Straying back

Today i am grateful for my sobriety, currently at 4 solid days.

The last time I wrote was almost a year ago.  I wanted to keep up posting about the struggle I had with addiction, however I found myself writing in my own journal instead.  And.. I had many relapses.  Today I am again starting this path on a very strong and determined foot.

I am 4 days sober, as I mentioned, working on day 5.  And I am so proud and grateful for each minute of all those days.  It  was a bad relapse, this last one, but it got me to REALLY open my eyes onto what I am looking for and what I need to do to keep my sobriety.  It won’t just happen because I “want to be sober”.  It takes work, effort, and constant care.  I have been going to AA meetings everyday, am getting a sponsor, am attending therapy, and have asked all my friends to respect that my sobriety is first in my life (not that I don’t want to hang out with them, but that I want them to be aware that if they see me with a drink or even ask for a drink that they must not allow that to happen, no matter how angry I may get).

Today I am grateful for my sobriety.

I am grateful for my amazing mom and boyfriend who let me fall but caught me when I was ready.

I am grateful for my friends who showered me with compassion and support and understanding and love.  Who came to my rescue and listened to me with open hearts.

I am grateful for kombucha and tea and maca.

I am grateful for the farmers market and the amazing vegetables I am going to devour tonight.

I am grateful to be present at this exact moment.


New Beginnings

Healing is not an easy thing to do.  Especially on your own.  When we think of the word “healing” we think of people healing from a wound, a disease, a medical procedure.  Well, mine is a little more… dark.

I have begun a process of healing from my form of healing.  What the hell does that mean?  Well… I cope with my demons using alcohol, sexuality, and  being constantly surrounded by people.  It works well.  REALLY well.  TOO well.  This has been my why of “healing” from my past: complete avoidance.  But now I am finding that this has all been just a big detour.  I am still tormented, I am becoming more and more of an “alcoholic” (not sure if I want to use that term or not, but I’ll use it for now), and while I have admirers and constant relationship proposals, I do not have a real love in my life at the moment.  And thats what I am looking for.

My need for love is almost needy now.  I have always been independent, strong, free.  And pretty damn wild.  But I cling to relationships because deep down I know I need someone to pull me back down to earth when I start to float away.  When I am alone, I fear that I’ll just.. head to the cosmos and not return.

I was sober for 2 weeks, and then fell off on an bender of epic proportions.  I don’t remember most of the week.  But I do remember thinking “Well, this is it.  This is when I will finally reach the cosmos.  RAD, LETS GO!”  My friends were concerned.  It wasn’t just drinking every night and having a good time.  It was me > drunk me > zombie me > non responsive me > shaking and convulsing me.  Not cool at all.

I am now 2 days sober, eating healthy (although that was never my issue really), and feeling very positive.  Oh, and did I mention I do energy work?  My work, my passion, is to help heal other people’s energy and inner turmoil.  Yep….. go figure?  Or actually, makes total sense.

Now you know.  I will be honest and share my progress.  I know that today I am SO happy and healthy and ready, but there will be bumps along the way.  I hope that this can reach someone who can relate, and possibly help them (YOU) in any sort of way.


The Doge

So… my guy decided that this is the dog that he wants to get within the next year (aka the dog WE are getting this coming year).  I have to say, the Shiba Inu is quite distinguished and adorable.  I wouldn’t mind walking this creature everywhere and sharing 1/3 of the bed with one.  I’d probably call it Doge regardless of what we end up really naming him, because to me that’s what all of them are technically named.  Image



cute. i want pet it. now.

vegetarian stuffed peppered love

This summer we have been doing SO much cooking, trying to use mostly organic ingredients.  Last night we made vegetarian stuffed peppers. Close to being vegan, but we used cheese on top, couldn’t resist.  They came out amazing.


our spices


Luke’s favorite spice, Cumin 


for the filling we had organic brown rice, and then this above concoction: a fresh tomato, chopped green onion, garlic, cilantro, home-grown kale, sea salt, black pepper, and of course cumin



after combining the brown rice to the vegetables and tomato sauce, we added it into the cooked peppers



Add the cheese then throw back into the oven for a wee bit to melt that cheese up



a sprinkle of herbs de provence on top!  viola! 



Oozing health and yumminess.  I think next time we make these we will add one more vegetable in the mix (zucchini or broccoli), just to give it a little more kick.  

a short story



“kiss me”


“nothing, sorry..  keep watching”

he placed his hand on top of hers and stroked.  her hand twitched.  he lifted his off hers and placed it back in his lap.



“sorry for, that”




“just one kiss and-“


“I didn’t..I wasn’t talking to you.  sorry”

“stop saying that”


“that you’re sorry”

“shit, i don’t mean to-“




he trembled as they walked down the elaborate stairs.  he stumbled.  she walked briskly.  the audience was silent in the theatre, as the show continued on to the third act.  he and she would never know the ending.

“please, stop.  i’m sorry!”

she walked briskly still.

“if you say sorry one more time..”

“i won’t!  just stop.  let me explain.”

she made it to the main doors and pushed.  they didn’t move.  she pushed harder with her whole body.  they didn’t move.  she pulled, and then poured out onto the street of hot air and mist.

she went to the curb and crossed her arms, her green dress billowed in the wind.  he stayed back, watching her eagerly, pleading with every muscle in his body for her to just look at him.  she stood there, her back to him.  he waited.


then, she turned. 


“what the hell was that, Ben?”

“i… i don’t know.  i couldn’t help it.”

“you couldn’t help yourself from kissing my neck?”

he looked down.



“no what?”

“no, i couldn’t help it.  i couldn’t help myself from kissing you. please… kiss me.”


she walked off through the mist and steam that emanated from the sewers below on that warm summer evening.  he stared at the ground.  




he sat alone in his room, one light on.  he ate spaghettios, which he only ate when he was upset and needed to continue hurting his body.  he liked pain paired with pain.  he liked being the victim, probably more than anything else.  but he was also a predator.  he drank cheap vodka straight most nights.  he would hide his emotions until they came spilling out of him at the worst possible times.  he lost friends and family over petty passive aggressive statements that echoed into life-changing problems.  he wasn’t ugly on the outside.  and he had a few decent thoughts from time to time.  and he loved her.  a lot.



she went out for a few drinks at her favorite bar.  she met up with friends and they bought her champagne.  collectively they laughed about Ben and what an ass he was to even think he stood a chance with her.  she merely befriended him for the free glasses of wine and occasional opera seats.  she knew he loved her, but it still surprised her that he allowed himself to show it.  he was weak, cowardly, and vain, but she knew he had darker secrets.  she knew he loathed himself, and that knowledge was her power.

‘kiss me!” her friends mocked and laughed as they so often did with stories of Ben.  he was just a punchline to an endless joke that would become his life.  



as he stumbled down the endless stairs he realized he was his own worst enemy.  he realized this a couple times a week, but it still never seemed to make an impression on him.  he would not change.  he would play the predator in quiet, and the victim out loud. its not like he hadn’t been rejected before.  and its not like he thought he wasn’t lame.  but he also knew how to lure a girl in.  he always had a date to the opera.  he always could find a willing girl at a bar.  a victim.  someone he could play a game with without them knowing.  


his obsession with the weak would scare anyone, except no one knew.