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What’s in a Name?

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  My name... I was once ashamed of my name, the weight of a childhood of hidden pain wrapped tightly in its grip. So ashamed that I allowed a stranger to strip me of it. Laid naked and vulnerable, I allowed him to take me away. He controlled who I was, he set me on the path that almost killed me. Yet death was not ready for me. And I escaped. Years would pass as I tried to wrestle with who that girl of another name was until one day I met one that I loved more than myself. That’s how I knew falling in love. Loss of self. He asked me to marry him after some time and when I said yes, this time a small voice said...claim your name. Without knowing why yet I did just that. Claimed my name. It was long and seemingly cumbersome, or so many would say. But it was mine and it felt like silky satin, flowing into my soul. A bond, not an ownership. It was all the names that were mine even if I did not know how they were supposed to be mine. Until I did. That day would not come for some 11 years. 

My Squash, My Grief, My Healing

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I got a part-time job. And no, that's not really what this blog is going to be about, but I am going to start there. It's nothing like I have ever done before and it's humbling. It began as caregiving and personal assistant, and is settling more into personal assistant. A PhD as a personal assistant for another PhD. One that can't communicate. If you have ever read LITERALLY ANYTHING I have ever written personally, you can imagine how hard that one little part is for me. The premise of all of my writing resides in being heard, and learning how to communicate. And here I am working a job that involves very restricted communication. Plus, I am doing what I always do when the fear of financial insecurity (okay, it's real financial insecurity) hits, I am hiding behind my "work." Running myself into the ground, so to speak. Avoiding all the big feels threatening to pop up, and shoving them down deep into the tiny black depths of a void I have spent years trying

One Day

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One day I hope to be seen for the imperfect, yet trying her damnedest, human being that I am. Instead of the absurd expectations I will never be able to achieve. One day I hope that the best defense isn’t seen as a reconciliation tool. Instead of the trauma wound misstep that it is. One day I hope to be heard for the words I am saying. Instead of the intentioned stories that play in your head. ~ ~ ~ It’s been a year since this all began. This perpetual isolation. The lockdown. The distancing. The homeschooling and virtual, unpaid, teacher’s aid. The unemployed. The 24/7 household management, education management, business owning hellscape that has become my day to day. And amidst all of this I am supposed to remember my newly minted tools to work through my sh*t, all while never showing weakness in the form of anxiety, frustration, anger, etc. Stay calm. Hold it all together. Know when to ask for help, but not too much. Be the objective teacher, as if your child can forget you are thei

Forking A - Let's take a Breath 2021

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2021 Week 1: Hear about a Covid19 death of someone I know, receive news that we have a new nephew and another on the way. Meet with business landlord to negotiate out of 5 year lease, and how to sell/leave the carefully selected items of our business to pay back rent owed. Learn that our county will not be returning to in-person school for the foreseeable future. Release newsletter to list about permanently closing our 1 year old brick and mortar. Insurrection at the US Capitol.  Excuse me while I have a moment or 5. I've made minimal posts so far this year on my social media networks, and not nearly enough progress on completing my JRNI Life Coaching certification requirements. Hey, but we are alive and fed. That's going to be the big win for this month, I can assure you. And not without the aid of friends and family and community resources. FUCK THIS. Amidst all of this I finally came to the conclusion post-holidays that I was slipping. My recovery from co-dependency has gott