… meanwhile, and don’t know which parent out there needs to hear this right now, but you can can refuse to force your children to have relationships with toxic relatives and allow, if not encourage them to cut the chord!
But … c’mon, Cat! They’re family! They’re BLOOD!
Really?
But … c’mon, genius! THEY’VE HURT YOUR KIDS!
Hello? Have you heard anything I’ve said? Blood isn’t always healthy. If it’s too thin? It can bruise, wound, and cause you to bleed out. If it’s too thick? It can clot, clog, suffocate, and block the flow to your heart and kill you.
Here’s me guessing you’re not gonna have a very happy 77th birthday today, “dad”! Yup, I know you’re watching my social media and snooping around in this Diary. Didja really think I’m that stupid? Looks like you’ll be spending your special, special day ALONE! You see, that‘s what happens when you write the words, “I hope she fucking falls off the cruise ship and drowns” about myfuture daughter-in-law! By the way? You’re GROSS! K, bye now!
Pearls and swine bereft of me, long and NOT so weary my road has been. I was lost in the cities, alone in the hills … no sorrow or pity for leaving. I feel, yeah. Friends and liars don’t wait for me, ’cause I’ll get on all by myself. I put millions of miles under my heels and still too close to you. I feel, yeah.
I am not your carpet ride …
I am the sky!
I am not your blowing wind …
I am the lightening!
I am not your autumn moon …
I am the night!
I am not your rolling wheels …
I AM THE HIGHWAY!
Yes, I really am the entire highway, and no, I’m not for everyone. It is what it is, I am who I am, and I make no apologies whatsoever for not being the most “peoply” person ever. Any questions? Well, then I’ll have my people call your people. Wait! I am “my people” and we pretty much never call anyone back, so, I wouldn’t hold your breath waiting for my answers. I’m certainly not waiting for ’em, ’cause most of this whole “living” dealio is way above my pay grade and I’m just rollin’ on pure faith and not bothering with too many details!
“THREE“: She’s my beautiful muse of a number three child in order of birth. “FIVE”: NOT mine by birth, but fifth in the order of children I’ve been lucky enough to know and love as my own in this lifetime. So?
Three + Five = MINE!
HAPPY 21ST,
NUMBER FIVE!
No, you’re not “mine” by birth, but then again, you are! God bless the beautiful woman who brought you into this world, by the way, ’cause she did a pretty stellar job with you and we are all so lucky to have you in our atmosphere! I truly cannot wait to hopefully meet the lady who raised you one day. Until then, yes, I’m very much counting my blessings today, and you, young man, are amongst my greatest.
And by the way …
I find it absolutely no coincidence that on this day exactly twenty-one years ago two of the most important things in my daughter’s life thus far were born. To know her well is to know that Three Days Grace is one of her “life bands”, if not THE band of her entire LIFETIME! They are to her what Death Punch is to me and they all but wrote the soundtrack to her life!
… and when they ask me, “What did you do with your life?”, I’ll say, “I gave birth to a dancing star who I was honored to call my daughter”!
Look, although I may not have known exactly what kind of girl I wanted to raise on the day that she was born (at exactly 4:29pm, by the way … the moment this post is being published), I’ve ended up with a force to be reckoned with, very much like myself, who carries rainbows, sunshine, fluffy clouds, the thunder and firestorms from actual HEAVEN in her eyes, and magic in her soul! She’s never afraid to get her pretty little hands dirty and do the work that some in this world refuse to, those being the works of the earth and the heart. Indeed, she is my muse, God’s OTHER favorite daughter, my living crown and legacy, and I so beyond freaking proud of her!
Gia, I don’t know what I did to deserve to get to be your mama, but just know that some day if I decide to finally grow up, I’m hoping to be more like YOU! In the meantime, in a world full of “PICK ME! PICK ME!” clueless, shallow, and BASIC little girls, off you go to blaze fires and trails of your own. I’M HERE FOR IT! I love you, Mona Lisa! Here’s to your next open chapter of stealing The Sun from the sky!
Perhaps one of the most overlooked pleasures in life is the ability to rise above the incessant “need” for pleasure. Look, I’m not saying that a little bit of pleasure from time to time isn’t epic. I’m a human, not a robot, and yes, I very much like having fun! I don’t go looking for it, though. Rather, I just let it all come to me organically as a reward for at least attempting to live with virtue and integrity. Why is that, you ask? Because a life without virtue that seeks excessive and not worldly pleasure is nothing but a trap that keeps you tethered to the constant pursuit of “the next best thing” and unable to live in the present and not always exciting moments.
I mean, HELLO? Do you know the story of my husband? He kept trying to plug all those holes in his heart with the “stuff” and accompanying pleasure he only thought would close the gap between all of the broken and missing pieces inside of him and the medication it would temporarily bring.
Could I find enough love for myself to make these jagged pieces worth putting together? I have looked to find strength in so many ”things” because I feel it is not within me, but deep down inside I know it is there. One day soon I will gather up these pieces again. Fit them together the way they are supposed to go. These shards will become my strength. My protection. My weapons against further abuses of my worth and love.
No amount of money or “things” could buy him the peace and happiness he needed to survive. “The frog turned prince” who started with nothing, then found a way to have everything, still went to his grave with “all of it” yet NOTHING. “Everything in moderation”, folks. Unless you’re a five year old who literally can’t help but to chase after every balloon that blows past his face, sometimes you just gotta grow up and learn to empty your cup, sit with yourself, and just revel in all the boring stuff.
Well, folks! I have some pretty big news! Be it known to all that on the very last day of our 2024 annual family vacation, at just about 4:00pm beneath a tree in the same moss-covered, Butchart Japanese Gardens in Victoria, British Columbia, Canada that we visited back in 2017, my first born finally took a knee and made not just one, but two very happy women even happier!
To say I’m elated wouldn’t quite give proper credence to the feelings of not just pride and joy, but even more so peace of mind knowing that this girl we’ve all grown to love and adore so much will soon become a permanent part of my little family’s brand new legacy. This is their song, by the way, which is why the precious video nugget of “the moment” is set to it.
Good enough. But, Jean-Claude Van DAMN, sometimes that process can be confusing. So, how do we get to “know ourselves”?
BY KNOWING WHO WE’RE NOT!
With that, and in honor of National Onion Day, just consider yourself an onion and just start peeling back all your layers. As far as I’m concerned, it is only through the process of elimination that we can truly discover the most authentic version of who we are at our core.
Look, the sobering truth is that life can get pretty noisy for all of us … especially when it comes to “peopling” our way through other peoples’ perspectives and opinions. But once you start removing all the background noise and distractions, finding the first edition of “you” becomes elementary. At the end of the day, it is my greatest prayer that after you’re done peeling, you’ll find yourself standing in the reflection of God.
MISSING PERSON
Another question in me … one for The Powers That Be. It’s got me thrown, so, I put on my poker face and try to figure it out … this undeniable doubt. A common occurrence … feeling so out of place. Guarded and cynical now … can’t help but wondering how my heart evolved into a rock beating inside of me. So, I feel such a stoic ordeal. Where’s that feeling that I don’t feel? There was a boy who had the faith to move a mountain, and like a child he would believe without a reason. Without a trace, he disappeared into the void and I’ve been searchin’ for that missing person. Under a lavender moon … so many thoughts consume me. Who dimmed that glowing light that once burned so bright in me? Is this a radical phase … a problematical age … that keeps me running from all that I used to be? Is there a way to return … is there a way to unlearn … that carnal knowledge that’s chipping away at my soul. I’ve been gone too long. Will I ever find my way Home? There was a boy who had the faith to move a mountain, and like a child he would believe without a reason. He used to want to try to walk the straight and narrow. He had a fire and he could feel it in the marrow. It’s been a long time and I haven’t seen him lately, but I’ve been searchin’ for that missing person.
While you likely believe that the fortress you have forged out of callousness, bitterness, and unspeakable pain and sadness is keeping you safe and serving you well, let me assure that it is NOT! Trust me when I say it, ’cause I’ve been there and done that, too! Once upon a time (and sometimes even now), I was the reigning QUEEN of, “Go away and just leave me the fuck alone”!
Yeah, I get it, you’re an outcast … always under attack … always comin’ in last … bringin’ up the past! No one owes you anything! I think you need a shotgun blast … a kick in the ass! So paranoid! WATCH YOUR BACK! Oh my, here we go! Another loose cannon gone bipolar. Slipped down, couldn’t get much lower. Quicksand’s got no sense of humor. I’m still laughin’ like hell! You think that by cryin’ to me … lookin’ so sorry … that I’m gonna believe you’ve been affected by a social disease? WELL, THEN TAKE YOUR MEDICINE! I’m so sick of this tombstone mentality. If there’s an afterlife, then it’ll set you free. But I’m not gonna part the seas … you’re a self-fulfilling prophecy. I created the sound of madness … Wrote the book on pain … somehow, I’m still here to explain that the darkest hour never comes in the night. You can sleep with a gun, but WHEN YOU GONNA WAKE UP AND FIGHT FOR YOURSELF?
Happy Birthday, “Sound Of Madness“! May you live on in infamy as the hard to swallow truth pill and fight song for all the ones who got left behind but then found their will to SHINE DOWN!
Could you ever steal a prayer to deny your God? And could you ever buy your love and not count the cost? And could you ever take a life when all was lost? Would it ever be enough? Could you bite the hand that feeds, and then ask for more? And could you kiss the wound that bleeds, spit it on the floor? And could you open up your heart and then close the door? Would it ever be enough? Every word you whisper; all the tears you hide. You die for love when it’s alive. Where does love go when it dies? If you came across your dream, would you walk on by? Hold a candle to the wind and just let it die? And is there room inside your mind for one more try? Would it ever be enough? I watch the time go rushing by, it’s like an ocean wave showing you no mercy; throwing dirt upon your grave. You’re drowning in the darkness and you’re blinded by The Light, and there ain’t no prayer that’s gonna save you now. If you woke up from your sleep … blood on your hands … would you wash the pain away no one understands? There must be someone out there who can help you breathe again? Would it ever be enough?
(“Where Does Love Go When It Dies … Def Leppard)
It’s International Widow’s Day again, and after having recently stumbled upon this Today Show interview between Hoda Kotb and Lisa Niemi Swayze, the late Patrick Swayze’s widow, I don’t think I’ve ever been as inspired, or at minimum, “deeply thought provoked”:
Just because somebody’s gone doesn’t mean you fall out of love … that’s because love comes from the same well.
Wow. Just wow! Meanwhile, I’m not even gonna lie and say, “I have no fears in life whatsoever”, especially when even the remote idea of showing “one LAST king” my naked soul is concerned. Yup! I’m a little scared to death of what that might possibly look like. But you see, not everyone even gets the opportunity to fall in love just once. I’ve been blessed to fall in love twice. If, by chance, I do get one last partner to ride into the sunset with, you can Jean-Claude Van DAMN bet I’m gonna take it.
And could you open up your heart and then close the door?
Yes. Yes, I could. Where did all that love go when he died? It went right back into The Well from whence it came. Should that day come when it’s time for me to draw from it for that “one last king” who may be out there somewhere preparing his table for me, there will assuredly still be plenty. In the meantime, the true and deep love I have myself, my babies, and those who are in my halo flows abundantly.
Some years ago, I stumbled upon these impeccable words of Nikita Gill, the British-Indian poet, playwright, writer, and illustrator from England born this day in 1987. So inspired was I by her BEAUTIFUL mindset, that I had ten copies printed for not just me and my Mona Lisa, but some of her friends, as well. My original social media post about it created so much infectious positivity that I ended up printing fifty more copies to mail out to all my friends with daughters and granddaughters. Then, I carried the extras around with me everywhere I’d go to give to as many random strangers “with girls” as possible.
I have mine pinned just above the light switch in my closet, such that it’s the last thing I see every time I walk out it “beautiful”, and I read the words to myself every day. Gia’s is also in her closet, nestled between pictures of both her dads … the one who’s still here, and the one on The Brighter Side Of Grey … so that she, too, remembers to NOT be “beautiful”.
Tonight, as I left my closet and headed towards the bed, I caught a glimpse of myself in the bathroom mirror. After having finally put this Diary entry together today, the words were fresh in my mind, and I was reminded that although I do believe that Gia and I are “beautiful”, it’s the internally beautiful Light that shines from within us both that has been amongst our saving grace in this grief journey. This is especially true given that Zack was the man who never let a day pass that he failed to remind us that although we’re beautiful on the outside, it was our Light that was HIS saving grace for the decade we got to have him.
You’re beautiful, that’s all that I can say. Unforgettable … I’m caught in every way. Don’t every let the mirror tell you lies. Just look at your reflection through my eyes. You’re beautiful!
Those are the BEAUTIFUL words to a song Zack used to sing to us. But you see, these days when I hear it playing (and I listen to it all the time), I pretend it’s GOD singing it to me … because He is! So, with that … don’t be “beautiful” …
We’re smack dab in the middle of Men’s Mental Health Awareness Month, so, I thought it would be appropriate to share a poignant post by an epic content creator I follow on Instagram whose last name just happens to be Williamson. He’s “@BradWilliamson80“, and his content is uplifting, motivating, and seems to be heavily rooted in men’s mental health. As the mother of a son and late wife of a man who lost his fight with the darkness, I LOVE IT!
Wentworth Miller once said,
You only cry for help if you believe there is help to cry for.
Well then? What if that’s especially true for men? What if telling themselves they can’t go there because no one will care is the silent catalyst for when their pride, guilt, and blood finally spill all over the floor, or, as in the case with Zack, all over the interior of the front seat of the REALLY expensive car that was but an illusion he presented to the world: “Look how OKAY I really, really am!” What if there really is a darkness in the distance from the ways that they’ve been livin’, but they know they can’t resist it, because there really is no mercy to spare for all the sins they’ve hidden in the daylight, then, if they end up on their knees, instead of following The Light, they slip to the void of a very unpopular monster?
As for me and this post? Yah, I really do love it and hate it at the same time, ’cause just look at the number of people who liked my comment. As of the today, there are at least 101 other people in this world who felt my words.
As much as I detest the fact that so many men are hiding in the darkness of their feelings right now, I love that the ripples of awareness are growing day by day. Let’s keep up this bittersweet work, my friends, by continually shedding light on the unique mental health struggles faced by men, dismantling the stigmas that prevent them from asking for help, and encouraging open and sometimes vulnerable conversations about men’s mental well-being, such as the one posted by “the other Mr. Williamson“, because, yes, MEN HAVE FEELINGS, TOO! They shouldn’t have to suffer in silence while screaming out in pain all alone behind the wheels of their cars. Just sayin’.
FIVE. That’s the number of Father’s Days we’ve had to celebrate without out you, Superman. But then, FIVE! (Oh, yah, in case you missed the memo, he’s “Five” by order of appearance in my halo as a child of either my blood or my heart. Meanwhile … HONEY? Are you watching this through your telescope from the other side of the stars? Have you seen this young KING who has shown up in our family picture?
Imagine my surprise when this text came in yesterday while I was out showing houses. While at first glance, my heart wanted to fall through my stomach, instead it only swelled. I mean, how many times did you send me flowers for absolutely no reason at all, but even more so when I’d been out working even though you said I didn’t have to?
“Thank you”. Just “thank you”, he said. Lol. He has no idea how to show his appreciation to me? This young man who we literally never saw coming has been such a driving force in both her and my life already, and I’m hoping that you approve. Wait! No! I KNOW YOU WOULD! Actually? Now that I think of it, there’s a song I recently heard that I had intended to blog to Christian, but instead, I’m blogging it to both him and the kid by tweaking the words my way:
It’s funny how a little plus sign can change your life overnight … even when it belongs to another mother … and turn a boy into a man … and how hearts so big fit inside small Superman-caped wrecking balls who eventually grow into an extremely brave men with no fear at all!
To My Number One:
I hope you love with all you’ve got and never try to be something you’re not … always a fighter, dreamer, survivor! Heart full of fire, keep looking them in thеir eyes when you shakе their hand, “Sir” and “Ma’am”. Understand God’s got a plan for you and I hope you know you’re grow up to be the man I always knew you could be. I tried not to blink too long, but before I knew it, you’ve gone and fallen for another and I’m okay with it, ’cause guess what? SO HAVE I! Before you take somebody’s little girl away and ask her hand, take a knee and say:
I wanna love you with all I got … never try to be something I’m not … always a fighter, giver, provider. Heart full of fire, look you in your eyes as we both stand, like God planned, slip that band on your left-hand and promise you that I’ll always try to be the man you see in me!
To My Number Five:
I hope you love with all you’ve got and never try to be something you’re not … always a fighter, dreamer, survivor! Heart full of fire, keep looking them in thеir eyes when you shakе their hand, “Sir” and “Ma’am”. Understand God’s got a plan for you. Although I may not have given birth to you, or seen you during your “Superman-caped” wrecking ball days, as a mother, I am so damn proud of the man you are becoming and am certain your own mother must be, too. Some day I truly look forward meeting the woman whose plus sign you belonged to. Only time will tell what the future has in store for you and my girl, but in the meantime, I’m so thankful you’re in my halo! Both her dads must be, too!
I was once told that walking through a doorway could cause someone to forget even the most precious memories they had. Memories of good … memories of bad … memories of love and of loss all tucked away neatly, stored like the worn out blankets that were kept to dress the rainy days and bad habits that happen from time to time or what it felt like to rest your head on a friend’s shoulder that still carries with it the creases from where you last placed your heart. Just like that … gone within a single step … that somehow three beams and an imaginary line drawn across some old aching floorboards were all that stood between you and the infinite silence of the very things that once colored your mind with sound. It’s funny … you can make yourself believe almost anything if you think about it for long enough.
Was that you?
I was once told that the love I felt beating inside my chest was nothing more than my mind playing an unfair trick on my heart, and like a pair of dice dancing along the uneven pavement, their fate, much like yours or mine, had already been decided and that even the cracks that drew their faults between two opposing sides cannot escape a fate that was always destined to be sealed. To think that someone could actually believe that the swelling tides of my heart were no more than an anxious highway of ins and outs anchoring my imagination to the castles I’ve been building in the sky. Well? Maybe THEY are the crazy ones.
Do not let this thing you got go to waste. Do not let your heart be dismayed. It’s here by some random disclosure of grace from some vascular Great Thing. Do not let this thing you got go to waste. The pain and the beauty, so strange. Get the FUCK out of your head if it says, “Stay cold and be deathly afraid.” Do not let your spirit wane! Do not let your spirit wane!
Your ego wants you to win so you feel good about yourself. Yet it’s exactly the ego itself that’s sabotaging you from winning. The paradox: Killing the ego before it becomes big is a great way to sustain a happy life, because once it gets enough power, you’ll start to beat yourself up for small stuff. It’s a guaranteed way to cripple yourself.
It’s that double-headed little beast on your shoulder that’s constantly looking for a stronger sense of identity by feeding our superiority. The ego cannot tolerate inferiority, because it feeds off of the pain that comes with our insecurities. It never feels like it’s enough, so, it’s constantly trying to add to its sense of self to feel superior.
So, with that …
Stop waiting on your fifteen minutes of fame, ’cause you’re not special. I’m not trying to rain on your parade, but you’re not special. I’m not trying to bring you down. I’m not trying to sound so ineffectual … but you’re not special!
Okay, people … CALM YOUR TITS … because, also? You’re INCREDIBLY fucking special, but the only way to ever truly reach your “I’M SO SPECIAL” potential is by first realizing that you’re NOT! Didja catch that?
Try not to take things so personally all the time and consuming yourself with what others may be thinking, saying, or judging about you. Chances are high that most everyone is just living in their own very special and also NOT THAT SPECIAL moments on this big, blue, EPIC marble we call home!
Ego death is a “complete loss of subjective self-identity”. The term is used in various intertwined contexts, with related meanings. Jungian psychology uses the synonymous term psychic death, referring to a fundamental transformation of the psyche. In death and rebirth mythology, ego death is a phase of self-surrender and transition, as described by Joseph Campbell in his research on the mythology of the Hero’s Journey. It is a recurrent theme in world mythology and is also used as a metaphor in some strands of contemporary western thinking.
Trust me when I tell you that mine is still in Rigor mortis … BUT … the stiffer it gets as it’s heading 6 feet under, the freer, happier, and more connected I’ve become to myself and this “EVERYTHING” I’m securely UNattached to. As a result, my sense of self no longer feels more distinct or “special” than anyone else’s. Meaning? I’VE GOTTEN THE FUCK OVER MYSELF! Meanwhile, I also feel deeply and intrinsically connected to both the Universe and humanity, which is ALSO paradoxical since I’m blissfully alone (but not “lonely”) and at peace literally 99.9% of the time.
And so, with that …
“Hurry up before you go and get old. Hurry up before your blood runs cold. None of us were ever meant to stay. We’re all gonna find out one day. You see, life’s too short to run it like a race. So, it’s never gonna matter if you win first place, ’cause we’re all the same. Stop waiting on your fifteen minutes of fame, ’cause you’re not special. I’m not trying to rain on your parade, but you’re not special. I’m not trying to bring you down. I’m not trying to sound so ineffectual … but you’re not special.”
God removes people from your life because He heard conversations you didn’t.
NOTHING could be further from the truth! When I say I have someone’s six, it actually does mean I have their entire clock, so, there’s no need for them to ever look back and see if I’m there. I’m EXACTLY where I said I’d be! With that, and in honor of “National Friend Day 2024“, lemme just say THIS:
That’s right, “friend” … I SEE YOU and I FELT THAT! I may be DUMB but I ain’t no STUPE! So, if you weren’t in it to win it with me EVEN when my soil was rotting and infested with worms and disease ridden fruit that looked and smelled like a vampire’s asshole, then get your fuckin’ paws out my tree!
That’s right, you heard me! At this point in my journey, I have no time or space for fair weather friends and “family” in my atmosphere. So, if you ducked and ran when the storms of my life were raging, don’t you dare try coming back around when the Sun is burning and shining for me again! As far as I’m concerned, “got your six” people aren’t just those who’ve protected your name in your absence. They’re also those who were there for you when it wasn’t exactly convenient or optimal.
The bottom line is THIS …
Do right by your people, troops, even when no one is looking. It’s called integrity, and your word should be your bond. “I got you!” should mean I GOT YOU! Period. THE END!
Did you know that today is believed to have been Achilles birthday? Indeed, it is! For those of you who didn’t already know this by now, my Mona Lisa is extremely well versed, if not obsessed with all things Spartan and Greek. Lol. I’m fairly certain she was a Spartan in another lifetime, and the sketch above is one of my hands down favorite pieces of her self-taught artistry EVER! Meanwhile …
Who was thismythological Semi-God?
The son of the mortal king, Peleus, and the sea goddess, Thetis, Achilles was fated to become the strongest, bravest, most handsome warrior of Agamemnon‘s army in the Trojan War. In a non-Homeric tale, it was said that his mother dipped the newborn Achilles into the River Styx in hopes that its “magical powers” would render him invincible:
According to myths and stories composed long after the Iliad, Thetis was extraordinarily concerned about her baby son’s mortality. She did everything she could to make him immortal: She burned him over a fire every night, then dressed his wounds with ambrosial ointment; and she dunked him into the River Styx, whose waters were said to confer the invulnerability of the gods. However, she gripped him tightly by the foot as she dipped him into the river–so tightly that the water never touched his heel. As a result, Achilles was invulnerable everywhere but there.
Hmm? Sounds like a good plan to me, mom. NOT! Indeed, he became an EPIC warrior and hero … but, NO, he wasn’t invincible. Of all the things to take him out, it was an arrow through the one place on his body that wasn’t bathed in the river since his mother’s hands were wrapped around it as she dipped him:
While Thetis is historically depicted as a loving and devoted mother who bore the burden of knowing her son’s fate while trying to save his life, change his path, and make him immortal, in my opinion, it was SHE, and not his heel who became is downfall. She all but spoon fed him his god complex by overprotecting, coddling, and inflating his ego with a sense of grandiosity, superiority, entitlement, and invincibility:
My mother Thetis, the goddess with the silver feet, says that a twofold fate carries me toward my death. If I remain and fight to take the city of the Trojans, then my homecoming is no more, but my fame will be forever. If I return to my home in the land of my fathers, there will be no glorious renown, yet I will live long, and the doom of death will not soon find me.
By the way, did you know that Achilles was also mentally ill? Not only are are some of the oldest descriptions of PTSD and generalized anxiety ever written found in Homer’s Iliad circa 720BC, but he was also a textbook NPD. Momma raised an arrogant narcissist whose self-grandiosity became the death of him.
As far as I’m concerned, there is an EPIC parenting lesson to be learned here, moms and dads. Don’t fill your kids’ buckets with fictional tales of magic rivers and become the arrow in their heel. Rather, fill their buckets with the truth about their weaknesses and mortality! Otherwise, they’ll just stand there looking pretty, pounding their chests and running their mouths INSTEAD of being truly prepared for battle, survival, and watching their own six!
A long day alone. The emptiness is so real. Never having peace of mind. Running from what I can’t see. And there is nowhere left to hide. Turn and face these empty eyes all alone. I try to find myself. I find the stranger trapped inside and I take one more step away from a face I used to recognize. Familiar shadows closing in. A Suffocating fear descends.
{The Band RED}
Happy 18th Birthday to yet another one of the most powerful songs of my life by one of favorite bands, “The Band RED“. Lol! You’re officially an adult now!
Look, if I’ve learned anything thus far, it’s that even those who are surrounded by people who love them and aren’t fighting “all alone” can slip to the darkness of a void there’s no easy way out of. Hello? Do you KNOW what happened to my husband? Although he walked alone for the majority of his life, in the end he was, indeed, surrounded by a handful of us who tried desperately to keep him from losing himself in that Godforsaken shattered mirror where he saw “nothing”:
I finally broke and my mind came undone. My body gave way as I hit the floor. My heart shattered. I lacked the strength to even pick up these pieces as they spilled across the floor while they looked at me in disapproval for the “mess” and inconvenience I made for them, but I gathered them up none the less as the whip cracked and scarred my back pushing me begrudgingly forward. I didn’t know what to do with what was left of me. I had never come this far apart. I was just a little [boy]. I just wanted to give up. Lay down. You know the rest. There is a crack deep in my soul that is still healing, but some days I feel as though it is only getting bigger. I thought I would never be strong enough to stand on my own and finally get my “shit” together. Could I find enough love for myself to make these jagged pieces worth putting together? I have looked to find strength in so many ”things” because I feel it is not within me, but deep down inside I know it is there. One day soon I will gather up these pieces again. Fit them together the way they are supposed to go. These shards will become my strength. My protection. My weapons against further abuses of my worth and love. The strength is gathering within me – I’m not little anymore! They shoved me on to the path of adulthood and I will show those who have wronged me my wrath, which will only be overshadowed by the ferocity of my love that is and was the best thing they will never have known. I spent so much time seeking their approval, when it was MY approval and favor, they should have been looking for all along.
Meanwhile … HAVE YOU? Have you ever had to pull YOURSELF out of YOURSELF all alone? Been there! Done that! Got the tattered proverbial straight jacket to prove it! That shit AIN’T for the faint of heart, my friends, and ONLY the strong survive a knock down, drag out, bloody battle in a ring going toe to toe with “themselves“. In the end, the best that any of us can can hope for is the strength to be strong alone, because no matter how many people we do or don’t have at our six, NO ONE can keep you from getting lost in a mirror but YOU!
Remember …
Behind every badass Spartan out there, there’s a story that gave them NO other choice but to learn the EPIC and DYING art of SOLO survival. Just think about everything your “cave people” went through and faced while they battled through untold triumphs just long enough to create the YOU! You are risen from their ashes, my friend. Don’t you EVER forget that! Whether you believe it or not, there truly are “solo survivors” in your very own bloodline looking back at you when you stand in that mirror!
So, with that, if you “woke up and broke it down” today … or EVER in your life … YES, I am SO fucking proud of you! Spartan on, my friends. Your victory is not in vein and trust me when I tell that someone out there has watched you rise after a fall and thought to themselves: “If they can do it, I CAN DO IT!”
True love can really “bite”, can it not? So, let’s philosophize about it about, starting with the picture quote above. What we have here, dear readers, are two vastly different philosophers (may they both be resting in peace) by way of their waxing some of life’s burning questions, with even more vastly different truths about how they survived “love’s bite”.
I’ve been reading Franz Kafka since my freshman year of college, by the way, and very much align with his inner beetle. I’m “Kafkaesque” to the core in my grave disdain for all things alienation and bureaucratic absurdity, and do quite often find the human condition surreal and nightmarish. Lol! To think that those who know personally thought I was just a bird brain!
Kafka, on the other hand, would just leave love behind, because his truth was that it all but demanded he save HIMSELF. So? He’d “let go for dear life”, because loving HIMSELF meant walking away from anything he’d once thought he couldn’t live without that harmed him.
As for me? I have scars from both sets of love’s teeth, BUT, now that I’ve come this far in my journey and fallen completely in love with MYSELF, I can honestly say I’m more “Kafkaesque” in my relationships of ANY kind going forward. As a “crucified mother”, however, I’m also “Dostoevsky” and in it to win it, win, lose, or draw with my babies for LIFE! Jean-Claude Van DAMN, ain’t love a many splendored thing?
So? Which of love’s chomps do you keep close to the bit? Do you tend to “stay” even if it’s breaking you, or “leave” even if it means breaking your own heart? Pretty deep stuff, right? Hi everyone! It’s me, “The REAL Cat Fyodor Kafka Williamson” … writer, mother, and LOVE BITTEN philosopher extraordinaire!”
For the record, for those of you who wanna be in the know. our beloved, tortured Kafka died this day 100 years ago at the relatively young age of 40:
How often Kafka had longed to leave his Prague! He noted the desire “to go away from Prague. To take action against this, the greatest human damage I have ever suffered, with the strongest chemical agent I have at my disposal” in his diary on 9th March 1914. This wish was fulfilled in the most tragic way: the final phase of his life was spent in Dr Hoffmann’s sanatorium in Kierling near Klosterneuburg, a picturesque village a few miles outside Vienna. Here, on 3rd June 1924, the ill-fated author succumbed to tuberculosis; he was cared for in his last agonizing weeks by his friend Dr Robert Klopstock, and his lover Dora Diamant. Franz Kafka thus gave sleepy Kierling a place in the annals of literary history.
… for me, growing up felt mostly like constantly falling out of a bloodied and blackened sky as a million tiny shards of glass. My parents had all of my pieces in their hands, but courtesy of their own toxic childhoods, were unable to see or catch my scattered pieces, much less put them back together. Lol. “Generational trauma” … the gift that just keeps on giving. As a result, I was given no choice but to find a way to pick up, make sense of, and mend my shards alone.
Look, I dunno who needs to hear this right now, but please don’t be that parent whose grown children struggle with the lifelong fear that your grandchildren are gonna spend their entire lives looking in all the wrong places for the glue to put themselves back together after the childhood trauma recovery prison you sentenced their parent to. Some of us eventually grow up to realize that the families we create and the safe and healthy places we want to take them are much more important than the abusive and unacceptable bullshit YOU served us, so we burn it all down to the ground and “good GOODBYE” you!
The good news is that when you’re children are finally able to cut that sick, black cord that emotionally tethers them to you, there WILL come a point when they realize how much less than extraordinary you really were and that it was merely all love and wasted energy they poured into you (but YOU sucked right back out) that ever made you seem so special in the first place. But you see, the GOOD news here is also the BAD news here, because someday, your kids ARE gonna open their eyes up wide and finally see YOU for what you really are. They’ll see what kind of parent you were. They’ll remember your lack of effort. They’ll see what kind of spouse you were and how you abused their other parent. They’ll see what kind of person you are and how you treated humanity, and even remember how you treated animals. That’s right, TUMOR! You’re someTHING they’ll NEVER wanna be like!
With that, and again to all you walking trash bags out there reading this right now who reproduced before getting your broken pieces in order such that your cuts ended up bleeding out on to your babies, here’s a ‘lil nugget for you to chew on while you’re still alive …
Why not at least try to find a way to give your “loved ones” (lol) a reason to cry at your funeral instead of having to sit up in the front row feeling awkward as holy FUCK while the people sitting behind them are wondering, “Who da fuck doesn’t cry at their own parent’s funeral?”
Wow! Just WOW! Who woulda ever thunk that there would ever be such a thing as “National Mind Your Own Business Day“? Lol. Go figure! Guess what, my friends? THAT’S the kinda business that I’m TOTALLY down with minding!
Love me or hate me, since I’m only here to keep it REAL, you can just mind your biz … I can just mind mine, and never the twixt shall meet! This is, after all, my life, and your life is very much yours, so, umm …
… and when they ask me, “What did you do with your life?”, I’ll say,
I gave birth to a dancing star who I was honored to call my daughter!
Gia, my darling, in a world full of “PICK ME! PICK ME!” clueless, shallow, BASIC little girls who don’t know who they are or what to think unless somebody tells them first, off you go, guns a wavin‘, to blaze trails of your very own like the painted wild mustang you’ve always been! I’M HERE FOR IT! I love you, Mona Lisa, and I’m so damn proud of you I could pinch myself! By the way, so is your Dad! Surely you must know that he’s still right behind you with every step you take and every beat of your heart. You truly are the brightest jewel in my tiara. Here’s to the next open chapter of you stealing the Sun from the sky and forging a crown and sword of your own!
… and then, just like that, the Sun did set on my my almost 25 years as a school-daze mom:
Where did all the time go? Can someone tell me, PLEASE? Wasn’t it, like, just five minutes ago that we were dropping her off to her very first day of school with a silly, toothless smile on her face, a giant bow in her hair, and a backpack that was all but bigger than she was? I’m not gonna lie, folks, it was a bittersweet moment pulling into the parking lot and stepping onto that field to watch the “sun rise” on her first day as a senior in high school without the man who was primarily responsible for making this all happen for her, and an even longer drive home and agonizing day that followed. Yes, I spent a full 24 hours, if not more, in a flood of tears. Meanwhile, and with this, we begin the excruciatingly short 285-day long journey to the sunset of her graduation. Ugh.
You saved my life, not once but twice. You kept me free from falling. You saved my life, made it all alright when I didn’t feel like talking. You made sure I always saw the daylight.
(“Daylight” by Shinedown … Words Adapted)
Indeed, it’s true that “grief is the price we pay for love“. So, I’ll continue to spend every penny my soul has to offer for the honor and privilege of having loved the many souls I’ve lost, not the least of which was my Walter’s. I was lucky to be chosen as his person, and no, there will never be another like him. God Himself knows how many ways he saved my life, and how, yes, he really did keep me from falling off the edge of this Earth.
Few are they who know what sick, twisted, and truly evil things really happened to me and my daughter in the wake of my husband’s literal insanity then suicide, and how Lord Williamson went to war with the devil who took residence in our home in the months before he left. Hell, even Zack knew there was a monster lurking inside his head, but it wasn’t until our beloved and faithful Walter finally “knew” and SAW the creature hiding beneath Zack’s skin and almost ripped his hand off that Zack decided to put both himself and that Godforsaken thing down. It’s an unbelievable story, this I know too well, but true nonetheless. My point in all this being that when in passing you’ve heard it said, “my dog would take a bullet for me”, I am here to tell you that not only would Walter have literally taken a bullet for me and mine, I watched in disbelief with my very own eyes as he physically placed himself between me and something inexplicably abhorrent to protect me the night before Zack shot himself.
And so, with that, I’ll see you on The Brighter Side, my handsome, where I pray to GOD that your dad really was waiting There for you with arms wide open. Only time will tell, I suppose. Until then, I love you “FURever”, Lord Walter The Williamson. ~ Mommy
… and you can’t fight the tears that ain’t coming, or the moment of truth in your lies. So, when everything feels like the movies, yeah, you bleed just to know you’re alive.
Listen, I dunno who needs to hear this right now, but pain really does demand to be felt, and dare I say that internalized pain that doesn’t hurt you anymore is actually dangerous. So, if you’re that child in a long line of family people who either refused to feel a thing and chose to avoid dealing with that gift that just kept on fucking giving, KNOW THIS:
But none of them were ever gonna heal from it unless someone finally faced and ROSE from it, and that, my fellow black sheep, was YOU validating the realities that no one wanted to talk about. You CANNOT move on from all that generationally gifted pain until you face, FEEL, and overcome the gauntlet of emotions and friction you WILL endure as go through this journey to freedom.
PAIN
You’re sick of feeling numb. You’re not the only one. I’ll take you by the hand and I’ll show you a world that you can understand. This life is filled with hurt when happiness doesn’t work. Trust me and take my hand. When the lights go out, you’ll understand. Anger and agony are better than misery. Trust me, I’ve got a plan. When the lights go up, you’ll understand. I know that you’re wounded. You know I’m always here for you. I know that you’ll thank me later Pain, without love. Pain, I can’t get enough. Pain, I like it rough, ’cause I’d rather feel pain than nothing at all. (Three Days Grace)
She walks through the city. No one recognizes her face. They don’t want her pity. No one ever mentions her name. She’s carried the broken, but their scars have no name in her heart, ’cause she walks in forgiveness. She’ll shine like a light in the dark.
She’ll always remember the days when they welcomed her here. They know if they need her. She made a promise to always be here.
When they are weak she will always be strong. Though they don’t know it, they’re never alone. No matter how many times they may leave, it’s never hopeless, ’cause she still believes.
She is love.
🎶
She’s the whisper of the leaves when you walk down the street, the smell of certain foods you remember, every flower you pick, and the fragrance of life itself. She’s the hand on your brow when you’re not feeling well and your breath in the air on a winter’s day. She’s the sound of the rain that lulls you to sleep, the colors of a rainbow, and the heartbeat of Christmas morning. She’s the place you came from, your very first home, and the map you follow with every step you take. She’s your first love, your first friend, even your first enemy, but nothing on earth can separate you. Not time, not space… not even death. She is always with you. She’s your Mother. She is Love.
Pray God, I am someone’s “She”. I was blessed, honored, and privileged to be someone’s Mother. But you see, not a Mother’s Day has passed since the first one I celebrated with Zachariah in my halo that hasn’t been met with an abundance of joy and gratitude for having been blessed enough to be their “She”, but as well a deep and aching sadness. Not everyone has a “She” propelling the wings of their flight:
As with every Mother’s Day I’ve since had to or will ever spend without him, today is so twisted and bittersweet. On one hand, I am privileged to celebrate not just the gift of my motherhood, but the gifts of my mother beautiful Mother and angel Grandmother as well, it was on this day in May 2019 when he started coming apart at the seams. For that reason, this day will always be a rollercoaster of deep joy and intense sadness for me. He had just gone up to say goodbye to Gia before heading off to work that morning. As he made it to that last step on the way back down, he just stopped there dead in his tracks and started sobbing, much like the day at the kitchen window a few months before. When I asked him what was wrong, the words he spoke were all but paralyzing:
“That whore that gave birth to me just threw me the fuck away. My own mother didn’t want me. She never did. She never will. I really AM a Zack Of Shit!“
They say the road to hell is paved with good intentions. Why did they never mention what’s real and in between?
(Five Finger Death Punch)
Well, folks, here I am MENTIONING IT! After all, this is day one of Mental Health Awareness Month 2024, so what better way to kick it off with this poignant reminder:
Take a look around!
Just look around!
Statistics say that someone you know could be suffering in agony and silence with voices in their head telling them they don’t belong here anymore. It could even be that total stranger with a big FAKE smile on their face standing right beside you somewhere as you’re out there “living the dream”.
Meanwhile, with no visible symptoms and just a head full of black, empty, darkness, indeed, it is true that one of the biggest problems that someone suffering with a mental illness faces is the people who either can’t, don’t, or won’t believe their really “sick”. Lookit, I’m not trying to scare the living HELL out of you, but then again, maybe I am.
Be mindful …
… be aware …
… BE KIND …
… and for Christ’s sake, please NEVER take your own sound mental wealth for granted. Not everyone gets out of this thing in one piece and not everyone is “living the dream”.
Oh, and FYI, the quote work above is a collaboration between me and my insanely talented Mona Lisa and her “Phoenix Collaborative Project“. That “bleeding heart man” of hers has already spoken it’s peace “In His Remains” a couple of years ago at the beginning of our “mental wealth” journey together, it, too, a hauntingly poignant message about mental illness all of it’s own.
LIVING THE DREAM
Captain America, are you off to fight the bad guys? Hey, mighty Superman, can you save us from ourselves? Hey, Mr. Universe, can you lift us up above this? ‘Cause I’m just Iron Man, I’m a ghost within a shell. Take a look around. Just look around. They say the road to Hell is paved with good intentions. Why did they never mention what’s real and in between? It seems the path we’re on was paved with blood and sorrow. No thought about tomorrow. Just part of the machine or so it seems. Yeah, so it seems. We’re all living the dream. We’re all living the dream. Hey there, Your Majesty, is there anyone above you? It must be lonely when you’re up there looking down. Hey, Lady Amnesty, there’s no one that can judge you. We’re all just broken toys beneath your crooked crown. Take a look around. Just look around. They say the road to Hell is paved with good intentions. Why did they never mention what’s real and in between? It seems the path we’re on was paved with blood and sorrow. No thought about tomorrow. Just part of the machine or so it seems. Yeah, so it seems. {Five Finger Death Punch}
Nine years ago today ago, the Dallas County Bureau Of Vital Records finally issued my husband’s Court Ordered Delayed Certificate Of Birth since his “parents” could be bothered to memorialize his birthday legally:
In case you didn’t know by now, my husband’s childhood was less than optimal. His mother all but threw him away beginning the day he was born, then walked left him for good 18 months later, because, I suppose, he wasn’t as “stellar” as his older three siblings who were good enough for her to stick around for. It was only ever him she didn’t want, and trust me when I tell you, it’s been a sobering truth reality for him to wake up to every day. Keep in mind also that almost from the onset of meeting him, and especially once we got married, I’d been asking (if not begging) for the “family” he was left with after “the thing that gave birth to him” kicked him to the curb to please find some pictures of him as a child. Even one. JUST ONE? Does anyone have even ONE picture of this man from his childhood? But I’ve digressed.
With that in mind, here are a few things for all you parents out there to think about, and even all you hands-on aunts, uncles, and primary caregivers. Remember, it’s not just those of us who have procreated who can have seriously positive and life changing impacts on the little people standing in our halo (or toxic and malignant ones).
Are you painting your self-portrait small with just a tiny “here and now” brush, or are you creating an EPIC masterpiece with MUCH broader strokes that even your grandkids’ grandkids will treasure? Are you living out loud with power, grace, passion, and purpose? Your children and THEIR children will reap EXACTLY what you sow, so, SHOW THEM everything you TELL THEM! And (ps), don’t forget to keep a journal or keepsake memorializing all the memories and highlights so you don’t leave your “here and now” as mystery or subject for debate. Leave your fingerprints on everything (but hopefully not bloody ones like the ones my husband’s “parents” left all over him and my “father” is leaving all over us.
But more so than anything …
Be honest with your kids. Talk to them. Spend time with them. Share what’s in your heart of hearts, what you stand for, and what you believe in (but don’t shove it down their throats). Let them know it’s okay, if not encouraged, to take a different path than you. Let them know that you DON’T want them to be your “mini-me”, but rather, “the first of THEM“.
In the meantime …
To My Kids:
Please know how hard I’m really trying to change the crooked trajectory of this family tree. Yes, I very much do want you to find new and different paths of your own and not be “mini-me’s”. I want you to be the first and the last of both of you, and be brave enough to CHOOSE to be happy. More so than anything, I hope someday when the time has come, you’ll listed to this song and think of me, but know also that when I hear it now, I think of both of you. You are my legacy just as much I am yours.
LEGACY
Won’t you walk with me ’til both of our feet bleed? Won’t you walk with me through the blindness we can see? If I set you free, will you promise me I will see you again? I will walk with you ’til both of our feet bleed. ‘Cause we are one … we run free … I am you and you are me. You sacrificed everything. I am and will always be your legacy. I will dance with you ’til the shadows slip away. I will lay my hands on you to ease your pain. I will sing to you, I will guide you for everything. Won’t you dance with me till the shadows slip away? We are one … we run free … I am you and you are me. You sacrificed everything. I am and will always be your legacy. I promise I will see you again. I will find you on the other side. {In This Moment}
Lol, the “no contact” thing with adult children today is the beautiful, powerful, collective result of an entire faction of adults who are now embracing their mental wealth and the accompanying new and improved relationship tools acquired as a result of the former generational stigmas about mental health advocacy and therapy. Long gone are the days when all them dirty little family secrets, poisons, and cyclically toxic patterns that had been gathering like moss on the proverbial pebble that started rolling downhill and passing down infections since probably the beginning of time! (Geesh! THANKS A LOT “Cave Grandpa and Grandma”!)
“We’ve got the right to choose it!There ain’t no way we’ll lose it!This is our life … this is our song!We’ll fight the powers that be .. just don’t pick our destiny’cause you don’t know us! You don’t belong! Oh, you’re so condescending! Your gall is never ending! We don’t want nothin’ … not a thing from you! Your life is trite and jaded … boring and confiscated! If that’s your best, your best won’t do! We’re not gonna take it! NO! We ain’t gonna take it! We’re not gonna take it … ANYMORE!”
Do you get what I’m saying, people? Some say oblivion is bliss, but I say FUCK all that blissful oblivion! Being brave enough to finally open up your eyes and stare into the wreckage you availed from, as well sometimes the eyes of the monsters standing over that wreckage that some of us had to call “parents” and say,
Umm, yah! FUCK THIS SHIT and FUCK YOU, TOO, “mommy” or “daddy“! I neither signed up for OR deserved ANY of these heaping piles of bullshit you forced me to literally choke on while you were ramming them down my throat with those fists full of poison, so, DUECES! I’m OUT! K, bye bye!
And so, with that, indeed it’s true that if your adult kid doesn’t want anything to do with you anymore, YES, it is your fault! Didja hear me? YOUR fault! It’s YOUR fault! It’s ALL your fucking fault! Now, stop you’re damn crying like a Jean-Claude Van Damn effing victim and either fix what you broke or swallow this truth serum and STFU about it! But hey, what do I know, right? Lol! Oh, and one last thing: HAPPY 35th BIRTH MONTH to this actual “Mad Max-men” of a song!
… and so, with that, I’ve literally nothing more to say here other than “Happy Birthday Ludwig“. Lol! If only you could have lived to enjoy and partake in this human circus NOW!
(I Do Not Own The Rights To This Video. Message Me For Credit.)
When you wish to lead an orchestra, you must be willing to turn your back on the crowd.
{Max Lucado}
Dear Younger Me,
In order to be a leader, a game-changer , and a cycle-breaker, you HAVE to be willing to ignore the popular opinions of not just society, but your friends, family, and loved ones, as well. As long as the compilation you’re making is in ultimate best interest of all, wield that baton like it’s the most precious thing you own.
It’s gonna take courage to run against the crowd, swim into the current, and sit alone atop your mountain when the truths you eventually speak seem so flawed and tragic to everyone else. In the meantime, don’t worry about what the people in the crowd are saying about your unchained melody. I mean, DUH! That’s why they’re SITTING behind you!
I know you never asked for the responsibility of leading this orchestra that has become your life, but as a rising queen, it truly is your bounded duty. I love you, Catherine Williamson! You got this!
~ The YOU You Will Become!
(ps)
This Diary entry is in honor of the late Queen Elizabeth’s birthday today.
Quite thankfully, NO, the “broken and despondent angel on her knees” in this picture is NOT who I am, yet, in so many ways, she was in the way long days gone by. Then? I started counting my blessings instead of my scars.
Meanwhile, everyone’s gotta pick and choose the battle cry “fight words” that fit them best, right? Especially in that, for the most part, we are what we “believe, say, think, and manifest” ourselves to be. And by “for the most part”, I mean to make WOEFULLY clear that despite the fact that yes, there are people in this world who REALLY take that literally, NO, it doesn’t ALWAYS quite work that way:
I believe, say, think, and manifest myself to be an orangutan driving a Bentley across the water.
💥POOF!💥
So, how’s THAT working for ya? I’m guessing that you have NOT just transformed into a primate with a really pimp ride on skis just a Jesus-ing your way across the Sea Of Galilee?
… BUT …
All in all its a good life, I got what I want … I can’t complain!
Now, those are some words you can “believe, say, think, and manifest” right this minute … no matter what, every day! See how that works? Gotta love it, and all these often EPIC amounts of bullshittery and SHAM PAIN moments living amongst sometimes not so “human-ity” here on Earth!
By the way, if you ARE gonna try and manifest yourself into an animal, maybe DON’T make it an orangutan. While they are, indeed, HIGHLY intelligent, ALWAYS smiling, incredibly majestic and important creatures, eating with your feet just CANNOT be that fun all the time. Ya know what I’m sayin’? Oh, and one LAST but certainly not LEAST thing:
… aaaand this post doesn’t really need a dissertation or explanation. She was simply stunning, and he the most handsome Prince Charming of all as he escorted her to her John Paul 2 Catholic High School Senior Prom!
There are literally no words to express my gratitude for this day. Yes, it’s been an emotional one. Not only was this the last school daze field trip I will ever have chaperoned after my full-time mom gig of raising kids through school for a total of 27 years, how blessed am I to have even been “allowed” to participate one last time by my daughter? I’ve been careful not to overstep my bounds and helicopter her all over that high school campus like some other moms have done, because this is HER high school experience, not mine, and I very much wanted her to know that I respected my “place” in all of it. So, yes, I asked her permission first.
First, we toured three different houses of faith to learn about their religions … a Muslim mosque, a Buddhist temple, and a Jewish synagogue … then ended with a picnic and eclipse viewing. She was so happy to have me there and expressed it over and over, and it NEVER hurts hearing those words, “Mom, all my friends just freaking love you”. I’ve been on the edge of blubbering mess all day.
I am filled with power, love, light, grace, and gratitude right now. I am such a lucky momma to have gotten to spend this entire day with my daughter and her friends on their senior field trip.
In the meantime, we are heading out for a Starset concert downtown that we’ve had tickets to for almost eight months, and if you know anything about our affinity for that band, to be in front of their stage on this of all days will be ethereal.
In honor of this first day of Prevention Of Cruelty To Animals Month 2024, can I just say that if, indeed, this “Indian legend” is true, how much it’s gonna SUCK for a certain someone I know who I grew up watching literally kick our family pets in the ribs across the kennels he kept them in at the WAY far corners of our family properties every time he went to feed them and they’d jump up happily to greet him because they didn’t know he was abusing them. They were just so fucking happy to see him every day after having been sequestered out there all alone, even in the ice and snow. That being said, I’m guessing there’s not gonna be a “bridge” to where he’s going … justa piping hot “slide” down!
Wait!
WHAT?
Meanwhile, the bottom line is THIS: I don’t give two FUCKS about your job title, “social status”, your house, your car, or what you have in checking and savings. How a person treat animals tells me everything I’ll ever need to know about them! PERIOD!
Once upon a time, in a land so far away, a very confused girl had a question for her Father. You see, she’d been looking in the mirror at a mind made up that her pain would last forever. He was heading for a heart that was all closed up, so He asked her: “Will you ever open up?” She said, “NEVER”! What is the secret to keeping my head in Your promises?”
Then she just kept staring at the sky wondering why the night wasn’t telling her to believe Him. “If He could only read the pages of my heart. How can I learn the secret to keeping my head in His promises?”
HE SAID:
I’ll mend your broken heart under one condition. If I let you in, you’ll never push me out. Darling, under one condition. This is my one … this is my one condition.
On this day in 2012, Shinedown released the album that gave birth to what I believe is one of their most poignant songs of all, “Amaryllis”, which I’ve diaried here once before:
I’m a divinely punctuated queen who is abundantly aware of her risen reflection in every mirror. The girl who once waged war with herself and her many wounds, now brings flowers to her scars instead! … If you DON’T have someone special in your life, take 20 minutes today to get YOURSELF some flowers! Having a healthy, loving, forgiving, and unconditional relationship with YOU is the first step to becoming living royalty. Meanwhile, this song was particularly special one for Zack and me, because when we met, we were both an “amaryllis”.
Bukowski was right. Creation truly is a solitary act. Just ask the Queen Of The Night, the exquisitely beautiful “mystery girl” who blooms alone but once a year in the dark. In order to make her coveted appearance, she must first be exposed to frigid temperatures, but not before being induced to dormancy. This process, of course, requires not just her, but those who love and care for her to be patient. But, alas … when she’s ready, she’ll unfurl her petals and stand strong and tall amid the solitude of her own weed-free and healthy soil.
Epectitus once said,
The trials you face will introduce you to your strengths.
Yes, my reign here in The Queendom has required an immense amount of time alone as I’ve been lovingly, carefully, diligently, patiently, and often thanklessly tending to the avant garden I started planting with the conception of my firstborn “bulb“. I wouldn’t have had it any other way! This self-imposed “isolation” of sorts has been preparing me. Sharpening me. EMBRACING ME! This true creation of mine has had to be a solitary act, lest I have failed to ever know who I really am and what I was truly capable of “widowed” and apart from the crowd or as someone’s “better half“. All of my most beautiful petals have unfurled in the darkness while no one ever really knew what was going on inside my “disrespectfully private”, if not reclusive world.
AMARYLLIS
In a while now I will feel better, I’ll face the weather before me. In a while now I’ll race the irony and buy back each word of my eulogy. All the uninvited tragedies. Step outside. Ask yourself now where would you be without days like this when you finally collide with the moment you can’t forget. So, do I remind you of someone you never met? A lonely silhouette? And do I remind you of somewhere you wanna be? So far out of reach. Oh, I wish you’d open up for me ’cause I wanna know you. Amaryllis. Bloom. Stay a while now. Undress your colors ’cause they’re like no others I’ve ever seen. I could get used to your company. Step inside. Ask yourself now where would you be without days like this when you finally collide with emotions you can’t resist? {Shinedown}
The Diary Of My Perfection 
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