Tuesday, October 28, 2014

Healing from The Healer

There was a moment on the beach this weekend when I asked myself, "How do I heal from The Healer?"

This extraordinary person who ~ without even trying ~ healed me.

I thought I would never get through that summer.

But I did.

And with each footstep I took on that beach ~ with each word that was shared ~ with each laugh that echoed amongst each wave ~ I healed.

I healed as the sun streamed down on my face ~ walking back and forth ~ playing joyfully with the dogs ~ 

            Life became so much simpler ~ so much sweeter.  I was happy again.

Summer turned to fall, and my confidence in myself grew.  There was no more shame from words once spat at me last spring.  Those words from another man were a distant memory now.  My self-esteem that was once shredded now blossomed again.  

I was healed.

This incredible soul ~ this incredible spirit ~ had healed me.

But for one weekend, I felt the loss of that healing spirit.

"How do I heal from The Healer?" I wondered.  

Healing from The Healer ~

The Healer ~

I cried, I prayed, I cried some more.

I walked that beach for hours ~ in fits of rain ~ then rays of sunshine.  The little dog and I.  This time alone.

I cried, I prayed, I cried some more.

Then felt the surge of a large wave crashing towards me.  Holding on to my little dog ~ keeping both feet steady in the submerged sand ~ remaining calm with nothing to hold onto but him.   

"How do I heal from The Healer?" I whispered, "How do I walk this beach alone?" 

I let go in that moment and trusted the path ~ the journey ~ I was on ~  

And soon discovered ~ that The Healer remained.

Happy to see me, talk with me, laugh with me.

The sea is calm today ~

                                       Life is serene ~

                                                                 And I am healed.

"You can be an agent for healing another 
by simply being present with them consciously and patiently."
~ J. J. Goldwag

Monday, October 20, 2014

Easy to Love

"Paddington loves you ~ he loves you so much."

"Yes, I know," he says softly, smiling down at my little dog.

"That's because you are easy to love."

Sunday, October 19, 2014


Tears ~



I cry






                                               My Sunburned Cheeks

Close my eyes

                      Look up


                     The Sun


                                         Smile ~

Thursday, October 9, 2014


He is larger than life.

And yet so humble ~

A humble man, a gentle soul who fills my world with ~ kindness.

This joyful man who makes me feel like I matter.

Who listens and asks questions ~

Who ~ with one sweet little smile ~ erases ~ the pain I once felt.

Sunday, August 31, 2014

Hit Submit

Hit submit on my first domestic violence advocate application. Felt just like I did when I wrote my first blog story that first hinted about my past. Felt just like I did when I first Broke My Silence on Domestic Violence. November 3, 2010. Tears began to flow, and I had to step away to look at the ocean. To speak to my mother. Each of those 50+ survival stories felt like I was giving birth to their creation. To bringing myself one step closer to the life I live today. Where life is precious and pure and sweet.


Friday, July 4, 2014


He nearly took it all.

Every ounce of my self-esteem.

Instead he shredded it slowly ~ day after day ~ week after week ~ month after month.

First came the corrections.

Apparently, I was unable to pronounce many words correctly and needed to be told over and over again how to pronounce them.

College educated in English ~ a writer for years ~ and yet I still needed to be told how to pronounce words correctly.

Then came the judgments.  My anxiety apparently ranked farther down than his depression, and I had to be reminded how unstable I was.  That he did not think he wanted to be with someone who was "unstable."  That he could easily find someone else to love.

Then came the body.  He kept trying to find new ways to call me fat.

"We are both getting fat."

"Is that a bun in your oven?" he asked while patting my middle-age belly.

"I can hear the swish-swish sound your jeans make when your thighs rub together."

I still hear his voice when I put on a pretty dress and look down and see my belly.

"We are both getting fat."

"Is that a bun in your oven?"

I need to get his voice out of my head.  His face out of my dreams.  The memories erased from my mind.

I need to get back to the woman I was before I met him.

Confident.  Worthy.  A woman who loves herself.

The echoes of my past haunt me.

His words were like claws, and they shredded my well-being.  Shredded the goodness I once felt inside.  Shredded the beauty I once saw when I looked in the mirror.

Wednesday, July 2, 2014

Getting on The A Train

Sometimes you can not see what is right in front of you.

All along he was there.

He told me all I needed to remember was to get on the A train when I was in New York.

It would take me anywhere.

I got on just about every other train.

Found myself getting lost.

Walking in circles.

And when I came back, there he was.

Smiling, laughing, greeting me each morning.

With friendly banter about my trip ~

But I could not see what was right in front of me.

I took off in another direction, got blindsided by another situation, fell flat on my face, and when I picked myself back up, he was still there.

Still wanting to see all those pictures I took in New York.

Still wanting to be my friend.

My detour ~ my derailment ~ is over.

I'm getting on the A train.