It’s no longer a big secret that I had a twisted and dysfunctional childhood, and also no secret that some of my mental pictures aren’t so homespun and stellar …
… BUT …
… I very much DO also have some precious and beautiful memories seared so deeply into the skin of all my days gone by that they’re a virtual tattoo inside my mind.
It’s raining, grey, and what some might consider miserable here in Dallas this afternoon, but as I walked into the kitchen just now and saw my favorite “Mindset Is Everything” coffee mug sitting on the table amidst a pile of skeletons and spookiness I’m about to HAUNT The Williamson Manor with, I literally snapped back in time to the MANY “Sundays” with my mom and HER coffee cup sitting around our often very rainy, New England kitchen table.
You see, Sundays were ALWAYS our “Green Stamp” days, and I fondly remember the countless hours she would spend with us at our tiny wooden table as she’d bust out all the stamps she’d collected for that week and let me and my sister help her put them in her books. We’d sit around that table drawing circles in “the catalog” around all the treasures we were saving for while having our little mother daughter chit chats about life.
For God’s sake, I even smelled the giant pot of scratch made Italian “gravy” that was ALWAYS simmering in the background while we were stamping our fingers to the bone, and how as all this was happening on those cozy afternoons, there was the best anxiety EVER simmering in my gut because I knew that soon my beloved Grandpa, aunts, uncles, and cousins would all be coming over for our weekly “family dinnuh”!
Jean-Claude Van DAMN I’m so proud to be turning “Fifty-THREE-It’s-SO-Good-To-Be-ME” next week, and while I do so adore all you young ones out there, grab a pen and paper and take NOTES from ALL of s “OMG, they’re like, SO old” ones, ’cause we know EXACTLY how to keep on keepin’ it REAL!
Meanwhile, as I’m writing this, my girls are upstairs all hunkered down in their fluffy pajamas and blankets as the storms are moving in while I’m downstairs just doing the mom thing. I’m overwhelmed with joy and an abundance of gratitude that I not only do I get to live this ethereal existence, but that my heart has been broken and put back together well enough to know that even when I’m not sifting through the ashes of my life, there is still so much beauty to be found in them that it just shows up during the storms like a ray of light shining through my soul. I am blessed.
… and THIS, my friends, is yet another“Grey HIGH” moment from my virtually tattooed heart and love-filled Williamson Castle to yours. Oh, and (PS) … there’s something that I’ll hope you’ll remember …
Pain has a way of clipping our wings and keeping us from being able to fly, and if left unresolved, you can almost forget that you were ever created to fly in the first place.
If I’ve learned anything in this last fifty something years, it’s that the only person who ever had the power to destroy me was ME, and the only person who was ever meant to save me was ME. In many ways, I’ve been both my own Judasand my own Jesus, and you NEVER had control of my soul! So, you can wipe them away (all those silly fuckin’ grins), ’cause I’m so DONE listening to your mother fucking side! Please be sure and tell your friend Irony to actually go and SUCK IT, ’cause the very things that were meant to steal my Light, clip my wings, and turn me inside out, ONLY helped me see better, fly stronger, and elevate me.
So, with that, I gotta run. I have the concert of my lifetime awaiting me and mine, and I’m not letting ANY of you jack offs kill my buzz. I made the entire lot of you my little bitches, now didn’t I, and I’m JUST so over ALL of you! K, bye bye!
Take it, I don’t need it. I don’t wanna hear your mother fuckin’ side. You can love it, or you can leave it, because nothing I say and nothing I feel is right. Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t understand. While I’m sitting up here dying, you’re just holding out your hand. And even if I wanted to, I couldn’t have explained, ’cause you don’t know the difference between violence and pain. There’s no denying it, you’ve never had control! I stand alone. Guess I knew it all along. Yes, I knew that you were wrong, how you left when I was down. I want you to say it was never really me. You just turned and walked away! How you turned me inside out! Inside out! I’m not a dog. I’m not a slave. It doesn’t matter how much money I get paid. I give a shit. I never did. So, you can wipe it away, that silly fuckin’ grin! If I wrote it down for you, could you ever see it clear? Or would it go straight through your soul and come right out your ear? If I slowed it down for you, would you think me insincere? Cause in the end I’ll never bend, I’ll never shed a tear! There’s no denying it, I’ve always had control. {Five Finger Death Punch}
Evidently, “Someone” needed me to hear this today, so He sent the memo through a very dear friend of mine on Instagram of all freaking places. Although I’m fairly certain that my dad got the text I sent him and I haven’t yet gotten a response, at LEAST I’m no longer “blocked” on his phone, so I‘m gonna call that PROGRESS!
In the meantime …
Dear Dad,
If for some strange reason you actually happen to see this, I hope you know you don’t have to say you’re sorry. You don’t have to live with the heartache you keep, ’cause I don’t need no apologies. I really have tried writing you out to get some closure, but the more the years go by, I’d rather not live with got cold shoulders, ’cause the more I realize as I keep getting older is that it’s never too late to turn it all around. So, don’t you beat yourself into the ground. I know you’ve tried your best. I know you struggle. The cards that you got dealt surely did give you trouble. Now, I see the you in me, and guess what? I SEE DOUBLE! But guess what else? We really CAN still turn it all around. We don’t have to change the story, but you don’t have to carry the weight that you keep, ’cause I don’t need no apologies. Please don’t turn your back on me, because I really do still love you.
Cathy
{Papa Roach’s Words Adapted By The Real Cat Williamson}
Three years ago this hour, the police chief of my small North Texas town walked into the hospital where my broken daughter lay to tell me they’d found my husband dead in his car courtesy of the hollow point he’d put in his own head.
No, I don’t think God was laughing that day or that He laughs on any of the days we spend facing the wrath of His angels. In fact, I’m certain that He was on that hospital floor wailing with me and holding me tight as every shred of what I’d come to believe as truth turned out to be the devil’s lie. God DID give me wings, but it was MY job to learn to fly. I had to face not just Zack’s, but my own “devil in the mirror” before I could ascend to the sky.
Yes, the end IS coming, and no, I don’t think I mind. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again … as hard as this “living” thing can be, I have no intention of dying unless and until HE says it’s my time. In the meantime, imma stick around here as long as I’m allowed as the UNBREAKABLErisen QUEEN I was born to be.
As for the devil? Come for me mother fucker! In case you haven’t noticed, my soul is already spoken for, and PS, you’re NOT the one who gets it! That’s not a challenge … IT’S FACT!
Wow! I guess that wasn’t too graceful, now was it? If you’ve been around this Diary long enough you know damn good and well that sometimes I’m Heaven, sometimes I’m hell, and sometimes I really can’t tell which is which. Through it all, though, I always did know it would come to this, my “roll, roll, roll … I’m movin’ ahead”. THIS living queen who “rolls” as God’s favorite daughter is NOT gonna sleep ’til she’s dead! I’ve got punctuating to do and phoenixes to raise, so, I have no other choice but to be alright.
THANKS FOR ASKING
‘Cause I’m alright. Thanks for asking. There’s a million things I’d love to say, but you don’t wanna hear. Yeah, it’s alright. I don’t need your blessings. I’d rather face the wrath of angels than the devil in the mirror. I don’t think God is listening. She told us to follow, but left us behind. I’ve never seen an angel, but I know the Devil, and he told me I’m fine. “What doesn’t kill you will only make you stronger.” That’s what everyone keeps telling me. I’d rather capsize than chase an old horizon. Throw me back into the deadest of seas. I know that God is laughing. She gave us our wings, but never taught us to fly. They say the end is coming, and if that’s true, well, I don’t think I mind. Heaven or hell? I can’t tell which is which. I always knew it would come to this. Roll, roll, roll … I’m movin’ ahead. Roll, roll, roll … guess I’ll sleep when I’m dead. {Five Finger Death Punch}
In keeping with the metamorphosis of my journey, this day memorializes two profound occasions in it. You see, not only is this my 500THDIARY ENTRY, but it’s the three year anniversary of my husband’s suicide at “just before midnight” on August 22, 2019.
With that, it seems only fitting that I pay tribute to one of my very few muses, Franz Kafka, the anomalous writer from Prague whose inspired works left a tail on the fire of his words that still burns through me a century later. Much like Zack, he left this world tragically unaware of how powerful his legacy would be, much less that he’d eventually be regarded as one of the most prolific literary figures of the 20th-century. He only ever published a hand full of his work while he was alive because he didn’t believe it worthy. It was his dear friend, Max Brod, who as the executor of his estate blatantly disregarded the directive that his unfinished works be destroyed and published them. Be it not for the fact that Brod betrayed a dying man’s final wishes, the trajectory and longevity of Kafka’s legacy may not have been fully realized.
To say something is “Kafkaesque” is to infer that something is absurd and surreal, if not nightmarish and disorienting, all of which words in so many ways define my own seemingly absurd and surreal existence. Meanwhile, I could wax on poetically about everything “Kafka”, but perhaps the words that I believe sum him up the best are these:
Franz Kafka is regarded as one of the greatest literary figures in recent history. He is known for his uniquely dark, disorienting, and surreal writing style, a style and quality so particular to him, that anything that resembles it has come to be known and referred to as “Kafkaesque”.
No one will ever know what really happened in our home in the months before he swallowed that bullet. To say that demonic insanity besieged us wouldn’t give credence to the monster that overtook his mind and tried to devour my daughter during its reign of unholy terror. She ended up hitting a wall in the wake of her trauma two weeks before her sophomore year’s end, such that the school opted to early release and excuse her from final exams so we could tend to her fragile psyche. In lieu of finals, her literature teacher asked her to write a personal memoir without knowing fully why the school had negated her exams in the first place, but once she became aware that writing a memoir could be the worst possible thing for her under the circumstances, she had her write an essay about her favorite book instead.
~ Zack’s Last Audible Read ~
Unbeknownst to me, she had read “The Metamorphosis” after his suicide. Not only was she aware that Kafka was my favorite writer, she knew it was the last book he listened to nineteen days before he left. She was trying to make sense out both her parents, then also unbeknownst to me wrote her essay about “the invisible monster”:
How Do YouFight An Invisible Enemy?
YOU GIVE IT A FACE!
(Written By Gia Embach)
Since the beginning of time or existence itself, for living things big or small, life is marked with a common anguish: To live is to suffer. Over time, however, as humanity has specifically thrust itself into problems of its own device, it’s tried desperately to put incomprehensible ideas or situations into a box so as to minimize the pain and anxiety that fester in the face of the unknown or difficult.
Anguish was arguably never more prevalent than throughout the duration of World War I. The largest, bloodiest, most destructive war the world had yet seen, with such horrors as to reduce the social order and beliefs to rubble in a similar manner to the physical world around people all over the world. During the uneasy postwar years, this society of confused and angry people confided in Czech-born writer Franz Kafka.
His stories almost always depict characters who are in eerie situations they can neither comprehend nor escape from. While this idea of using the imagination to comprehend the uncomfortable and incomprehensible world of emotions and psychology was precious to those living during the postwar years, his message still rings true today, as people still find the comprehension of the human mind to be incredibly difficult and laborious. Through allegorical works of literature and art, artists and writers allow others, and themselves, to understand feelings and situations that would otherwise be terrifying or unfathomable to bring comfort that stems from a shared discomfort.
The Metamorphosis begins with Gregor Samsa awaking in his bed only to find himself transformed into a large cockroach or other bug-like vermin. Gregor becomes increasingly dreary after looking out the window to all the rain and darkness and decides to give in to the pull of sleep calling to him. His new body, however, won’t let him lay comfortably, so he tries desperately to fling himself on his side to rest, only to fall on his armored back, forced to look at his grotesque abdomen and thin, scrambling legs. His mind then drifts to the dread he feels for his stressful job, the importance of sleep, so he begins focusing on the mundane issues in his life that still take precedence over his terrifying condition. His family worriedly knock on his door attempting to converse with him and wondering what the matter is, as Gregor has always been a dutiful worker and had never missed a day of work in his life. Gregor comes to find that he is unable to communicate with human speech and struggles to converse with his worried family on the other side of the wooden door which he soon finds he is unable to open, only doing so after great difficulty.
Emerging from his room, his family and the Chief Clerc are shocked by his appearance and he is soundly scolded by the Chief Clerk. Gregor retreats to his room, injuring himself in the process, and remains isolated inside. He comes to find that his little sister, Grete, attentively looks after him, bringing him fresh food that is unappealing to Gregor despite his hunger. The next morning, he is brought rotting food which he devours ravenously. From his room, Gregor overhears his family’s troubles. His guilt and shame only grow as he listens to his family try to figure out how they will make enough money to support each other, as Gregor is unable to provide for them now. Overwhelmed with sadness and guilt, he returns to his isolation for a few weeks, and Grete slowly but surely becomes less caring for Gregor, and increasingly upset and impatient at her brother’s need for care. When he finally gets enough courage to leave his room, his sister finds him in the kitchen, disturbed. A month later, his mother offers to take the furniture out of his room, so he can crawl more comfortably in his room, however Gregor wishes to hold on to the furniture, keeping himself connected to his humanity, to the familiarity of the Gregor before he woke up that fateful morning as a giant bug. Gregor eventually puts himself upside down on his ceiling, above a painting in his room, the sight of which causes his mother to faint, and his father returns home to find Gregor outside his room once again, only to pelt him with apples, seriously injuring him as he flees back to his room. Gregor takes another month to heal. His family has become exhausted from working and decide to house some loggers for extra income. Later, as Gregor is drawn out by the beautiful sound of a violin, the sight of him disgusts the loggers, causing them to leave without paying rent, so his once gentle and compassionate sister now states that the bug is not really Gregor and has ruined their lives. Returning to his room, he thinks fondly of his family before he dies. His body is found, and his family carries on happily without him as they discuss their plans for the future.
Although there are many interpretations of this eerie tale, I believe it is an allegory for depression and the damage it causes to not only the one who suffers from it, but also those around them. The first time I read it, I was immediately fond of Gregor. In him, I found that sense of comfort that I had mentioned before. Comparing his experience with depression to mine allowed me to feel less alone. Like me, even simple tasks for him such as getting out of bed or talking became excruciatingly difficult and it exhausted him to venture from the safety of the safe, cold comfort and isolation of his room Thinking that someone who was alive over 100 years ago had the same exact feelings that I’ve had made me feel less ashamed of my illness.
In another mirror of my mind, Gregor’s mind drifts to his worries and anxieties about the future and all the little things that could go wrong. Been there! Done that! No matter how long you have depression or how “well” you handle it, there are always things on your mind. They’re like an invisible bag of rocks dragging behind your feet that make your legs tire quickly and your entire body feel incredibly heavy. Each time Gregor tried to reach out and become himself again, he was treated with disgust, disdain, and impatience, reminding him time and again why he had hidden himself away in the first place. To those living in a world outside of a disease festering inside one’s brain, there are no rocks and no issues, there’s just laziness and distraction. “They’re not trying enough” or “They’re being dramatic”.
Grete, who at first gave Gregor aid with love, soon drifted away. When you suffer from depression, it can be hard for others to love and care for you, so when you are living as a creature you yourself can hardly look at without disgust, how COULD you accept any help? Depression tells you that you aren’t worth it and you don’t deserve it. If your symptoms themselves don’t push people away, you will. Giving yourself excuses to be alone, hoping that if you sabotage the good things enough, you might begin to feel like your feelings are valid, but that is a rare thing to come to believe. Then, just like Gregor, you soon find that reaching out only gets you hurt again, and you fully realize all that you no longer have. At this point, a person with depression will respond in a variety of ways. Some seethe with a burning anger, others protect themselves with an icy numbness, and others drown themselves in tears. In other cases, like Gregor, he simply allows himself to fade away. He felt ashamed, guilty, impossible to deal with. The harsh words of others twisting the steel blade he had dug into his chest deeper. He thinks of those who shunned him with love, understanding that nobody could love a monster. He thinks of them and dies, utterly and completely alone.
The Metamorphosis was the last thing my father read before he lost his battle with his own invisible enemy … his “bug”. While literature like Kafka’s does indeed offer comfort, nothing can cover the harsh and bitter reality of mental illness. Only the luckiest ones, and these warriors are far and few between, survive the battle against the hidden enemy. Many, like Gregor and my father, slowly fade away, isolating themselves until death to keep those they love from the harm they know they cause.
The truth of the matter is this: human beings are far from being able to comprehend the human mind in its best form and are further still from understanding a mind that is damaged. However, through people like Kafka, who cut these incredible issues into tiny, more manageable pieces, we can all come to understand it a little better. Those who suffer, can come to understand their suffering. Those who don’t share that same, complex kind of pain, come to understand it. When people understand something so horrible and terrifying, it slowly falls apart as it’s being chipped away like a block of marble until something beautiful and heroic remains.
In closing, I feel it is imperative to appreciate the gift that art can give to humanity: the ability to comprehend the incomprehensible, the ability to look at ourselves as works in progress rather than vermin, and the ability to unite people of all walks of life together in an often-forgotten fact. Once we strip away our flesh and everything of this Earth, each of us has a soul that is broken, and each of our souls, whether we acknowledge it or not, has a burning desire to be loved. That fact can only be nurtured and accepted through people like Kafka who aren’t afraid to brave the nightmares of existing, people who shine lights in darkness so others can see light.
Of all the things she could have written, what are the chances that she’d have penned such a poignant and moving “personal memoir” after first having been excused from writing one at all? Can you feel the absurdity? Can you fathom the surrealism? Can you appreciate this cosmic kick in the face of that demon bug that’s infested the minds of too many Gregors to count? FUCK YOU “popular monster”! You may have obliterated, disintegrated, and annihilated my husband and tried to take my daughter, but you will NOT feast upon another soul in my divinely punctuated haloif takes my last breath to keep you underfoot. I’ve FOUND my way out of your web you fucking LIAR and miserable CHEATER.
I’ve fallen IN LOVE
with NOT falling apart!
HAPPY 500TH DIARY ENTRY TO ME! May you rest eternally Zachariah and Franz, two of the very few mortal men who were able to reach the depths of my soul. You may be gone, but you’ll never be forgotten, nor the countless ways you both inspired my metamorphosis. Last, but not least, thank you from my bursting heart to my Mona Lisaangel of a daughter for helping me finally find the words I’d been searching for to honor my favorite beetle.
If you or someone you love is battling an invisible monster, PLEASE reach out for help! The “SAMHSA National Helpline” is a FREE, confidential, 24/7, 365 day a year referral and information service (in English and Spanish) for individuals and families facing mental and/or substance use disorders.
The new album dropped at midnight and it’s mind-blowing, BUT, I got stuck on one song, “All I Know”. Meanwhile, while we were on a chat with him in the wee hours of the morning, Ivan said the whistling at the intro just came to him one night while he was at his cabin in Wyoming. He said he’d been laying in bed, heard whistling outside his window, then got up and just started writing.
Now, here’s where this “Death Punch” may throw you for a loop, ’cause I’m about to go somewhere that some of you don’t wanna go. I believe the higher power (who I call by the name of “God”) is, indeed running this greatest show on Earth. As far as I’m concerned, Creation itself is a musical composition straight from His heart to our souls, and the beings He specifically chooses to make music of every kind are His cosmic tuning forks:
“But now bring me a musician.”
Then it happened, when the musician played, that the hand of the Lord came upon him.
[2 Kings 3:15 NKJV]
Meanwhile …
Zack used to whistle and hum all the fucking time, so, before Ivan talked about it, I’d already been captivated by the whistling and listening to it over and over. It was one of the most ethereal moments I’ve ever experienced. “From Zack’s soul … to God’s ears … to Ivan’s mouth” … then POOF! “A seemingly magical process of transformation”through the creation of the hauntingly beautiful whistle at the beginning of a song that echoed to me just like the many other voices from my past that I believe are sending me messages:
Somehow, the haunting intro to this song with its echoes of what seem like my ancestors calling to me, channeled me back to either the wild, wild west or some ancient arena in Spain where kill or be killed was the fucking assignment, much like it is today during “times like these” when we’re all just fighting not only to survive, but fighting for the will to survive.
Much like my “Brighter Side” moment back in March of 2020, I believe Zack needed me to hear the message in this song. So, God used Ivan’s whistling to do it. That’s right folks, love him or hate him, and as impossible as it may be to conceptualize, Ivan isn’t just some rock star who jumps around on stages worldwide and entertains the masses. His purpose here is so much bigger than perhaps even he will ever know. He’s a “universal elixir” and tuning fork that God is using to perpetuate His greatest alchemy of all … MUSIC!
Have I ever told you that I’m the luckiest woman alive? Have I told you that I’m thankful to be sitting in all these impossible realities that truly are “all I know”, many of which I don’t even need to understand? Not a day goes by, nor will it ever, that I don’t literally thank Heaven for all the alchemists out there who sing, cry, yell, scream, and “fist pump” the words to the poems they’ve written to help me find the missing pieces of myself and managed to keep me alive.
ALL I KNOW
I don’t think that I’m crazy. Yeah, but how would I know, when the voices remind me that it’s all just for show. Well, I thought I had answers, but the questions have changed. It’s so hard to feel anything when I’ve only known pain. Pain. You can cast me out and dig my hole. Spit on my grave. Curse my soul. You can hold me down and not let go, but the devil you fear is all I know. And the road that’s less traveled, well, it’s all that I’ve known. Every time I look backwards, there’s still so far to go. If I’m born to be broken … cold, bloody, and numb … tell me, why am I running? What am I running from? From? As I sit here in silence, all alone in myself … who the hell would believe me? Better yet, who would I tell? I can’t tell. {Five Finger Death Punch}
… and now, a word from our sponsor! (Circa 6.7.24)“The Great Alchemy“
Although it dropped a few days ago and I’d already given it a couple spins, because I’ve been preoccupied and unable to really dig into it the way I prefer when any new Death Punch drops, it wasn’t until today while answering a Quora question about mental illness that I really sat down and dug:
It’s nights like this, under a harvest moon. It came too fast and it’s gone too soon. A wilted rose and a frozen tomb. A memory for the wind.Anyway …
Does anybody notice that the sky is falling? Are we all just happy in the rain? Am I the only one who hears the sirens calling? Am I the only one who feels the pain?I read all the pages from the left to right. I took one in the morning and one at night. The fire still burns, but it’s cold inside. It’s all that I can do.Anyway …
No one wants to talk about the end is coming. Pointing fingers, handing out the blame. If I gave you answers to all your questions, could you change, or would you stay the same?
It’s times like these when the sorrow shadows all the laughter.
It’s times like these when the hurt goes on and on forever. It’s times like these I wanna fade away.
It’s times like these when left is right and forward’s backwards.
It’s times like these when days and nights just roll together.
It’s times like these I wanna fade away.
WOW! Just WOW! How the fuck does he manage to do this? Just like clockworkand always right on cue, that FUCKER I love so very much managed to find an unexpressed storm of thoughts in my head that I didn’t even know existed and pull them out of me for reckoning.
Trust me, I get it. I totally fucking do! I’ve had a front row seat to the SHIT SHOW for the majority of my life and know exactly how it feels to want to fade away. Been there. Done that. I’ve got the proverbial straight jacket and yetthe softest, most tender, stitched together, steel-encrusted heart to prove it, not to mention the unfortunate privilege of having to watch the dying soul of a person I loved literally fade away.
But let me ask you this …
If you could have all the answers to your questions, would you really change or would you stay the same? And what if I told you that the truth of the matter is that some questions just aren’t meant to be answered? What if our “assignment” is to simply roll with all these fucking punches, win, lose, or draw, and go screeching into the bull pen more like Ferdinand the flower smeller than Bodacious with his reign of destruction and terror?
But Cat, how the FUCK did you hear this song and end up standing at a bullfight?
Somehow, the haunting intro to this song with its echoes of what seem like my ancestors calling to me, channeled me back to either the wild, wild west or some ancient arena in Spain where kill or be killed was the fucking assignment, much like it is today during “times like these” when we’re all just fighting not only to survive, but fighting for the will to survive.
The late, great French philosopher, Albert Camus, who is one of my favorite “absurdists“, once said these most powerful words:
You will never be happy if you continue to search for what happiness consists of. You will never live if you are looking for the meaning of life.
Well, I am here to tell you he was dead on giant BULL BALLS accurate! Happiness is what we make of it, even in the midst of falling skies. Pray GOD we all make it to the finish line in one piece with the power and grace of a Ferdinand and as many roses that we can possibly gather, wilted as some of them may be, and not like a Bodacious standing before a frozen tomb full of regret, disdain, and misery.
As and aside, I think I’m finally beginning to understand why I’m obsessed with grey skies and stormy weather. They’re a constant reminder that even though the sky falls from time to time, as if to scream at me in rage and provocation, at the end of the day I’m always gonna be okay, because it’s times like these that made me who I am.
Left, right, forwards, backwards, inside or fucking OUT, the fact of the matter is that these SHIT STORMS are gonna keep coming. So, I’ll just keep myself buckled up for the most epic ride of my life while I’m hunting for roses and laughing as often I can. I’ll make my own happiness on my own fucking terms while screaming back at the falling sky, “Guess what, Bodacious? I’m still here riding! You lose! I WIN!”
Ain’t it funny how things happen? I mean, c’mon people … do any of you still only believe in random coincidence? As I’m sitting here writing this, I’m yummily wrapped up in one of the king’sgrey sweaters that on any other given Monday would have traveled in Gia’s backpack to her dad’s house. But for the fact that I just happened to be doing laundry last night instead of on my regularly scheduled Sunday, it wouldn’t have been here to greet me this morning when I decided to just make it a “grey day” and stay home to enjoy the peaceful oblivion of my happily solitary existence. Hell, I wasn’t even done reveling in and relishing the last four beautiful days I had of time spent with my precious kids and family, the message I got from Skid Row, and that fucking EPIC German schnitzel sandwich situation. I mean, BRING IT you badass fucking Cosmos …
I HEAR YOU LOUD AND CLEAR!
Meanwhile, I popped on to the Instagram earlier today only to find that while I was busy “queening” around the castle in one of the best “grey highs” I’ve had in months, that today marked yet another powerful Death Punch moment. It was the release of the official “Brighter Side Of Grey” video:
It’s hard to believe that our last record “F8” came out over 2 years ago in the beginning of 2020, born into the whirlwind of events that dominated our lives and will echo into the rest of our history. Those of you intimately familiar with that album, now know how some of F8’s dystopian lyrics became rather prophetic. Brighter Side of Grey was an important song on that record, but especially personal to Ivan (who’s the only parent in the band). It is a more than fitting commentary to what’s going on in the world that probably needs a good reminder right about now that we are here only for second, a tiny blip on the flow of time… not just as individuals but as an entire species.It took a trillion conditions to be just right for human life to exist in this Universe, yet it takes just one to go terribly wrong and make it all disappear. This song also serves as the perfect bridge to our new album we just finished this week, which generally revolves around similar existential questions. It’s incredible how much we don’t understand about our own existence, yet everyone’s relationship with the concept of death permeates, even orients their entire lives. Can’t wait to share it… enjoy this video and stay tuned for new music and big tour announcements in the very near future!
In case you didn’t get the memo yet, this isn’t just another song and grey isn’t just a color. “The Brighter Side Of Grey” is an entire mindset and way of life for me:
Grey is not just a color to me – IT’S EVERYTHING IN BETWEEN! It’s the grace I’ve received that is so undeserved yet given to me anyway by The One who has never loved me with black and white conditions. He “takes the best parts of me and locks them away without the key” and I know that He is never far away. He’s the Light that shines ahead of my journey and dilutes the blackness of the abyss into the most beautiful shades of grey. For more than four decades, I lived a black and white existence with no room for the forlorn grey I knew I needed but didn’t know how to connect with. As I look back at this picture now, I’m filled with the most unbelievable solace you can imagine. It reminds me of just how far I’ve come, that it was always supposed to be this way, and there is always a “Brighter Side Of Grey”. I’m not gonna lie … it is now my final wish that when it’s time for me to move along, this is the last song I hear as they bid me farewell.
I could keep going on about the “grey” of it all, but honestly, I’m so done writing about it. Now, I just want to live in it! I want to sit back, relax, and inhale all my life nuggets of goodness.
Today is a good day in the music world, people. Not just for the factions of knuckleheads like me who’ve been anxiously waiting for this video, but likewise for anyone who sees it, hears the words, and really bites in to its sobering and bittersweet message.
This life we’re living really is just a blip, and yes, the lights will go down. So, do everything in your power to ensure that when that door closes behind you for the very last time, you leave a light on for your people and not just a darkened void. It’s how you’ll become “nothing, everything, and ALL of it” and leave this place better than you found it.
Rascal Flatts released this song years ten years ago today with the birth of it’s mother album, “Changed“, and I just know someone out there needs to read these words and hear this song right now. Yes, I get it … it’s not fun having to scrub your wounds out. THIS I KNOW TOO WELL! Why would anyone pour salt on their already raw and bleeding flesh?
Useless news flash for all of you: Today is both “World Monopoly Day” and it’s 81st birthday! Yes, my friends, it was on this day eight decades ago that the iconic, monocle sporting, sharp dressed little dude we all know and love, “Rich Uncle Penny Bags” was born!
So, in keeping with the game play theme, I want to share something kinda poignant I’ve learned about playing games over the years … that is … there is a price to pay for rolling the dice. And no, I’m not necessarily talking aboutthe metaphorical life games we play with peoples’ hearts and minds, I’m talking about the actual games we play for fun and jest like our beloved Monopoly.
You really can learn a lot about not just other people, but yourself as well, when playing recreational “games” with them. Watch how a person plays any kind of game, be them board games, cards, video games, and even sports, and you’ll catch a fairly authentic glimpse of not just their personality, but how they handle and present themselves in everyday, social, and business settings as well. If you pay close enough attention, you’ll likely be able to see their:
🎲 Ethics
🎲 Morality
🎲 Honesty
🎲 Integrity
🎲 Patience
🎲 Humility
🎲 Priorities
🎲 Generosity
🎲 Jealousy
🎲 Coping Skills
If you pay even closer enough attention, you may be able to see their:
👉🏼 Ability to hold random conversations.
👉🏼 Sense of entitlement if there is one.
👉🏼 Ability to compromise and be flexible.
👉🏼 Ability to collaborate.
👉🏼 Ability to share.
👉🏼 Overall life goals and motivation.
👉🏼 Attitude about people in general.
Ya wanna know what kind of person you’re really dealing with in “real life”? Challenge them to a game of Monopoly, pop some popcorn, and observe! Of all the things you can garner about a person’s personality, many of which aren’t even listed above, perhaps the most telltale sign of who and what they really are is their attitude whether they win or lose. Do they accept defeat with anger, resentment, jealously, and tantrum, or do they accept it with a “win some or lose some” grain of salt”? Or if they win, do they become a pompous in your face ASSHOLE, or just stay humble and thankful that “this time” they won because “sometimes they don’t”?
Truth being told, I myself have learned a great many things about my own children, God love them both, having both watched and played play board games with them over the years. As it turns out, I’ve raised one shark and one saint, neither of whom I’ll identify by name to either protect their guilt or save their face, lol.
Meanwhile, one of my darlings has been known to literally flip the Monopoly board upside down in a fit of rage when the game isn’t going their way and takes great personal offense when they can’t manage to con someone into selling them ALL the prime real estate on the bougie block of the board. That’s also the same child who shows no mercy whatsoever when people land on their Boardwalk hotel and have to forfeit the game. Meanwhile, much like me, my other one simply walks away from lost board games like, “So what, I lost, but DAMN that was fun!” That’s the same one who feels awful and shares more than an abundance of grace, often to their own demise, when someone lands on their Boardwalk and is on the brink of their own demise.
I’m Jean Claude Van DAMN telling you people – BOARD GAMES are the “real deal” when it comes to reading people. And by the way, as I said at the beginning, this “game playing test” also works for ourselves. As I’ve gotten older and really homed in on the process of self-discovery, awareness, and accountability, I, too, have “checked and balanced myself” when I was playing a game by really thinking about “why” I either did or didn’t react in certain ways or think, say, or do certain things:
Damn, girl, why’d you do that? It’s JUST a game?”
… or …
Damn, girl, why’d you do that? Don’t you even WANT to win this game?
As far as I’m concerned, and in case you haven’t already figured this out by now in reading through my Diary, there really is a message in every moment and something to be learned in the process and outcome of every single thing in which we endeavor. EVEN SILLY BOARD GAMES! Yes, there sure is a price to pay for “playing games” with the truly discerning amongst us, that being the risk of showing who you really are. By the time the game is over though, the end will have justified the means, ’cause let’s be honest, folks, these days it’s getting harder to tell the difference between real and make believe. Whether or not we like it or will admit it, so many people are hiding from even themselves and pretending to be someone they’re not, so if Monopoly is what it takes to get someone to speak their truth with the simple roll of a dice, let the games begin!
PRICE TO PLAY
Fail to see how destructive we can be. Taking without giving back ’til the damage can be seen. Can you see? Can you see? The more you take, the more you blame, but everything still feels the same. The more you hurt the more you scream. The price you pay to play the game. Then all you see and all you gave and all you step on with no shame. There are no rules, no one to blame. The price to play the game. Empathy, the chosen way to be. Blindly look the other way while you waste away with me. Can you see? Can you see? The more you take, the more you blame, but everything still feels the same. The more you hurt the more you scream. The price you pay to play the game. {Staind}
… that moment she sends you the screen shots of a conversation she had with a friend who’s in the midst of a struggle with her truly and insidiouslytoxic mother, only to read it and discover once again that yes, she really is listening to you, and yes, your dream for her really is coming true.
If you’ve been around this Diary long enough, by now you know I have a song for every moment, and in every one of my moments there’s a song. If I had a dollar for the countless number of times I’ve listened to and belted this one out loud to myself as a battle cry to remind me of exactly what I’m fighting for, then I’d could feed the world.
Do you want me to just listen, give you my thoughts, or offer advice? What would help you the most right now?
Pray GOD, how many times have I said those very words to her?
Everyone’s love is like water in a cup. The water in their cup is what they have to give …
And how many times have I said those exact words to her, too? I’m not gonna lie, folks, not 2.5 milliseconds after reading those words, “like water in a cup”, the waterworks began and I swear to HEAVEN that the first thought that came to my mind was the “the dream” in the words of this song.
My Mona Lisa made very much made me smile today, because after all that has been said and done, it’s becoming clearer to me each day that everything I’ve been praying for, fighting for, and dreaming about for her is coming to fruition.
As and aside, my daughter is far from perfect, just like her perfectly imperfect mom, and by no means am I attempting to canonize her into sainthood. She’s a normal and hormonal teenage girl, my friends, and truth being told, there are days when that little brat takes me toe to toe and drives me up literal walls. But if only you knew just exactly what she has been through in this lifetime thus far, and the actual demons she’s had to slay, you, like me, would be more inclined to expect that she’d have not only become a demon herself by now, but an extra cold and black one at that. She’s been broken in ways that no women should ever be broken, yet here she is spewing love, light, empathy, patience, understanding, and validation for another human being’s condition instead of the jaded toxicity that often accompanies the victims of the unfathomable crimes against her.
Likewise, by no means am a perfect parent. I have admittedly made way more than my fair share of mistakes, fails, and blunders. But this girl? My masterpiece? Although I have often felt that I don’t deserve her, evidently God believed I did, so, he charged me with her care even despite myself. She is every diamond in my jewel encrusted crown and exactly who I hope to be if and when I grow up. The more time passes, the more I can’t help but wonder whether my single greatest purpose and contribution to this world isn’t something I’m gonna do, but the children that I am raising.
SHE is my utmost achievement. SHE is the voice that will surely linger on as she continues lighting fires of her own with not just my words, but the brave and wise words of her own. SHE is the living expression of my life’s every song, and I am so blessed to call her my daughter. Today, as always, my “cup” truly runneth over.
TO MY DAUGHTER,
If you wanna lead, be a leader. If you wanna dream, be a dreamer. Climb to the top of that mountain and SCREAM IT, but, remember when you get to the top … everything you say is gonna matter … everything you do is gonna add up. It’s what I’ve asked for. So, don’t lose heart when it’s not what you thought. Careful now, girl – avoid those Jezebel ways. Don’t wear a crown on your head, but be a queen of clichés. Soon you’ll be playing with the big girls, so make sure that you’re ready when it comes around!
If you wanna preach, be a preacher. If you wanna teach, be a teacher. Remember that the footprints you’re leaving will tell us all who you really are. Never forget to remember your worth … instead of spreading your legs, please just use your words. Character is shown by the things that we do. The one thing you’re never gonna hide is the truth. ‘Cause anyone can sell when they’re selling out, and anyone can fly when they’re falling down.
I had a dream that YOU were born a generation to behold! Lighting fires with your words instead of useless smoke that blurs the lines of right and wrong; expression that lives on; my army with a song that will linger when I’m gone. I had a dream!
Today marks an incredibly powerful day in the Five Finger Death Punch family with the release of the official “Tragic Truth” video:
We wrote “Tragic Truth” in 2011 for the “American Capitalist” album, but it simply wasn’t finished by the manufacturing deadline. Since the song was very important to us, we didn’t want to wait and hold it until the following album, so it was added as a bonus track to the digital edition.Consequently, it never really got the attention we intended for it and a lot of our fans are not even aware of its existence. It’s been a conversation for years to somehow circle back to this song, and we felt right now, on Ivan’s birthday, and two months from his 4th sober anniversary it is probably as good of an occasion as it can be to release this music video; as it is a visual journal of our story. The battle with addiction … the pain … the chaos … life and even death. A celebration of a victory, Ivan’s rebirth into a new life. It is also a message for those who are battling addiction right now: you are more than your addiction, and you are never alone. Seek help, fight back, it’s never too late… Ivan came back from the dead, literally. He was so far gone, if he can do it – you can do it. Let this be a testament to that.So, with that said, Happy Birthday Ivan! Congratulations on your new lease on life. And thank YOU to all the fans who stood by us all these years, supported us, supported him, and have been the catalyst of his recovery.
As for me? Of the now 466 entries published in this Diary, “The Cosmic, NOT Tragic Truth” is one of my personal favorites. The cryptic role it played in my healing from and making peace with Zack’s suicide literally defies conception:
All I can tell you is that my intersection with the Cosmos this morning was EVERYTHING to me. Even as I write this, I’m smiling yet again, because while on the surface it may appear that the demons that devoured him won, nothing could be farther from the truth.The rare few of us who really knew him and were honored to both love and be loved by him know a “truth” that is much more beautiful than tragic: HE’S HOME NOW! I just know it. No more sorrow. No more pain. No more tears. No more aching for the “family” who abandoned the “Zack Of Shit”. NO MORE VOICES SCREAMING IN HIS HEAD!
After seeing it the first time, I watched it over and over. The more I watched, the more I ached, and knew exactly why I was so compelled to keep torturing myself with it. It was a catharsis I needed, so, I was emotionally cutting myself because there are clearly some feelings about the last months of his life that I’ve yet to fully bleed out.
I cannot tell you how many times in days since he left us that I’ve had random flashes of the countless times I saw Zack literally holding his head in his hands the way that Ivan does in the video. He was desperately trying to quiet all the voices that were screaming inside his mind and fend off the demons that were devouring him. I kept asking him what was wrong … or if his head hurt … or for God’s sake why was he covering his ears that way. His response was always the same:
They keep screaming at me, Catherine. I CAN’T MAKE THEM STOP!
I’m not gonna lie, but his sobering words in those moments and the helpless looks upon his face may haunt me for the rest of my life.
As for me? In being honest, although I’d spent the majority of my adulthood socially drinking to just cut loose, relax, and soften some of my edginess, no, I’m not an alcoholic. I have, however, suffered with and am in recovery from both an almost twenty year long addiction “creature” of my own and a complicated mental illness. For that reason, I made the personal decision to lead a sober lifestyle and had my last drop of alcohol on March 26, 2021, at 4:40pm at the Tennessee Legend Distillery in Nashville. Yes, I know the exact date and time because I have proof via a credit card receipt. Lol. It was a mini shot sized sampling of “Peanut Butter Cup Whiskey” … and then … I was done!
My decision was made in support of not just Ivan’s “SOBER AS FUCK” journey and platform, but anyone else who is fighting that fight, not the least of which is someone very close to me who has yet to recognize his own tragic truths, and yet another who already has.
If you haven’t heard this song yet, YOU SHOULD! Especially if you or someone you love has ever struggled with an addiction or mental illness. Always remember that not everyone survives the “tragic truth” of their journey, so we must truly celebrate the lives of everyphoenix who does and support them in their flight. The wings a recovery warrior flies with were forged in a fire that not everyone makes it out of alive, and some of us had to actually die first before we could live.
It took me a literal HELL of a long time to finally figure out that one of my most self-sabotaging traits has always been the desire to carry the load for the people in my life at any cost, up to and including my own preservation. There have been far too many times that I’ve tried to protect the people I’ve cared about from the consequences of their poor choices and behaviors, when in fact what I should have been doing is letting them feel every scrape and cut from the sharp edges of those consequences so they could figure out their own survival.
For too many years to count, it was incredibly difficult for me to “love from a distance”, pray for the best outcomes, and save my precious energy for my survival. But here’s the deal folks, sometimes you have to learn to say these most IMPECCABLE words out loud, as painful as it may be to “cut them” loose:
I AM NO ONE’S SAVIOR!
Holy SHIT! I think I just had another epiphany after having written the word “SAVIOR” in bold letters! Is this how it feels for God to have to sit back and watch all of us scraping and cutting ourselves on the sharp edges of our poor choices and behaviors? I mean, He clearly has the power to “force” or “control” us to do anything, but instead He gives us the free will to either choose or not choose to both discover and respect His many laws and “wisdoms”. We were given the responsibility for the choices we make, up to and including any less than optimal consequences.
“Sow” this is how a person, and especially a parent, allows someone to learn the often bloody hard way that while we can indeed choose to sow whatever we want, we cannot choose what we will reap. WOW! Just when I thought I had the nuts and bolts of this thing figured out – MY MIND IS OFFICIALLY NUMB AGAIN!
My Dearest Cat:
Listen up, you divine apostrophe! No, you are NOT God, and no, you really CAN’T save people, you can ONLY love them. As selfish as it seems, you MUST continue to keep on choosing YOU, because, umm, what the hell use are you to any of us if your wings break again and you can’t keep touching that beautiful sky? So, put down everyone ELSE’S scissors and just keep shining your Light for the people in your life who need to see it, regardless of whether they even know they need it. In the meantime, when you feel helpless as you’re watching the people you love running with sharp objects, try and remember all the times God saw YOU running with scissors and how helpless He must have felt, too. If that Man has any actual hair on his head, surely YOU’RE the one who turned it grey. Yet, here you still are alive and well with scarred up cuts that are now your survival to tell. Yes, you fell down, but you’ve lived and have learned, what didn’t kill you DID make you stronger, and He HAD to let you do it. None of these seeds you’re still desperately trying to plant will take root otherwise.
Love ~ ME!
Happy New Year to all you beautiful people, and NOPE, this isn’t just another one of those cliche “resolutions”. It’s just an impeccable promise to myself not to fall apart when I see people running with scissors, not to run with scissors myself, and just keep being what I’m being: Jean Claude Van DAMN Iridescent!
SHARP EDGES
Mama always told me don’t you run – don’t you run with scissors, son. You’re gonna hurt someone. Mama told me look before you leap – always think before you speak, and watch the friends you keep. Stay along the beaten path. Never listened when she said, “Sharp edges have consequences.” I guess that I had to find out for myself. Sharp edges have consequences. Now every scar is a story I can tell. Should’ve played it safer from the start – loved you like a house of cards. I let it fall apart. But all the things I couldn’t understand – I never could’ve planned – they made me who I am. Put your nose on paperbacks instead of smoking cigarettes. These years you’re never getting back. Stay along the beaten path. Never listened when she said, “Sharp edges have consequences.” I guess that I had to find out for myself. Sharp edges have consequences. Now every scar is a story I can tell. We all fall down. We live somehow. We learn what doesn’t kill us makes us stronger. {Linkin’ Park}
NOTHING extraordinary is ever born without pressure! As a matter of fact, one of life’s greatest paradoxes is that life actually gets harder when you try to make it easier:
Living a healthy lifestyle is hard, but the consequences of not advocating for your health are even harder.
Being alone is hard, even when you’re not “lonely”, but being surrounded by people who make you feel lonely is even harder.
Living life on your own terms is hard, but living life as a prisoner of what’s “best” for everyone else is even harder.
💎
Being a piece of coal subjected to unfathomable pressure and temperatures for upwards of 3 billion years is hard, but not becoming the diamond you were intended to become, is an actual tragedy!
💎
DO THE HARD STUFF MY FRIENDS, because sometimes the easy way out can actually cost you EVERYTHING! Hmm? Now that I think of it, maybe this is why I’ve always been so “facet-inated” by diamonds! They are tactile proof that behind almost every beautiful thing are unspeakable amounts of pressure, pain, and suffering. I emerged from a fire that purified, renewed , and perfected me. As it turns out, I was a fuckin’ 5 carat, D-FLAWLESS and PRICELESS solitaire all along, it just took me a long HOT minute to figure it out!
As cliche as it may be (as are many of the songs I pair with my Diary entries), in the words of the illustrious Freddie Mercury:
Insanity laughs under pressure. We’re breaking! Can’t we give ourselves one more chance … and love (people on streets) dares you to change our way of caring about ourselves. This is our last dance! This is our last dance! This is ourselves – under pressure.
EXACTLY! Love … no, wait! SELF LOVE is the only way to keep our dance card going and our fingers, toes, and heads dripping and FROSTED with the diamonds of our life! This truly is QUEEN stuff my friends. Just sayin’!
I had no idea how I’d memorialize this holiday when I woke up today, until, that is, I’d grabbed a few things from my gift-wrapping stash to dress up a few last presents. THEN IT HAPPENED! In case you didn’t know, I’m a huge proponent of recycling seemingly useless things that some people would throw away, especially inasmuch as I very much consider my life to be a repurposed work of art. Now that I think of it, it’s all the recycled and repurposed people I’ve crossed paths with thus far who’ve found their way closest to my heart. Meanwhile, and as such, each year after Santapalooza is over and the ground below the tree is buried in crumpled up paper, ribbons, bows, and tags, it’s not at all uncommon to find me rooting through the aftermath like a packrat for bits and pieces of anything that can be used again next season.
Imagine my surprise, then, when I reached into my “‘little drawer of tags” only to find this one from the very last Christmas present Gia would ever give Zack on his last one with us in 2018. Although it’s true that he took endless pieces of my heart with him when he left, as I sit here writing this, I am staring at a tag that in a perfect world would have been hanging on a gift for him, and I’m smiling from ear to ear.
I cannot tell you how many times I wandered back to where I’d left it this morning, picked it up, and literally held it to my heart, because this silly little thing means that he was here with us in the first place. I will cherish this unexpected treasure for as long as I’m alive and eventually pass it back to Gia, who I know will also cherish it for the same exact reasons I do. Despite all the pain, heartache, and sorrow he brought into our world at the end, the decade that proceeded his insanity that we had him whole and healthy was one of the greatest gifts of our lives.
If there is just one wisdom that I’ve acquired on my journey thus far that I could “gift” to all of you, it’s that grieving the deaths of the people we’ve loved and lost is one of the highest honors and utmost triumphs of our existence. To have loved and been loved by those we were connected to enough to grieve is a privilege that not everyone gets to have. The truth of the matter is that when we get to the very end of the road with those we’ve loved and lost, the only “gifts” that will have really mattered is knowing that that WE HAD THEM and THEY HAD US! The abundance of true joy that I’m feeling right now is proof positive of what I’ve long known to be true, that “Death Is Nothing At All” and I am still the most blessed living queen that has ever reigned on this Earth.
Said goodbye, turned around, and you were gone, gone, gone. Faded into the setting sun – slipped away. But I won’t cry, ’cause I know I’ll never be lonely, for you are the stars to me. You are the light I follow.
Merry Christmas to all you beautiful people who took the time to read this Diary entry. If, like me, you celebrated Jesus’s birthday with a person missing from your table, know that they’re saving you a seat at the table where we will dine with our Lord and Savior eternally. Until that day comes, try and remember that although the bodies that packaged their souls were only ever meant for us to borrow, the precious love and memories they left behind are ours to keep forever. Just as this tag found it’s way back to me in the unexpected way that it did, someday those borrowed gifts we had to give back will find there way back to us when we finally get to see them again.
Yes, my friends, it was a “Panic Chair” kinda night for me:
If you’ve ever seen The Blind Side (one of my favorite movies ever), you know exactly what I’m talking about. It was that moment when she found out that Michael had never had a bed of his own and became flooded with emotions she didn’t want him to see. She went to her room, sat quietly in her chair, and just “allow” herself” to cry for a minute. For all her endless and stoic strength, even she realized the importance of allowing herself whatever self-care and space were necessary to enable her to take care of her family. The funny thing is that I didn’t even realize I was doing “this chair thing” until he began noticing that whenever I was “flooding” with emotions, I’d disappear into our room then reappear a few minutes later. One night when we were watching the movie for the umteenth time in our season together, he finally pointed it out: ‘You know, honey, you do that, too … the crying in your chair in private thing! Did you think I didn’t know that’s what you do when you run back into our room? You let yourself fall apart so you can keep it all together for us. It’s one of my favorite things about you. You remind me of Leigh Anne so much.’
I cannot tell you how many times I’ve sat in this chair and had a good cry while saying to myself, “I can’t do this anymore”, only to stand back up, wipe my own tears, and keep on doing it. At the end of the day, drowning is NOT an option when you’re a mother, so, TAG, the chair is it! It’s one of the safest places for me to hold space for and collect myself.
Who is making the world crazy sometimes? Why is it so?
Umm, HELLO? It’s HUMAN BEINGS who make the world so fuckin’ crazy at times! See, also, these poignant and powerful lyrics to one of my lifetime favorite songs by one of my lifetime favorite bands:
Out in the street somebody’s crying. Out in the night the fires burn. Maybe tonight somebody’s crying – reached the point of no return. Oh, my eyes they see but I can’t believe. Oh, my heart is heavy as I turn my back and leave. Like the eagle and the dove, fly so high on wings above when all you see can only bring you sadness. Like a river we will flow. On towards the sea we go when all you do can only bring you sadness out on the sea of madness. Somewhere I hear a voice that’s calling. Out in the dark there burns a dream. You got to hope when you are falling to find the world that you have seen. Oh, my eyes they see but I can’t believe. Oh, my heart is heavy as I turn my back and leave. It’s madness! The sun don’t shine out the sea of madness. There ain’t no wind to fill your sails. Madness!
It’s the darkest, most twisted, and tragic truth of all. This world we live in can, indeed, drive even the best us to literal insanity. The best that we can do is just “the best that we can do” while trying to keep our mind and not our eyes focused on what lies beyond the vail.
Let’s be honest people – humanity is not for the faint of heart, and only the strongest survive it relatively unscathed with their heart and soul in the one cohesive unit from whence they first began. Don’t get me wrong, the hope is still very much here, it’s just this fucking WORLD and all the people in it that destroy our vision of eternity and desecrate our spirit.
I keep mymind’s eye focused on The Cross to keep from drowning in the sea of madness. These days, I see myself as an actual risen phoenix ever soaring above it all. My gravity defying steel wings may be invisible, but trust me when I say they’re behind me. I’m forged of fire and Light and power and grace, all of which are impermeable and infinite.
As and aside, I find it no coincidence that the day I saw this question posed on Quora, I had just spent the morning drive to school with my daughter listening to this song, because that’s how my beautiful life works. I was explaining to her how when I was just about her age and first stumbled upon this song, every time I’d listen to it I would literally close my eyes and imagine that I was an albatross flying high above the sea. Then, she stopped me:
No, momma, you are NOT an albatross. You’re something so much better than an albatross.
Little did she know that not two minutes after she got out of the car, I had to pull into a parking lot near her school to contemplate the magnitude of what she’d said. Based upon the fact that after she’d spoken those beautiful words I was immediately flooded with emotions, I knew I needed to stop and sit with my thoughts so that perhaps they’d come full circle. So, I googled the word “albatross” and this is something I found:
If you describe something or someone as an albatross around your neck, you mean that they cause you great problems from which you cannot escape, or they prevent you from doing what you want to do.
Wow! Just WOW! When I think of all those years gone by that I’d pictured myself as that spectacular bird just soaring across the open water, I’m astonished. Up until today, it was a correlation that I was proud of, but how could I have been so wrong? Although an albatross is, indeed, a formidable creature, it’s life isn’t exactly the stuff of dreams. Sure, they can ride the wind for hours on end with neither rest nor flap of wing, and can go years without ever touching solid ground, but they’re also very lonely, constantly in a state of survival, and never really find a stable home.
Truth being told, I suppose that I really was an albatross for too many years to count. Perhaps that’s why I never realized that such connotation about myself was negative. Even more truth being told, in so many ways, I used to be the albatross around my own neck. Until I found a better set of wings, I’m the one who prevented me from doing all of the things I wanted to do.
That was then, this is now, and good GRIEF was my daughter right when she said I was “something so much better than an albatross”. I’m a fucking risen QUEEN, my wings are made of FIRE, and although my “phoenixing above all this madness” does keep me afloat more so than not, my metaphorical feet are always on the ground now at the place where I call home: ME.
I completely understand what you are saying my friend, I’ve been where you are. Even to this day, I am a “fifty-TWO-good-to-be-true” UNVALIDATED child of parents who refuse to “hear or see me”. But guess what? THOSE DAYS ARE GONE NOW, because as hopefully you yourself know by now, it is job number ONE of an unvalidated child turned adult to be reparent yourself, REVALIDATE yourself, and then keep doing it over, and over, and over again. It is unclear by the title of this question whether you are referring to “children” you may have one day, or “children” you already have. In either case, always remember:
THE HAMMER DROPS WITH YOU!
If and when you are ever faced with a scenario wherein you don’t feel as though you are validating your children’s feelings, close your eyes and picture yourself as a child at the age that they are in that moment and remember how it felt to be you. It is probably obvious to anyone reading your question that you are clearly aware of this “issue” you’ve had in your own past and desperately don’t want to repeat your family’s history. Not only is that admirable, but it’s MORE than half the steps you need to keep going in the parenting direction you want to go. Look, I’m not generally a huge fan of “looking back” at the past, because, THE PAST IS DONE AND OVER! That being said, there are certain instances when our hindsight really is “20/20” – especially when it comes to our own children. I wish you well in your parenting venture my friend. Raising kids is not for the faint of heart, and sadly not enough people doing it are actively breaking those SICK familial gifts that just keep on giving.
For every other person who “shows the world” nothin’ but the lollipops and rainbows in their lives, there’s the ones like me who are here to keep things REAL! I hit the ground this weekend and leveled the YEARS of blood, sweat, tears, and toil slaying my dragon. Literally, and not metaphorically, all that hard work went in the fucking toilet. Yes, my friends, even phoenixes crash and burn, especially when what’s eating her alive is living, breathing spider web that is currently trying to devour my babies.
For now, I’ll just have to forgive myself with all the power and grace I am, get the crown back up on my head, pick up my sword, and put this bitch to sleep again. I am only as weak as my very worst enemy, which as for now has just become me. This, too, shall pass, and, “Just for today, I will try to live through THIS day only”.
The next time you see me, I’ll be at one of the most MAGICAL places on this planet with the Mona Lisa gearing up to return and face a dragon. Oh, and by the way, I will NOT rest until the day that FUCKING Venom suit is finally off my kid’s body. In the meantime …
My Dearest Cat:
I can see the weight there in your eyes. I can feel the thorn in your side. Your knuckles are bruised from a losing fight (again). The road we’re on’s not a dead-end street, even with the glass broken underneath our feet. You KNOW the day will break this Sunless night. THE SUN WILL RISE! You haven’t lost your Light – THE SUN WILL RISE! YOU’LL BE ALRIGHT! You’ve been stuck in a storm like this before and felt the wind raging at your door. We couldn’t move, we couldn’t breathe, we couldn’t find a way out. Still those clouds all disappeared and you and I finally made it here, maybe just so you could hear me say: THE SUN WILL RISE! YOU’LL BE ALRIGHT! I already know that you can see it, even though it’s so hard to believe it. It’s times like now you just need to hold on to your faith. YOU are the answer to our prayer, and I swear when TOMORROW comes … THE SUN WILL RISE. IT’LL BE ALRIGHT!
Love you FOREVER …
“ME”
{Adaptation from “The Sun Will Rise” by Kelly Clarkson}
I’m on a wickedhouse cleaning tangent these days, ’cause even us Lights in the dark have their limits. I mean, c’mon, I may be a queen, but I’m only a mortal one, so, Jean-Claude Van DAMN thank you …
BOUNDARIES!
They’re what’s for breakfast, and for lunch and dinner, and for midnight frigging snacks. I wasted far too many years and far too much of my precious energy not understanding that the people who were meant to be in my life would only be sticking around if I say so.
I am power, grace, and beauty forever rising, and though I will always love human beings with warm blood running through their veins, holding space in my almost bottomless heart for those who can’t hold the same space for me is just not in my wheelhouse. As you may have heard me say in the past if you’ve been paying enough attention in here, I have had to the devil himself for crimes against me and mine that should NEVER have been forgiven. My point being that at this juncture on my journey, although I may often and even quickly extend grace and forgiveness to the sometimes undeserving masses, I don’t really spend much time waiting around for people to change. I have no time for toxic human wastelands and the negative energy that emits from their bubble.
Hi everyone, it’s me, CAT! I am THE nicest BITCH you’ll ever wanna know, but these drinking straws of mine are PRICELESS. So, if you really, REALLY want one of ’em, you best bring your A-Game for me, ’cause momma ain’t playin’ around no MO! I’m in this to WIN it, and lions don’t associate with sheep. Unless, of course, they’re having them for dinner! But hey, THAT’S a different story for another day!
I gotta big ole shiny Queendom I’m runnin’ over here with just enough people in it who do hold space for me, so, I no longer accept scraps, bullshit, or anything less than what I bring to the table from anyone. I may be alone for the time being (and maybe even for the rest of my journey here if that’s how it’s meant to be), but I’m definitely not lonely. For those “most unfortunates” who don’t end up making the cut? Well, I’m sorry, but I’m NOT sorry ’boutcha. The happiest, smiliest, nicest bitch EVER landlord from either Heaven or Hell, depending on who you are, and the rent is way past due. So, say goodbye and hit the road … pack it up and disappear! You better have some place to go, ’cause you can’t come back around here.
… because unless you know where my “homecoming queen” has already been and the battles she’s fought and won by now, you just can’t understand how truly powerful this picture of her really is. But seriously though, someday we’ll sit back and laugh as all those silly haters that just ain’t her and won’t ever be her are choking on the ashes from her fire.
I spent more than 40 years living trapped inside my own mind. Then, I escaped it, only to find that it wasn’t so bad in there after all. It took me a minute to make peace with my own chaos, which as it turns out, had more to do with my environment and not what was “inside my mind”. Once I changed my sceneryand the majority of the people in it, though, I found that my mind is an entire fucking WONDERLAND of power and grace, love and beauty, creativity, whimsy, empathy, and blind faith that not everyone was apt to either appreciate or handle.
Once I made peace with myself and truly epic space between my ears, I stopped trying to run away from it, moved the HELL back in, took a few pictures down, hung a few back up, and now I rarely ever leave it. Sounds kinda crazy, right? Indeed, I know this … but it doesn’t make it any less true.
… but loving in hindsight – that won’t work for my life. Let me forget all that went wrong.
As far as that “loving in hindsight not working for my life”? That was the old me … THIS IS THE NEW … and new me is okay with whatever, however, and whenever it takes to either understand or not understand why certain things and people happen in my life.
After all is said and done, it doesn’t really matter, ’cause the proverbial shit is ALWAYS gonna hit the fan. This road I’m on is still rollin’ on anyway. As long as it takes me “anywhere”, anywhere is better than nowhere, and my life is too fucking beautiful to just give up now. I’m not just a Cat … I’m a REAL Cat, my friends … and the last time I checked, cats always land on their feet!
INSIDE OF ME
Always waiting for something – searching for one thing – and I know it has to be there somewhere. On this show without knowing the way this is going, as long as it takes me anywhere. There’s life and there’s one dance – and there’s fate and there’s one chance – to find out who I wanna be, and I know it’s inside of me. I look to the far side – searching for daylight – something that is mine, all my own. But loving in hindsight – that won’t work for my life – let me forget all that went wrong. There’s life and there’s one dance – and there’s fate and there’s one chance – to find out who I wanna be, and I know it’s inside of me. There’s love and so much more that waits behind that door. There’s so much that I wanna see, and I know it’s inside of me.
Once again, I’ve stolen – ahem – I mean “borrowed” someone else’s words to convey a message I need to convey. So, with that …
We’ve got a long way to go, and a long memory. We’ve been searching for an answer always just out of reach. Blood on the floor. Sirens repeat. We’ve been searching for the courage to face our enemies. When they turn down the lights, we’ll hear our battle symphony – all the world in front of us! If our armor breaks, we’ll fuse it back together. Battle symphony – lease, let’s not give up on ourselves. And our eyes are wide awake for our battle symphony. For our battle symphony. They say that we don’t belong. Say that we should retreat. That we’re marching to the rhythm of a lonesome defeat. But the sound of our voices puts the pain in reverse. No surrender, no illusions, and for better or worse … If we fall – get knocked down – pick ourselves up off the ground. When they turn down the lights, we’ll hear our battle symphony – all the world in front of us! If our armor breaks, we’ll just fuse it back together. Battle symphony. Please, let’s not give up on us. And my eyes are wide awake for our battle symphony.
{Words Adapted from Linkin Park’s “Battle Symphony”}
Okay, that’s all for now. Oh, wait, except for this: Phoenixes don’t fall – WE RISE – and we always stick together, even when we’re flying solo! I love all THREE of you!
Never feel bad for not feeling bad when the people, places, and even some memories don’t make the final cut. You’re allowed to be happy, at peace, and free from the deadweight of all those toxic and sometimes parasite infested fronds. The past is only a point of reference, my friends, not a place to hang pictures and call home. Besides, you can’t grow new leaves without losing the dead ones first.
The garden of your life has been patiently waiting for you, my friend, and it needs you to help it become healthier and more fruitful. GET TO PRUNING! So, while you’re busy trimming it up and clearing out both the dried up flowers and the dead and useless weeds, here’s another one of those songs you can sing to yourself as you’re practicing the ultimate self love of just letting the dead stuff go. That means people, places, and even things, by the way, be them beautiful or toxic (may the afore be resting in peace).
For the record, I’ve been listening to this song on at least a weekly basis since it was released back in 2009 as a constant reminder that the past is gone … I cannot get it back … and i GOTTA keep “letting it go”!
LET IT GO
Wait it out ’til the light. Take a breathe, say good night, but don’t ever go away. Wait around to find the time. Only you can take what’s mine, but don’t ever go away. I’ll be waiting’. I need to let it go. Fade it out into the light. All these years we never get it right. I need to let it go. No more reasons to deny that I believed that you were mine. I need to let it go. I need to let it go. I NEED TO LET IT GO! A chance to change or stay the same. One night without the blame that’ll never go away. Only you can make it right – to walk away and have no fight – but don’t ever go away. I’ll be waiting. I need to let it go. Fade it out into the light. All these years we never get it right. I need to let it go. I need to let it go. I NEED TO LET IT GO! No more reasons to deny that I believed that you were mine. I NEED TO LET IT GO! {Cavo}
When my son was a teenager, he started sending me songs to communicate his feelings, often in the wee hours of the night. Until then, because of the trauma he’d experienced in his fucked up, toxic, and beyond dysfunctional “childhood” courtesy of his dad and me, he’d been keeping his broken feelings buried and was unable to verbally express the depth of his jaded emotions.
The first song he ever sent me was at age 16, not long after I’d moved out of our family home for the third and final time just days before my nervous breakdown. The song was “Remember Everything” by Five Finger Death Punch, who of course are now my favorite band (and Ivan one of my favorite humans), but until I got that “text heard ’round the world”, I’d never even heard of them. The text came through without any words … just the link to the song … BUT … no words were necessary. Once I’d listened to it, I knew exactly what he was trying to tell me:
Mom, I love you, but I need you to know that I REMEMBER EVERYTHING!
He remembers? Remembers EVERYTHING? What the FUCK have I done to my only son? I’m not gonna lie, folks, THAT was one literal and not metaphorical hell of a rough night for me. If you’ve ever listened to that song before, I’m certain you’ll understand why, and just for the record, if you’ve never heard that song before and have a history of childhood trauma, listen to it and you’ll understand why! Nevertheless, sending me that poignant and cryptic message at 3 o’clock in the morning was probably one of the best ways he could have possibly ever expressed exactly what he was feeling in the midst of all the undeserved wreckage and chaos that had become his life.
Needless to say, it was a pivotal moment in all our lives during a massive season of change, but hearing those words as they swept through my ears and washed over my own broken mind was an actual five finger death punch through my soul. Not only did it remind me of the countless ways I’d failed him, it reminded me of the many things, I, too, “remembered” about my own dysfunctional childhood and how history was now repeating itself. It was devastating, but necessary, because as most of us know all too well, sometimes the truth has to hurt us before it can change us for the better.
Thereafter, if became a thing with us, and to this day he lets me know what’s going on in his heart and mind with his random music messages. Although some have been heavier than others, and some have been mind-numbingly ethereal, others have just been love songs to let me know I’m still his best momma.
“That music thing” has now morphed into more than just me and him communicating. These days, it’s also about me communicating with myself. Singing myself love songs is one of my favorite mental wealth hacks of all, and has now become a powerful way to not only love myself back to life unconditionally, but keep myself loved eternally.
“When The Seasons Change” is one of my life songs, of course by 5FDP, and as such, has made an appearance in this Diary more than a couple times. It’s truly been applicable to all the most important people, places, and seasons of my life, so, yes, I belt it out loud to myself all the time. Sometimes I have to tweak the words to my “love songs” to make them more applicable to me, as in the case below. Lol, in case you haven’t figured it out by now, life here in my Queendom moves to a rhythm of it’s very own, but hey, it’s all good. A queen’s gotta do what a queen’s gotta do … especially when the seasons are changing!
There’s a light in ME that tears me down to nothing. There’s an angel in MY eyes. There’s a hope inside THAT I CAN MAKE IT BETTER – I see right through MY disguise. When it rains it pours, and everybody stumbles. I won’t let them bring ME down. There’s a hope in ME that I will die for something. Was there fire in MY eyes? All this pain inside – Will it be this way forever? I can run but I can’t hide. When the seasons change … and I’M in for colder weather – look for ME on the divide …
So, take a wild guess what the best thing I possess is? If you guessed, “Free reign over the truly divine peace in my soul and the most beautiful Queendom a woman could possibly reign over”, you would be correct!
I once heard it said that everything feels like home when you fall in love with someone who loves you back, and knowing what I know about life, love, and everything in between now, I’ve found that nothing could be further from the truth. As it turned out, the most important person I could ever have fallen in love with is was myself.
I promise I’m not bragging, but it’s a prettyspectacular Queendom in which I reign … “alone, NOT lonely” … just me and my other best friend, Jesus. That’s right, people! I’m a Jesus loving FREAK with a divinely punctuated soul that’s on FIRE every day of my life!
Please don’t get me wrong, though. GOD owns my soul, Jesus paid for it’s salvation, and the Holy Spirit brought the kingdom to dwell inside my body. As far as I’m concerned, that makes ME the safest fortress I’ve ever had, the most blessed woman on the face of this Earth, and God’s ACTUAL favorite daughter. It was me, and ONLY me, to whom my soul was meant to return. Wherever I am and wherever I go, I’M the best place that I can be, because I am my own true home, and the fire in my soul is the hearth that keeps the Lights on.
And yet another bittersweet “October 5th” is here. His birthday. At first, I was at a loss for what to write about this morning, but after having drafted another “Quora Answer” that I wasn’t sure when I wanted to post, it struck me that TODAY was the day …
What Does “True Freedom” Mean To You?
To me, true freedom is having made peace with not only his death, but death in general, because most assuredly I say to you:DEATH HAPPENS! No one’s getting out of here alive, and as hard as it is to live on this Earth without our loved ones who have moved on, being able to release them from the mortal shackles they wore (and yes, we ALL wear mortal shackles) is, perhaps, one of the kindest, bravest, and selfless things we can do, not only ourselves, but their dearly departed souls. When a person has reached a point in their life where they no longer suffer through the experience of death, living in the moment becomes second nature, because they live in constant awareness that “the present” is all that really matters.
True freedom is having arrived at place where your happiness and self-worth aren’t derived solely from achieving every pleasure, dream, or wish you’ve ever had, or having every “thing” you thought you needed. It’s closing your eyes at night then waking up the next morning with total clarity and peace in your heart, not always “needing more”, and fully capable of living in each moment as it is.
True freedom is understanding that some things just aren’t meant to be understood, because they’re NOT, and that having blind faith in all the things we can’t know isn’t as scary it seems. Even if we’re wrong about the things we deaf, dumb, and BLINDLY believe, we’re still “halfway right”. As far as I’m concerned, “halfway right” is still a 50/50 odd, and I will gladly bet on it.
Last, but certainly not least, true FREEDOM isfinally realizing that YOU are the only mortal person you can count on to survive this game with ’til the end, YOU are worthy of being your own best friend, biggest fan, and most loyal supporter, and YOU should be the greatest love story of your life! That’s when you’ve found your real home, by the way, and for the record, none of this “freedom”, or the peace of mind that comes with it, costs a single dime. Money is good to have, don’t get me wrong, but ZERO amounts of money can buy these freedoms for you. Only YOU can secure them for yourself.
I’m so thankful that I have achieved true freedom. I’ll close my eyes tonight knowing in my heart that I did the very best I could in everything I did, and that I’ve left no stone unturned. If I don’t wake up tomorrow? Imma be alright, ’cause I know what’s coming next and I’m not afraid. Now that I think of it? I think I’m starting to understand why I’m so fascinated by birds and anything with wings. Not only can they fly, but even more so than that, they always find the right place to call home. They’re beautiful, and free, and independent spirits, and anywhere they land can be their home. I guess in many ways I am like a bird. Sometimes I just watch them, because maybe I’m a little envious of all the ways they are free than I can only dream of. Then again, that’s probably how some people feel about me, so they watch me with envy, too, because I am free in all of the ways that they can only dream of. Maybe someday they will learn to just let go and GET HOME like me.
Happy Birthday and Godspeed Zachariah. Here’s hoping you are “Home” enjoying your eternal FREEDOM. I miss you, will always love you, and yes, you are still forgiven.
FREEDOM OF THE SEA
Standing on the shoreline, looking out to sea at oceans of Your hopes for me, just beyond my reach. I’ve been here on this island for way too many years, a prisoner of my comfort, a slave to my own fears. Doubt is saying, “got to stay”. Faith is saying, “sail away”! I know it’s safe here on the shore, but freedom is worth dying for. Liberation comes to those who hear the truth and sail with you. I’ll go where You are calling me. I’ll be what You meant me to be. I know the risk is real, but I wanna feel the freedom of the sea! With eyes to the horizon, mist against my face, I’ll leave behind this island in Your abounding grace. With Your word as my compass, I’ll chase my destiny. For I know the words of Your will can set my spirit free. Doubt is saying, “got to stay”, but I’m taking up the anchor! Faith is saying, “sail away”, and I’m heading for the deep! {Phillips, Craig & Dean}
Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, I had to learn the bittersweet lesson that sometimes you actually do have to die inside a little (and sometimes even a lot) in order to be reborn into the strongest, wisest, most authentic version of yourself so you can leave this world a little better than you found it.
Hi everyone, it’s me, Cat! I’m Fifty-TWO-Good-To-Be-True, a divine apostrophe, a giant mystery, and alsoa living phoenix. Good GRIEF, how in actual Heaven will any of you people ever be able to make a single bit of sense out of me? Meanwhile, I’m not gonna lie … seeing this gift I had made for one of my favorite ghosts of all resting on that spot behind him literally made my day. I’VE GOT IVAN’S SIX!
Phoenixes don’t fall – WE RISE – and we always stick together, even when we’re flying solo!
(… and BY the way, as of 4.12.23, I don’t just have HIS six! NOW he has MINE!)
I saw a conversation amongst parents on social media recently about “how they were dealing with the fact that their children didn’t turn out as they’d hoped”. It was perplexing, to say the least, and after reading the various comments , I had to take a moment and pause. So, I asked myself that very same question, and this is where I landed:
I have had three babies.
One of them is already in Heaven, which of course is not what I’d “hoped” for her. Although I was only blessed by her physical presence for a literal handful of fleeting hours (“handful” meaning that she literally fit in the palm of my hand), there’ve been moments I’ve actually thanked God for getting her Home safely and out of this often wretched mortal world the rest of us are shackled too sooner rather than later. Let’s be honest, folks. Regardless of the hope, joy, beauty and laughter there truly are to be found in this temporary Earthly home, “humanity” is not for the faint of heart and it takes an immense amount of courage, faith, and suffering to survive it.
So, yes, I’m thankful she never had to endure the gauntlet of simply existing. I know where she is now. She’s safe, loved, and treasured beyond comprehension by a Love even greater than mine, and for that I am truly grateful. I believe that when I myself get to the brighter side of all this grey, she’ll be there waiting for me right beside my husband, who too is eternally safe and free from the suffering he knew here on Earth.
Then, there are the two who are still here with me. If I’ve learned anything in my journey thus far, it’s that as their mom, nothing is more crucial for their mental wealth and and growth then my unconditional love and acceptance of them just as they are,and even more so, JUST AS THEY AREN’T!
Due to theextremedysfunction in my childhood, wherein my parents (who were also raised in dysfunction) perpetuated the “works and deeds” system of parenting cyclically bequeathed them. “Love, affection, praise, and reward” were earned, not freely given, and even the smallest perceived failure or in their eyes would often cost me everything. I cannot tell you how many times they’d “wash their hands of me” over the years for falling short of their often impossible expectations. I was guilted and shamed for “not being good” far too many times to count, which eventually cost me my sanity. Meanwhile, here I am at peace with my past, my present, and my future, and fully connected back to that elusive younger me who was missing from the mirror all those years.
Long story short, this is how I deal with the fact that my children aren’t turning out “as I’d hoped”:
I DON’T, BECAUSE THEY ARE!
As their mother, my job was never to try and understand them, but rather, free them from the incessant need to completely understand themselves and allow them to be who THEY were meant to be … not what I or anyone else in this world TOLD them they should be. Their mental health and happiness are all I ever hope for. Their lives are their lives, and they need only be accountable to themselves when setting their own achievement bars. No matter how high or low they set them, they will never be failures in my eyes. If they want to grow up and sell lemonade from a bus, so be it, as long as they’re selling the BEST damn lemonade they can possibly sell and they sleep peacefully at night after doing so.
I believe with every shred of my being that the moment these kids became a part of my heart, soul, blood and bones, my job as the mother who was blessed by their presence on my flight path was to teach them how to steal the Sun and learn to fly according their own flight paths, not mine.
My kids don’t owe me a single thing, by the way – not even “love and respect”. Do they love and respect me? Indeed, I think they do. Yet, as paradoxical as it may seem, both love and respect are the consequence of free will and cannot be forced or commanded. My babies were not born to be extensions of me. They are their own autonomous beings. I want them to love and respect me because they choose to love and respect me, not because I demand it. They’re people, not machines, with thoughts and feelings of their own. The best that I can do is to keep freely giving what I “hope” to receive in return, regardless of their reciprocation.
There is nothing they can do or say that will keep me from being proud of them, and all I ever ask for is their best in all they do, that they grow from their mistakes, learn from all of mine, and treat themselves and others kindly. Neither of them is perfect, and each has had some challenges courtesy of their own dysfunctional childhood and me. It took me a minute to pull my head out of my own ass, get the help I needed to become whole, and stop acting like the consummate victim. But I did, and they know it, and we are all in this thing together separately.
At the end of the day, my job as their mom will be a true success if they learn to make peace with that mirror on the wall for the impeccably flawed masterpieces they are – lemonade stands and all! My son is a KING in the making, and my daughter a warrior QUEEN just like me. All three of us are battle born SURVIVORS who’ve “gotten” to learn the very hard way that nothing here matters unconditional love and acceptance, which, (ps), they will always have from their mom and we ALL have from our God. I love them as they are – nothing more and nothing less – because that’s how He loves me!
… because just as sure as this Marianne Williamson quote that has long been a favorite of mine is so very true, it only recently dawned on me that it applies to ourselves as well. So, I tweaked it up a bit, “Real Cat” style …
But why would we even want to embrace our dark side? I believe it’s our subconscious need for self-love, acceptance, and connection to our higher power. For me? That “higher power” is God. Look, even the brightest stars can’t shine without the black of night, so sometimes you have to go DEEP into the abyss to find out what you’re really made of and come back out carrying the torch for others.
Everybody’s got a dark side. Do you love me? Can you love mine?
I am beyond thankful for the small handful of people who have indeed been brave enough to love me unconditionally, even despite my very dark side, not the least of whom is God Himself. I’m even more thankful that I have reached a place in my journey where I, too, am now able to truly make peace with and embrace other people’sdark side if I need to.
I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again … Zachariah went zero dark hour in the months before he left. It’s the sobering, tragic truth. The things he did to me and my daughter would blow your mind. Yes, I’ve truly forgiven him, and, yes, I still feel love for him despite the devastating horror his “dark side” brought into our lives in the end.
Umm, hi! I believe that humans are “supposed to be” the most authentic version of what and who they are, whether that be “normal”, or “abnormal”. As and aside, I personally believe that both those words, “normal” and “abnormal”, are much too subjective to be used as a baseline for humanity. Who exactly sets the standard, and what exactly entitled them to do so?
WHO’S “THEY”?
They say we need to be a certain way to fit the mold, or so they say, but who’s they? How can we pretend to care and bend because we’re told we’re not okay? Who’s they? We can’t go wrong when we all stand tall and we sing the same song. We’ll find it hard not to get along. La da da da da da. La da da da da da. La da da da da da. We’ll find it hard not to sing along.
In my journey, it’s God who’s “they”. It’s God who sets the standard for everything human, and even that is subjective, as the personal lens through which I see, understand, and relate to Him is based solely on my unique life experiences thus far. For as much as I believe my conscious is the mode through which God speaks directly to me, I haven’t yet had the chance to sit down and have a conversation with Him about everything He intended to be “standard” for creation:
… lest you remember that although not a single one of them damn peoples’ nasty, misperceived opinions of you matters, YOUR SELF-REFLECTION DOES! In being honest and taking this even a step further, for me, personally, it’s only my self-reflection through God’s eyes that matters to me. But hey, you know what? My faith journey is my faith journey, and although I do so wish you ALL well on your own faith journeys, that’s a totally different Diary entry for another day. In the meantime, you just do whatever it takes to make friends with that person you see standing in the mirror, because like it or not, that beautiful creature looking back at you is your ride or die from this day ’til eternity! How YOU feel and what YOU think of YOU is EVERYTHING …
So, with that, I don’t think there’s a viable answer to this question. What’s “normal” to some may be “abnormal” to others. Thus … the human experience … for which I say to “they”:
Long story short? If you don’t like the standards and norms that “he” owns, maybe you should spend a little more time worrying about why you even care in the first place and a little more time worrying about the standards and norms that YOU OWN!
She had come to believe it was the dark days of the past that made her impossibly strong, and it was years before she realized she was wrong. She was forged from steel at His design. “Strong” is what she was. “Light” is who she’d be. The darkness merely forced her to prove it.
She would have to rewrite her fairytale an infinite number of times, but never once did she cower at the thought of starting over. Deep in her heart, she believed that she was only ever sent here to master the art of diving deep into her own soul and embracing the love and magic that had been waiting to meet her there all along. She’d somehow always known that every ending was just a beginning, and even the most beautiful seasons had to change.
Each time the devil tried to steal the crown from her head, she’d adapt, survive, and emerge from her cocoon the ungroundable Phoenix she was. She was a creation of Light that couldn’t be dimmed … God’s very favorite daughter and divinely appointed “apostrophe”:
I’m an apostrophe. I’m just a symbol to remind you that there’s more to see. I’m just a product of the system. A catastrophe … and yet a masterpiece … and yet I’m half diseased … and when I am deceased, at least I’ll go down to the grave and die happily … leave the body and my soul to be a part of thee. I’ll do what it takes.
{“Whatever It Takes” … Imagine Dragons}
“She” is me!
“She” can be YOU!
If you are stumbling in a darkness of your own, please let me to encourage you to pick up the crown that the devil kicked off your head and put it right back where it belongs! Not just for you, but for the sake of all the others who are standing in your halo. Even as you read this, your name is being mentioned in rooms you’ve yet to enter where plans are being drawn by The Powers just for you!
As for me?
Just like all the stars in the sky that punctuate this world with their halo, I will continue to beam through the infinite abyss that would love nothing better than to swallow me alive. I’ll keep reminding myself that my soul is ablaze with all the mysterious and illustrious things that dying eyes desperately need to see to help them find their way back home.
We were all created from perfection! We were all divinely inspired!We are all a product of the Light that all the darkness in this world wants to extinguish, and all God’s “favorite” children.
There’ll be NO one like him. Into the mystery I slide. I’m hoping he’ll keep it all uncovered.
Kinda cryptic, right? Only God knows what the future holds for me. It’s either “been there, done that” reigning here alone, but not lonely, for the rest of my days on this Earth …
… OR …
There is one last king preparing himself and his table for ME somewhere out there in this realm. Admittedly, I won’t be an easy catch. If and when he either does or doesn’t show up, he’ll be a “sophisticated BEAST” to the core, who will win … no … TAKE the privilege and honor of ruling what’s left of my heart and seeing me completely naked:
I have long believed that three is the number of perfection, and under optimal conditions, the all-consuming heat from my untamed heart could melt a diamond. I’m not a fan of being touched, though, so, any man worthy of getting close enough to hold not just my body, but my heart, is gonna have to be forged from fire himself. His Herculean wings will have to be bigger than mine, so that whether he’s flying above or behind me, they’ll see the flames of all MY heart’s desires burning deep inside the fire of his. His wings will need to eclipse the shadows of the only two men on Earth who have ever led me before him. Not only will he be confident enough to live with “my two ghosts”, even more so will he embrace and honor their rightful places in my heart and mind in gratitude for the treasure they left for HIM. Only time will tell if there is to be one last king who gets to see me naked, read the very private pages of this book, and speak to me in the language of my soul …
But, Cat! Didn’t you just say that you WON’T be an easy catch? That seems so contradictory.
That’s correct! I won’t be an easy catch. But you see, if “he” is who he’ll need to be to even capture my attention in the first place, it will be easy for him to catch me. It’ll be a cosmic clash of two titans on Earth, and that’s just the way it’s gonna be! I will only do this one more time, by the way, so if I do, he’ll be playing for keeps.
So, with that … this is me “queen speaking” into the Cosmos that I’m open to what and “if” is or is not meant to be. I’ve crossed on over to the brighter side of everthing … up to an including the possibility of “one last king”. IT IS SPOKEN! In the meantime, here’s to a repeat performance of one of my hands-down favorite life songs …
… but even THEN, sometimes it takes a fuckin’ minute to send IT packing for IT’S next meal!
In November of 1996, I “got to learn” the very hard waywhat really lied beneath the surface of one ofthe most narcissistic, evil“men” I’d ever had the misfortune of crossing paths with …
Note that as I wrote “man”, I literally and not metaphorically laughed my fucking ass off! I’ve since been enlightened as to the true measure of a man, and “man” gives him way more credit than what his very SMALL affect truly is (and I do mean SMALL in every way). He’s a hoovering narcissist. Nothing more and nothing less.
Narcissists begin to “hoover” when they want or need something from you:
•Attention • Validation • Money • SEX 🤮
The main reason they hoover, though, is because they’re internally empty and void of a soul and have a pathological fear of feeling insignificant, unlovable, alone or worthless. So, they’ll do any and everything they possible can to fill the gaping hole in their “heart” and sustain their false self-image. They’re fundamentally addicted to the attention of others. Without attention and control, they STARVE! When their reservoirs of narcissistic supply run out, they prey off the old “meat” they managed to catch in the past. They usually have MANY “backups” (other exes) to feed off when they’re hungry again. Like predators, they knows how to manipulate the weaknesses of those they’ve preyed on before. They’ll try to entice you through random texts, apologies, declarations of undying love, and “repentant” gestures to convince you of how much they’ve “changed” and “care” for you.
As par for the course over the past 20 years, John has never fully left my atmosphere since our near fateful departure. Not long after he and Angie leveled me to the point of almost no return, he showed up at my home to deliver a stack of Christmas presents and a littlesomethin’ else. Keep in mind that he was already engaged to Angie at the time, and although NOTHING happened between “us”, something indeed happened between “him and himself” right there on my bed! It was one of the most twisted things I’d ever witnessed in my life, and this is saying a lot. After having driven myself crazy and spent time in a couple of “facilities”, not to mention some of the other twisted things I’d seen courtesy of my own fucked up and TWISTED family, trust me when I say that I’VE WITNESSED SOME TWISTED SHIT!
At first, he gaslit it all back to my insanity, but a friend hooked my phone up to a recording device so I could at least try to bait the truth out of him in what he thought was a private conversation. Lol! The dumbfuck actually fell for it! I then took the recording to the used car dealership that Angie’s family owned and played it for her father and brother, who was one of John’s best friends. Needless to say, it didn’t end well for the small man and dear, sweet ‘lil Angie. I’d been vindicated! Believe me when I say that although this tale seems way too far fetched, the people who helped me bust “Hoovery McNarcissist” at what was almost his best mind fuck EVER are both still very much alive to tell about it.
Meanwhile, some years later, in the irony of all ironies, despite the fact that he had always chastised the “pompous affluence” in the small town where I lived, guess which “pompous and affluent” town John and his now ex-wife, Wendy, built a home in? That’s right, people … OURS! In fact, they built their home in the subdivision that abutted the one where my parents still live today, which also abutted the subdivision my ex-husband and I used to live. So, imagine my surprise years later when I walked a then baby Gia to the park across the street from my home, only to find John’s wife and daughter there, too. I’m not gonna lie, I have long since wondered whether there was really any irony there at all.
Very long and sordid tale short, they eventually began working out at the Lifetime Fitness Center that was our “gym home” (and is still mine), and we would see them there often. At a certain point, in being polite, formal introductions were made, and my husband (who’s physical presence over-powered him by at least a half a foot and a hundred pounds) had even shaken his hand once. Meanwhile, Zack knewall about “John and Angie”, so, every time he saw me politely, yet ever so awkwardly ensnared by John’s attempts at conversation, he literally wanted to slit his throat. Both Zack and Gia had always said he looked like an actual snake (and now that I think of it, he kinda does), and whenever Gia sees him,she physically shudders.
Creepier still, both Angie and that ex-wife of his I’d met at the park after Angie dumped him had become a members at that gym. They were all there all the fucking time! But in my mind, bygones were now bygones, I was happy in my new life with Zack, so, it just was what it was
In his defense, I must admit that I brought his last round of bullshit on myself. Not because I’m weak … BECAUSE I’M FORGIVING!He’d reached out to me not too long after Zack died, and I’d even agreed to meet him for dinner because I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt and believe that somehow he’d changed. Also? I thought it would be a good idea to finally have some closure there and relieve myself of some residual bitterness that still existed where he was concerned.
Needless to say, the dinner didn’t end well, and perhaps someday I’ll tell you why. As for now, I’ll reveal how this drama finally played out by showing you! If you pay close enough attention to the dates and times, you’ll clearly see it! Texting; Double-texting; “Feigned concern”; fucking BARF:
MARCH 27, 2020:
APRIL 5, 2020:
APRIL 6, 2020:
APRIL 12, 2020:
APRIL 29, 2020:
APRIL 30, 2020:
MAY 10, 2020:
MAY 24, 2020:
JUNE 13, 2020:
AUGUST 13 & 14, 2020:
THE END!
Well, kind of! On Tuesday, February 16th, he texted me again. Then again. Then again.
To which my final response is THIS:
Unaffected, unimpressed, and laughing my ass off again. Meanwhile, if you know this Diary, you know I have a song for almost every entry. Nope. Not this one. Music is my therapy … my happy place … MY EVERYTHING!
How very starved these two pathetic creatures posing as human beings must have been that my heart became meals for his very small affect and her insignificant, insecure, and insincere ego.
So, in keeping with that train of thought, and instead of my usual “song”, I suppose all that really remains for “this thing” that was once in my life are these five final words:
Just sending out a smoke signals out to all my fellow kings and queens! In case no one has told you this today …
You,
Are,
AMAZING!
“Let’s state the obvious right now”, you’ll be victorious! You’ll take the crown (just like you’ve always done before). Keep digging in, THEY’LL STEP AROUND, ’cause in the end you will stand your ground!
And remember …
It’s okay to scream out loud that you’re way too good for assholes and their bullshit! It doesn’t make you egotistical – it makes you SELF-RESPECTFUL! If you are in my “virtual circle” and therefore reading this right now, chances are that you, too, are a badass, otherwise we wouldn’t be virtually connected. Don’t let anyone lower you to their “surface level”. If they can’t or won’t rise to you, leave them at the bottom.
Rise up. Fly high. Advocate for yourself in everything you do, and don’t accept anything that’s not EVERYTHING! Keep your chin up, knuckles out, and head WAY up above the clouds! Trust me when I tell you, the oxygen is MUCH better here – especially when you’ve taken the crown!
… because maybe sometimes the meaning behind the message the Cosmos is trying to send us can only be received when we’re actually ready to hear them.
I’ve watched the “Bubbikins” episode of The Crown more than a dozen times, and if you’ve read my “Speaking Of Faith And Crowns” blog, you know it was a huge catalyst in connecting with the many messages my God has been sending me every step of the way. But did you know that I didn’t know there was, perhaps, a more important message in it that I’d missed entirely? I’d been watching it again on Friday night when Christian called me in tears saying, “Momma, PLEASE forgive Grandpa“? THEN I couldn’t sleep, so I got up and wrote “Desperado“. THEN “the message hidden in the message” literally HIT ME like a ton an actual ton of bricks:
What if everything we think we’ve known isn’t really what it was at all? Just as I pray that what ultimately awaits me on The Brighter Side Of Grey is my own children’s understanding of what was really happening on “the day of The Circadian“, even more so do I pray that I remain steadfast in my conviction that indeed, it is true, that “HURT people hurt PEOPLE”, and sometimes grace is the onlybig picture we were evermeant to understand.
… and, with that, I am STILL the luckiest Queen on the face of this beautiful planet, STILL God’s favorite daughter, and STILL blessed far beyond anything my MANY sins of the past should have allowed. I love you, too, God. THANK YOU – for EVERYTHING! Your not so hidden “hidden messages” are coming through louder and clearer with every step I’m allowed to take.
A friend of mine posted something on his social media recently that really hit me hard:
The inability to receive support from others is a trauma response. Your “I don’t need anyone; I’ll just do it all myself” conditioning is a survival tactic. You needed it to shield your heart from the abuse, neglect, betrayal, and disappointment from those who could not or would not be there for you. From the parent who was absent and abandoned you, perhaps by choice. From the parent didn’t intend to abandon you but was never home because they were working three jobs to feed and house you. From the lovers who offered sexual intimacy, but never offered a safe haven to honor your heart. From friendships and family who ALWAYS took more than they ever gave. From all the situations when someone told you, “We’re in this together” or “I got you”, then, they ended up leaving you behind to pick up all the pieces when shit got real … leaving you to handle not just your part, but sometimes their part, too, in the messes that were made in your life. From all of those lies and betrayals along the way, you learned that you just really couldn’t trust people – OR – that you COULD trust people, but only up to that point when “being there for you” was convenient or not such a hassle for them.
Let me tell you why this post REALLY upset me …
“The fortress” that is being spoken of in this post? He was my husband!He’s still my son! She was my daughter! SHE WAS ME! “A fortress” is what so many kids are becoming today, even as I write this, and I’m sickened to say that because there are certain parenting and lifestyle choice boundaries that are just not okay to cross, I have sometimes had to sit silently and helplessly as so many parents I know literally decimate their children right in front of my eyes!
Yes, I’m a queen. Yes, I’m healed, risen, and SOARING after a lifetime of hiding behind the fortress walls that I built for myself. Yes, I’m thankful for every thing, person, and situation that broke me, because I wouldn’t have had anything to ascend from had I not come from all these ashes. I would never have known how to recognize or receive true, unconditional love, grace, acceptance, and kindness from the very few people who have ever offered it to me had I not had to live behind my own walls.
EXTREME INDEPENDENCE IS A TRUST ISSUE!
You learned: “If I don’t put myself in a situation where I really rely on someone, I won’t have to be disappointed when they don’t show up for me – OR – “WHEN they drop the ball … because they WILL drop the ball EVENTUALLY!” – OR – “When they SLAM the ball back in my face because they just got fucking SICK of helping me carry it around!”
You may even have been intentionally taught this protection strategy by generations of hurt ancestors who came before you.
You may even have been unintentionally taught this protection strategy by generations of the hurt ancestors who came before you, and you don’t even know it. As we all know, many toxic family traits are general in nature.
EXTREME INDEPENDENCE IS A PRE-EMPTIVE STRIKE AGAINST HEARTBREAK!
So, you don’t trust ANYONE, right? And you don’t trust YOURSELF either? ESPECIALLY, you don’t trust yourself to choose people correctly? To trust is to hope. To trust is to be vulnerable. “Never again,” you vow! But no matter how you dress it up and display it proudly to make it seem that this level of independence is what you always wanted to be … in truth it’s your wounded, scarred, broken heart behind a protective wall. Impenetrable! Nothing gets in … no one gets hurt …BUT NO LOVE GETS IN, EITHER! Fortresses and armor are for those in battle, or for those who believe that a battle is coming.
EXTREME INDEPENDENCE IS A TRAUMA RESPONSE!
But, the good news is that ACKNOWLEDGED trauma can be HEALED trauma! So, with that, to all you selfish, toxic, ABUSIVE “parents” running around out there:
WAKE THE FUCK UP AND GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER!
For Christ’s actual sake, get your kids out of toxic environments you have them in. Protect them! Cherish them! Validate them! Hear them! Consider your children FIRST in every single decision you make! Worse yet, stop letting the people who have hurt YOU continue to hurt your children! IT’S GROSS! By failing to heal yourself and find a way to have healthy relationships after the ones that have broken you apart, you only perpetuate the cycle of “victimized brokenness” that you will then gift to your innocently jaded children. I mean, c’mon now, “mom or dad” … do you really want to be one of those parents whose children only ever come to visit you when they absolutely HAVE to because although they do still actually love you, they have to make the decision to love you from a distance because they have to protect themselves from YOU?
In the meantime, I’ll just keep praying that someday I don’t get that call that a child I once knew and loved swallowed a bullet because their miserable excuses for “parents” couldn’t get their shit together, or “deserved the life that they deserved”, and now I have to show up to that child’s funeral because they just couldn’t deal anymore. But mostly, I’ll be praying that someday, somehow, any child or adult who lives behind the walls of their own fortress will one day be able to stand in front of a mirror and say:
I AM WORTHY of having support!
I AM WORTHY of having true partnership!
I AM WORTHY of love!
I AM WORTHY of having my heart held!
I AM WORTHY to be adored!
I AM WORTHY to be cherished!
I AM WORTHY to have someone say, “You rest – I got this”, and actually fucking deliver on that promise!
Every Christmas, my ex and his mom send a fresh wreath with little butterflies on it to our daughter’s grave. It happens every year faithfully since the very first Christmas without her, and their beautiful wreaths are something I always enjoy seeing as “me and mine” make our own treks to dress her spot with a basket befitting an angel.
But then? THIS year …
As par for the course, her dad brings the old wreaths for me to “do my thing” with them every year. It’s a labor of love that fills my heart with unspeakable joy, because for all she brought to me in a few short hours, taking them apart and piecing them into my own spring baskets just makes me feel so close to her energy. While I was on the phone with her dad this January, this conversation happened:
Hey, guess what I’m doing? I’m taking apart her wreath and getting ready to make the basket.
Oh, good! There’s seventeen, right?
Seventeen? Seventeen WHAT?
Seventeen butterflies. We add one every year, and this year she’d have been seventeen.
My heart hit the floor in the best kind of way. I had no idea that year after year, one by one, as I’d been carefully cutting those delicate butterflies from their wires and setting them on tissue paper until it was time for their final journey, there was yet anotherhidden picture waiting to be revealed in keeping with the sweet mosaic rhythm of my life.
Indeed, it’s true … a tortilla really DID make me cry today, but Batman TOTALLY saved the day! Unless you either are a Mexican, was raised by a Mexican, lived with a Mexican, or spent any time next to a Mexican abuela turning dough balls in the kitchen, you simply cannot understand the “tortilla” of it all! Someday, if you’re really lucky, I’ll tell you ALL about what my Italian grandmother taught me about food from her kitchen. Oh, wait, I’ll just tell ya now! It went somethin’ like this …
You bettah eat those friggin’ sawsage and peppahs NOW or ya dead to me AND ya gonna burn in HELL!”
I’m don’t think anything has hit me quite as hard as this quote in quite some time. And for the record, this little “life hack” doesn’t just apply to close family and loved ones, it applies to our friends as well. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again …
Yes, I know – we’re ALL fucking busy. We ALL have issues and feel like we’re drowning at times. I get it, I do! I mean, HELLO? Have you met me? Don’t make bullshit excuses! Inconvenience yourself if, damnit! Make the damn call or send the text:
Hi there! I’m not calling for a favor. I don’t have a question. I don’t need you to listen to my latest crisis. I just want you to know that you matter and I’m glad you exist!
Trust me when I say that there’s NEVER a bad time to reach out to someone you love. Also? It’s the right thing to do. Still can’t find the time? Still too busy with your “crisis”? Well, then close your eyes right this second and imagine yourself standing over their grave!
Damn, I wish I would have called them. I wonder if they really knew that they mattered?
There you have it, folks! There’s “NO TIME” like the present, and once all that time you could never find for “your people” is gone, you’re not gonna get it back!
If you’re a natural born taker, and not so much a giver, I get it, and can even appreciate it. There really is a place for both sides of the giver/taker coin, if not to exist solely as “ying” to another’s “yang”. I mean, how would anyone what “selfless” looks like if we didn’t know know what “selfish” looks like, too? Ya can’t see a light without the darkness behind it. It’s both practical logic and sobering, hard core truth. But here’s another even harder core truth …
One day you may just find yourself in that very lonely hour saying,
Wait! Where are all my people … and for God’s sake, WHO ARE ALL MY PEOPLE?
This is usually right about the time you start thinking about all the times you showed up for everyone else … even when your own cards were down, and going, “Wow! What the fuck? REALLY?“
Is it an evil necessary? SURE! Again, with the “light and the dark”. But it’s never too late to switch lanes and really get in the often inconvenient habit of putting your people into perspective and not taking them for granted before the day comes that they are gone.
And by the way, the pain we feel at a loved one’s death can be just as awful as the pain of existing here on Earth with someone you’re theoretically dead to. The phone rings both ways folks, and even the givingest of the givers have their limits. Sooner or later, we learn that though we may still love someone, we have to love them from afar, because our time, effort, and energy are way too valuable to spend on someone who takes our value for granted. Been there. Done that. With each passing day, I’m killing off living people left and right.
The Diary Of My Perfection 