How The Mighty Have Fallen: The Regeneration of a Lost Soul


When I left home at 17 years old, I knew I was going to rule my world. Not the whole world, such as it is, but mine. I was going to do that thing, achieve those promotions, and be all that. I’d been taught by the very best, by simply absorbing everything I saw around me growing up. I knew how to teach myself what I needed to know, how to move up the ladder without stepping on anyone. I was excellent at setting and achieving my professional goals, while constantly keeping my eye on the next step needed to progress to the next level.

I was equally dedicated to building my skills, my position, and my wardrobe.

I married at the appropriate time, had a child, and moved on to a bigger company all within a couple of years. Then things got interesting. I was opening stores, and training new management, and had wonderful opportunities to jump forward professionally when the time was right. Unfortunately problems with childcare reared their ugly heads while I was away, and I had to reevaluate immediately.

My baby needed me.

I came back, signed up for part-time college classes in business, and took a job paying $6.25 an hour working in an office so I could be home nights and weekends with my son. No matter how hard it was at times, I didn’t have any regrets. As time went on, he grew into a wonderful young man, and by the time he left home, circumstances had changed again.

For the next three years, I worked three jobs, and left myself no life at all.

If I’d had the energy or wits about me to think properly, I would’ve changed that sooner, but being numb prevented that. Instead, I continued cutting off little important parts of me that kept me alive. How else would I fit into this life I was living now? How else could I continue to do these duties and obligations that were required of me? How else could I function daily without losing my mind with all of those parts of me screaming for attention?

There is no more horrifying sound than the sigh of a soul dying.

I heard it one night, that death wheeze, whispering through the dark as I sought the peace of sleep. It terrified me into letting go, one small thing at a time until I could breathe, into looking around me to see how far I had fallen from my heart, into feeling the kind of desperation that no one should ever feel.

The kind of desperation that knows failure will cause a damage from which you will never fully recover.

My heart had been ground up and plowed under and mixed and scattered with a million things to keep the ground level, the road smooth, the path clear for all. Everything I used to be, or dream of being, was only something to be tilled into fallow ground. My interior landscape had become a wasteland, yearning for even the scent of rain.

Maybe the endless stream of tears on the inside is what watered them enough to cause them to rise, fragile and valiant.

I’m still grateful for that, no matter how difficult or devastating its effects will be on my life going forward. I appear to be calling to me people who feed my heart and soul, those who call the she-wolf out of her den to run, to howl, to gather the things that must be, to do the things that must be done to remain who she is. I choose not to let go of her, the she-wolf.

She is mine. She is me.

It is a terrifying, and beautiful state of being. 

You are welcome to join me.

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A Magical Life vs Reality: The Non-Arguement


It seems to me that the people who least believe in magic, are the ones who most want it to be real. Somewhere inside them is a little flame that holds onto the hope that there really are miracles happening in the mundane, that all of us really do have magic in us, that we do have the supernatural power to change the course of our lives and create our own worlds. We breathe air we can’t see, feel love we don’t see, hold dreams within us that are not yet seen, and still we doubt?

Those scientific, physics-minded secret-holders of the light don’t understand that physics and magic are one and the same.

Physics: knowledge of nature, the natural science that involves the study of matter and its motion through space and time, along with related concepts such as energy and force.

I believe in magic. I believe I make it. I believe I can create whatever I want for myself. Not by sitting around in a pink tutu, hugging a teddy bear with my eyes closed, wishing for things to appear. Physics, science, cause and effect, whatever you want to insert here, is my magic wand. Physics teaches us of particles that don’t exist except as probabilities.

And the mind, my love, is a formidable force for magic.

Magic (noun): the power of apparently influencing the course of events by using mysterious or supernatural forces.

So apparently my dream of a more beautiful, expansive life, at this time doesn’t exist except as a probability, a possibility. I will use my dream to influence the course of events to move through space and time with such energy and force as to bring them to fruition. That’s physics, and magic.

Magic (adjective): used in magic, or working by magic; having or apparently having supernatural powers. Wonderful;exciting.

So I bring my force and movement and energy into my daily life to create circumstances that are opportunities to create more magic for myself, more wonder, more excitement.

Magic (verb): to move, change, or create by or as if by magic.

What do I need to say here aside from pointing out that someone focused on bringing a dream to fruition may appear to go beyond the realms of possibility. It could appear to be magic. The things they create for themselves began as dreams so tiny and fragile that the reality seems larger than life. The tools they applied to bring these dreams into being are many and varied.

But all are merely tools bending to the power of the magic of the human heart.

Let me be clear to the nay-sayers of magic. The supporters of physics. I agree with you both. I cannot wish for something to be so, and it appear before me like a wish granted by a genie. Yet. But I wield every single law of physics as a weapon of mass construction. They are merely the tools for my magic. The support system of my dreams and desires. They are simply the ingredients I need to mix with what is inside of me to make what I want become real.

There is dark and light in everything.

Our days, our dreams, our hearts, our magic. Even our tool of physics has its light and dark application and result. There is a purpose for them both. The physics and magic, the light and the dark, the dream and the loss. We cannot have one thing without the other. We cannot have magic without the science of physics, and who can study physics without seeing the magic? They are each a phenomenon.

So to those of you who scoff and curl your lip at those of us who live and believe in magic…those who seek us out to alleviate the darkness and the harsh edges…we say this to you…

You’re welcome.

Relationship Apocalypse: The Warning Signs


What are the warning signs of a dying relationship? Why does it seem that only one partner is aware of this impending tragedy? Is this really true, or is it simply that one person chooses to be blind, is comfortable with the way things are for them, and hopes to ride out the discontent of their partner? The equivalent of pulling the sheets up over your head and thinking the monsters can’t see you.

This whole scenario astonishes me.

If someone I love looks at me and says, “It hurts me when you do that.” You can bet your ass I’m not going to be doing whatever that is again. Because that would make me an asshole, which I am not. If my partner looks me in the eye and tells me he needs something from me that I have the power to give him to ease his heart, then that exact thing is what I’ll do. If I learn there is a particular thing I can do that makes my partner feel loved…it’s happening.

It seems simple to me.

But this is not what happens in a lot of relationships, and they are dying by the thousands, even if divorce isn’t mentioned. When one partner prospers at the expense of the other, and has no problem with that..? I have a problem with that. If one has a concern and the other refuses to listen because it is not important to them..? I have a problem with that. If one says quite plainly, “I am unhappy and am telling you this in hopes of repairing us instead of hating what we have”, and the other belittles and dismisses the other…?

I. Have. A. Problem. With. That.

A relationship is a two way street, a collaboration, a joining of two to make a sum greater than. It is not King and servant, Lord and minion, Owner and possession. It is supposed to be two people who mean so much to each other that they both give to the other, building a fortress of unconditional love while doing so. It is the constant pursuit of that ideal for each other, and for themselves.

Do you remember the first time you were in the middle of an argument, and instead of crying and feeling heartbroken you found yourself thinking, “Who the fuck do you think you are?”. I do. Do you recall feeling upset and sorry and ashamed later like you should have had more love to give there, and you didn’t? I do. Do you remember much later actually opening your mouth and saying the words, “Who the fuck do you think you are?”.

I do.

I remember it clearly. Because I felt the first vertebra in my spine solidify in what would eventually become a backbone. I remember it because I shook off the thought of “if I only tried harder”, and decided to burn every single relationship self-help book I’d ever purchased. I decided if I were going to become better, stronger, and more alive, I would do it for me.

Because that’s who deserved my efforts.

This is where I stand. Don’t tell me you don’t know. Don’t be a coward. Just step up and say, “I can’t give you more than two weeks of effort, because it just isn’t important enough to me”. Just admit you want someone to make your life easier without having to do the same in return. Admit that you want to be respected and valued without having to reciprocate. Admit you’re afraid of being alone so whatever you call this is just good enough for you. I say all of this knowing you won’t, because you know if you did…

It would make it easy to leave, and you know it’s hard to do.

This is where we are now. Take a good long look. Frightening to you isn’t it? It should be, because the future that you fear…

I welcome with heart wide open.

A Kingdom Falling: The Flight of She


She walked through her Kingdom smiling, and doing, and caring for others, and making life run smoothly. Everyone thought she was strong, competent, brilliant, funny and kind.

Inside she was just one long silent scream of despair.

She did and said all the right things. She went where she was supposed to, did what everyone else did, and built an entire world with stones of commitment, mortar of guilt, turrets of shame, and surrounded it with a moat guarded by the dragons of WhatEveryBodyElseDoes.

Her burning eyes constantly scanned the horizon for something she could not name.

She had grown tired of the performance and longed for something real, something of value that would give her a reason to wake up in the morning and rise to face the challenges of another day. She didn’t need anyone to come and save her, for God’s sake, she had a King in the castle, and what good had that done her?

She was perfectly capable of saving herself, if she could only believe she was worth the collateral damage.

She knew she could walk across the moat of regret at any time. She could catapult herself over the wall of bullshit. She could tame one of the Dragons and fly him into the sunset. The power was all in her hands.

But she first had to find the belief that she was worth every dream she held closely in her heart.

The hardest thing of all for her to bear, was the knowledge that she herself helped build every wall, reinforced every rule, diminished herself to fit the mold, voluntarily, so that no one would notice she didn’t belong.

She became her own judge, jury, executioner and now held the keys to the dungeon.

After many years of sitting on the ramparts, thinking her thoughts and dreaming her dreams, finally the largest dragon spoke:

“What do you want?”

“Freedom.”

“What do you want?”

“The space and respect to be myself.”

“What do you want?”

“Passion.”

“Even if it’s only your own?”

“Yes. Even then.”

The questions continued long into the night. The questions the dragon asked were horribly hard to hear and painful to answer. He wanted to know why she had stayed so long in a Kingdom that had no room for all that she was. He wanted to know what she was doing to fix her circumstances. He wanted to know why a Queen was behaving like a little mouse skittering out of the way of the brashness, the selfishness, the arrogant anger. He wanted to know why she allowed herself to be manipulated into being a spark when she was in fact a fire of such power she could reduce the entire kingdom to ash if she let herself go.

But the most painful thing he made her see, and admit out loud, was that it all happened with her permission. The hardest thing he made her realize was that she had the power to change her entire life at any time she chose. She had only to make it so.

It made her ashamed…and afraid…and hopeful…and strong.

So she gave it much thought, and pondered it deeply in her heart, and finally stood. She turned to the King, who could not see her, and bid him goodbye. She turned her back on the people who were not hers, and the home she didn’t have, and the dreams that lay in rotted piles.

She turned to the dragon and asked him his name. He bowed his head, slightly, and growled out “Rogue”. She laughed at the appropriateness of that and stroked his face in love and gratitude for the pain he’d caused.

Because she wouldn’t have freed herself without the pain and the harshness of his questions. She would have trudged along in an unutterably defeated life. So she owed him for the pain that set her free.

“How can I repay you?”, she whispered.

“Just ask me.” he answered.

“Ask you what?” she whispered again.

“Ask me to fly you away from the life that is killing you.” He answered, his golden eyes burning.

So she looked him in the eye, and bid him do as she commanded. She hiked her skirts up, and climbed on his back, holding tightly as she leaned over and whispered in his ear…

“Take me where the broken can be beautiful”

And he did.

Pre-leaving a relationship: straight talk


I have bouncers lined up for my funeral. Two of my very best friends are under strict instructions to ban anyone they hear lamenting my passing with “I wish I would have”s.

Having “almost” died several times in my life, I have a fine appreciation for how fragile life is, how fleeting joy and misery both can be, how important it is to speak the truth instead of the accepted bullshit of day to day living.

There is no day to day, we only have now. 

So it is with those men or women who exclaim with the break up  of their relationships…”If he/she only would have told me…”. That is complete and utter crap.

The truth is, you wouldn’t have done a damn thing different. You would have blown it off, ignored the warnings, disregarded the writing on the wall. You would have assumed it would go away, and that no repercussions would occur from your lack of effort.

Guess what? You’re wrong.

I know this for a fact. I have tested this theory. I have said bluntly, and with no sugar-coating: I am unhappy. What I want from you is a partner, a friend, a companion and a lover. I am willing to be the same to you, if you are willing to give the same 100% that I am willing to give.

Our lives are proof that you put yourself first every time, that what you want for yourself supersedes the needs of us as a unit, that the rest of us are merely supporting characters in the life movie of you.

I find it quite amazing to learn that the others are always astounded when their partners leave. Seriously? You had not even one clue? You are totally side-swiped because your relationship was all you wished for and the other has just left with no warning?

No. I think not.

You chose to ignore, to neglect, to believe that it would be much easier for us to stay and tolerate the status quo than it would be to actually give a shit and invest in your relationship.

So here we are.

This is what goodbye looks like. This is your reward for blowing off the feelings of the person you were so “committed” to. This is what happens when you say “you’re too sensitive”, or “you’re the one with the problem”, or “I’m tired, you’ve got ten minutes to say what’s on your mind”, or “you need to get a life”.

Guess what lover? I’m getting a life. And you’re not in it.

I am so tired of the bullshit of self-deception that most of us perpetuate in our relationships. Negligence isn’t okay. Verbal abuse, lack of intimacy, and complete disregard for your needs or wishes is not fucking okay. Who cares what people think, or what you think you’re supposed to do when your soul is rotting from the inside out?

You are not a dramatic, fucked up little mouse, incapable of choosing your own path. You. Are. Not.

You need to get your ass up, square those lovely shoulders, and step up into the human being you have a right to be, with the life that accompanies said stepping up.

God dammit, live the life you’ve been given.

Aren’t you sick of being told there is something wrong with the way you feel? Or that you’re weak and spineless for being honest about what you need and expect from a relationship? Or that everything is perfectly fine, and you are just fucking neurotic, or crazy, or insignificant?

Fuck that. Fuck them. Long live the Queen.

I beg you…step up and rock your own world. ❤

Masquerade Ball-The Unmasking of She


Welcome to The Masquerade Ball.

This is where you dance when the world in your mind is how you want to live, but you are not yet brave enough to make it real. This is where you circle and smile when you are already alone, but you’re still a couple.

This is the place where you walked in to what you thought was love, discovering too late that you were attending The Masquerade Ball.

Everyone wears costumes to cover up the ragged reality, but nobody wants to be the first to admit that something is terribly wrong at this party. The masks help conceal, as best they can, the Sorrow for the facade, and the Wild that wants freed. There is an aura of despair surrounding all those attending as they smile, and nod and bow to public perception.

As you dance by the others in the graceful manner of the top performer that you are, you see into the eyes of those spinning by in this parody of pleasantness. You see heart-break in one, despair in another, numbness and borderline insanity. Once in awhile you catch a glimpse of someone, and as your eyes meet, you see a wildfire burning and it frightens you.

Oh wait. That was you, spinning past the mirror of regret.

You have learned many painful lessons from this endless dance. You learned the hard way that a relationship is where your actions match your words, and if they do not, then what you have on your hands is a Lie.

Pull the costume around you and slap the mask on, because you can’t ruin the party for everyone just because you’re not having fun, right?

Right?

You dance on as you get pulled close, and then pushed away repeatedly. Your steps match only because you are watching and making it happen. This isn’t really a couple’s dance is it? Don’t they call this a solo?

The music has long since become a monotonous white noise you tolerate as you just try to get by. The band is loaded with friends and family that want you to keep dancing to the tune they’re playing so no unpleasantness disrupts this celebration of life together.

Occasionally you notice a few people at the terrace door leading into the forest beyond. Their masks are off, and they keep watching you as if waiting for something. They stand quietly while their former dance partners match up here and there without missing a step, because hell, this is a Masquerade Ball and it’s all pretense.

The band plays on, and the floor is crowded. The air gets warmer and starts to smother you behind your mask. Your partner stares at you blankly, even when you start dropping pieces of your costume along the way as he spins you around in an attempt to stop you.

First you quit saying what you should, then you quit doing what you’re supposed to and the band just plays louder. You drop what’s expected of you, quit doing the usual, and start to move to a music all your own that starts a chain of events where everyone stumbles as they try to dance on.

Chaos reigns as everyone comes to a stop and stares as you begin a fierce dance that has everyone backing away, fearful of being caught up in your unacceptable behavior. Every time you throw your arms wide and spin with abandon, another piece or two of the costume you came in flies off and skids across the floor.

The crowd gasps when they see who you really are.

You come to a stop suddenly, breathing hard in exhilaration, and the crowd falls silent. No one meets your eyes. You turn to the mirror and meet your own, raise your hands, pull your mask off, and toss it aside.

Then you meet your own eyes in the mirror again…and smile.

The Oath


What would it take for me to scale that wall?

How foolish would I have to be to war

With stones so sharp and jagged that would slice?

I see the signs of those who tried before.

No one yet has found a single foothold

To lift them up to where they should not go,

But I will not be daunted by the danger,

I’ll scale the wall and live to show you so.

I have mastered well the art of climbing,

I’m skilled in the relentless search of dreams,

I wield the power of the love inside,

I long to mend your torn and tattered seams.

Some may call it Magic, yes, or Poison

That takes away my choice to let you go,

But I will not listen to their reasons,

When I really love, I’m like the granite stone.

I will be your poem and your love song,

I will be your dream, and your secret fire,

I will vanquish every dragon guarding,

I’ll push my way through all the razor wire.

I will reach you, else I will die trying,

You are a treasure, and I want it all

So look for me, my love, with aching eyes

And watch me as I finally breach your walls.