(written 02-12-2017)


I know, I know. You’re here expecting to slash the machete through the thicket of my complex brain while we discuss my processes through EMDR (Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing).


Sorry to burst your bubble. Not today!


I learned something yesterday that I wanted to share first. It’s important, so bear with me. We’ll explore my jungle tomorrow.


I’m currently taking a course by Dawn Clancy called ACOA 101. Yes, I have numerous workbooks, podcasts, books, and a variety of other recovery resources I’m doing to really understand my internal pain and how to heal it. This has become my personal goal, my life mission so to speak. You’re just lucky enough to join me on this Rocky Road.


For some reason, I’m currently craving ice cream.


Anyway, what I just learned was, that as a child of a dysfunctional family, I was expected to follow three implied rules. These rules are explained in Claudia Black’s book, Children of Alcoholics: It Will Never Happen To Me.


The three rules are:

  1. Don’t Talk
  2. Don’t Trust
  3. Don’t Feel

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(written 02-10-2017)


My blogging journey has been quite an interesting trek. I’m grateful that you’ve kept me company along the way.


I started a blog series two weeks ago titled Be Careful of What You Wish For. I finished Part 1 of that multi-blog series, and now, here I am, doing another multi-blog series on something completely different.


“Rafiki,” I protest. “I’m going to lose my readers.”


“Life’s a long journey, with problems to solve, lessons to learn, but most of all, experiences to enjoy,” Rafiki quotes. “True friends, your readers, will enjoy the adventure you’re taking them. Believe in yourself and trust that you’re going where you need to be.”


There have been so many important breakthroughs lately, that it’s important for me to continue this path a bit longer to help me get some clarity before trying to figure out what it is I want out of my life.


So, if you’re anything like me, and can only read a self-help book from page 1 straight through to the end, my deepest apologies for having you jump around on a sporadic slog through my emotional jungle.


But, if you’ve just joined me, maybe I’ve already finished that other multi-part blog series and you can have peace of mind by reading those in chronological order. Your choice of course.


But what’s the fun in that? (My ex would ask me what I’ve been smoking for that change in thinking.)


Today, I say, grab the machete and tough it out. Let’s go hacking our way through the tangled wilderness of my mind and see where we end up.

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I’m doing yardwork around my former spouse’s house; raking pine needles, cutting down dead branches of trees, using a commercial grade weed edger to “mow” the grass which is much too high for a lawn mower, and getting rid of the numerous overgrown weeds that threaten to overtake her home.


I’m on a mission.


I keep asking myself, “Why am I doing this? This isn’t my house. And, it’d be a much better use of my time if I just paid someone else to do this for me.”


I know the reason. I’m doing this because of my own fear.


After watching the news about Hurricane Harvey, Hurricane Irma, and more recently, the fires in Northern California, I want to do what I can to protect my family.


Media preys on our fears.


Last week, when I closed my eyes, I not only see fires raging on the hillside and imagine homeowners who only had enough time to flee with just the clothes on their back (for some reason, even the fire scene from Bambi sticks in my mind), but I feel it in the cellular level of my body. My fight and flight response is triggered and my body wants to act. I imagine my own girls and former spouse running for safety and me powerless to protect them. Read more