I Choose to Share, Heal, Expand-I Write the Ending
When a person touches us and it feels wrong, IT IS. 100% unacceptable– to be touched in ways that feel yucky, unwanted, unwholesome. IT happening, is the beginning. After the moment passes, the wreckage persists- governing all that will follow. My downward spiral continued until…. I realized I could no longer continue suffering, struggling, thinking, fearing as I had for decades. The Gift Of Desperation— 100% clarity– IT(the residual insanity) shall no longer be denied or allowed to continue. GOD and faith replaced fear and shame, as my new navigational tools. Today, I am led by Good Orderly Direction.
Being unable at the time to identify and articulate confusing encounters with my older sister (and later, others), resulted in 
incomprehensible demoralization. I became “inexplicably” hysterical while she remained artfully buttoned up. And from there it unfolded. The impossible girl who can’t cope and the seemingly unruffled older sister, going along as if her only real issue is her troubling sister. She scored a shit-load of traction off of my hysteria. In fact, it saved defined elevated her. The dynamic made me want to disappear- to which I dedicated impressive efforts. I used geography, alcohol, drugs, men, men on drugs, food-lots of food, no food.
Dear Mom,
Dear Self,
Santa surprised us by delivering a day early. Boys received what must surely complete our collection of all the latest nerf artillery. The Mega-Mastadon unloads a full round of 24 sausage sized bullets at high speed. My lil SPD is unaffected by high impact to his skin. Seriously, he had second degree burns as a toddler and barely flinched, received most of his vaccinations without a peep and generally does not know the source of his bruises. So, what he easily forgets is that most of us are more sensitive in this way and some people are especially sensitive…not just physically but emotionally also. 
I turned this online quote into a lil Christmas tree reminder of what I have to celebrate this holiday season. 
It’s not the most wonderful time of the year for everyone. For those of who’ve lost family members to death or estrangement, the holidays are difficult. To cope, some drop from bridges into oncoming traffic while others soldier through with as many drinks or slices of pie as it takes, any number of ways to numb, more socially acceptable than honestly addressing the feelings and behaviors which would be a step toward healing and lasting connection. I stand in solidarity with all who feel weepy, anxious, maybe even ashamed at this time of year. Disconnection, on days in which the calendar and social media are intended as proof of connection, is difficult. I ♥
Food Lion. I bought 5 of them, actually. The one shown in the trash bin was number 4 in my sequence of use. After using only 25% of the product, it stopped putting out(for no good reason…oh wait, is it broken?) I removed the top, and got a teeny tiny bit out. Feeling the weight of the remaining shaving cream–knowing it was in there, dammit, I wanted it, almost to the point of obsession. To avoid being late for appointments, I brought can #5 into play which functions just fine. But– when I am showering without time limitation, I sit on that shower bench and work haaard, holding the can every which way, blasting it with hot water, using a safety pin to clear the valve, turning the dispenser top. Total bullshit insanity. But wait– 4 out of 27 times I have managed to extract just enough to shave an armpit, re-enforcing for me that maaaaybe, if I try hard enough, I can get just a little bit of what I need. I know it is there. Aaah, the broken effing clock strikes again.
