ha! in the beginning is right!!!!!!

so stick around, breathe deep, take a yoga class, and before you even get to the point where you can touch your toes your heart will be back in heaven where it belongs!


y’all remember that very first post? well, if you don’t this is the reminder. and it’s true. i took yoga, breathed real deep, and finally. ta da! learned a bona fide letting go technique courtesy of tosha silver’s book, outrageous openness. 


here’s how it goes. you write down all the nasties you have imploding in your tiny brain about mr. wrong or someone who did you wrong, or just how wronged you felt about somebody. for that matter it could be about your own self! maybe you gotta do some deep healing work in that department too, girlfriend! so you write and write. then you burn that sucker. mm hmm. ashes. then, you step into a salt bath. no bathtub? not a problem. salt scrub. it is divine. 


next and final step. sage yourself. yep. light that sucker up and swish it around you. all around. make sure you put it out. all this cleansing does not need to burn your house down!

ok. i was sooooo ready to do this. i mean, i thought i had let it go, let it go, let it go, but no. not quite. ( i actually did this process twice- just to make sure)!

and i am here to tell you. light years difference. serious. 

now i do not know how it worked, i was just desperate. and something deep inside of me knew it would make a difference. 

and it did.

do i hear an amen?





letting go


do i wish i hadn’t called you now?

what did i get

out of our reconnecting

but heartache and cash?

all your money is simply a cover

for all your inconsistencies and lack

you cleverly express in 500 different ways

and i am still left wanting

wishing only for more of your time

still, in my elusive search for trust

and looking in all the wrong places

none of those things ever arrive

do they?

still, i check the mail everyday

i look for a letter

a sign


who is crazy now?

i wish i hadn’t called you

but i did

it’s not too late though

to just hang up.

no more hanging out

no more empty nights

with you.


The crashing cymbals of her voice woke me from my silvery night. “Please, honey, bring me something to drink. I have to have something. I promise baby, this will be the last time. I need it. You don’t understand. I have to have it!”

At first, I never answered. I hoped that maybe one of my brothers would respond. If they did though, my heart would start beating wildly in my chest, terrified that there would be another fight. And she could get ugly. It was as if Jekyll and Hyde existed in my own mother, the mother who tried to take my father’s life over a bottle of booze.

She had come in quietly that night. I was barely seven. We were sleeping in my brother’s room and I woke up immediately when she entered. Even at that tender age my senses were as raw and honed as a knife. Everything went into slow motion. I remember lying there, frozen, watching her clumsily lumber over to where my father was sleeping in the other twin bed. Her massive breasts were swinging awkwardly through her half open nightdress. She had a machete knife in one hand.

and. time. just. stopped.

From far away I heard someone screaming as I saw her lift the knife high above her head. In a split second it would come crashing down into my father’s heart. “Where is it?” she screamed, “What have you done to it?” The time frame sped up and I saw my father’s arms flailing wildly, reaching up to stop the knife just as it came plummeting down, narrowly missing its target.

No one ever spoke about it again. My father left us soon after.

I had nightmares until I was eighteen, sure that the knife in her hand would finally find its rightful target-me. Those were the days I remember. Not much else- just terror and fear. And always, her crying and pleading and begging. Then came the thousand promises that she would stop drinking, only she never did. The endless trips to sanitariums where humiliation and embarrassment were encased around my young body like a straitjacket.

We lived in a beautiful home that held no beauty. I sat in the dark on the stairs outside at night, waiting for her to come home. Too afraid to be alone in the house, afraid someone would come and get me. If it were cold, I would sit in the hallway and scrunch my knees to my skinny chest so no eyes could find me through the mountains of glass that surrounded our home. When I finally saw her headlights coming up the hill my bleary eyes had a brief moment of imagined relief. Until we went in the house and then my fear once again escalated, because I was no longer afraid of some stranger breaking into our home and hurting me. I was afraid of her.

more crazy


i have not seen my mother in seven years. last year, it occurred to me that maybe i should visit her before she dies. so i told her i would come this past january.
when it was time, with all my fear and trepidation neatly packed, she cancelled on me and said she wasn’t feeling well.
i never rescheduled.
i was 27 years old when I went to my first al-anon meeting. when i was a child there were no child protective services.
everything was a secret.
people whispered and nodded but no one ever came out and spoke the truth. it took me a long time to find al-anon. i must have been in a lot of pain. this was where i was told, for the first time in my life, that it was not my fault my mother drank. i never went to another meeting. at the time, that was the greatest gift I had ever received. all the years I had been “responsible” for my mother, for her well-being, her very life, instantaneously vanished and I was finally able to let go.
she re-married a man who managed a very expensive detox center in, you won’t believe it, the wine country. they had brought her in on a gurney, from one of her recent binge’s and every four hours she got a shot of whiskey to help her detox the poison from her system- so she could hopefully skip the delirium tremens part, the d.t.’s.
“hummers” they called those shots back then.
this loving man jack, who brought her the whiskey, ended up doing what every sane person will tell you to never do. get involved and fall in love with someone who is brand new sober. jack had twenty years clean.
my mother would stand up at those meetings, meetings where I would see half the judges from the county courthouse, a famous rock star or two, and introduce herself by saying “hello, I am mary and I am an alcoholic.”
there is a saying in the big book of aa that “there are some of us who are incapable of being honest.” they wrote that part with my mother in mind. though she would pay lip service in the company she was in, her head had a mind of its own. she and jack moved in together, eventually marrying.
and then they both started drinking together. many disasters later, after setting places on fire, getting evicted, and basically losing all their life savings, jack finally succumbed to cancer. he never stopped loving my mother, though. it was crazy. 
it was the only kind of love I knew. crazy love.

can you live without a man?


i thought i would never survive if i did not have a man in my life.

there i was, with two babies, in new york, in the worst winter in 100 years.

oh- he was in california. but i needed him. how was i going to survive- alone?

wait. i’m confused. he left. he is gone. and i am worried about being alone?

and then- worst moment. the sink plugged up. it was 20 degrees outside. the wind chill factor was unfathomable. there was no one. anywhere. the babies were making ceramics out of their breakfast. i dropped the coffee pot. the shards from the broken glass went everywhere. i froze. and then the trembling began. where is my father, brother, husband! where is a man- to fix it!


sob. how will i survive?

the sink was a gooey, slimy, bubbling cauldron of stew. unbearable.

the tears, hot on my face, streaking down my now completely humiliated self.

and then, i had a thought. i had seen a plunger outside. perhaps i could plunge the sink?

bravely i took that wooden rod in both hands. i pushed. i slipped. i got a suction. i pumped. surely, i had pumped my breasts. surely i could pump this unyielding piece of rubber!

and then. a miracle. bubbles, a burp, a gassy release of slimy mess whirling and swirling in the most beautiful concentric circles i had ever seen.

the sink cleared with a tiny hiccup.

i knew, at that moment, i could survive without a man.

that, my dear, was my epiphany.

are you willing to be in back up position?



ever had a guy dump you when he had someone in back up? kind of like break your heart in a guy normous amount of wreckage? then, a few weeks after his mini exploration with miss secondary to primary now to no marry- he wants to court you again?

yeah. and you. an unfathomable, understandable bucket of rage. mmm hmm. where expletives begin and end there is no accounting for the amount that you wish to regale him with. but he is so. darn. cute. and sweet.

and he is so patiently understanding your upset. awww.

ok. the trust has been broken. well, let’s be honest here- decimated.

but he tells you over and over and over again- you get the idea- he will do anything to win you back.

uh oh. though you originally thought there were not enough i am sorry’s in the world, you begin to falter in your determination.

to. not. go. back.

to. cut. your. losses.

once a cheater always a cheater.

sigh. but maybe.

a miracle?

i still love him you say.

oh. beautiful. and, do you love yourself?

and what is yourself advising?

not oprah. not dr. oz. not mommie dearest

if you need to convince yourself this is a good thing, this re-entry retrial of the relationship.

um. convincing in my humble experience does not bode well.

who needs to change?


, ,

i heard you moved back

found someone else to take care of you

no more time behind bars in this go round

you made a decision then to love and be loved

but the courts didn’t seem to agree with it

i was angry and upset at the time i remember

little eyes witnessing things far beyond them

i made a call

begged them not to tell

no matter they did what they always do

you hated me for it

i’m sure why wouldn’t you

an outside assault on your senses

a man who passes through life with no thought for another

left us alone and defenseless

it was all for the good

when it’s all said and done

no more lying and trying to make up

i wish you good fortune

be well not be damned

still i wonder if you won’t do it all again