Short and Sweet 

I ended my fling with the drug dealer today. It wasn’t easy to walk away from someone who literally woke me up after a passionless slumber of three years. But it was the right thing to do. We were a fish and a bird. Two different worlds that could never merge into one, and I am a girl who will conjure up feelings for anyone who sticks around long enough. So I gave him a respectable goodbye text.  It was short and sweet.  He responded by letting me know that his door is always open.  

The challenge now is for me to stay the hell away from that door, no matter how enticing it may be.  

I’m proud of myself for not falling down another rabbit hole. I stepped into it, wandered around a bit, admired the scenery, and then climbed back out into my own world. This emotionally detached life is not an easy one, but it certainly can be adventurous. And I think I have finally figured out how to appreciate the adventure. 

I’m going to miss him.

How To Be Happy 

“To be a great champion, you must believe you are the best.  If you’re not, pretend that you are.”

~Muhammad Ali

‘If you’re not, pretend that you are,’ is the single most important thing to know about being happy.  Happiness is an elusive concept.  The word has so many definitions to so many different people.  Ask a rich man to define happiness and then ask a beggar on the street.  Two very different perspectives will emerge.  A toddler finds happiness in chaos.  The elderly find it in peace. I found happiness in a million pieces, like a scavenger hunt.  With every piece of happiness I found, a path to the next level would be revealed.  I found it in self love and fine wine.  I found it in the freedom to be myself.  I found happiness in stupid quotes and sunny days at the beach.  I found it in good sex and a delicious meal.  I found it by leaving expectations behind and stepping out into the world with an always shifting perspective.  I found it by making the choice to see it.  

I have battled depression all of my life.  My mother has it.  Her father has it.  His father had it as well.  I have experienced seasonal depression, situational depression, pre- and postpartum depression.  I have fantasized about slitting my wrists and bleeding out in a warm bath.  I know how it feels to lay in bed, with crushing pain and a strange sensation that my chest has been carved out.  I know what it feels like, sinking into the familiar darkness that holds my life hostage for months at a time.  I know how it feels to try and drown out the broken record in the back of my mind, constantly telling me that I will never be enough.  Depression is no way to live.  Unfortunately for me, for personal reasons I am not going to explain here, I have decided not to take antidepressants.  I have never tried them and I never will.  I don’t judge those who have, my decision is a personal one.  I had an overwhelming need to heal my depression naturally, and I did.

I started telling people that I was ‘great’, when asked about how I was feeling.  It was a lie to say that sometimes.  In fact, most of the time, I wasn’t feeling very great at all.  But in telling people that I was great, I sort of forced myself to rattle off some reasons why I should be, in the back of my mind.  And that thought process started to expand and stick with me.  It didn’t happen overnight.  It was gradual, like the slowly growing womb of a mother to be, I finally gave birth to contentment.  It started with a lie, but soon I found myself grasping at many tools that I used to cultivate content.  

I started making mental notes of things I loved and I spent more time with them.  I love the beach, so I went every weekend.  I love the moon, so I made time to look for it every night.  I started to try new experiences, like camping solo at a nudest campground or volunteering for a hospice program.  I started to forgive myself for being the weird girl who likes to camp naked and then help people die.  

Realizing that my life was my own, to design and live in my own way, has been a powerful source for my happiness.  Realizing that I deserve it, that I no longer needed to hide it was huge.  As an overly empathetic person, I often felt guilty about being happy in the company of unhappy people.  Now I understand that our happiness serves as a beacon of hope to others.  Because I’ve been so low, that I actually didn’t think happiness was real.  I didn’t believe in it’s existence.  When you are going through life in the darkest of times, it’s very reassuring to see someone who is not.  

I started treating myself like a Sims character, making sure I got enough rest, had enough fun, kept my well being levels in check.  Self care is vital to our mental health.  

When I go through some shit in life, I read through the google images of quotes from Hemingway and Oscar Wilde.  I watch inspirational Ted Talks.  I listen to spoken word poetry on YouTube.  I analyze, learn, and write it out.  I cry.  Sometimes I get high and drink some wine.  Sometimes I dance naked in my living room.  These are my tools.  These are little promises to myself that I can get through it, because I’ve gotten through it before.

Today, I am at peace with my life.  I am content, and sometimes ecstatic.  I still don’t love my job, but I am thankful to work with wonderful people and I am grateful for the money I earn there.  I still don’t love my body, but I didn’t let it keep me from making mad love all over my house this weekend and feeling like the sexiest woman alive.  I still have no money, but I focus more on the richness of my experiences instead of my empty bank account.

I still have bad days.  I still have really bad days. But I get through them, because I know now that I can.  And those bad days are becoming less, while my good days are becoming more.  And that feels really good.

I fell in love with my life, mistakes and all.  In fact, I learned to start making more enjoyable mistakes, because if you have to learn, you might as well have fun doing it.  I fell in love with myself.  I started to care for myself in the way that I care for others.  

I found happiness in a million different places.  It has been a process for sure.  But if I should ever lose sight of it again, I will know where to look.  

Feeding the Monster 

I grew up with extreme parents. They tried, with everything they had, to keep me on a short leash. I have never been one to submit to authority.  

I have tried. I was extremely devoted in my marriage. I tried my best to be domesticated, but there’s a monster inside of me that freaks the fuck out when my life falls into the mundane. I crave excitement. I have to push boundaries. I get restless for adventure.  I need to break rules.

This is precisely why I have always had commitment issues. I’ve tried to settle down with the good guys, I’ve tried to stick with the straight and narrow. But after so long, my inner monster wants to get out and mingle with the dark side.

I spent last weekend with the drug dealer from my previous post. He isn’t a bad guy, in fact he is very sweet and has kind of a nerdy side. He tells me stories of a domesticated past that once held him captive. But to my family, he is forbidden because of his race. And his phone was ringing constantly with disappointed customers looking for a fix while he was out of town visiting me.

This is not a guy who I should be sharing my time with. But my inner monster is completely enthralled with the rebellion of sleeping with a guy who doesn’t fit into my world at all.

My good side, the part of me that always sees the best in people, had a good time too. I enjoyed the excitement on his face, as we drove past a deer grazing on the riverside with the sunset falling behind us. He was like a little kid watching the storms roll in on the wide open farm fields.  His eyes lit up with every stroke of lightning that blasted across the black sky.  And the sex was just as amazing as the last time. 

Is it really better to settle down with weekend shopping trips to Home Depot and arguing about the household chores? Is this truly how we should be spending the little time we have here…chaining ourselves to the picket fence and a golden doodle?  That’s the American dream, not mine.  I’m quite content to immerse myself into wild little flings with men who understand my monsters, because they have them too.  And now that he’s gone back to the city, I can handle the monotony of my 9 to 5 and running the kids around to dentist appointments and cheerleading tryouts.  I am in love with the contrast of my life.

Witches and Wine

So I spent my Tuesday night, feasting with Pagans. It was a very random, low key invite to an entire group of druids, wiccans, and heathens. These are my people.                                                                                     

It’s crazy to me, that I have been a weird girl my entire life. I have always been in love with the moon. I have always used energy work in my life. I have always studied astrology. And I have always been an outsider because of it.  

When I turned 30 and got divorced, I went through a major transformation with my self worth. That’s when I had started to accept my eccentric lifestyle. A few years later, I not only accepted my own eccentricity, but I began to love and cherish my oddness. Today, I can honestly say that I would rather die than to blend in with a crowd.  

Ironically, on Tuesday, that’s exactly what happened. I met with an entire room full of people who are just like me. We drank wine. We talked about spells and rituals. We had a marvelous time.  

Perhaps I am a witch, after all.

Feelings and Shit

There’s nothing more terrifying than being excited about someone after having no feelings at all for anyone or anything in a long time. It’s like waking up from a nightmare over and over, you have to constantly remind yourself that you are awake now. The scary stuff isn’t happening to you now. This guy isn’t the last guy and there’s nothing to worry about, yet.

It’s even scarier when you find yourself trying to logically figure your way out of your feelings, but like quicksand, the more you struggle to find your way out, the deeper you sink into oblivion.

I still don’t want to fall in love. I still have no desire to be in a typical relationship, with the typical milestones that lead to cohabitation and what not. But I find myself talking to this guy every night and his words are like flowers opening up inside of my mind. I don’t want flowers in my mind, but I’m mesmerized by them. I’ve gotten accustomed to my cynicism and independent lifestyle. I went a little crazy when he sent me a recording of Hall and Oates playing on his radio, ‘Your Kiss is on my List.’ I can’t stop smiling, and it’s ridiculous.

I’m like the newly awakened vampire you see in the movies, the ones who get their first taste of blood after being dead for a long time, and they go on a fucking rampage sucking the life out of entire civilizations and still not quenching their thirst.  I have to keep reminding myself to calm the fuck down.  

That being said, this mysterious new guy who has managed to collect my full, undivided attention, is going to spend next weekend at my house. I am going to relax and enjoy this amazing new sex life that I have stumbled upon, and leave these feelings of fear to work themselves out some other time.  

Sex in the City

If you have read my other posts, you will realize that I have been stuck in a bit of a dry spell. I’m a single mom who works full time and until recently, I spent my Saturdays in school. Even before my breakup last summer, it was three years of really bad, passionless sex that didn’t happen very often. So my love life has been on the back burner. Somewhere along this journey of finding myself, I lost interest in others. I tried to date, but the couple of guys that I had gone out with just couldn’t catch my attention. I sort of lost my mojo, which is a bit of a tragedy for me. My mars is in Scorpio, so sex has always been a really big part of my life.  

This past weekend, I set some time aside to take care of this missing piece in my life. I finally had some time to meet up with a guy that I had met at a concert a couple months ago. He is an adorable biracial man with lots of charm and a big interest in me.  He is ten years older and has the sexiest set of lips I have ever seen.  The night I met him, we chatted quite a bit, and the more I talked with him, the more attracted to him I became. So we made plans.  I drove to his house and he took me around his little neighborhood in the big city. He knew a lot of history about the old buildings we wandered past. He was very sweet, full of compliments, and I kind of got the impression that he is a little bit of a local celebrity because he knew a lot of people at every bar we stopped in.  He introduced me to a very interesting group of characters along the way, and explained that he works in sales with all of these businesses.

He also sat me down to tell me that he liked me a lot and needed to be honest. (This conversation starter always happens to me…the ‘I’m married,’ or ‘I’m a cross dresser’ conversation. Nothing surprises me anymore.) His big secret was that his sales job extended beyond the items that he originally told me about. His side job was moving cocaine and various other controlled substances. Honestly, I know this should have bothered me. I’m a mom, and I have never even done cocaine. But I really didn’t mind. In fact, I thought it was kind of hot. I liked that he has a bit of a dark side. I have one too. I was never nervous or scared around him. We even made a delivery together, along our way. And it was quite pleasant. His customers were very nice and interesting people. One guy even offered me a line, which I politely declined.  I really enjoyed adventuring around through this guys life, that is so very different from mine.  It was quite the adventure for this small town girl.

I grew up in the country with a dad who I love very much in spite of his right wing political beliefs and extreme racism.  He is stubborn and flawed, but he really does have a lot of good qualities.  I’ve written about him a couple of times.  But I have always been a girl with a mind of my own. I’m a bleeding heart liberal who always follows the beat of my own heart. That being said, if my dad knew what happened after the big city tour with my biracial friend, he would never speak to me again. He doesn’t believe that biracial relationships are acceptable. I disagree with him. And I find my new friend to be incredibly attractive.

After a few drinks, we went to the grocery store, where he stopped to introduce me to a few more friends, and grabbed some items so he could make us dinner. He was very proud of his cooking skills. I always enjoy a man who can cook.

I was sitting at the table, smoking a joint, listening to Marvin Gaye, and watching this sweet and beautiful man cook for me. He walked over to kiss me, in a way that I have not been kissed in a very long time. It was those lips!  Things escalated quite quickly from there. He turned the stove off, with burgers half cooked and lead me to his bedroom where we stripped each other down and he bent me over the bed. He leaned over my prone body, and whispered in my ear, with his hand on the back of my neck, ‘Do you know how lions fuck?’ I was paralyzed with anticipation. ‘They fuck every fifteen minutes for twenty four hours straight. And that’s what I’m going to do with you. I’m a Leo.’ He knows about my thing for astrology.  

And that’s precisely what happened. We had a full on passion fest all night long and well into the next day. He never stopped touching me. He never stopped talking about how beautiful I was, how good I felt to him, how much he liked me. When the thunder storm rolled in, he opened the window and we had very passionate sex to the soundtrack of lightning strikes and the Hall and Oates radio station on Pandora.  I would have never thought of Hall and Oates for the bedroom, but apparently he and I had a conversation about them the night we met and I thought it was sweet of him to think of me.  Oddly enough, it was a very sexy combination.  I have been listening to Hall and Oates for three damn days now.  Also, thunderstorm sex is my favorite.

I lost count of the orgasms he gave me. He was an absolute pussy whisperer. It was the greatest sexual experience of my life. And that is saying a lot, because I have had a lot of experience in that department. But this guy had a very rare and special blend of dominance and submission. He would smack my ass and then kiss my forehead and tell me he loved my eyes and lips. I don’t even know what he was doing to me at certain points, but whatever it was, it had me drowning in ecstasy.  He turned the lights on and stared at me, just laying naked and vulnerable across his bed.  He told me he needed to take in the beauty of my body.  And then he crawled back inside me again and again.  Seriously… I had just won the sexual lottery.  When I told him that I had never been with anyone who had a sex drive higher than mine, he laughed and told me that he could fuck me all night and all day, and then masturbate about me after I left.  This guy is a literal manifestation of exactly what I needed.

I woke up the next morning and checked my Facebook while Mr. Wonderful made us breakfast. The first thing I saw on my phone was a tagged photo shoot from my mom. She and my dad were visiting Tennessee for a reunion with a couple of veterans that served with my dad in Vietnam. I was very proud of him for taking the trip. And there he was, dressed in a white confederate officer uniform, draped in a confederate flag, with a sword in his hand and his buddies dressed up like confederate officers by his side. It looked like a fucking klan meeting.  This is my life…  I was humiliated. Just as I have not told my dad about my new biracial friend…I also left the whole racist dad thing out when sharing my life story to Mr. Wonderful. I untagged myself as quickly as possible and prayed that he didn’t see it. He didn’t mention it if he did. He just cooked me an amazing breakfast, told me that I was beautiful, and then proceeded to give me more orgasms all day long. Even after he complained about his hips hurting from the night before, he still managed to spend all of Sunday afternoon servicing my body in ways I didn’t even know existed. I could not have picked a better guy to jump back into the saddle with.  

My whole body is sore and it still hurts when I pee, but that was one of the best weekends I have ever experienced. I know I should worry about what my racist dad would think if he knew I was now completely addicted to the affections a half black cocaine dealer from the city…but I don’t care about any of that. I care that I found someone who excites me and has awakened the beast of desire that had long been sleeping inside me. I care that I spent the weekend with a stranger who made me feel really good about myself. I care that I have finally moved the fuck on with my life.  And nothing else really matters.  

My Girl 


I watched you playing tennis at the school yesterday. There you were, all grown up and blossoming into someone I can’t help but to admire. Your life was the greatest surprise I have ever experienced. You were sweet and beautiful from day one.  

Dad and I always joked that you got the very best of our genetics. It’s true! Your beauty is almost obnoxious. Your sweet soul shines around you and I sit in awe with the thought that you came from me.  

Watching you grow, seeing the world through your big green eyes, has been the adventure of a lifetime. Your first steps, the first time you tasted a lemon, watching you learn to swim, to ride a bike, it has all been the sweet golden syrup on the pancake of my life.  

I feel guilty sometimes because you have been the very best part of my life, and I have just done the best I can to be your mom. I had no idea what I was doing when we brought you home from the hospital. We sort of figured out the whole mom and daughter thing as we’ve gone along. I suppose we’re both still learning.  

It is surreal to see you all grown up, doing the same teenager stuff that I used to do. I remember being the age you are now, and I could never have imagined that I would grow up and have a daughter as amazing as you.  I hope you live a fearless life and you experience adventures that set your soul on fire. I hope you always see yourself the way I see you, as absolute perfection. I hope you never lose your sense of compassion, it is one of my favorite things about you. I hope your life is exactly what you want it to be. And I hope you keep your heart and mind open, always.    

I know your life hasn’t been easy. I know you have had to deal with my life never being ‘together.’ And I hope you know that every morning when I wake up, I try to get it right, for you.  

I hope you will always think of me when you see the moon, and remember our long talks under the stars. Hearing your stories and listening as you figure yourself out and your ideas about life…those are my favorite things.  Those are the sweetest memories that I will carry with me forever.

Thank you for being the unexpected little light in my life.  I love you.