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Today was a Monday back at the desk. I have been waiting all weekend to be free to write. And when I sat down and got myself organized, I found myself distracted and off-roading into a lathered dither about a snaffu I’m having with my pictures. I’m unhappy at not being able to do something…
( This piece was published a year and a half ago in May of 2107 and yet I thought of it the other day and when I happened upon it today, I knew it needed to be re-shared. Feel your truth and spread it wide). She got onto a fancy white SUV parked next to…
I used to think that things weren’t as bad off in my first marriage as so many other scary marriages. I only suffered emotional abuse. Only. Until I realized that living with emotional abuse is not an Only. Maybe it was my way of coping or staying there by dumbing it down and trivializing it. But…
At any given moment, we have at least these two choices : we can set to work on the tasks we see ourselves in need of accomplishing to get to where we think we want to go. Or we can give up on ourselves and decide the effort is not worth it. Or we’re not…
The story that is our life, up to a certain point, is written and told by others. We do not choose our parents or where we are born or the social status we are born into. Nor do we have control over who keeps us alive and what they teach us as littles. Our lives…
What you are about to read for the next few days of posts is the story I have just lived which transpired this Summer, 2017. I began to tell this story when I wrote Catching up and Telling the Truth . This post referring to my childhood was the most painful because I wrote it…
Everything would be perfect if everyone would just like you the way you want them to like you, right? You build an image, a mirage of perfection to make that happen. Your copious perfect pictures of you and your family make you look like the quintessential Happy American family. And that’s when I get suspicious….
There was just an understanding growing up. What you did was of no value unless someone else approved of it. Parents and adults approval was mandatory and was proof that you mattered. Good grades, teacher’s pet, and Daddy’s favorite. This also meant that you could never be enough. And so I became a teenage doormat….
When Eamon was little, the Cognitive Distortions I would fret the most over were the ones where I imagined things never-changing. When these moments were particularly bad, I had myself believing the boy would only and always eat peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for lunch. I remember potty training felt particularly stressful because I was…
Seems almost criminal that some women like myself, when we become mothers, suddenly become self-doubting imploding Mommys. I mean women who were successful in the corporate realm, women who brought home paychecks and held job titles, when they are faced with the relentlessness and chaos of parenting, feel like incompetent losers. Happens to a lot…
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