Wednesday, January 12, 2011



Yeah, sorry I've been quiet for awhile.

Believe it or not, for those of you who 'know me', I really have been quiet for awhile. For so many reasons, that there just isn't enough Valium. So there you have it.

I've kinda just hunkered down in my 'hole'. That would be my 'house'. Or as I lovingly refer to it as my 'sanctuary'.

The spouse thinks I'm whacked cuz I never want to go anywhere.

Oh, I'm whacked.

Ain't no doubt about THAT.

But, as a non-licensed psychotherapist who has walked as many miles as Methuselah blew out candles on birthday cakes, I'm going to claim 'expert' on this one.

I like to be 'here', because it is S A F E.

S A F E is not a feeling that is learned.

S A F E is not a feeling that is acquired.

S A F E is not a feeling or an emotion that one exclaims, "Gee! Gosh! Golly! I sure do feel S A F E today!"

If you feel S A F E, and there was ever a time in your life when you felt UNSAFE, then you know exactly what I'm talking about.

Those around me, those who care for me and those who care of me, they have EARNED my feeling of S A F E .

It's a whole other ball game than TRUST.

I am entitled to feel S A F E.

Like Oreos.

They make me feel S A F E.

An Oreo has never frightened me.

Not once.

Not ever.

Don't see it happening.

It is never a foregone conclusion that I have, or that I must TRUST.

But if you are my friend, and I feel S A F E around you then you EARNED it.

And during those times (far more frequent than I ever let on, or than I allow myself to feel) when I feel U N S A F E, I look for the nearest exit. I instinctively track down my children. And we GET THE HELL OUT OF WHEREVER IT IS WE WERE AND WE GO HOME TO OUR SANCTUARY.

I decided to write this tonight, because even though I haven't been to very many public gatherings, it's not because I'm any more ill than I have been, nor because I'm any more mental than I have been, nor because my life in general sucks any less that it has.

It's because right here, in my sanctuary, I feel S A F E.

With my Oreos.

Which leads me to a question.

So, you know how (well maybe ya don't) your doctor will ask if you have blood in your stool, and you say no, and he says, is it black, and you say, yeah, and he says, well then you have blood in your stool? ANyone, anyone, Bueller?

Okay, fine, so all of you are lying. It's cool. I won't tell.

But here's my quagmire.

My stool is black. Really, really black.

And I hate my doctor. REally, really hate my doctor.


I'm wondering..............

Is there a chance that my stool is black because Publix had Oreos on BOGO last week and I single handedly ate all FOUR pounds of Oreos by myself this week?

Could it be?

Like, if, since the Oreos aren't BOGO anymore, and I've eaten like ALL of them, and my stool is no longer black, can I then successfully complete my very own if/then statement: if my stool is no longer black, then it must NOT have been the oreos! And if it was not the Oreos and my stool is no longer black, then it must NOT have been blood! And if there was no blood, then there is NO reason to call my doctor whom I hate?

Whaddya think?

Do I have a future as a logician? Is there such an occupation? If I stop eating Oreos, I mean.........

Thursday, January 6, 2011



I haven't gone away. Don't worry. You're stuck with me. For now.

I'm being rather quiet. Shocking. I know.

I'm reflecting.

On the past 30 days, and the rage, and the range of emotions, and digging deeper...... the whole conundrum.


Quiet and reflecting.

Focusing on my health (another blog forthcoming),

Focusing on my pirates and their homework and their projects and their extra curricular activities and their loose teeth and their too long hair and their every growing need for shoes....and....

Life as we know it.

I've realized that everything I've ever publicly reported is basically this thing called 'life'. I justn't haven't been able to wrap around the enormity of my 'life' vs. the minisculity of someone else's 'life'.

And during my reflection, I just wonder, sometimes out loud to God.

'I know there are reasons. I know YOU know what you're doing. But I don't know why. And I really wish that maybe perhaps sooner rather than later, that you could hand the ball of to to someone else. We/I have been holidng it for a very long time now. Could ya maybe give the ball to another a ball carrier, just for a little while? So maybe they could learn some of the play by play?


That's been my today's reflection.