shadowboxing the inner critic

What do you do with your life when you have relentless ambition, a beautiful mind and dope soul but literally nothing else to offer ?
It seems almost as if an oxymoron. Why would one need worry about anything else when in possession of such a triple threat and also, you would be surprise how little people see beyond physique and what you can bring to the financial table.
Im suffering from a chronic illness that has gotten to it’s worst point (as far as I have personally experienced thus far) recently. I’m losing my sight; and mind it seems. I’ve had to resign from any employment, most likely permanently. All while being a single Mom who is coming up short in every aspect of parenting because I often find myself completely depleted on energy. I’ve always prided myself on being a good Mom, now I try to console myself my saying I can’t be the worst, but it certainly isn’t from any shortage of effort.

I’m over extended in everyway.

I really am out of ideas and resources.
Im all ears…


After 2MRIs, another spinal tap (STAT!) and providing enough blood to fake a crime scene, I’m beyond tired. I’m the kind of tired that sleep doesn’t fix.

I feel like a medical guinea pig. I’m always genuinely surprised when something does show up in a test because if you know anything about autoimmunity, it should be that there are many years of chasing symptoms to test. I feel like an immense burden to any and everyone that cares.

I retreat so as not to owe


Sometimes I get the distinct feeling that something is amiss, a disturbance in the force. It will be a perfectly normal day… take today, for example. I didn’t sleep well last night because of another cold snap blowing through and a certain pup not being fond of the wind whipping this little house. Outside of that, I had a good day while working followed by good company and laughter this evening. Yet, I guess I am waiting for the rug to be pulled out from under me.

I feel as if I have somehow learned to float in the water (life) without flailing around and I can simultaneously see the storm on the horizon; and also that the sun still attempts to find its way through.


another potential suitor bites the dust.  *raises glass*

fuck, i don’t know what it was.  as you like to say, “it was something.” i doubt you will ever give it more credit than that. what was it? what were you to me? what was I to you?

I was your greatest ally during a time of great trepidation in your life. or I tried to be. you couldn’t even ask me about my fucking day. I have no desire to hold together the shards of your confidence; and also I could have. you know you are better than this. I’m not entirely sure which you fear more.

Please? understand this. I can’t martyr myself to the potential disease ever again.


Where to begin?

I keep getting the same message, in short: I need to use my voice and tell my story.

The question I pose isn’t why, but how? Where do you start? Who do you start with?

I’m looking for guidance, friends. Read. Think; and also PLEASE discuss this with me.

Sunday’s Song

I’m always trying to do and say the right things, yet somehow constantly coming up short in others eyes. I know, logically, that I can not make everyone happy, even with the best intentions. Yet, whenever I deem somebody to be upset about things (that have absolutely no bearing on me) I try time and time again to “fix” it.

I must learn the subtle art of not giving a fuck. Literally, I could care less. It appears to work out better for those who care less. Well … the others appear alive and fulfilled, but they are the walking dead. They’ve gone numb for self-preservation’s sake. They can’t see or hear you.

This means all the sugar I was spoon fed through my church upbringing is what now makes me sick. Being told to do unto others as you would do unto yourself (or is it: as you would have others do to you?) in principle, is lovely. Out here in the hard knock life, the reality is quite the opposite though. Everybody is looking for real and nobody is bringing real to the table. The most socially acceptable and fashionable means of intimacy is sexual, but sex does not equal love; and it does not quench our soul’s deep thirst for connection.

We’re left with sadness, feeling incomplete. Those feelings are valid;

And also, I am done with them.

A higher calling

I’m not trying to catch feelings, I’m trying to build an empire.

That’s real talk.

I’m done with this low level, surface bullshit.

Yes, I’ve been broken, but it’s only taught me my capacity to love and I’ve grown and continue growing.

I’m learning to trust myself and others in ways that have been uncomfortable, but SO worth daring greatly.

I’m ready.