Tag Archive: healing


Sparkle and Shine

Only one more week before the holiday season is over.  I tried hard to not be a scrooge this year.  Thought I was on easy street since Thanksgiving was such a win (spent with dear sister friends, her man and his adorable pitbull).  Hell, I even managed to muster enough holiday spirit to have a full smile picture taken in front of a Christmas tree (see proof above).  Admittedly, the smiles may have been more about the spiced pear martinis and the loveliness on the other side of the camera but I won’t quibble.  I did a little holiday cheer this year.

And then, Friday hit.

Leave it to these family-focused holidays to kick the legs out from under the sense of peace and acceptance I had cultivated around my predominantly-solitary life.  I have friends.  Wonderful friends who make up my family of affinity and over the past two years have shown me so much caring and generosity that it staggers me at times.  I have a family of origin that I appreciate more and more as I heal from past hurts and dumb shit I just have not been able to let go.  And I get to see the family progeny grow and expand in beautiful and magical ways.  I have a lucky and blessed life.

Recent ruminations have left me appreciative that I can turn my loft bedroom into a lounge, complete with a small but growing collection of absinthes from the US and Europe.  I can crochet for hours at a time with no one to complain that I am ignoring or neglecting them.  (The cat does but she’s easily soothed by cat treats and a cuddle).  I’m making music again with no one to interrupt the creative flow by coming into the room or asking a question.  I come and go as I please.  The level of independence is a wonderful thing.  That is until the holidays and the lack of obligation to others becomes this gaping chasm of alone.

I had a lovely Christmas of Misfit Toys spent with dear friend and her housemates.  Great food and music.  Card games completely with shit talking and a spontaneous group dancing session when the Peanuts theme song came on Pandora.  (That moment is one of the highlight of the season.) But I returned home to this same place of UGH.

I felt much the same way last year.  Stuck in this place of anxiety and discomfort that is hard to get a grasp on.  It’s uneasy feeling like something is desperately wrong somewhere but impossible to place exactly what is amiss or where. It’s  just fuckery and confusion. Last year, things came to a head in a challenging relationship so I had something on which to pin the thorny tail. of the feeling.  This year, however, it’s just me, examining my life and wondering if I am going to go through this again next year (and the year after next).  And there is the truth of that.  In all of these years and similar situations and feelings there is one constant:: Me.

It’s time to stop peeking at this through my peripheral vision.  The mask has been removed.  There is only me.  Do I like what I see?  Do I even know what I am looking at?

Clarity of vision is an awesomely powerful and scary thing.  The only thing that can quell that fear is practice.

So off I go to bend, breathe, weave and sing.



I had to take some time away to find myself again. I know that sounds rather dramatic. It actually was. I had found myself spending the better part of my free time racing to the bottom of fifths of scotch. Not a good look. Especially when part of the race included weeknights and workday hangovers. My liver was starting to hate me and my work ethic was suffering. Not the kinds of things conducive to staving off depression. I knew things had to change.

Admittedly a part of me revelled in the decadence of it all. Even while understanding that hurting myself to mask the hurt was utterly counterproductive and selfdefeating. But at least this was a hurt that I could control. No one held a gun to my head to make me drink…even though that particular form of Russian roulette can be particularly messy. And I was pleased to be drinking a fairly good scotch. But I woke up to the insanity of those actions and thankfully, an angel appeared in the guise of a close friend to point me towards a saner path.

A few weeks ago, I went on a weekend retreat that changed me. My dramatic self wants to claim that Inner Journey (IJ) changed my life. But that would mean ceding power at a time when I can least afford to. IJ helped me figure out what I wanted/needed to change within myself that could manifest in a different life. More than anything, IJ corroborated the thoughts I had been having about what needed to be different in my life in order to be happier and healthier: cutting back on the substances I put in my body – caffeine, alcohol, refined sugar. Being kinder to self- nurturing myself, pampering instead of overindulging, loving myself enough to be more present while still protecting, rather than hiding my more vulnerable and most authentic self. Engaging actively in the work that I have long since been called to do. In short, getting real and being HERE. NO MORE MASKING!

I recently came to understand that I am quite adept at faking intimacy. I can reveal enough detail that seems deeply personal that people around me think I am baring my soul…but really, I am giving up essentially surface info….not the real shit, not the true contradictory, ugly truth of deep self. The intimacy mask is a lie.

Of all of the masks I’ve worn, the intimacy mask concerns me most. When courage mask cracks, I’m merely revealed to be afraid. The crumbling of wisdom masks just shows that I have more to learn. The lie of intimacy mask means that I am ultimately alone. And that is the starkest reality that I could face since what I desire more than anything is connection. Intimacy mask fooled even me…how can I have meaningful and profound connection with another when all of me is not present? And when I am present I am hidden?

So this space of healing focuses on my making sure more of my authentic self is present…every day…in every interaction that I value. This space means that I must stop distracting myself with bullshit and focus on the real.

I’ve been practicing yoga and meditation, journaling, drinking less and have had very little caffeine for the past month. I am more in my body these days than I can ever recall being. I am practicing being present especially in the moments that make me most uncomfortable. I keep thinking of the words of Miss Celie: “I’m poor, black, I may even be ugly but by God, I’m here. I’m here!”

I’m here. Working on being a healthy whole. And present. Feels great!


Today was a hard day.

You know the kind of day when you feel like your entire being is that thin layer of shiny, tender skin that’s left when a scab is ripped off a wound before it’s really healed?

Yeah. I feel like that.

Thank Heaven for music!


Offering, a collection of donations during religious worship, see alms, tithe or charity
Offering, a religious sacrifice of plant, animal or human life
Offering (Buddhism), a part of devotional practice

Worship. Sacrifice. Devotion.

I am healing three new piercings – piercings in very sensitive areas of my body.   Needles through flesh.  Offering up pain and blood to the universe as devotion to doing the work I need to do to get healthy.  Not just my body.   But my mind.  My spirit.  My heart.   Signaling to the ghosts with whom I wrestle that I am willing to give flesh to drive them away – once and for all.

I have spent much of my life in a bizarre dance on the wire between being a corporal being and something else of which I am not sure.  It was only at the age of 25 that I truly felt that I was rooted in this plane.  In recent years, I have felt that I have become un-tethered.  Outside of the realities of my work, which I love, I’ve spent too much time in a dream world – a world in which my lover was present, open and affectionate, and we had loving and open conversations about our future .  Conversations in which I felt confident. Rather than the wishing and hoping that was reality.  The reality that our relationship was not working… for either of us.

In the past few months, it has been hard for me to tell if it is 2007 or 2011.  The echoes of my affectionless and short marriage kept me awake at night.  The same desire to be my better self – patient, loving, kind, understanding, steadfast presence – while still owning and stating the truth of what I needed from the relationship.  The exposure and vulnerability of admitting need and the accompanying insecurity rocked me and ultimately left me ill equipped to really be those things.

In 2007, I’d been in a relationship in which I could not be intimate because of the lack of affection and connection.  Yet I was steadfast and determined to be a good wife. Adamant that I WAS a wife. Rather than whatever it was she saw me as that was so apparently easily cast away.

I spent 2011 longing for the touch, affection and presence of my lover – a vibrant, beautiful, brilliant woman who both enthralled and enraged me. Who in one moment was all that I ‘d ever wanted and in the next, the embodiment of everything I know I should avoid. I’d spent much of the relationship confused about most things except for my love for her.

One of the piercings had originally been planned as a gift to her – and for me, of course.  Our break-up a couple of weeks before the piercing appointment made me reconsider having the piercings done.

I decided to go ahead with them as a way of marking the way forward for me, as a way of grounding me in my body and a reminder of the willing sacrifice inherent in giving of self to another.  Taking care of new piercing helps me focus on healing my non-corporal self through caring for the piercings.

Each piercing marked the letting go of something: one  – releasing the fear of being vulnerable.  Another: releasing the shame and hurt of my failed marriage. The last: releasing the pain and hurt from my most recent breakup. Coincidently, the last piercing hurt the most.

Healing Heart (borrowed)

As fate would have it, the woman who pierced me, Elayne Angel, also pierced Lenny Kravitz who co-wrote the song Mean Sleep with Cree Summer.

As I wake from this mean sleep, the pins and needles inherent in piercing drive the ghosts back into their GrayWorld – a world in which I am determined to live no longer.


Universe, Elementals, Spiritual Light Beings, Ancestors, Gods and Goddesses – although you do not demand it, I offer up these tender bits of flesh as a sign of my dedication to being a Being of Love and Light.  As my body heals, may my spirit, heart and mind also be healed.

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