fashion clothes

First of all, let me just say thank you from the bottom of my heart for the response to the original post I wrote earlier this week about addiction.

I wanted to clear up a few things, answer a few questions and address a few issues in the wake of it. I wrote it initially because the words just needed to get out of my head. I've told quite a few people that I really don't even feel like I wrote it, I was just the person attached to the fingers that typed it out. It came from my soul.

The difficulty in writing something like this is that I wrote it for my own reasons, which are related to my own personal experiences with addiction in many different forms. I never wrote it thinking for even one second that it would go viral. It was not done to capitalize on the moment, it was not even a celebration of PSH as an actor, though I will miss his contributions to the industry. It was a response to the way people reacted. The assumptions made about him. The assumptions made not just about him, but about everyone out there struggling the same way he did.

It wasn't about him at all, really. It was about the addicts I have known and loved. It was about the people I have known, the struggles I have witnessed. The demons in my own head.

His death just forced all that to the surface for me.


There are a few things that I wanted to clarify, that I probably should have written more in depth about at the time but didn't either because I didn't think about it at the time, or I did and chose to try and condense my words.

The greatest of which is the issue of what causes addiction, something we may not ever have clear and convincing scientific evidence of. We see what we see, though. We observe what we observe. I did not state in the post that every case of addiction has mental illness as a precursor, though I believe many of them do. There will certainly be people who don't relate to it at all. It's not intended to be all-inclusive, nor would I ever presume that it could be.

There most certainly appears to be an element of genetics involved when it comes to addiction. Some people are just more inclined to be drawn toward drugs, alcohol, food, whatever it is. Some families seem to have clusters of addiction. Whether it is an actual issue of genes or just the force of habits and learned behaviors from a lifetime of living with and around other addicts, I can't say. I just know that some people have a predisposition to it.

I know this because I am one of them.

I walk the line.

I have been forthcoming about my personal issues in the past.

There are people who may not have that predisposition, who can use drugs socially, who can drink without hesitation, and it never causes a problem. For some of them, though, these people without the predisposition, they may find themselves addicted anyway simply because the item they use creates its own physical addiction.

Nicotine, heroin and cocaine are the ones that come to mind immediately. These drugs are inherently addictive and create dependence in people who might otherwise be able to fight it off, purely because of the chemical compounds involved and their effect on the body.

Along with all that, there is the underlying issue quite often of mental illness. I say this only because it has been the case in every single addict I have ever known, most commonly depression. In many cases, because of the stigma about mental illness in general, people are resistant to believe they have a problem, resistant to seek help, and in turn seek out ways to self medicate...which can lead them down the path of addiction.

Some of the comments left indicate that people misread my words. I never intended for anything in the post to be an absolution of responsibility on the part of the addict. Quite the opposite, in fact. Attempting to understand why people become addicts and why it is so hard for them to get clean doesn't equal helplessness at all. They are without a doubt the most essential piece of the puzzle. Without a desire to get better, without the determination to get up and fight the fight every single day, no amount of resources, no amount of support will ever make a difference.

Those of us who have been there understand that. Those of you out there who haven't been there should consider yourselves lucky. Honestly.

Do addicts choose to use? Yes, of course they do, at least initially. Once they are in it, though, the issue of choice isn't clear cut anymore, it's not cut and dried, it's not black and white. Some drugs mess with the messages in your head. Some drugs force your body to get more. It's not as simple as just deciding to stop, particularly for people with severe addictions that can only quit safely with the help of detox.

The physical aspect of addiction is only one piece, and most would argue, one of the most inconsequential, at least in the long run. The reason people relapse is precisely because addiction isn't just physical. It's bigger than that. It's more complicated than that.

Our mental health system isn't equipped to help addicts. Even where there are services available, the resources are usually lacking to help pay for it. Not all insurance covers rehab, for those people who even have insurance. One of the lesser discussed aspects of the Affordable Care Act is that all plans sold on the exchanges are required to include coverage for substance abuse.

This is huge, and might finally be a step in the right direction.

We need to do a better job for addicts in this country. We need to do a better job for all mental health conditions in general. We need to have a better understanding of the co-morbidity often present between them. We need to stop believing that drug use is simply a criminal issue.

Mostly, though, we need to remember what it's like to care about people.

We need empathy and compassion.

They, the addicts, need it maybe more than anyone else does.

Does that mean that I am claiming you should always be there, be subjected to abuse, throw money at treatment centers for people who refuse to try? Of course not. In all of this, you have to understand that all the help in the world won't help someone who doesn't want it, someone who isn't ready, someone who won't get up and fight every day.

You can't love them enough to fix them.

You can't love them enough to keep them clean.

You can't love them enough to make it all better unless they want it to be better.

It's a painful realization, one that I've had to come to before. It sucks backwards and forwards. You can only do what you can do until you can't do it anymore. Then you have to do what you have to do to protect yourself.

No one will fault you for that if they understand what it is like. Those who would can't possibly know.

Another of the topics I wanted to clarify a little here is the subject of religion, which is something mentioned quite often in the comments. I didn't talk about it because I am not a religious person. I am spiritual, but not within the confines of a religion per se. I have known addicts to get clean even without a belief in God. I have known people with all the faith in the world who didn't make it. My opinion is a simple one - whatever works for you, cling to it, but don't think that it will necessarily work for someone else. Each person has a different path, a different inspiration, a different reason.

I honor them all. I respect them all.

I think that is all the issues I wanted to clear up. I think. I'm probably missing something, but I can count on you all to let me know.

Again, thank you for sharing this important message.

Peace and strength to you all.

Yesterday was World Cancer Day.

This past Sunday, as I was watching the Superbowl, a commercial for World Cancer Day, paid for by Chevrolet came on the screen. I fought back most of the tears but couldn't hold them all. What I wouldn't give for one more drive with my Dad. He was a car guy. He taught me to be a car girl. Some of the best times I had with him in those last weeks were on a drive.


I was with him the last time he sat in the driver's seat...
the last time he gripped the steering wheel...
the last time he felt the accelerator grab...
the last time he rolled the window down...
the last time he shut the door...

Last week, the Surgeon General released a comprehensive report on the use and danger of tobacco over the past 50 years. Since the first report was issued, more than 20 million people in the United States have died from tobacco related illnesses. Smoking continues to decline, sitting at 16% of the population today. There are more former smokers than current ones here in the US now.

A week before the report was issued, Eric Lawson became the fourth Marlboro Man to die a tobacco related death, succumbing to COPD caused by a three pack a day habit stretching back decades.

Tomorrow is my birthday. That morning in 2011, though he was getting weaker by the moment, my father announced that we were going to breakfast to celebrate. He was the one dying, I was the one having the birthday, and he told me that it all seemed wrong because I'd given him the gift that year by coming to help him at the end. Around the table that morning, him and I, my mother (also gone now, in part because of cigarettes), my brother, his wife, their son and my virtually adopted brother. I had no idea it would be the last time. I had no idea he'd be gone four days later.

February 10th will mark three years here without him. Without his wisdom, his guidance, his love. Three years since I have heard his voice, his laughter. Three years.

My father didn't saddle up and ride off into the sunset.

Neither did The Marlboro Men.

I don't care what the ads promised.

They lied.

My father, these ad men, thousands more each year, all their lives ended too soon, ended painfully.

Gasping for air.

Quite often still addicted to the very thing killing them.

For my Dad, it was lung cancer that spread to his blood, his bones, his liver...and then everywhere.

The Marlboro Man was invented in the mid 1950's, when smoking was advertised to every man, woman and child as something sexy, something desirable, something social. The Marlboro Man was created as an advertisement for Philip Morris in an attempt to sell Marlboros, which were filtered cigarettes and at the time, considered feminine. The reason they started pushing the filtered cigarettes was a simple one, really...they knew that cigarettes were dangerous, they just mistakenly believed that filtered ones were safer. 

The tobacco companies knew cigarettes were dangerous then in the 1950's. They knew it before they created this advertising icon. They knew it before they packaged it, distributed it and sold it. They knew it before they told an entire generation of men that the only way to truly be rugged, manly men was to do it with a piece of paper containing addiction and poison rolled up between their lips.

The executives knew cigarettes were addictive before smokers and their families started suing the tobacco companies. They suppressed documents, they escaped liability in countless lawsuits claiming that cigarettes were safe, that they did not cause cancer, that the smokers assumed the risk anyway.

How that all wasn't deconstructed just doesn't make sense to me. If there was nothing dangerous, what exactly could the smokers be assuming the risk of? The companies themselves said their products were safe.

And an entire generation of smokers believed them.

By the time smokers realized just how dangerous smoking was, they were addicted. Hooked. Nicotine is as addictive as heroin and cocaine.

And the tobacco companies knew.

And they denied it anyway.

They denied it because they made money from their lies. They became rich at the hands of people crippled by addiction to a product they vowed was safe. They profited from sickness, from death, because even in their last days, most smokers can't quit.

The companies weren't able to completely escape liability in later cases and have been forced to pay out billions of dollars to compensate states for health care costs.

That won't bring my father back.

Nothing will.

If I sound angry, it's because I am.

I want to go on another drive with my father.

I want to sit around a breakfast table one more time.

I want to hear his laugh, see his smile, just one more time.

Most of the time, I am a writer who vigorously advocates for others, who tries to raise awareness, who shares stories, who exposes injustices.

Sometimes I'm just a girl who misses her Dad. 



I love you, Dad.

I miss you every day that goes by.

I miss you more right now.

You guys. There is a lot to cover this week, made infinitely more complicated by the fact that I'm not at all in the mood to rant and rage this morning. The reason? I wrote a post yesterday about Philip Seymour Hoffman. Well, it was sort of about him, but it was more about how he is just the most recent public face of addiction. The post quite literally wrote itself, and I put it up not having any idea what to expect.

It went viral. Unlike the last time I had a post do this, the response has been quieter. I haven't been dealing so much with random strangers yelling at me and telling me what I stupid asshole I am. I've had a few critical comments, all obviously from people who love someone with an addiction they can't kick. I expected far more people to tell me that I'm completely off base, but almost everyone has been grateful for my words. I've received a ton of messages from addicts, those in recovery, family members and friends who thanked me for getting it and for actually writing it down.

In light of that, I might be a little less edgy today. A little more soft around the edges. A lot more teary and emotional.

I'm super pissed at my douchebag neighbor, so I will channel that rage instead. He shoveled the street right in front of his house, throwing the snow into the middle of the street...where my car is currently stuck. Asshole.

Off we go.


Have a Coke and get over yourself
There is a commercial that Coke aired during the Superbowl featuring the song America the Beautiful sung first in English, then in several other languages, all spoken within the boundaries of this country. Then the internet exploded, full of outrage that our national anthem would be sung in foreign languages, full of vitriol towards Coke at their audacity to include anything but our national language, full of angry people frustrated that their country is full of  _________, _________ & ________. I'm not writing what people said on purpose. If you want to see the comments, they aren't hard to find.

Anyhow, here's the thing.

- America the Beautiful isn't our national anthem. The Star Spangled Banner is. *bangs head on wall*

- America the Beautiful was written by Katherine Lee Bates, who happens to be a lesbian who left the Republican party after being disgusted with the growing xenophobia in the party. *how do ya like them apples*

- There is no national language of the United States. Never has been. *bangs head on wall again*

- The US is a country composed almost entirely of immigrants. Europeans weren't the first ones here.

- If you want to get technical with a "we were here first so we get to decide what language everyone will speak", we should be speaking one of the indigenous languages spoken by the native population, not English.

I thought the commercial was beautiful. Diversity is a beautiful thing. I've never understood why it threatens people so much.


I believe Dylan Farrow and by the way, why is disbelieving her even a thing?
Dylan Farrow, the daughter of Mia Farrow, came forward and wrote, in her own words, about the sexual abuse she suffered as a child at the hands of Woody Allen.

Her story is disturbing to say the least, and one that has been the subject of lawsuits, media fodder and speculation for decades. She chastised Hollywood for celebrating this monster of a man and felt like it was finally time to share her story after being sickened by the praise lauded over him in recent weeks.

Allen's lawyers immediately took to the press denying her claims. It wasn't just his attorneys doing the denying though, as some celebrities had to throw their comments into the universe. The most mystifying one from Alec Baldwin, who seemed to discount her statement then simultaneously claim that it is no one's business when he tweeted this, "What the f&@% is wrong w u that u think we all need to b commenting on this family's personal struggle?"  Then again, he's not been known for tact or for treating his own children well, so we'll just chalk that up to the wonder of Alec.

I have to wonder why anyone doubts the validity of her story. The abuse allegations were part of a custody fight decades ago and are not new claims. Dylan stands to gain nothing from telling her story and yet people are doubting her. Why?

Why do we live in a society where we refuse to believe allegations of child molestation? Why do we care what a woman was wearing when she was raped? Why? 

I believe her. If you don't, you need to ask yourself why you don't. 

Throwing away food won't fix anything, nor will shaming kids who can't pay
Last week a story hit the news that made me so angry I couldn't even see straight. Lunch workers in an elementary school took lunches from children with account deficits and threw them in the trash before they could be eaten in front of the entire cafeteria. They claim it is district policy. People were outraged, and rightfully so, particularly since the food was already in the hands of the hungry kids and throwing it away was nothing more than a waste. The children were publicly shamed for financial issues that aren't within their control. 

The problem though is that this is not an isolated incident. School districts all over the country have rules like this in place, though some give more leeway to elementary student accounts. These were young children, not high schoolers, that had their food taken.

There is a story here locally that is similar, of a principal who was fired recently. She alleges that her firing was not because of lack of performance, but because she refused to comply with a district policy that required stamping the hands of children with negative lunch accounts. She did not want the children to be shamed.

The school claims she was not fired over the issue, but has stopped the stamping since she went public with the story.

What the hell is wrong with us? I wish that all these people making these policy decisions, all inevitably based on bottom lines and dollar signs, were forced to go without food for a few days before they voted. For some of these kids, school is the only place they are going to get a meal on any given day. For many of them, their parents are too ashamed to apply for free or reduced lunch programs. The answer isn't to starve the kids. That can't be ever be allowed to be the answer.

The bullying the media ignores
Just in the past few hours, some larger media outlets have begun to pick up the story of Michael Morones, an 11 year old boy who attempted suicide by hanging himself because he couldn't live with being bullied anymore. He is on life support in North Carolina, and it is feared that he may have permanent brain damage if he survives.

The reason he was being bullied? He is a Brony.

Is it possible that is also the reason the media isn't covering the story? I'd certainly make the argument it is. He attempted well over a week ago, and stories like his usually hit the news right away. This time though, crickets. I didn't even hear about it until a fellow blogger, Portrait of an Adoption, wrote about it earlier this week.

It hurts my heart to know that this little boy felt so helpless. It hurts my heart to see bullying in any form, to see children ridiculed for what they love, to see a society look the other way when the bullying is for something most people don't understand.

You can contribute to a fund set up in his honor here if you are interested.


My love and support to you and your family, Michael. All the Bronies and Pegasisters in the world are rooting for you right now.

Philip Seymour Hoffman died yesterday. He was found with a needle still wedged into his arm, heroin believed to be the culprit.


When I heard of his passing yesterday, it hit me in the gut a little bit. Not because I know him, not because I know his family members or friends. Not, much to the dismay of what some may believe, because he was an award winning actor.

It hit me because he isn't the only face of addiction, he is just the most recent one. He's just the face that most people recognize, the one that we were familiar with, the one that we came to love through his work on the screen.

Whenever someone famous dies, there seems to be this immediate attempt by far too many people to make their life and death insignificant, as though the death of a celebrity somehow negates the death of all the other people who died on that given day. People attempt to place more value on the lives of some people, less on others, claiming that the celebration of the death of a celebrity is a misplaced outlaying of our efforts. I argue the opposite, obviously, particularly in situations like this one where there is so much opportunity for us to learn about addiction, about mental illness, about why lives end this tragic way.

The opportunity is there, without question. The issue is whether we, as a society choose to seize it, or whether we chalk this loss up to drug use and wave it off indifferently as another selfish life wasted.

It seems we do the latter.

Plenty of opportunities have been presented to us in the past, of lives abruptly ended this way. Of people who happen to be famous, but also struggle with the same demons that many of us ordinary folks do, meeting sudden death in this way.

Philip became addicted to heroin after struggling with abusing prescription pain medications, an all too familiar and increasingly common path to this addiction. This is not the addiction we want to think it is, the sordid one that happens in alleys, nor is it one reserved only for those in positions of privilege. Heroin doesn't discriminate. Its use is up 75% in the past few years, and the demographics of the users have shifted. 

It's easier to think that drug addiction happens to other people, to them, over there. Reality tells us that it happens far more often than we want to believe. It's a false sense of security.

Chances are that someone you know is addicted to drugs right now, you just may not realize it.

Or you do know, but you hide their addiction because of the social stigma. 

Or you don't hide it, but you shame them instead. 

Or you don't shame them, but you slowly phase them out of your life because you don't want to be around them anymore or because you just can't do it anymore. 

Or you keep them around, but talk about them behind their backs, discuss how sad it is that they refuse to get help, vow to be better than they are.

Or they do try to get help and sometimes they get better for a while. 

Or they relapse and die just like he did yesterday.

The trouble with drug addiction is that it really isn't about the drugs, no matter how much most people seem to believe that. Drug addiction is a means to an end. It begins usually as a way to try something new, to try and get high, to try and transport yourself somewhere else, to try and just feel better for a minute.

Most drug use is self medication for the things that people either can't or won't cope with in real life. The root of most of all that? Mental health conditions, the huge piece of this issue that we find ourselves ignoring all too often every time drugs are involved.

Nancy Reagan taught us all that drugs are bad. D.A.R.E. programs taught us that users are criminals, they are bad people. No one ever bothered to tell us that the vast majority of them were in need of help from a mental health system that largely doesn't exist.

And you know what happened?

People believed them. I can't even begin to tell you all the things I saw flying through my newsfeed yesterday in the wake of his death. Proclamations that he was selfish, that he was a waste, that he should have been happy because he was rich and famous. People who decreed from the mountaintops that if he would have just tried harder, he would have been better. That it's his fault that he died.

In reality, he struggled with depression most of his life. He got clean. He was recently in rehab.

Addicts don't want to be addicts.

Addicts don't want to die.

Addicts don't want to throw their lives away.

Addicts don't want their children to grow up without parents.

They just want to feel better. They just want to feel normal. They just want to stop feeling everything else for a little while.

Addicts are people, just like you and me.

Addicts come in all forms, dependent on many different things, drugs just being one version of dependence.

The problem is that our system is limited, laboring under the illusion that drug addiction is a criminal issue, a medical issue on the fringes that can be fixed with proper rehab. That all ignores the fact that drugs aren't the problem...what led that person to drugs in the first place is the problem. The drugs are just a means to an end.

Rehab doesn't fix addicts. It primarily treats the physical symptoms of withdrawal.

Prison doesn't fix addicts. It just puts them in a cage for a while.

Even death doesn't fix addicts. It just leaves the people who love them here, forever wondering how different things might have been.

The only way to really deal with addiction is one that is multi-faceted, one that makes us uncomfortable. It is messy and complicated and takes a lifetime of effort. It sometimes involves relapses and second chances and third chances. It involves support, sometimes sponsors. It involves therapy and counseling until whatever the root cause is has been revealed and addressed. It involves consideration of not just the physical withdrawal, but the emotional withdrawal, the social withdrawal, the psychological withdrawal. It requires a mental health system with adequate resources, which clearly doesn't exist. It requires us to do better. It requires support instead of judgement.

And sometimes, even when all those things exist, it fails. It fails because addiction can take people and swallow them whole. It can rob them of everything they value, everyone they love. It can strip them of everything they care about, rob them of reason and logic. It can convince them that they aren't worthy, that they have failed not just themselves, but everyone else. It tells them that they are broken and irreparable. Then it shoves them back down and does it again.

Our society says it failed because they didn't try hard enough, because they were selfish, because they were stupid.

How exactly is saying things like this going to help anyone?

The short answer - it isn't. It just allows us to believe that if we try hard enough, if we care about other people enough, if we are smart enough, we can avoid addiction. Our false sense of security hurts those who need help the most.

Never mind the damage done to the people they leave behind.

To those who claim Philip's death isn't tragic, I ask you to think about his children. I'm sure they would disagree with you.

Until you've been there, you can't know what it is like.

Until you've watched someone you love try and claw their way out only to be dragged back in again, you can't know what it is like.

Until you've seen someone throw everything away just to feel better for a moment, you can't know what it is like.

Until you've dealt with someone desperately in need of help who turned to self medicating instead, you can't know what it is like.

Until you've had to tease out where the line between believing in someone and enabling them is, you can't know what it is like.

Until you've had to make choices no one should ever have to make, you can't know what it is like.

Until you've done all you can to help someone who doesn't want it, you can't know what it is like.

We all have our demons. We all have our issues.

Many of us are closer to being addicts than we would ever admit out loud.

Some of us know how easy it would be to turn.

Some of us are addicts already.

Some of us already walk the line.

The first time I wrote about this one, I laid out a fairly comprehensive list of all the drugs and alcohol issues and what I thought about them.

Then the last three years happened, and they changed my opinions on this issue as they did with most of the others.

Either that, or they forced me to be totally honest.


Day 20 ~ What are your views on drugs and alcohol?

That's not a loaded question or anything...

I live in Colorado, the state with totally legal recreational marijuana. I've been pot adjacent more times than I could count, but I still have never smoked it myself.

I know, right?

This may come as a shock to some of you, but it's the honest truth. I've never done pot....or any recreational drugs for that matter.

I guess I will address pot first here. I am a fan. A BIG FAN. Which is weird for someone who has never even tried it. I have never smoked it, but I know a ton of people who have, and the one that matters the most to me personally was my Dad. He was reluctant to smoke to fight the nausea and pain he was in from cancer and chemo, but finally went for it. I will tell you without a moment of hesitation that it worked better than anything else he was ever on.

He was giggly and happy, he ate everything in sight and kept it down. There was one night that he was out in the garage, smoking and watching tv. He was laughing so hard, and it was some Food Channel show about cheese. Towards the end, he had a routine that worked pretty well. He'd be sick and rely on the prescribed meds most of the day, but finally towards the evening he would go smoke and then sit and eat an entire jar of peanuts.

We went through a lot of peanuts in those weeks.

And it was awesome.

As far as my kids are concerned, they know that he was smoking pot. He didn't hide his pipe, they saw it in the garage. I treated it like every other medication in the world, and just told them that it was something that helped him, that he used it because of the cancer. It helped him feel less pain and made him hungry.

And the thing about kids is this - when you're honest with them about stuff like this, it makes sense to them and they just accept it. No drama, no wondering, no questions.

I WISH the drug manufacturers would actually work on meds derived from marijuana, and modify it into some form where the dosages are controlled - it would help SO many people. It boggles my mind that opiates are manufactured without the blink of an eye for pain, but marijuana is the third rail that no one will touch.

As for other recreational drugs, I am personally not a fan. I don't have personal usage experience, but I've seen enough people mess up their lives because of addiction. If we treated addiction like the medical problem it is, usually coupled with mental health services, if we realized that a great many users are self medicating for untreated problems, if we treated it as a health issue instead of a criminal one, things would be very different than they are now. The war on drugs hasn't helped anyone.

(Told you I am becoming a hippie)

The question doesn't ask specifically about cigarettes, and I didn't write about them at all last time, so here is the quick and dirty on them, and everything you need to know.

- My Dad was a smoker and died of lung cancer
- My Mom was a smoker and died of arterial disease complicated by diabetes and smoking
- I used to smoke (briefly) and forced myself to stop because I loved it
- I would probably totally smoke if there was a way to guarantee my health wouldn't suffer
- It's SO strong of an addiction that even 20 years after I quit, I still want to smoke
- I fucking hate cigarettes

Now, for alcohol. This one is harder even than cigarettes.

Alcohol scares me more than anything else in this question, because I know how easily I could go down that path. I've come too close before.

I've watched alcohol destroy lives, I've seen people fight this beast.

I drink. More than some people, less than others.

I know I have to be careful. And I am.

So there.

I'm not actually here right now, and I actually wrote this yesterday, so in the event that something happens in the world today that deserves mention, my bad. My oversight was actually due to too much planning ahead.

If you know me well, you know how out of character this is. I am generally a professional procrastinator.

Anyhow, off we go.

Elected Hypocrites
Let me preface what I am about to say about drug use with this: I generally object to the criminalization of it. Anyone who has dealt with drug use personally or professionally has some level of awareness of the fact that the vast majority of drug use is tied to other conditions, many of which are mental health conditions. Instead of offering adequate treatment to people, they are left to their own devices and turn to self-medication which often turns into addiction which can lead to criminal behavior in and of itself, away and apart from use and possession (which themselves aren't really crimes in my opinion, but I digress).

Anyhow, what IS pissing me off is this guy. Trey Radel.

The guy who favors drug testing for welfare recipients, but himself has a bit of a problem snorting the white stuff.

Hypocrisy at it's finest.

Apparently, he is now taking a leave of absence.

I hope that while he's on holiday he takes a good long look in the mirror.

Do as I say, not as I do doesn't work with kids, let alone with adults.

Mama said knock you out (but what she meant was assault and battery)
There appears to be this new trend now that involves sucker punching innocent people, sometimes it's racially motivated, sometimes it's just for the hell of it.

It's called the Knockout Game.

Which is insane. The perpetrators are usually teenagers, who usually think it's just funny and not that big of a deal. Except that life isn't a video game, real people are getting hurt for no reason other than cheap entertainment and kids are going to jail for something insanely stupid.

I don't want to climb back up on my soapbox about how this is all an outward symptom of a society greatly lacking in empathy, so I won't.

But seriously??? 

What the hell, world? What the hell?

The Cowardly Lion Hunter



So, that happened.

I'm not a fan of hunting for sport anyway, BUT this makes me so sick that I can't even form words when I look at the picture.

I don't care that it's technically legal. I don't care that it's still somehow legal for her to bring this back to the United States as a trophy (and WHY is that still  legal??? Someone answer me that, please).

This isn't about people who hunt for food or sustenance or to make a living. This is about sick sport. This is about how you can't kill the apex predator of an ecosystem without it fucking up the entire food chain. I get really riled up about apex predator hunting...if you've been here a while, you already know this.

Nevermind the fact that there really isn't even any sport involved in killing a creature like this one because of all the reasons given in this link.

It is sick, and this woman should be ashamed of herself.

I'll Take a Burger With a Side of Asshole
At what point in our society did it become permissible to be a total jackhole at a restaurant, not because you didn't receive good service, but because you don't like who you received it from???

This bullshit has to stop.

Seriously.

Everyone in the food service industry works their asses off, and if you don't believe me, go put on an apron for a few hours and wait on the assholes. Oh, and also....they aren't even guaranteed minimum wage because of the wonder that is the restaurant industry - THEY DEPEND ON YOUR TIPS TO SURVIVE.

If you don't want to be served by a lesbian or a Muslim or a black woman or someone with tattoos and piercings or whatever else it is that your sheltered, biased ass doesn't like, GO SOMEWHERE ELSE. Don't let them bring you food, wait on you hand and foot, then pontificate to them about whatever it is that you don't like about them.

Maybe in some alternate universe, there are restaurants with only your kind working there, you homophobic, intolerant, racist jerks...but they don't exist around here.

JUST STOP IT.

It's funny, being a writer sometimes.

I'm sure that there are many out there who think we share everything about ourselves. Who believe that we are like the open books that we crave, that we write, that we are drawn to.

It might seem that way, at least to the rest of the world.

There are some of us who write an awful lot about the things that people usually refuse to discuss with others. We write about addiction and mental health crises and eating disorders and death and illnesses and loss and grief. We write candidly about our lives, our families, our marriages, our friendship, our enemies.

Or do we?

I've not once written anything that was less than true, I've worn my heart on my sleeve more times than I could even count. I've opened that dirty ugly basement closet and drug some of the nastiest morsels of my personal story out, exposed them to the light for the world to see.

But there's a lot still in there.

There is a lot I don't write about. The stories that remain unwritten. The secrets I keep.


Most of it, I keep close because my responsibility to protect my family is more important than any desire to expose it.

Some of it, I keep close because it's too goddamn painful to write about, and even the mere idea of it makes the walls start to close in on me, makes my heart pound until I'm sure that it will leap out of my chest, makes me want to shut myself off from the rest of the world forever.

A few pieces of it, I don't write sheerly out of humiliation. I realized this yesterday when a dear friend and writer confided something in me. This writer hasn't written their story, and I haven't written this one of mine because I am embarrassed. I feel shame, as do they, and the worst part of it is that neither of us have any reason to feel that way. We weren't responsible. None of it was our faults. We were (and still are) very much the victims, though we both get up every single morning and tell ourselves we won't be. And yet, here we are. Ashamed of things we did not do.

So we stuff it down inside. The words that beg to find a way out are kept under lock and key.

Writers are complex creatures.

The more of them I come to know, the more I see it. The more I learn about myself, the more I see I have yet to learn.

We have stories to tell because of the things that have happened to us. If our lives weren't complicated, we would be uninteresting. We let it out, one piece at a time. We disguise it. We fictionalize it. We write about it from a perspective that no one would connect to us for having experienced it.

Or we don't write about it at all because it hurts too goddamn much, or because we just can't.

Us writers, we carry many burdens. The burden of protecting those around us from the damage our words can inflict. The burden of accuracy and ensuring truth. The burden of criticism and judgment.

The greatest of all those burdens, though, are the stories we don't tell.

Welcome to Writer's Workshop Wednesday! This is my way of paying it forward to all the people out there who want to start writing, but don't have their own blogs yet, or who are established writers that are looking to appeal to a different audience. I have also opened this up to those who would like to post anonymously about topics that are too difficult to write about publicly. Each week, I will host one or two posts by different writers.

I hope that you enjoy this series, I hope you find some new writers to follow, I hope this helps them out and I hope we can all learn something from them.

Marcia is a rare and unique voice in this strange and beautiful world of blogging. I "met" her a while back now, I'm not even sure when really, but we just connected instantly. You can find her on Facebook here and her blog, Menopausal Mother, here.

Losses take those we love away, but they bring us closer to others that we may never have met without that shared experience. In Marcia, I've found someone who understands the places I'm in sometimes more than most people ever could, and for that I am immensely grateful.

When I asked her if she would like to submit something for this series, I knew that whatever she would come up with would be from the heart. Today, she shares something she doesn't talk about much, something she doesn't tell many people. I hope that you'll love her as much as I do.

With love and respect, Marcia. 

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MIRROR MIRROR ON THE WALL

I was at the gym recently doing my best to keep up with the other ladies in my zumba class when something caught my eye. I turned and saw a trainer kneeling down next to a woman, quietly speaking words of encouragement. The client was overweight and struggling through a set of pushups. I was riveted by what I saw in the woman's eyes---determination and hope. My own eyes clouded with tears; her struggles mirrored so many of my own.

I'm not going to lie to you people because that's not how I roll. The last week or so has been rough around here. It seems like there are few lulls in the drama around these parts, and those lulls never seem to last very long when they do show up.

Also in the past week or so, we've watched a lot of movies. Some were escapist, transporting me to a different world entirely. The older I get, the more I like those movies, because they're so far out there that there is no way to tie them to reality. Maybe that is why I find myself watching more and more science fiction type stuff. Even if it's entirely ridiculous, at least it doesn't stab me in the heart.

Then there are the other movies. The stab me in the heart movies.

Last week sometime, we watched Silver Linings Playbook. I've heard the book is better, but can't speak to that personally since I haven't read it yet. If you haven't seen it yet and want to, you might want to stop reading. I'm usually far enough behind with watching movies that it's safe for me to write about them, but there's always going to be someone who tells me I'm a spoiler. So, if you're going to read this then tell me I am a spoiler, just stop now.


Anyway, it's a good movie. We had to watch it in pieces though because it was so emotionally overwhelming. I don't know how I would have done if I had watched it in a theater.  Bradley Cooper's character has bi-polar disorder, diagnosed after he completely loses control when he catches his wife cheating on him and almost beats her lover to death. He ends up in a psychiatric hospital until his mom goes out on a limb,signing him out to care for him at home.

He won't take his meds. He thinks he's fine. He is obsessed with exercise. He is socially awkward. He is totally preoccupied with trying to win his wife back, restraining order and all. There are scenes in the movie that were so painful for me that I had to avert my eyes, the worst being the one where he is tearing his room apart looking for their wedding video.

Then you get to know his parents more. Mom is a fixer. She is the glue in the family, and her main currency is information. She tells people what she thinks they need to know, she hides the rest, because she wants to fix things. Dad has OCD and a pathological gambler. He wants a relationship with his completely messed up son, but wants the relationship that he wants, not the one that his son is capable of having or wants with him. Mom is a fixer, he is a forcer.

Goddamn apple trees. It's one thing to have to deal with them on a daily basis, but seeing it play out before your eyes is overwhelming at times. We all get our crazy from somewhere, and we don't usually have to look too far to find it.

Jennifer Lawrence's character lost her husband and her life spiraled out of control. She's heavily medicated too, but seems to manage her emotions a little better. Even if they are ugly at times, at least she's aware of them. She has anxiety, she's depressed, she's acting out, she's lost. Then she finds a guy who's even more messed up than she is. It's a match made in dysfunctional heaven.

Good lord.

One of her lines in the movie is me, completely: I do this! Time after time after time! I do all this shit for other people! And then I wake up and I'm empty! I have nothing!

I cried buckets after that movie ended, the kind of crying where your head hurts for a few days afterwards and you end up dehydrated. Seeing so much mental illness crammed into two hours, so much of it the illnesses that exist in my own tree, was too much. I want better for my children. I'd give anything to help them avoid some of the things that have happened to me.

Doing that means taking long, ugly, hard looks in the mirror. Confronting it all. Dealing with it. Having awareness of it. It means you can't pretend it's not there, you can't wish it away. You have to suck it up and deal. You have to.

No other option but to face it all, or you are doomed to take the repeating cycle for another generational spin.

Then last night we watched This Is 40. It's a comedy. It's by Judd Apatow. There will be fart jokes, right? He likes fart jokes. It will be funny, right???

Parts of it were hilarious. Like holy shit there are people following me around with cameras and they know what happens in my house and they put it in a movie hilarious.

Parts of it weren't funny at all, and I found myself crying too many times to count. I asked my fans on Facebook what to expect yesterday, and some of them warned me. Some of them said it was just stupid or that it wasn't very funny. I think I envy them a little, because they just aren't there yet. I shouldn't be there yet. I'm not 40, but according to this movie I'm at least that old.

Financial crises, people who run away from their problems, mouthy kids, insecurity about getting older, the threat of the younger woman, addiction, unplanned pregnancies, an accident prone husband, trying to find connections with parents who aren't very parental....all of it.

Pete: Did you ever think marriage would get easier?
Barry: No, it gets harder. Much harder.

A-freaking-men

Check, check, check.

Is this really what happens when we hit mid-life?

Does everyone go through the same shit eventually? Is it that universal?

Why am I so lucky that I get to do it all years or decades before everyone else?

I'm a little bitter this morning, forgive me.

I'd like a refund on my youth, it ran out long before the warranty was up.

Thanks, Judd.

I think the next movie I watch will need to have robots or aliens or talking animals in it. This is getting ridiculous.