The chef will chop your hand off

Crowded; I stood at the back of the line. Someone speaks so close to me, my personal space meter is having an anxiety attack. The tv above is showing both a cooking competition and flood victim recovery, which immediately gets changed to a less serious channel.

She’s behind the counter, tallish, glasses, dark hair encompassed by a hairnet. Lucky for her it’s the same shade as her locks so its not as awful as she may have previously thought. I wait patiently for anyone to move, there’s a child behind me getting a finger wag by his parent for trying to lean over the counter. She’s staring at the customer a couple of bodies in front of me, her glasses slid partly down her nose, she crinkles it to move the glasses up a bit, not using her hands which are covered in gloves for protection. Her eyes are wide, but the lids are droopy, she has a soft presence about her, yet her face makes you believe she’s either annoyed or losing patience with the person asking inane questions regarding a grilled vegetable on the menu. Her colleague behind her is busy, but listening to every word she says, which is not many. She has a flow to her work, she moves swiftly down the cook line, which makes sense that she is losing patience with the inquisition. Shouldn’t everyone be as productive as she? Why can’t they decide? She is asked to cut a chicken in half; methodically she grabs a clever and a whole bird and swiftly chops through it. Bits of meat and grease fly into both directions. She doesn’t flinch; she makes her way back to the grill then serves up what they have desired. Her face is content and relaxed, there is an air of profound satisfaction that she has given her patron what he needed, or maybe she is just happy with no complaints, for knows the penalty for an angry customer.

Sedation Nation…..a life under a pill.

             Recently, I posted on social media about the use of medication to over come mental illness. I often hear people defending medications from large prescription drug companies saying that those with severe mental illness should be medicated. I want to defend and reiterate my stance and point. My family has long suffered with mental illness, anxiety, depression, substance abuse, addiction. I’ve watched many people become sedated through prescription drugs only to mask the symptoms and either live like a zombie, or be so addicted to the medication that they can not live without it due to the withdrawals they have if ever they miss a dose or try to taper off. When I was in my 20’s I started on Prozac, it made me very calm, yet numb to any circumstances that were in a normal living capacity. I ignored signs of abuse from my then boyfriend, I distanced myself from my parents, and I drank heavily. Once I was pregnant with my daughter I got off of my medication. Everything seemed fine for a while, but without the tools and knowledge to handle my emotions, I went down the road of depression again, fast. This time I was married and had a baby with my new husband. Post-partum hit me like a brick and doctors were quick to put me on 4 different medications. I was completely and utterly a ghost walking around my home, work, with not a care in the world. My mind was unable to comprehend anything but escape. I did things that were unlike me, the me who I know I am. I look back today and wonder who that person was, and why God would allow things like that to happen. My struggle with my depression and anxiety led me to drinking again with my medication. I would get dressed for work and leave at noon to go to a bar, I had an affair and ruined my marriage. I ignored my children and left my home. My life was not my life. I was a shell of a human being with no feelings or concerns for myself or anyone else. I contemplated suicide many times, yet something kept me from actually going forward with the action.

During this time, I finally got the help I needed, even if it was years later. I went to a neurofeedback specialist, who pinpointed the exact reasoning of my actions, behaviors and how to change them. This obviously did not happen over night, it took many years to get where I am today. I went through relapses of bad relationships and heavy drinking, but remembered to go back to the tools she taught me. When I finally hit what I call my breakthrough, others would call it a breakdown. I found a coach/teach/mentor/friend in a woman name Helen Racz. When I found her, I could barely think. My mind was looping insanely dark thoughts, she worked with me three times a week for months. She taught me about emotional maturity, how my perception was creating my reality, how no one can create my sadness, and being a victim was no longer an option. I laid on my couch for an entire year while working with her. The pain I went through mentally felt unbearable at the time, but never once did she ever try to medicate me, or send me on my way. She reminded me daily that the work you put in, it the results you get out. I journaled, meditated, affirmed what I wanted to be as a mother, friend, sibling, human. I forgave myself for what I did to my family, and friends who I lost because of my behavior. I apologized to my ex husband for myself, and let the shame and guilt fall away in order to be who I truly am. I no longer sedated myself with what society deemed a cure for my mental state. It took 5 years of work and patience and practice to get where I am today, which is a healthy, happy, responsible, mature loving adult, living an incredibly abundant life. I have everything I could ever want, and will never look back to what was; I want others to know that there is a light at the end of the tunnel. There is someone who can help guide you to a place of peace and happiness, whether that seems out of your grasp or unreal it is absolutely the truth.

Mental health is not an embarrassment, self-care is a priority. Never doubt yourself. Know that someone is always there to help.

Educate don’t medicate.

Books I recommend:

Love is letting go of Fear by Gerald G. Jampolsky MD

The Seven Habits of Effective People by Covey

The Magic Rhonda Byrne

The power of Now Eckhart Tolle

The Untethered Soul Michael Singer (my favorite)


R.J.M. 06.29.45 – 01.31.19

I am a person of little faith, I tend to delve in the art of the dark, I’ve pondered death since I was a child, fearful of what is the unknown, perhaps that’s why I believe in the ways of science, lovingly taunting us to give up our faith in a higher being, yet when my father passed away all I could think of was how happy he was to be with those who passed before him, with his God; surfing, painting, young and handsome. As I grieve the person we love so much, the good, the bad, the artist, the loving father, the friend, the uncle, the popo, the human being….I’m moved to believe in the laws of physics, perhaps it’s to get through the pain and the thought of my own mortality…. I know that my father, not only a human with thoughts and feelings, joy and sadness, he was also just a ball of energy… and if that’s true, I understand that his energy has not died. The first law of thermodynamics says; that no energy gets created in the universe, and none is destroyed. All of my father’s energy, every vibration, every Btu of heat, every wave of every particle that was my beloved dad remains with me in this world. The color of my daughter’s eyes, the curly warmth of my others hair, the clef in my chin, my aunt’s vivaciousness and beautiful art, my brother’s handsome looks, my other holding his name, my sisters smile and the nose we both share. And amid energies of the cosmos, he, as all of us, gave as good as he got. All the photons that ever bounced off his face, all the particles whose paths were interrupted by his smile, by the touch of his hand, hundreds of trillions of particles, have raced off like children, their ways forever changed by HIM, my dad. And as our loving family and friends grieve, all the photons that bounced from him onto us, were gathered in the particle detectors that are all of those interactions; that those photons created of electromagnetically charged neurons whose energy will go on forever….and ever.

The warmth that flowed through my father in life is still here, still part of all that we are, even as we who mourn continue the heat of our own lives, our hugs, and kisses of grief are turned to joy in being together because of him.

Those of us who loved him, need not have to have faith; indeed, faith is not relevant, if that’s what you choose. Scientists have measured precisely the conservation of energy and found it accurate, verifiable and consistent across space and time. I hope that you find comfort and satisfaction to know that my dad’s energy is still around. According to the law of the conservation of energy, not a bit of him is gone; he’s just a little less orderly; just as he would have like it. 


Life in focus and gratitude

I started my first day of 2019 by deleting all social media off of my phone. I’m already off facebook, but this year or at least as long as I can stand it, I am going cold turkey off instagram and twitter. My focus on focus this year is due to some 28 days of gratitude I just went through in December. Whether or not anyone believes in a higher being, place, or spiritual connection, for me its always been a struggle. So for the last 6-7 years I have been working on my spiritual side, and slipping as most people do when they are moving though any sort of addiction or illness. My daily viewing and interaction on social media was not helping my progress, even though I do love having my space to show the world my life….not interesting to anyone I am sure, I felt trapped in a FOMO and get out scenario each morning I would arise. I also found my bank account dwindling more this past year by purchasing via Instagram many things I definitely did not need. My goal this year is to focus on career, family, and travel, each with a main objective to live purposely present. Fully immersed in actual life on the outside not in a box. Wish me luck!! The cold sweats should begin any moment. Yikes!


Whatever character you think you had, here is a reminder. When you sit down, and really think about it, its not just salt. Its a flavor, something we cannot live without. If we do not have it, we die. Literally. It no other words. So yes, I am one of those people. I thought I knew who I was, my personality, my character. I work hard, I seek out knowledge, I am the wealth of health. Lie.

The epitome of looking in the mirror is disturbing to say the least. We can never really view ourselves, its impossible, no matter how hard we try we can never view ourselves as other’s do. Why? or more than that, why not?

I sat down with three men, recently, who asked me questions for four hours. Who am i…where have i been and why.

Simple, right? Yes, in some ways, if you enjoy pontificating about your mid teens  through “college” years, which for me was bouncing from school to school trying to figure out what the fuck I was doing.

So within this four hours, I felt as though I was being mulled over by a group of militia during a progressive wine tasting. Each question came at me like a bullet of inconsistency, yet I knew each answer…thoroughly. My downfall was the memories the questions invoked. The teenage years, yearning for a structured future. Little did I know there would be nothing of the sort. That’s another post all together.  This exercise in self reflection, most likely was a costly event for those sitting across from me.

The click of my heels, and the annoying drag across the tile floor when my heel slips beneath my foot. I walk in and sign in with the receptionist. I sit. The conference room behind me is full of laughter, they are loud…or maybe I had hyperacusis suddenly. Regardless, the words, “she is very personable, she seems to be very knowledgeable..” radiated through the lobby area where I was sitting. I felt a hot flash move through my chest, i buttoned my blouse to the top to prevent the redness from showing, embarrassed that others could hear what was being said. The conversation got louder, the laughing and carrying on felt like it went on for hours, yet it was only minutes. I dreaded what was or could be the next 2-3 hours of conversation…. about me.

Out walked the HR guy….the story from here gets boring and will mute the point of my post.

I didn’t know who i was until someone asked me. Reminder.



From here to there

I’ve realized how self centered we’ve become. I cringe at the comments and posts I read on social media, and I also am fully aware that I speak and think about our existence in this virtual world more often than not. That being said, I feel hugely disconnected. I am more of a shake my hand, look into my eyes person, than a text me and send me a pic sort of person. I don’t think this has anything to do with my age or generation, because I’ve never enjoyed talking on the phone, before the days of the cellular world. I was the letter writer, I think I wrote my high school boyfriend a letter everyday that we were apart and mailed them immediately. Where did that go? Is it still out there somewhere? When did we change? I missed it. I recently read something that moved me to feel extremely uncomfortable; it was about racism, but mostly it was the reaction and words that made me feel so impermanently secure about my world. The way that each individual’s word flew across the screen with daggers was seriously worrying to my being. I am not one to mince words, I will argue my point with the best of them, however my idea of using words is very different than others I come in contact with….I feel every single syllable, vowel, letter as if it is pushing a nail through my veins. I will not deny the anger I feel, because that would irradiate the reason for this exact moment. The sadness is stronger; when did we become better than, or even disapproving of the human being on the other side of those words so much that we feel obligated to destroy them with our opinion? Give me some hope that all is not lost, that we can still be compassionate enough to be quiet. Maybe that’s me on the receiving end of a comment, perhaps I deserve a bit of a shake or I am disillusioned into thinking that a person can keep a thought to themselves without belittling another human into a pile of mush. I might be, yet I can still dream of the pen in hand, the touch of someone I just met, the smile of a first encounter prior to an electronic introduction. When we get from there to here, I’ll be convinced that humanity is still as kind as it can possibly be in the chaos of each day.

the beginning

I don’t exist. Something happened, and I dropped into oblivion. The secrets and darkness took over, my soul descended into a depth I would have never witnessed had it really been me. Those around me turned and took the higher road; I couldn’t reach. I tried. I held on as long as I could, wanting to scream and grab the hand of the closest being I could find, but I couldn’t. I drowned in my own saliva, my blood crawled at the thought of life…the monotony of taking another breath. There’s no way to understand, a word cannot describe the tangle of the mind. The incessant dripping of pinging disappointment at each turn. My smile made me look like a demon as I stood and stared at myself in the mirror. You ugly piece of shit. You have nothing and no one, yet I had everything and everyone. Blocking my heart from feeling that joy was a dark delirium of past potential stifled by an innocence completely lost. Fondled by a perverted ego, overshadowed by someone bigger, more powerful than the pebble of an infant. Grossly reminded of my misjudgment’s, each day passes with my ghost around those I love, each moment is a reminder of what I’ve done and who I deserted…that one time, I left without a voice in silence, knowing it would be better for them; they would live and love without me and they did.

What happened?

I’ve been thinking alot lately about what to write. I have a million thoughts in my head, most likely due to life events that have been going on this year. I usually watch from the bleachers, read what others are writing, posting, social media grabs etc. I am a bit dissapointed in what I see, but I always remind myself that before I knew what was going on in the world 24/7, I didn’t care. So why should I care now? I will harp on one point, that is judgement. Wow, how and why have we become so judgemental. I don’t think anyone can do anything anymore without 1 person commenting some shit about cultural appropriation, womens rights, political proxy, dynamic congruence of literary openness and positvitiy. Who’s business is it really? I assume if you are some sort of influencer, perhaps you are opening yourself up to a shit storm of critisism at every turn, but still, I would say fuck off, its not your biz. But let’s talk about the influencer, I read in the news that one of the K’s (you know who she is), was awarded top influencer, or some ridiculous non-event award. This woman’s mother (hearsay) sold her sex tape. What does the word influencer even mean? Why do I care? I assume if I was not a parent of an 11 year old, I would give a shit less, but I am so I do. Then again, is it my business what my daughter does with her body when she is 18 or older and out of my house? Probably not. My point is that if we let go of what everyone else is doing, and really just lived, what would that look like? Do we even know? I know that the millenial generation and beyond have no clue. They have no idea what it is actually like to live without knowing someone on the other side of the world by a snap shot. I also know that their inability to relate socially without a square box in their hand is shocking to someone like me. But I digresss into judgment again; I find myself asking what happened, where did humaity, likeness, compassion, giving go. Just a thought. Perhaps one day, probably not in my lifetime, the planet will get back to face to face, moment to moment, not documenting every single second of our lives. Maybe. Now I have to snap a pic for insta, twitter, fb, and ….. Cheers.

Return to ghost of 2014

“We are the sum of our experiences, which is to say that we are burdened by our pasts. When we experience stress or fear in our lives, if we would look carefully, we would find that the cause is actually a memory. It is the emotions which are tied to these memories which affect us now. The subconscious associates an action or person in the present with something that happened in the past. When this occurs, emotions are activated, and stress is produced.”


When I gave you everything of me, all my memories, my past childhood abuses and saddens, when I let myself be opened up to who I thought was purely interested in my wellbeing and held me in safe hands…I gave all of myself, each cell of my being, every ounce of my love that perhaps I should have saved for myself and the people around me who needed it more. My time and soul, telling you how I failed as a human and longing to be righted by the one person who I thought loved me unconditionally 100%, who knew mistakes are made and realized that being human is about lighting up another person’s life. I was vibrant and ready to give my all to someone, to be clear on what love really meant, as walking through my life, I look in the mirror and all I see looking back at me is a broken and shattered shell of a woman who has lost every scrap of her soul to an oasis in a dessert that never flourished. I have only ever cared about and loved you but all you have ever thought about is yourself. Our ‘relationship’ in whatever form that has taken has been dictated on your terms the whole time and you have reveled in holding power over me. I was a toy for someone who played with each of his puppets when he was lonely, giving each a crumb of attention, never too much, always keeping them hanging on. I was fun to play with until you got bored and then you discard me and dispose of me like I’m worthless. But it never ended there. A few weeks or months later you would remember how fun that game was, and you come back to repeat your vicious cycle all over again. And each time I’m broken and discarded the damage on my mind and spirit becomes more irreparable.

But you make me feel as though it’s my fault. You twist everything that happens to make it seem like I have let you down and you’re the injured martyr. You claim that I have problems and emotional insecurities, and this is projected onto me so much I start believing that maybe I do have a problem. And then without a conscious thought I find myself groveling with apologies, wanting you to forgive me and you throw them back in my face or ignore them coldly with silence.


You have no regard for my feelings at all and you never have done. I don’t think I can ever forgive you for what you’ve done to me for the past 3 years. And the fact that I know how poisonous you are for me and yet I can’t let you go makes me angrier than anything. I love you, and I hate you at the same time. And oh God I wish I didn’t love you so much. But you do that to people don’t you? You’ve developed this knack of making them think you’re undeniably kind and caring and wonderful. How could you ever do anything wrong or hurtful when you’re so “nice?” Well maybe it’s good I know the truth now as others may not be so lucky. You have always claimed that you care about me and have always had my best intentions at heart. Oh, how chivalrous of you. Where was that chivalry when you put me in the firing line of accusations and blame again and again and again? Where was that kindness when you screamed in my face as I lay on the pavement sobbing my heart out? Or when you told me to go fuck myself because of meeting with friends as if you owned me? Or even when you were refusing to speak to me because I went on a work trip.

I stood by you for an entire year and gave you EVERYTHING, I should have let you rot where you were instead of trying to protect you from the harshness of everything and everyone around you. I hurt when you hurt, I cried when you couldn’t find the will to leave your flat. I came to you when you were in pain or lonely, even while you browsed photos of other women as I lay beside you. The grossness of it all cannot be real, that’s what I tell myself. It isn’t real, he was never who he said he was.

Men approach me in all settings and all I can do is run, far and fast in fear of being manipulated into another love bombing as you did to me. The beauty of my outside hides the intense fear and sadness of my inner being.

I’m so angry that I have always allowed you to have the upper hand in every situation and yet again you’ve left me sitting here without a voice while you get away smiling at your victory in your sick game of power play. And yet I’m still trying to win your forgiveness back. But why? What loyalty do I owe you? I don’t owe you fucking anything. And yet your anger and silence is killing me. I’m so confused, and I don’t know what to do with myself. If I could take a piece of my heart and transfer it to you so you could feel a fraction of what I’m feeling, then maybe you’d address this all very differently.

I want you to leave my thoughts. To leave my heart and the cells within me that you’ve infected for so long. I long for a day where I wake up and don’t think about you anymore, or to be able to sleep through the night without having nightmares.

I long to feel genuinely happy again and to not spend every day of my life struggling through crippling anxiety or paranoia. I want my life back.

But you see this is the problem. You’re a toxic individual and I know I’m better off without you but I can’t let you go. Because despite everything your good points always seem to outweigh your bad and all I can remember are the wonderful times we had. I am so so SO heartbroken. No one has ever had this strong an effect on me EVER. You got under my skin and bit by bit you’ve eaten away at me until there’s near to nothing left.

I’m a shell of the girl that met you. A ghost of someone who once could see a bright side in everything. And now all I feel is emptiness and hollowness and I’m in a pit that I can’t find my way out of.




My palms are drenched in sweat, I feel light headed and I feel the tears in my eyes welling up ready to dive down my cheek for all to see. I am not sad, nor has someone affected me deeply to warrant my condition. No, I am simply in a crowded shop. That’s it. For me, my moments of happiness come when I am alone, in the quiet with myself. I find solace in the space between me and other human beings. The thought of attending a party, concert, or simply a grocery store makes me anxious enough to dread the place without actually being physically there. I am not a hermit, and I do enjoy the company of other people at times in my life, however I tend to ebb on the side of lonely. Being alone. I believe I have always been this way, I may have never embraced it due to the possible stigma of society that is put on people who are not social. With the pressure to network, and use social media it is almost as if my energy goes into overload. I have a hard time deciphering real life from cyber life. Is that person my friend because of xyz on Instagram, or do they want me to “LIKE” them or their product? I think it’s harder today than ever before to really get to know anyone, their true spirit, soul, and who they really are because we are SO connected. My definition of a connection is a spiritual, embracing type of connection, not the touch my screen type. Living to live and not be seen is one aspect of my being that I have come to be ok with, I do have my work mask that comes on every so often…but lately it becomes less and less necessary. When I was younger, not much, I felt the need to be everywhere all the time. You know that feeling when you are not invited to something? Even if you don’t care or would prefer to be home, what’s that feeling? Where does it come from? The FOMO (fear of missing out). That’s gone. Maybe in my solitude I weeded out certain desires to embrace mindless conversation. This made me think. Conversations. Meaningful. The search goes on for these enveloping moments. I fear for the person or persons who catches my interest, for the will become my feeding frenzy.