Monumental Dick Move

I got broken up with yesterday via text and not knowing what to do myself, I made a giant dick out of snow.

Today the shaft came down and if I can muster the energy I will turn it into a heart.

This sucks but what is coming out of how badly I feel, I need to focus on the goal of living a life worth having and making it into my own. Not someone else’s prerequisites or half assed ambitions. Or my own half assed ambitions.

The ski season will be over in about a month and then a new adventure starts, I wonder where it will go. It’s time to focus on how to make that happen. Staying sober and taking care of my body is first for today.

Am I the Asshole?

My biggest fear is that I am the Asshole.

I first learned this about myself in the drinking card game, Asshole. I’m not even sure how you play it these days but if you showed me your hand of cards, I could win. President of the Assholes.

I’m the nicest person you can meet. Your children adore me. I’m terrified I might let one drop off the chairlift so I hang on tight.




Hello Possums

I’ve been quickly reminded as to why it has been awhile since I posted. The two computers that I have easy access to suck rocks. So outdated and it takes an hour for them to turn on, if I hadn’t spent so much money on ski boots I would surely buy a new laptop. Oh hell, eventually I will get one. I thought about it during the holiday sales but since then I have been on the mountain or recovering from the mountain. Today is my day off but I am up at the ususal hour, drinking coffee, listening to the rain (YES, it’s raining in January in Utah, another thing that sucks rocks) and am going to stumple through writing this very awkardly while being a truth slayer.

So, HELLOOO POSSUMS!!!!!!!!!!!!!
(Thanks Ladies for your emails. It was sweet of you, my virtual friends.)

Let’s see where to start?

Sobriety. I drank. Not a lot but more than a few times during the holidays. It sucked but it was fun too but not really only for about an hour. I don’t know why I did it, I just forgot that feeling good and being level headed was a thing that I was striving for and the cravings came on so strong when I started skiing regularly, I was transported back to the days of the fake I.D. at my first ski job. Something about the smell of snow makes me want to have a strong beer in the afternoon. However, while I waded through the waters of addiction again, I am back on sober island. I am not going to drink with my coworkers. Bad idea. As much as I want to be a part of the group, I’m kinda older than them and I don’t want things to get sticky. I started dating a guy and he doesn’t drink. He doesn’t know to the extent of which I battle it, I have tried to tell him but the lights haven’t come on yet, hopefully it won’t come to that… I am scared to death for it to become an issue in our relationship. His reasons for not drinking are totally different than mine and he doesn’t miss it. Will I have a glass of wine tonight? I don’t know, probably, I’m meeting his family. I shouldn’t. Need to set the intention that I won’t. Sex is so much better without it. Plus he said, I couldn’t smoke, I said, we’ll see about that. I also have to work tomorrow. Intention set, not going to drink the first time I meet his parents and siblings. Watch and see how much they drink first. I have a bit of a cold, I am working Thursday and hopefully skiing with them Friday at another resort. All of these are good reasons to go without for a night.

Food. It took a hard nose dive. I think I am back on track. Was actually hungry for breakfast yesterday. This is hard. Skiing five days a week. While I am not skiing difficult runs everyday, just the mere calories burning to stay warm is a reason to eat. It’s not hard like the Camino hard but it’s still a workout that I have to monitor with rest and hot showers and sustenance.

Love. I really don’t know what to do about this, he really, really likes me. “And so he should,” says my mother. It started off pretty hot. I’m not going to lie. I met him at the second indoor training and I thought he was someone else from the old skiing days. Turns out he wasn’t. Then he was in my training clinics and I saw him ski. I felt this electricity feeling when we were in the same room or on the chairlift. We carpooled a couple of times. Then went on a date. I kissed him because I knew he wanted to get kissed and now here I am. Oh, wait, he’s a massage therapist. I got a massage first, carpooled, then went on a date. He came to Christmas at my family’s, which was small and low key. We actually worked Christmas Day. I’m making him keep our relationship secret from the resort. He’s the New Hire Golden Boy, he’s been in the business for the last 30 years and has lots of connections and I wouldn’t be surprised if they weren’t grooming him to be something with a title in the ski school. He made me chicken noodle soup the other night because I had a cold coming on, and NOW I am staring at this computer screen trying to connect with what I should be feeling about this guy. I think I am scared of him. Not him, per se but the whole reality of him. The sex is really incredible. It’s different from any other guy I have ever been with and I have really been trying hard to get over my hangups about sex, the shit from my conservative upbringing. Even telling y’all about it feels wrong but it’s not like I haven’t talked about sex before in my posts, I have fresh eyes thanks to the exMormon sub on reddit. I’m kinda screwed up when it comes to sex and relationships.

I know what is thwarting my feelings for New Hire Guy, it’s the Old Boyfriend that called at midnight on New Year’s Eve after my plans with NHG disappated and I was home with my mom drinking wine. The old boyfriend said he still loved me and wished I was there. I was so mad the next morning. Oh pissed the right the fuck off and a little hungover. So I think at that point I just shut all feelings down about everyone, maybe even my feelings for my dog a bit too. I know Old Boyfriend did it because he sensed that I was seeing someone else. He did it with my ex fiance. And while I love Old Boyfriend, it’s never going to happen, it’s been almost 10 years. If it were going to happen it would have by now, GEEZZZ LOUISE! Go away. (But don’t go too far- is like the next thing out of my mouth) I live in Utah. He’s back in Tennessee. What a fucker.

New Hire Guy is Korean. He was adopted by a white American family in Michigan when he was 4. I think they were pretty well off because he grew up skiing Aspen but I don’t know a whole lot about them. Eighteen of them are in town for the week in a rented house in Park City to ski. What the hell am I doing? The whole adoption thing freaks me out but so far he seems pretty stable.He’s had therapy. He lived in an orphange until he was adopted that he says he doesn’t remember much nor his first year in the States. He’s never been back to South Korea. We’ve both been engaged twice but never married. We don’t run out of things to talk about even though we haven’t talked about everything and my family seems to like him. My mom doesn’t want him spending the night. I don’t blame her, it makes me feel awkard too. I’d have to clean my room. He’s met a couple of my friends. We eat out a lot. He has a weird house mate that isn’t comfortable with me there. I don’t get it. So, it’s just kinda like… here we are. I think I have been subconsciously avoiding him for a few days. He’s sweet though and I should give him a chance.

Work. Lots of egos, lots of fun. I have one supervisor that is a dick but other than that it’s pretty good. I work with the kids. Tips are better than they used to be. Flirt a little with the dads. I’ve already said it’s physically taxing. I was in a training with some people and had a crash in front of my boss. It hurt me.

And shook my confidence. It’s all healed up on the surface but it still hurts down deep on the bone. It just needs to fucking snow. I decided I would start thinking about my future plans and goals in February until then stay sober and you aren’t skiing hard enough if you aren’t falling.

Oh and don’t worry. I have a new therapist. She’s pretty bad ass and won’t take my shit about drinking or the anorexia.

This Here Is My 100th Post

I love you guys, reading my dribble. I don’t even give you my best stuff as far as writing goes, you get my truth and still I get likes and loving comments. I started this blog and never anticipated it meaning much. The saying, “You get out of it what you put into it,” I haven’t put my heart into it most months but I do put my heart into what y’all are writing on your blogs and I just want you to know that I really appreciate your posts and knowledge.


I wrote a big ole thing and it got lost because I have an old laptop that isn’t updated. Dang it.

Fuck it. I am going to buy a new computer soon.

In the meantime, just putting a face to the words. All the women in my family (Aunts, cousins, nieces) have been paid and pursued for their modeling/ good looks careers and I have been the ugly duck…. over here smoking cigarettes and not shaving my legs and flipping the bird.

ExMormon Sober

I’ve been over on the exMormon reddit sub for a week and a half and fuck. These people are nuts. I feel for them. Here’s a video:

I left THE Church when I was 16. They made me president of the young women’s while I was smoking and drinking and said that God wanted me as their leader… that’s when I hightailed it out of there. I didn’t trust their discernment. I told them I didn’t believe in their gospel and to this day, my eyes and brain will gloss over with boredom when I hear anyone talking about the faith. It is so boring. And SO NOT TRUE- I don’t even know what that means… how do you know what’s true? Rules? Underwear?

I  mentally check out when I hear the Mormon/Utah diction in someone’s voice. The Book of Mormon is one of the most boring THEE and THOU bullshit. I love Shakespeare but I can not pay any tribute or study to the Book Of Mormon which they are trying to go for, the King James version when they pray. I’d rather die. Or roll over and pretend that it wasn’t happening, it’s something that has been going on with me since I was a child.

When I did go to church, I would pass on the readings in class and one leader made fun of me because she said I didn’t know how to read, told everyone I was illiterate. I couldn’t read OUT LOUD all those stupid scriptures and make them sound like sentences or make them make sense or true. I would just look at the reading and stumble. I was writing in my journal like they taught us to do. I have them since I was 8 years old. What a mean bitch!

It wasn’t until I took Italian in college that I gained confidence in reading out loud. Isn’t that crazy?  Italian is phonetic. Has an accent. I can read you anything now, in front of any audience and sound like I am telling a story and it will make sense, (in English). I am a good reader of reading out loud, thanks to that teacher at the University of Utah for Italian. She didn’t like me the last quarter of five quarters together because I fucked up and didn’t do my homework for the final because my boyfriend was heading off to Julliard, so I got a C on my final grade but she gave me an invaluable gift.  She taught me to look at the words and feel them in my mouth and understand their meaning and help the listener relate to what I was saying.

Che Bello!

Before that I was always stumbling…

I left the Mormon Church a long, long time ago. 1990. When I was an exchange student in Sweden I would write to my youth group and tell them my doubts and how I got drunk. I got letters back from the leaders (not the same leader that said I was illiterate… she has a prescription pill problem now and accidentally burnt her house down)  saying I shouldn’t tell the girls about how I was drinking but how life was going. I am glad they wrote me. Letters in the mail were a lifeline.

My drinking and the Mormon church has nothing to do with my addiction.

Or does it?

I drank to rebel. I remember when I started smoking that it was my “smoke signal” so nobody would ever mistake me as a Mormon and I am still addicted today.

All I have to say, before this gets too long.  I called my girlfriend tonight from Scratch Ankle, Tennessee (yes, that is a real place) so I could talk to someone who is “normal.” I’m having a hard time in my relocation because my friends aren’t my friends anymore. I’m doing a much better job at being sober and feeding myself. I can’t wait for it to snow and friends for that to pop up because we are ski buddies. My extended family doesn’t want anything to do with me because I left the Church… it’s just me and my mom and my fur family (two cats and a dog) watching our favorite shows because I stopped reaching out to the old pals, drunks and believers.

I went to some AA meetings. I almost made some connections. I was turned off because a lot of them got up and said that they thanked their higher power and also the Church. I can hear it in their voice/accent. I know a Mormon before he even admits it just by the way he talks, walks and vibes.

I just can’t do another cult.

Sober Island …

“Me Too”

I’m not going to go on Facebook and tell all my problems with this situation. I call it a situation because it will change the next week to the next scandal, bullshit, tragedy or horror. I have to write about it though, so you, my lovely (but not so virtual) strangers on the interwebs can read or not… I just know I had to put it somewhere and y’all are the most non judgemental

I woke up this morning and checked out Fakebook and saw all the young women in my life, nieces mostly but friend’s daughters, saying “Me too.” I wanted to crawl out of my skin. I wanted to know exactly what had happened, who the fuck did this to them and are they ok, and please, tell me who the hell I can I pay a visit to. Of course, they are “ok.” They are still posting selfies and look like they are having a good time, doing good things in life, having experiences. You can’t just barge in there… not on fb, not when they are so on the periphery of your life, it would just be weird and uncomfortable. Something has got to change.

My older friends, I get. I’m the older friend. We survived the ’80’s. It’s how women’s lib grew. I still want to cut some dicks off, remember the Bobbitts? I was in DC (not far from Virginia so it was local news) when that happened and I was a young Miss at the time. I was at a Dead Show. RFK 1993. It’s a big ole joke now because he went on to be a porn star or some shit but I knew in my heart of hearts, he deserved it. I could have Bobbitted some dudes today… well, not actually just metaphorically, I wanted names. She got out of jail time. Here’s to you Lorena!

And how the hell Trump is President is beyond me. “It’s just locker room talk. No biggie. Pussy grabbing. It’s fine.”

I cried while traveling in Australia when Clinton didn’t get impeached in 1998. I was so upset. Looking back now, it was the Republican upbringing or something that really wanted it. However, I was generally upset about him lying about his affair with that girl and cried for a day and a half. Knowing now, I feel the true victim in all of that was Monica. First victim of internet bullying on record. Watch her Ted talk… It’s not about sexual harassment but being in the chaos of men in power and the media. I personally think she takes too much credit for her “mistakes ” – he was the president, he could have had some restraint, right?

After seeing the posts, I went into my own, should I? or shouldn’t I? Do I tell my “friends” about being sexually assaulted by my neighbor and how it ruined over a year of my life? Do I tell them how we were “hanging out and seeing each other” and one night he came over drunk as shit, eyes a glaze, started to kiss me and then started to beat me up? Bruises all over my boobs, crotch and thighs. Then he stole my dog and went back across the street. I had been drinking too. I wasn’t blacked out like him. I went and got my dog and was met by a huge boner. It was awful.

this is a current picture, not when the situation happened

I waited for morning and called in sick to work. I told my boss what happened. We were social workers, I wanted him to call the police. He didn’t know what to do. He granted me the day off. My girlfriend came over and we gave him “the stink eye” when he pulled up to his driveway but he and I never spoke again. I called my Christian counselor I was seeing and she invited me to a wine tasting that night at our mutual friends’ house. I got trashed and drove home. I told HR at my work a week later and got a referral to the rape crisis center and I went a few times to a counselor and she said because I wasn’t sober there was no use, in trying to rehabilitate myself, pretty much, I don’t know. I just know it sucked ass. I was pissed that someone would tell me I couldn’t drink because of what he did, I just wanted someone to hold him accountable. I told my brother during the visit for my grandmother’s funeral back in Utah a few months later and he was going to go from Montana to Tennessee with my two other brothers and kick his ass. He never did. Nobody did. None of the men that I counted on would kick his ass. My dog finally stopped whining out the window when he saw that he was home, that sucked ass too- It’s not like I could punish him.

I told neighbors years later and they still kept the friendly relations with him. Finally, he moved away with his new wife and baby and I could breathe easy in the front yard garden… and then I moved.

For a year, I lived peeking out my front blinds and wondering if I was safe to go out front and stayed hostage in my house. I tried to get help.

Help came back as, well, let’s drink it away (Christian counselor), you are too damaged because you drink (Rape and Sexual Assault Therapist in Nashville), I’m a social worker but I don’t know how to help you call the police (boss at mental health facility, don’t bring your crazy here) and last but not least, I deserved it because I opened the door. I wanted him to come over and love me, not fucking beat me up. (Self help)

So, I have relived this today. ME FUCKING TOO and OH MY GAWD, I’M GOING TO CASTRATE THE GUY THAT DID TO YOU.. and I felt really paranoid. And re-traumatized. I felt things in my body that I hadn’t felt in a long time… it was almost like I was back in it, like that Elizabeth Bishop poem, In the Waiting Room. The way she captures the reader in the moment.

I was at my mindless job at the mall and I could sense every male that gave me a second look. Granted, I’m 44. I have a small frame. I’m not ugly. I can dress and put makeup on and catch attention without trying that hard…. but according to the latest facebook, who really has to try that hard? I’m not saying Men Are Pigs but some are… especially if you don’t speak up when you see a dude out of line. It’s all out of line today because a bunch of starlets finally figured out how to hang a perp. God damn it, ladies, why didn’t you do this years ago? Oh, he could make you famous.

This doesn’t even touch on the sexual harassment I could talk about…

P.S. I love the podcast My Favorite Murder and they always end with a happy note, so Florence and the Machine is my happy note. Dog Days are over

Now what?

I went through a couple of weeks of angry dreams and just feeling a bit pissed off about being sober, then the mass shooting in Vegas happened and my perspective changed. I have a good friend living there, an old roommate I had in my last year of college. He’s a bit of a cross dresser and I learned more about Judy Garland and makeup/fashion while living with him than I ever wanted to. I knew he wouldn’t have been at a country music concert but I had to check anyway, he was safe, just learning of the news as well when I texted him. Spent a few days in horror and trying to not engage in the trainwreck of the aftermath but I couldn’t help myself. What I know now about PTSD and it being healing for people to be able to tell their stories, I felt it was important to stay engaged but also try to remove myself because I am sensitive and could do nothing. I couldn’t read the comments on public facebook posts. What’s that saying, opinions are like assholes? America has a lot of them.

I am curious about the gunman because “what the fuck, dude?” I can understand a hatred for humanity but why would you plan and execute something like this? I can’t even kill a spider so it has never crossed my mind to kill people, well except for myself but that isn’t my point today. I saw something that said he’d been prescribed valium and that if you have an undercurrent of aggression it will make it worse. Just like alcohol makes some people violent instead of sleepy, that’s what the newscaster reported. Definitely addiction played a role in this tragedy. Gambling, pills, guns. Uggh. It makes me sick.

A week or so ago, I went to a Doctors’ Without Borders (Medecin Sans Frontieres) recruitment seminar at the library. Mostly out of curiousity to see what they were about and because I am trying to figure out my next chapter. I’m not a doctor nor a nurse but that doesn’t matter, they need people for other things like communications and filing paperwork. I know I would be a good candidate. This kind of living, in different countries “helping” has always been on my radar since my mom took me to Africa when I was 14. My favorite class in college was Global Hunger. It’s why I joined the Peace Corps, its why I have felt like such a failure since leaving the Peace Corps. The self worth surrounding this feels really terrible. I have been yelling at myself for over 15 years that I am worthless and too weak, not stable enough. I didn’t leave the Peace Corps because I missed television and fast food and modern day conveniences. I left the Peace Corps because I had a miscarriage which resulted in major depression. Drinking helped the depression and an eating disorder into a conundrum of shit for years. I am fairly certain I am pulling out of both quite successfully, neither serve me and while the eating disorder is something I can do something about, I understand that depression isn’t always the case and I have to stay on guard to watch out for but it has been over a year since it has taken me down and I often wonder if it wasn’t just circumstantial. Even though I haven’t been completely sober, I have changed a lot of how I view my surroundings and being.

Then I saw this, in the slideshow during one of the talks from a Mental Health worker who has been on several missions with the Doctors’ without Borders.

Image result for cholera bed images

These are Cholera beds. Yep, a diarrhea hole and it all got really real. Another reason, I haven’t started my application process with this particular NGO is that I don’t have conversational French as a skill, yet. I know I could get there in a few months because languages come easy to me. I’ve just never taken the time for French.

All of this is really just something to think about, I know I am still in the baby stages of changing my life, sobriety and healthy mindsets but I need something to work towards. I am spending this year working a mindless job, meditating, getting my body stronger. No stress of shitty relationships or work. (I had to tell another old friend to fuck off but she was way out of line and it was necessary.) I have a nest egg of money. I’m going to travel again in the Spring after the ski season. I really feel like I am waiting while cherishing my dog to live out the rest of his years and then, I’m off and running.

I went to dinner with my friend that started a kindergarten (and is quite successful now) trying to tell her my interest in the Doctors’ Without Borders. Her younger sister was there and they both stiffened and were like “oh, hell no” but they were more concerned with my safety and got really freaked out when I said, I wouldn’t mind going to Afghanistan. Then she said, why don’t you just start your own NGO after I explained what one was… hmmm, well, I never thought of that. Then she started discussing people that could advise me and how to get a business plan going and how to find financial backers and ways to develop a vision. A bit of hope rushed through me. They see my worth. They don’t doubt their own. They are up for challenges and they totally think I have the stuff too. We’ve known each other since we were toddlers. I would love to start with sewing machines and women and/or men in developing countries to give them a source of income- instead of healthcare. I know there are already organizations doing this, I adore Kiva and what they are doing. I’ve got lots of research to do and questions to ask but I also have lots of free time and nothing too pressing going on at the moment, so why the hell not?

I feel like my life is branching into another direction, that I am getting back to the basics of what I am made of, my dharma so to speak. I am being really patient and not poisoning myself with alcohol, it makes it easier to see the colors change and the hope to come back and the focus of the purpose of my position on the planet.


I had a lot of alone time when I was little. I was surrounded by animals, two German Shepherds that never left my side, cows, goats, chickens, my Shetland pony, Rosebud, a couple of Arabians, Charmglow and Al, ducks and geese. I remember asking my mom if speaking English and living in Utah was a good thing when I was about 8 years old. And she said, “Yes, you are very lucky.”

Numerous times I have stood in that pasture and looked up at this rock formation and said, “Utah, Utah, Utah, Utah, Utah” until the word didn’t make sense anymore.

Here I am again, trying to make sense. It’s a beautiful word. It’s home. She’s my mountain. She’s my view of who I am.

Whale Sh¡t

Oh good gawd, I hate social media. I hate how it’s used as a weapon in relationships nevermind politics. I’ve been blocked by two people this week and it really has gotten under my skin. While I know it’s for the best that these connections go, I still can’t help to feel the sting that was intended.

I figured out tonight that the ex fiance’ must have been reading my blog because he is gone from Facebook and the evidence shows I am blocked too. I must have mentioned it to him sometime because I have distant buzzed memories of telling him about it. The post Curiosity and Irma was very cathartic to write. I hesitated at some of the details and I guess I forgot that I am not as anonymous as I had thought. Shit. Big fat whale shit. But why the fuck is he reading my blog? Stalker much? Now I wish I would have gone into his porn addiction and the other bullshit but it’s too late and it doesn’t fucking matter. I can’t change the past. I can’t undo anything. I am really sorry.

If I am going to get at the roots of my alcohol dependence and be honest about my sobriety, I feel it’s important to lay it out there. Get feedback, so please tell me if I am an asshole or ignorant. It was a seriously fucked up time and it makes me sick that I hurt him but he played his part too. When I figured it out this evening, I felt this wash of thirst for alcohol flood my body. Ok, it was my brain but I felt it in my bloodstream and nervous system. I immediately thought of the bar that I could run to, get a drink and perhaps a little sympathy or conversation. Maybe I just wanted the sympathy, not that I was going to tell anyone the truth (while drinking) of what was going on but it’s my favorite sunday night bar which I haven’t been to since I have been back and I heard the bartender that I loved is still there.

So, I went to a meeting instead because I knew if I sat there and let my brain fester in the shit, I would have probably gone for a drink. The only meeting that is close to my house is on Sunday evenings. I went the last week. I’m glad I went this week. I’ll go again next week. There are a couple of ladies in there that seem alright. Maybe next time I will talk.

Tonight was combined AA and Al-anon which was fitting for me considering the predicament. I didn’t know they did the combined, it wasn’t like that last week. And ironically enough, it’s the meetings and the building that my parents attended 30 years ago. Al-anon saved my mom’s life. My dad is a 13th stepper, keep coming back kinda guy, never made it past the 2nd step even though he hasn’t had a drink of alcohol for 30 years and regularly attends meetings. He’s the reason I have hated AA but at this point, if I have to go to meetings to not drink then I will go to fucking meetings and I will make some fucking sober friends and I will be fucking happy, joyous and free. 🙂

As for the other friend that blocked me, it’s the chocolate and potato chip girl from the Sitting on the fence post. This one doesn’t really hurt (it just irritates the crap out of me.) I am surprised that the blocking and unfriending hadn’t happened sooner. It’s her normal. There was some drama in our community of friends and sad shit happened and it was really alarming and distressing last week. She messaged me about it but I didn’t respond because the message seemed like she just wanted to gossip and tell me how sad SHE was…. and I thought, “you know what? you don’t get to keep lighting our friendship on fire and expect it to survive,” so I gave it a minute and when I did soften about responding, she was gone. Nowhere to be found on the Fakebook. I hadn’t heard from her all summer. When I did try to mend things awhile back she shot me down. I ate the crumbs in the bottom of the chip bag and half a bar of chocolate in the middle of the night at her house, so definitely worth not speaking to a friend for months. That was her reason, she told me it was the little things.

Today is day 35. I’ve been having these hardcore intense dreams that wake me up at 4:30 in the morning and have kept me up for at least an hour for the last five nights. They aren’t necessarily drinking dreams, mostly about conflicts and I am yelling at people. I’m not a yeller. I won’t even correct people who are being stupid unless they are hurting someone, then I am a mama bear. I haven’t had a lot of contact with my social circle lately because they drink so much and no one has actually called me with an invitation. This isn’t how I expected things to go when I was planning my move back. I thought we’d all be pals but even when I was compromising myself and drinking with my old friends, it wasn’t fulfilling. Something is missing. I guess all those years I was gone really did have an impact. I’m starting over in a very familiar place, my home town and it’s bizarre. I’m trying not to believe the thoughts that tell me I am an asshole, because I am not, I go out of my way to avoid being one because I know some tendencies that I have had in the past. I will remove myself from a situation first or delay my reaction. I just don’t get it. It’s hard when you don’t have the booze. Y’all are the only ones I have told about the unfriending, well, except for my mom.

I was going to take some other folks’ inventory this evening in this post but now I am thinking better of it. I don’t believe that everyone is doing the best that they can, I think that saying should go more along the lines of, everyone is coping the way they prefer (or demand even). Some people have really shitty coping strategies and to see it for what it is and move with it is how I am trying to roll and I have decided I am not going to apologize for keeping a blog. Tara Brach says that most of us live life as a problem to be solved instead of living life as experiencing the mystery of being alive. I think I am happier in the mystery of it all. I saw a meme on hip sobriety today that said, “The belonging you seek is not behind you, it is ahead.” Maz Kanata.

P.S. The title of this post comes from a group session in ED treatment when this southern woman said, “Well, shit.” And I could have sworn she said, “Whale shit” and had no clue what she was talking about… it was funny you had to be there but now every time I hear it I think of a humpback in the ocean taking a dump.