my feet.

 I was dazed for a moment and quickly realized I had to get the hell out now. The fire had spread to the living room and I totally forgot about the natural gas. I got myself up and to the door.  I fell down the back steps after shutting the door. I crawled down the porch and pulled myself up against the outer wall of the house. My ankle was sprained. I had to get moving because I wasn’t in the clear. I hobbled through the yard as fast as I could. My ankle was killing me but I wasn’t going to get caught. I could not get caught. I got to the end of the back yard and started to go down the hill to the field. I turned around to look at the house. Most of it was on fire. It was bright. I smiled and kept moving.

 I got to the woods just over the property line when I heard the explosion. I turned my head in time to see the house light up the night sky as it blew into thousands of tiny pieces. Holy Shit I just blew up Blueberry Hill. I wanted to burn it to the ground not blow it sky-high. Damn I screwed this up pretty good. I was going to climb a tree and watch it go. Hell there wasn’t anything left standing.  It was just a burning pile where a house once stood. I have to get the hell out of here now. I made my way through the woods. I got to the car about the time I heard sirens. I opened the trunk and changed my clothes. I sprayed myself down with body spray. I used dry spray shampoo on my hair so I wouldn’t smell like an arsonist. I hid my black clothes under the spare tire.

I got in the car and drove out of the woods. Lucky for me there wasn’t anyone living in the house on what was left of the road to the woods. I turned my lights on and got on the road going the opposite direction of Blueberry Hill. I cut through the country and stayed off the main road. I was nervous. I drove the speed limit and tried not to worry. I wasn’t sad that the house was gone. I felt like I’d done the right thing. I finally made it home unnoticed. I got my fire starting clothes out and threw them in the washer. I jumped in the shower and quickly got rid of any smell of lingering smoke. I put on my pajamas and hopped into bed. I turned on the TV to watch a movie. I was relaxed and at peace.

 I dozed off to sleep at some point. I woke up to the phone ringing. It was my dad calling me at 6am. Something was wrong. He never called at 6am. Then I remembered I blew his parents’ house up in the night, no big deal. I answered the phone still half asleep. He told me that Granny and Papa’s house had burned down in the night. I knew he was upset. I was upset. I told him I was glad everything was out of the house. He told me it started in the kitchen and that the fire chief thought it was old wiring and an overloaded fuse box.  I felt terrible because he was upset. It was too late the damage was done.

 That afternoon we all met on Blueberry Hill. There wasn’t much of the house left at all. The gas explosion took care of that. I looked around and I felt nothing. I wasn’t sad. There was no more house to have a hold on me. My memories were not imprisoned inside that house anymore. They were free. It was bitter-sweet for my family I suppose. The house was empty and up for sale. Everything my grandparents owned was already gone. I felt bad for them because they would never be able to drive by the house and take a trip down memory lane. I was relieved it was over. I was no longer a prisoner of Blueberry Hill. I left Blueberry Hill and never gave it another thought. I took my memories with me. I was free.

Dirty Little Secret

It’s 8am on a Sunday morning and my iPhone chirps like a cricket. I cringe. I ignore it for maybe 10 minutes before I mumble a few obscenities and pick it up. I know that this text isn’t something I want. I should just block the number already. I open the text and of course it’s my past texting. I know this isn’t a conversation I want to have. I try to be nice but it is hard. I know all the tricks and games people play. It’s early in the morning and I seldom hear from you. I know you want something from me. I want to punch him in the mouth. I’m not happy. I feel like garbage now.


I read the texts and I know where this is headed. I see your pathetic plan. It ain’t happening. You treated me like I was second-rate. You lead me on and made me a pawn in your stupid game. You left me to walk home at 3am. I walked four miles in the dark with a dead phone. You didn’t care. The next day you appeared like it never happened. You used me up and left me feeling like nothing. You thought I was dumb enough to fall for your new games. The phone goes off and finally his intentions are revealed….”I want to come visit you.” My inner voice replies “I’d rather walk bare foot through barbed wire and kiss a rattle snake.”


I guess he doesn’t get that I’m through. I will not be your good girl Friday. Frankly I could care less about you anymore. You ain’t my friend. I am not your dirty little secret anymore. I am an in your face kind of gal. I don’t hide. Honey if I were ashamed of what I do then I wouldn’t be doing it. I’m not hiding for anyone. If you are embarrassed by me then I hate it for you. Chances are you minor in the scheme of things. Maybe this time he got the message. Take your dirty little secret and shove it. Cancel my subscription, I’m over your issues. Now get lost.


The Haves and the Have Nots

Social media has some good points. I love finding people I lost touch with. I’ve found new friends. I’ve learned so much. I’ve seen raw human emotion. I’ve also seen some of the cruelties of this world. The battered,bruised and broken unite all in one place, It’s kind of home for me. Then there are those that lead a charmed life. They have perfect hair and skin. They live in a beautiful two-story house on the hill with a white, picket fence. They have perfect smiles in every picture they take. Their family consists of a loving spouse and children they had together. Some people have it all. Then there are those of us that have dysfunction and chaos.


I don’t want to come off as bitter. Maybe I am a little bitter. Some of these things are my fault. I have been dealt a shit hand with some of it. I just wonder if I will ever get this right. I have my doubts.  I bought into that American dream bs when I was a little girl. I honestly thought everyone got a happily ever after. I was foolish.All I ever wanted was to be happy. I wanted a home with children and a loving husband. I couldn’t get that right. I don’t think everyone is lucky enough to have this kind of life. I was foolish in my belief that this was some how a basic human right.


I often wonder how some of us end up being so unlucky. If it’s bizarre and unheard of then it will happen to me. Only crazy stuff happens to me. I could write a book on the random misfortunes I’ve been party to. I may never figure out why I am a have not. It drives me crazy to think about it. I hope the haves know how lucky they are. I have pretty much accepted being alone. It does suck at times. I spend most of my time alone. I sleep alone. I go most places alone. I should be used to it by now. Sometimes I think about it way too much. I’ve met people and tried to date. I’m a little hard to handle and I’m not everyone’s cup of tea. It usually doesn’t work out. They run. I don’t really blame them.

Petition for apology – Bipolar stigmatisation

Oh look Tom Sullivan got his MD license in a cracker jack box. Shut your pie hole Tom. KThanxBye.


I can’t actually believe people still get away with stigmatising mental illness, and that it is then allowed to be broadcast either via radio or TV. It is disgusting and proves that there is still a lot of hard work to be done to eliminate these ignorant views.

Please sign this petition to help gain an apology from American radio host, Tom Sullivan, who mocked Bipolar Disorder on air – labelling it as ‘made up’ and ‘the latest fad’.


It will take two minutes of your time, showing that you will not stand for these types of derogatory labels being put on the very real and painful mental illnesses that we suffer with.


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A Little Bit Broken and a Tad Lonely

I started my post with a video. Sometimes my words fail me. The words of this song have my back. This is what it feels like to be me. There’s a little hope in there and promise. I have to keep one foot in front of the other and try to get it in gear. I have managed to stay home this weekend. It seems those few months of having a life have faded away. The fun times are very few and far between. I need sunshine to revive me. I think it’s my only hope.


This song plays in my head and I can’t seem to snap of it. I wait for something beautiful to happen. It doesn’t though. Maybe I’m too broken like whomever she sings this song for. We don’t hear it honey. I think it’s lost on us. I hear this song and I think about the time I walked 4 miles in the middle of the night, My phone was dead and I had on flip-flops. I had a screwdriver in my pocket as a weapon. It was so dark I couldn’t see my nose. I was delirious from exhaustion. The soles of my feet were bleeding and I kept walking towards home. I kind of imagine this person going through this hell. She keeps going some how.

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Walking in the dark battered and love-sick is an experience. I heed her words and don’t do anything I would regret out of loneliness. I keep walking and block the pain. All those things I thought I needed are nothing anymore. They make me feel empty and broken. Those people I thought cared leave me lonelier than ever. My fantasy love keeps me going. I don’t know that I will ever live to see it. I’d rather not settle for the things that will only destroy me in the end. I keep walking home. I am the only one I can depend on. I can hear them calling in the distance. I have to believe. It’s all I have left.