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20/20

2/3/2020

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I started this entry a few times since the beginning of 2020. Each time I felt as though I had a bonafide purpose, but after a few minutes, my mind would lose any thought I tucked away and the pathways in my brain would quickly hit a dead end.

The entry below began Jan 4th. 

Reflection.
Progression.
Enlightenment.


Crisp.
Fresh.
Bright.

New.

Real.
Certainty.
​

Clarity of mind that feels like cool, clear air saturating my lungs that stimulates my thoughts, dreams, energy and intentions. I can’t help but feel a confidence and joy exuding from within and smiling is just how my face naturally settles.

Yes, I will choose this. That sounds brilliant. Wrap that shit up and I’ll take it to go because I don’t want to ever forget or lose this feeling. Ever.

Choices. 
Options.
Decisions.


It’s pretty amazing what happens when we thoughtfully choose our words.. Words we speak and use in our internal dialogue are truly powerful. They create our reality, and in turn, how we feel and progress through an event. “I can’t” quickly manifests into reality if you say it enough, and by changing up our internal dialogue positively, can make a world of difference.

That is where I left off and am a bit startled how quickly the tides within can turn. I returned to this entry mid January in hopes of finding clarity in a very, very dark time for me mentally.

Here it is:
My Seasonal Affective Disorder has stuck its claws into me big time, rendering me close to useless. These are the times that remind me as to why I needed to leave MN over a year and a half ago. These are the days that I need to read my own words and believe that it will get better. Today I choose to put one foot in front of the other in order to not let my ailing mental health take me over. I choose to push forward and I choose to be the best that I can be today.

I find my internal dialogue constantly telling me I should do a gazillion things in order to feel alive, or to spark a feeling other than bleakness. I want to do things that provide a sense of happiness, but don’t. I can’t . It honestly feels monumentally taxing on every level to begin these wonderful ideas. I feel paralyzed.

That was the end of that entry, and aside from a couple of gatherings that provided moments of happiness, I continued making a daily effort to avoid being swallowed by quicksand that was moving quicker than one would care to experience.

Reflecting on the past months since returning to Mpls, I recognize that I was struggling to see myself in a different way, in a familiar place. I tried to be proactive with my S.A.D. and switched up a couple of things work wise. I started a PT retail job to be social and creative, and scheduled a training client every single morning in order to feel a sense of purpose and gratitude. I also worked in the evenings  to avoid digging myself into a hole at home and succumb to the Yuck. My schedule may have changed, and I certainly have, but I really didn’t LOOK at myself or my dreams/goals differently in order to approach things in a different way. I tried, I pushed and I forced myself to DO things outside of my gerbil wheel and it got me nowhere except in a deeper and darker mental hole. I was doing the same ol’ same ‘ol, expecting different results. I would have seen that a mile away if it was someone else’s behavior, but damn self realization is arduous.

One day while I was avoiding all the things, I stumbled upon an Instagram post that intrigued me to actually click on their bio link (!) which led me to a posting that made me snap out of a cloudy headed mess.

“Things change big time, and they change because you are ready to start over. This is your rebirth, where you get a second chance at something, where you now have all this experience so that this time you ARE going to get it right.

You are making peace with how your role presents in the world as you open to a new path that supports you and allows you to unfold at your own rate, with no pressures from the external world saying it has to be a certain way.”
Earth Walk With KV

I am certain that you and I have read or rolled your eyes and those general thoughts in some way or another in the past, but the timing was right and it was shocking how deeply those words resonated with me. I was jolted in such a way that I felt a shift inside. Somehow I knew that I could let go of the expectations I gave into that were never my own in the first place. Perhaps this is the beginning of my surrender in order to accept my power. Perhaps I will stop saying perhaps and state that I am willing to accept my strength and commit to it once and for all.

Of course, the day after I read the entry above, I had the good fortune to have coffee with my dear friend I have known for over 22 years. Everything came out of my brain and mouth smoothly. I didn’t have to overly explain my random thoughts, or feel the need to back them up, not even the dreams I babbled about a million times over and over. There was no hesitation or need to filter my thoughts or feelings. We exchanged genuine love and support for one another with no agenda, and we were pure and present in the moment.

I honestly felt a ray of light cut through the yuck inside my brain that day, as if my sinuses cleared and I could finally take a deep breath. I finally felt heard. I finally felt understood. 

Clear and crisp air entered my lungs once again. 

Stripping off a hunk of my armor by trusting myself and being vulnerable made me realize how heavy that hunk of my bullshit is, and helped me remember how fucking strong I am. How strong WE are. We can accomplish/be/do all the things if we simply get out of our minds and our own way. It's an ongoing labor of love to trust ourselves and the powers that be, but you are so, so worth it.
 
Today I choose to stand proudly and au naturel, like it or not. Soak up the view, or look away, either way I'll be shining what my mama gave me, loud and proud.

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How I felt coming into this world and how I plan to feel leaving it
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For a taste of your whiskey I'll give you some advice

5/17/2019

1 Comment

 
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​“You've got to know when to hold 'em
Know when to fold 'em
Know when to walk away
And know when to run…
If you're gonna play the game, boy, ya gotta learn to play it right.”

There are certain cards that I hold close to my chest, and other hands I will toss into the air for everyone to see. 
Protecting myself or celebrating, neither one is taken lightly with me. On the rare occasion, I am dealt a hand that can go either way, and chances are that I’m gonna give it all I got to make it work until it makes sense to walk away.

Just like a relationship, you start out guarded and feel the other person out until you feel comfortable enough to toss in a little bit of your “colorful” life stories. You see if it plays out in your favor, and If the pot sweetens, odds are that you could find a winner! On the other hand, your deal may not be received as positively as you had thought and perhaps made you feel like taking those personal items the hell back from the undeserving soul not worthy of you. Frequently the story ends because the hand you were given was simply weak and it was in your best interest to pass. 

Comme ci, comme ça. 
Not bad, not good.
Indifferent.
That is the perfect depiction I would use for the relationship I was in this past year that ended something like this. 

Dearest Reno,
You are one of the kindest cities I have met in quite some time and you are as beautiful on the inside as you are on the outside. Your small town charm, hot desert weather, never ending sunshine and magical snow in the mountains as far as the eye can see are all amazing qualities that most humans would kill to live among and you deserve someone that appreciates you and all you have to offer. 


After the excitement of New Beginnings wore off, reality settled in as to what life was really going to be like if I stayed in this relationship. I realized about 8 months in that my needs were not going to be met if I continued any further unless a lightning bolt struck one of us.  I tried my best to re energize the relationship by trying out every single restaurant I read about to find something worth ordering again, I visited friends in surrounding areas for a different vantage point, I went to hear music so that I could feel like my old self again, I volunteered for causes so that I could feel appreciated, I took classes in order to learn more about myself, I tried activities that I never imagined I would, hell, I even switched jobs in hopes of meeting new people. Nothing worked in my favor, it was like hitting a brick wall, over and over. I was unfulfilled, uninspired, and missed the complexity and excitement that I had in my last relationship with Minneapolis. 

Dear gawd, I actually miss the hustle and bustle of a city?! 
It’s true, I really, really did. 
I guess you don’t know what you got until it’s gone, and man, MInneapolis makes me smile just thinking about it.

I craved Minneapolis’ creative energy, the vast number of humans that reflect the beauty of a rainbow, the wide-open spaces and lakes sprinkled here, there, and everywhere! I want out of this mountain valley that requires tire chains and I want to run in elevation under 4,500 feet!  A city person that dabbles in rural nature is who I truly am and I am not ashamed to admit it!

I realized that it’s not you, Reno, and it’s not me. We are simply 2 very different people coming from 2 very different worlds and I just don’t foresee us creating a future together. I know that you are going to move on and be valued by someone far better than I can give. I will only look fondly on this past year and always have a soft spot for you in my soul without regret.

And so it goes. 
No harm, no foul. 
All I can do is try my best at All The Things in this life that spark me up inside and I can honestly say that I always give it my all when it’s worth the hard work. I am not one to accept “what if” as the ending to my story.
Fortunately, I also know when it’s time to walk away from something that is unfulfilling or is no longer generating positivity in my life, or for anyone involved, even if that is the difficult choice.

Sometimes we hear our inner voice how we want to. We make the choice to stay inside our comfort bubble in order to fend off taking a step towards the unknown. Many of us tend to avoid the Hard Way, even if it’s The Best Way for ourselves and that’s where a lot of us get into trouble. So many people agonize over what to do next, trying to convince themselves that easy is better. By choosing comfort over vulnerability, we feel safe, and safe means certainty. Although NOTHING is EVER certain, we yearn for that solid ground so that we can avoid a misstep and possibly failing in front of everyone to only be “outed” as the fraud we often feel like we are. 

Hey goof ball, stop selling yourself short. You are deserving of happiness on every and any level that you desire, in any way that speaks to you. We are all deserving, no matter what anyone else says. The kicker in all of this, is that more often than not, it’s you that’s getting in your own way, not everyone else. We’ve all experienced a little self-sabotage here and there, right? Feels like shit to realize we shot ourselves in the foot, so, how about this crazy thought, instead of being your own blockade, you meander outside the lines a bit to see what possibilities open up to you? You may be surprised as to how much you are truly capable of, and won't know until you take a stroll into the unknown. Just a tiny bit. Cool/sad fact is, most people are having their own inner dialogue of What In The Fuck Am I Doing going on inside their head to even notice you possibly fucking it up.

In order to be where you are, no matter where that currently is, you had to take a step into uncharted territories. Didn’t have to be a huge step, and no one even had to notice, the point is that you put yourself out there, and you are still alive to talk about it…. good or bad, you had to courage to, as Brene Brown says, to “step into the arena”, and the arena is a scary, unexplored territory to explore. It can be a difficult place to maneuver if you’re not trusting your gut or forget how bad ass you truly are, especially when your junk is out there for everyone to see. You've  survived this long, might as well keep heading towards your personal happy place; you've got the skills, use 'em.

​One thing that is for certain, there will always be some sad, small minded human that will judge, complain, point, laugh or belittle you from afar. Fuck ‘em. They don’t have enough depth to comprehend your greatness and cannot understand what they don’t possess. You do not have time to waste pondering their toxic bullshit; you got places to be and goals to crush, baby. NOBODY flapping their gums with negativity deserves your respect until they have also put their shit out there among the other Life Explorers. Deserving people do not attack you if they disagree, they're smarter than that, and if not, walk far, far, away.

If anyone out there is contemplating taking a step towards New and Unfamiliar territory, I cannot over state how awesome it feels to just TRY IT. Dabble a toe if it’s overwhelming, what’s the worst that can happen? Maybe you experience heart ache, maybe you stumble a bit, but there is a good chance that you won't lose a limb and you’ll survive. Better yet, what if you actually rocked the shit out venturing outside of your bubble?!
Whoah.
What if? 
Can you imagine what letting go of Can’t or Shouldn’t would feel like to you?
Let's stop and dream for a moment.
Living life without regrets or What If’s?
That effervescent warmth, the gratification that you trusted your gut and succeeded on every level you only dreamt of? Holy crap that could be one of the most liberating feelings in the world and I’d bet the damn house that you can rock the shit out of anything if you fully trust in yourself and your strength. All said and done, It’s all YOUR choice. 
Do you in whatever way that feels right for you. Stand firm, lay down, start a dance troupe, do nothing, say hello to a stranger, go to college, buy a farm, move to Antarctica, there is no wrong way to do your life. You have freedom of choice to take a different path, any time, to anywhere. Big, short, weird, stinky or slippery, it's all good because it is your decision to take a seat at the table. The size of the wager doesn't matter, you just gotta take a gamble in order to reap the rewards. You can’t win if you don’t play.















 


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We need body rockin' not perfection

4/6/2019

6 Comments

 
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The skin on my face has been sloooowly heading south, like melting ice-cream atop a cone while my jowls have wandered aimlessly towards my neck that mimics a fruit leather or a molting deer antler.  While leaning forward, my skin follows suit, as if it is water settling on top of a tent into soggy reservoirs that can be manipulated by the slightest touch or flick of a finger. I feel like a stranger inside of someone’s used onesie and I want out.

I would like to say that I have been accepting this drooping gracefully, however, I am straight up telling you that it has been bothering the fuck out of me. I’ve been feeling betrayed by my body and wondering why it ignored all my efforts of healthy eating, using SPF every day and drinking tons of water? 

After many days of self-examination and realignment, my vain anger morphed into being pissed at myself for thinking my body did something wrong. I mean, REALLY? I should be praising it for taking me this far after beating cancer, breaking 7 bones, having 8 surgeries, and being hit by a car 3 times. I am an official asshat.

Body of mine, you are one good shit and I am sorry for having a momentarily lapse in judgement.

Why in the hell is it so difficult to simply accept aging and the natural process our bodies go through? 

Did I finally succumb to the shallowness of what we/I “should” look like via media, Photoshop, and statements that are shoved into our faces and ears at seemingly all hours of the waking day? 

I’d like to say no, but sometimes I do. 

There are a bazillion and one jacked up reasons that make us freak out about getting older, and I think a big one is because we have no control or say how ageing happens to us. Yes, we can take supplements, get tests, be active, have procedures done, etc., etc., but there is NO WAY to outsmart the inevitable process of ageing, it’s going to happen whether you want it to or not.

All our life we have the freedom to pick and choose how we present ourselves to the world. We choose our hairstyles, hair color, body weight, clothes, make up, facial hair, get tattoos, false eyelashes or bleach our teeth, but when it comes to aging, you get no real vote on what happens next.

The visuals of aging are so frustrating because so many of us take really good care of ourselves and feel mighty fine, when suddenly, you see yourself in a reflection and wonder “who in the hell is that? I look like a full-on adult, that could retire.”

 I have also realized that I’ve reached the age when no one under 30 really notices me, unless I am in the way. 

Fuck off to that load of bullshit and the barge it came in on. From here on out, I am shifting my brain to shut negativity down to celebrate my body’s perseverance and how completely awesome it really IS, not by judging it and finding fault. 

What’s messed up, is that It’s harder to do than it sounds and requires some serious mental diligence. I’m giving it my best shot, starting NOW.

My feet, legs and thighs have not let me down for almost 47 fucking years. They brought me on mind blowing adventures some people only dream about, danced to music that made me sore for days, kicked some serious ass in sports, helped me to literally outrun stupid choices, and are always up for a challenge.

My ass has been rubbed for good luck, slapped by some dreamy people, shook at many events, and has yet to let me down.

My belly has consumed more food and drink than most, loving every single minute of it. It is strong as steel while deflecting body checks, cleats, pucks, shoves and elbows. It keeps me standing proud and ready for anything that comes its way, but prefers butterflies induced by a breathtaking moment or human. 

My breasts have fought many battles and have the scars to prove it. They are beautiful and are fucking warriors, trust and believe.

My arms have protected me, helped me up, flailed with glee, held the weak, comforted many, provided strength and exchanged so much love it is unfathomable.

My mouth shares stories that one cannot make up, creates sounds that replace vocabulary and morphs into shapes that inflict painful, goofy and sideways smiles. It laughs loudly, is unabashed and relishes in a thoughtful kiss.

My eyes try their best to see the beauty in everything and everyone. They squint at the radiance of the sunshine, crinkle trying to find the truth, tear up for all sorts of reasons, blast open when surprised or delighted and squash closed while having a hysterical laughing fit. 

My hair is good, healthy hair, even the ones on my chin. After losing it to chemo, I am lucky to have hair.  It has been losing pigment since my 30’s and I prefer it not being grey and silver, so I dye it. My goal is to be self-assured and embrace my natural color someday, whatever the hell that is, or at least not be so bothered by it.  I am unable to embrace the grey; I fully admit it. Sue me.

This body may be slower than it used to be and at times it generates audible crackles and groans, but I would place a small wager that I could still win another bar fight if it came down to it (dear universe, don’t listen to that “back in my day” gloat, just smile and nod). Things could be better; things could be worse. The future is unknown, but I am certain that I can run like a cheetah after an ice cream truck while also pushing kids out of my way without throwing my back out.....just a hunch.

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Hola amigo!

2/11/2019

10 Comments

 
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I am currently packing and selling items as I get prepared to move out of my current place the end of April.  As I was trying to figure out if I should down size even more to avoid renting a U-haul trailer, I was reminded of one of the first times that I did. The memory still induces a chuckle and an "of course he did" with my brother and I. Thought story time could provide a break in watching the US become Antarctica's twin.


In my late 20’s, and the beginning of the century (WTF!?), I was separated from my husband J/Jarrod and living in MN. My friend Melissa in CA and I were catching up on the phone and I confided that I had no idea on what to do next. Knowing that I missed the Bay Area, she told me that the apartment below her had opened up and that I should move back. Of course! I immediately went to get a hitch installed on my Subaru Forester and rented a U-Haul trailer for the move back west.

When my dad heard the news, he insisted that he would go with me, so I would not drive alone.

Oh hell to the no. My father and I were never, ever, close like that. We didn’t have a tight bond or embark on outings together besides grabbing a quick lunch here and there. I don’t really have many one on one memories with him at all to be honest, so the idea of me and dad together 24/7, for over 3 days in a car was mind boggling. 

In my pre-teen years, dad sent our family on spring break to Scottsdale, and would then join us for the weekend to golf a few days at the end. He usually spent his free time at the country club golfing or socializing back then, and I was the only family member that hated golfing. We even had fights over me not wanting to play golf, and came to a settlement on me playing tennis instead. This was an ideal compromise because the court was away from the clubhouse douchbaggery, and closer to the snack bar that sold soft serve ice cream with m&m's.

My teenage years consisted of me shaving my head, being anywhere besides a suburb and hating the country club. Since my dad was on the board or maybe the VP(?) of the country club, and I was more interested in skateboarders, there was pretty much no chance we would ever bond well during those years.

In my 20's I was living between SF and MN, fully immersed in the party scenes, and my dad was remarried, doing his thing.  He was doing him, I was doing me. 

When dad offered to pay for hotels and gas for the road-trip, I then figured, “why not”?

The last afternoon in MN we went to pick up our trailer at the U-Haul facility. After attaching the trailer to my car, it seemed that my hitch was installed incorrectly, so when the electrical work for the trailer connected to my car’s brakes, the fuse for my brake light blew. My car would not work without a brake light for safety and would not move out of park. Since we were literally leaving early the next day, and a plane ticket to MN was already purchased for dad, we had no time to get the hitch properly fixed. Looked like I would have to pry open the floor shift cover and press down a button with a tool to release the locking mechanism until we reached CA, every single time we needed to drive. The tool needed was currently in my apartment, and there was no one that could bring it to me at the U-Haul place, they were all with me, with no working car.

This should have been a sign for something, somewhere.

Then this happened: The kind employee at the U-Haul was trying his best to help us and then told me to use his car to run back to my apartment and brought me his keys! You just can’t make this shit up.

I started up that Isuzu Amigo and the bass thumped so thick and loud from the entire back seat that held enormous speakers, I could barely keep it together on my drive back home.  I felt embarrassed and bad ass at the same time, as I proceeded to pretend I was rollin' in a '64 all the way to my apartment.  I would have killed for a cell phone back then to take a photo.

Upon returning to U-Haul, bass and all, I thanked that amazing employee with hugs, never ending thank you's and even wrote a letter to his manager after I moved to CA, explaining how he saved the day. People never cease to amaze me and I really hope that guy got a raise or a plaque of some sort, because he went above and beyond.

The trailer made it back to my place at 24th and Lyndale (where the infamous bicycle tossing argument took place years earlier) and my father noted the trailer looked like it wasn't attached correctly to the ball on the hitch. We each took a side to roll it backwards and as we were holding it up, it slipped out of his hands and it dropped. On my left pinky toe, breaking it.

Sign #2?

We actually managed to pack the trailer and car full to the brim with help and were ready for take off. Johnny K, me and my black pug Clyde were off to CaliforNyAy in the a.m. for our Keeler road-trip!

Oh, did I mention that my dad didn’t plan to hold Clyde or drive the entire trip? He didn't either.

The first day of our trip I observed and confirmed that my dad did not love dogs, and is therefore not from this planet . Clyde tried to sit on my dad’s lap, and dad was NOT interested in having a dog near him and would not be partaking in holding him. Mind you, the car was smooshed to the brim with shit, and Clyde’s ONLY choices of where to sit or lay were on my lap while driving (that’s safe, rt?) or dad’s….so Clyde was on my lap the entire 1,900 +/- miles to Oakland. Of course, not a terrible thing, but not ideal for driving half way across the country with close to 30lbs of dead weight on your thighs.

That evening we stayed at a Red Roof that dad paid for (!) and as we entered our room, Clyde went batshit crazy since he had been cooped up all day in the car. He was running in circles around us a million miles an hour, while snorting and barking, as dogs do, and to be real, I wanted to as well. In order to avoid blowing up after dad asked why Clyde was acting crazy, me and Clyde immediately went out to the parking lot to run our pent-up energy out of our system while dad went to get us food and beer (!) That day was a win win for everyone since no one yelled or was murdered .

The second day’s scenery was pretty non eventful. If you have ever taken 80 towards CA from the Midwest, you know of which I speak. There is barely a turn in the road, anywhere, and pretty flat landscape. We were getting antsy in the car and had nothing to look at until we saw horses in the surrounding pastures.

“Why, hello there horky,”! said dad to every single horse, while rapidly waving and smiling from the car window, over and over and over. What the...? I had never seen my father goofy like this before and I was digging it. I honestly felt like we had something in common and it was The Weird Gene. I joined in with hork introductions to all and for the first time my father was not just a golf playing, republican, country clubber. He was a tad fucking weird and so was I. 

The rest of that day, Dad was pretty chill after the horse/horky introductions, until I played Fatboy Slim’s You’ve Come A Long Way Baby. I was legitimately floored. The man that said on more than one occasion that he "loves that Anne Murray" was hand dancing with major intent, shaking his shoulders to the beat and had all sorts of funky moves. I had no idea who was inside this car with me, worlds were colliding and it was magical. We danced like our lives depended on it to that CD more than most could stomach and dad was heard saying “I really like this guy Fatboy Slim”.

Another day with no bloodshed or yelling. Pretty sure we are related at this point.

Then the 3rd and last day of driving happened.

While on an arm/leg/dog pee break during a drive through the snowing Sierra's, dad realized that in CA you can buy beer in gas stations and asked if it was legal to drink as a passenger…Say what!? If I am correct, pretty sure it’s not, but that didn’t seem to matter or bother my suburban father, who then purchased a 40oz for the road.

What in the actual fuck!? Count to 3,567,234 Molly.

Let me clear, dad never accepted invitations to drive, or offered, but I was really scared driving through mountains in the snow and wind. I had also never driven with a trailer on my car prior to this trip. My shoulders were to my ears, Clyde was in my lap and I couldn’t even demand that my dad take over the wheel because he was enjoying a frosty cold one in my car without a care in the damn world. None. Nada. Nothing. 

In a weird way, maybe that was for the best? He could have easily been an overbearing dad yelling orders on how to drive and THAT would have been grounds for murder, without any doubt or pause in my mind.

We pushed through the mountains and the Bay Area traffic that day without a fight, and finally arrived at my apartment on 61st and MLK.  I was so happy and relieved that I didn’t even care that the Bart was literally across the street and above my apartment or even when my father made sure to tell me that exact fact more often than none that evening at dinner.

To be quite honest, I don’t remember much after that dinner, except that dad left for a flight the very next day. While driving dad to the airport, he said “Jarrod (my ex) is lucky that I didn’t run into him, because he wouldn't have known what hit him”.

That was one of the 3 nicest things my father had ever said to me up until that point of my adult life. The other 2 being “hurt my daughter, and you’ll be in deep shit with me” to Jarrod while I went to use the restroom the first time they met and the other was telling me I looked beautiful on my wedding day. 

That’s the good stuff right there. When all is said and done there honestly could have been a murder, but it would have be for me, not by me. I am more than good with that,  that is a solid right there.

That road trip is honestly one of my favorite memories with my dad. I saw firsthand how I got to be “unique” and it made sense as to how I was spawn from that man. As much as we were and ARE different on so many levels, we shared our freak flags and got to celebrate that shit together, just us two. For a tiny moment, we were the same, without any doubt or misunderstanding. Just the two of us, on our own father and daughter planet.


10 Comments

Takes a Licking & Keeps On Ticking

1/31/2019

1 Comment

 
Happy 2019!

I had a fantabulous new year post that was set to go, when my computer caught the Black Screen Of Death moments after my computer decided to do an update. At that point, I was also dealing with Cement Head of Death aka: the flu, so needless to say, I was down for the count for a while.

That is some wack ass way to start the year off, however, I’d like to think I already got my major sickness of the year out of the way. Perhaps the universe also wanted to me to rewrite the beginning of my book all over again by deciding to jack up my flash drive too!? YAY!

After a slew of physically writing, not using the internet much, and sitting back to reflect A LOT, I was able to clarify what I want out of the upcoming year. I knew that without a doubt, I wanted to move forward in any way possible.

DO.
CREATE.
CONNECT.
FOLLOW THROUGH.

I realized what ignites me years ago when I started Happy Trail and during that time, I never gave a second guess to ANY of it. It just felt right. I made my website and left for Europe, planning to transform it into a beautiful movement/idea when I returned home.

Upon my return to the states, my creativity was sidelined by my own negative self talk, and I doubted myself on so many levels when huge possibilities came my way. I sabotaged any possibility of success in order to avoid public failure, as I always have. The moment I get a taste of the smallest nugget of success or public accolade, I freak the fuck out.
What if everyone ridicules me?
They’ll find out I am stupid.
Why do they want ME to__________, must be a mistake.
They will wonder “Why is she here,who does she think she is”?

Blah blah blah, talk talk talk.
I am fed up “trying” to overcome my insecurities and then succumb to my assumptions that I will flail and fail when my shit is all out there. Being aware that fear is my kryptonite and not doing anything to rectify it is just lazy and getting stale. I can look inward until I am blue in my damn face, but nothing's gonna change by flapping my gums, or meditating longer, it’s DOING that creates growth.
​

I know this. I knew this. I ignored this. I let anxiety and second guessing in again and opted for safe….and for me that was NUMBING.

The end of 2017 I was caught up focusing on what the city could not provide me and felt wholeheartedly the stresses it did produce. I couldn’t feel the brilliant and freeing fire in belly being an entrepreneur and could only see the drawbacks. That mindset inadvertently nudged me to finally try out what it was like to live among mountains, near my family and test out the desert.

As we know, it was hard to start pretty much all over again at 46, and I had many hiccups, meltdowns and panics. Feeling lost and unsure, all I wanted to feel was safe and secure. This was the beginning of my own Should’s that I have always preached against. I should take a job that provides (free!)benefits, 401K, killer discounts, donates millions, and is taking a stand against our president because they CAN and DO. I did it, too. I went to a desk job 5 days a week, spoke on the phone to wonderful humans all over the world, had my organic lunch on the Truckee river with some of the smartest people I’ve encountered, yet I was miserable inside. I wanted SO BAD to make this company my future. My career. I would look back on this moment and laugh at how foreign this all seemed to me at the beginning, and reflect on how  I excelled at making the world a better place, while having access to technical gear to travel the world!

Truth is, I am not that person. I despise working at a desk, I don’t do extreme camping, climbing, skiing, fishing or ultra anything. I do enjoy camping for a week or 2 in warm weather, hiking for a few days straight, doing physical events that have a finish line on the same day, working outside of a time clock and being able to write or do errands at random times of the day. I realized that this past year/new job was a l slap in the ass lesson for me.

I was SO UNCOMFORTABLE beyond words every single day, that I honestly asked myself: what can get me out of this mess I made? NO, it wasn’t horrible, many people would LOVE the opportunity I was provided, but I knew that this was not going to be my future and what in the hell is next? I have worked for myself for over 15 years, what would I change to make me love it again? I didn’t want to revert to easy, familiar ways, however, I knew I wanted to continue helping others and connecting with people by sharing my story and services, possibly in different ways this time around.

I came upon some pretty amazing answers to me questions, and at that time, a few people reached out to me for personal training. I had still been training in the evenings for extra $, since the office job was a large pay cut, but had not taken new clients due to my schedule at The Office Job. I sat in my skin for a moment to feel how it may be to train again. Does it feel good, or is it just an “out” from my job? I realized I missed training, perhaps not in the capacity that I was back home, but doing it a few days a week sounded lovely. One on one, helping another human feel good face to face worked for me...and well, pays a lot more, and gives me flexibility and time to devote to my next chapter. Created by me, my truth, and not my fears or the negative voices in my head.

In the past few years, I have come to know what I am truly capable of and excel at, I just never honestly accepted my worthiness to succeed at it. Many people I knew growing up in the 80’s and 90’s that were successful, in terms of money, were dicks about it, so I equated success with bragging and entitlement. Talking about accomplishments feels odd to me, like gloating, as if I am proclaiming I can do something better than someone else, or it evokes a guilt that I have “more” than someone else. You know what? I have worked my damn ass off, and I can do some things better than other people, pretty sure you can and do too.
​

We are different, thank goodness. Each and every one of us has a story to share that we can learn from and that is beautiful beyond measure. Soak it up, feel the positivity each of us has and share the shit out of your talents because working together is a powerful tool. Our amazing talents and gifts that provide us with success, in whatever way that means to you, should not be shameful. Desiring great things for yourself, striving for success on your own terms, and following your dreams is not selfish and you are not lost. In fact, NOT giving the universe my unique gifts, or yours, for that matter, is selfish in a backwards way. Each one if us has something to contribute to this world, to teach, to share, to give. If some people don’t accept it, oh well, I will still be here. Each day I can try my best to come from a place of respect and positivity, to share some of my light, and that is really all that I can do. Try my best.

That grip I had on my strength years ago has found its way back, and it appears wiser. It’s lived in and looser, but works smarter. It feels the curves, and leans into them instead of questioning every single move. My plan of attack is brewing, and for once, I am not gonna shout it to the masses in a knee jerk reaction or mania. I’m going to let this recipe simmer, revel in the process, and dabble here and there. I am making sure to be focused, yet open to the possibilities in the unknown because that’s where all the good shit lives. If it was certain, or easy, everyone would have the good shit. It’s not at all easy, and nothing is ever certain, but anything that evokes pure joy and a lust for an incredible life is worth the fucking battle, broken bones and all.

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If I could just find those matches.....

12/11/2018

2 Comments

 
​My last entry in August caused so many people to reach out to me that it undoubtedly proved how important it is for all of us to share our stories. From what I hear, we are mentally and physically exhausted trying to be everything for everyone or striving to be the ideal human. Many of us are simply trying our best to push through each and every day keeping our chins up and some of us are struggling to keep it together on all accounts to not drop to the floor and give up. Our personal battles, experiences and successes are the common thread we share as humans on some level, yet at the same time, make us the extraordinary individuals that we are.
 
After divulging all the feelings trapped inside of me in my last post, I felt like I took a mental dump the size of Mars. For some inexplicit reason, more than ever, I HAD to shove all my stuff out to the universe and get It the fuck out of me or I was going to continue being paralyzed by my yuck.
 
I received some emails that brought tears to my eyes knowing that in some small way I made someone feel comfort and a sense of acceptance with my words. I know the power depressions’ grip can have and It takes a fuck ton of strength to reach out and be open with another person. Those actions poked an ember in my soul that I could not ignore.
 
While writing, I felt as though I was being articulate as to what goes through my mind during an unusually dark time for me and how I live with depression that visits me from time to time. I did so with the intent to shed light on the topic, to bring a voice to it, and ideally provide a smidge of solace during a lonely time in someone else’s life. I was opening my soul up in such an uncomfortable and raw way because I knew that I would begin restoring my spirit in some form. I felt like a ton of bricks had been lifted from my psyche when I completed that entry and I KNEW it was what I needed to do for myself and to possibly help someone else.
 
That blogs objective was to “pull back the curtain” on the twisted and topical vantage points we are viewed from or at. To possibly point out that none of us really know what is going on behind closed doors or minds of anyone dealing with any sort of challenges or depression. People don’t always look depressed when they are dealing with it, they don’t always act sad when they are crumbling inside, and they sure as shit don’t always feel depressed.Just look at social media. Of course, everyone is indeed different. Personally, my depression can come on as fast as a light switch, but usually stems from feeling detached from a support system or facing complete uncertainty. When all that negative energy clumps together inside a usually social, funny and positive person, all hell breaks loose on my spirit, and it is near impossible to see the light when I cannot seem to get my head out of the yuck.
 
“Do something about it” or “toughen up” would perhaps be many folk’s response to someone in a “funk” and both of those responses were given to me after my last post. Apparently, they read the entry as though I was venting about the trials and tribulations of growing pains in a new city. That it was “hard” to be strong during my situation, and some responses threw me for a loop, I gotta say. I felt like I was being concise and clear by opening up my fucking gut in such an uncomfortable way for me by admitting the fact that I have suffered from depression and anxiety for decades. Sure, this move to NV has morphed into the complete unknown for me and is tough to navigate, don’t get me wrong, but that’s par for the course I’d think with moves that never had a definitive objective in the first place. My goal was to explain how paralyzing depression or anxiety can be and at times uncontrollable to some. In my case it slapped me the face and the fear of simply asking for help and feeling misunderstood once again was enough to hold me firmly down.
 
Sharing that I was tired of always being strong was to let people know that even though I seem to do things with vigor and share it at a high volume, does not mean that I have it together inside, or any which where. I am generally freaking out mentally with insecurity and anxiety 80% of my day. When I say that I can barely leave the house at times, I fucking mean it. This seasonal shift of daylight doesn’t really put a kick in my step either, but fuck, what am I gonna do besides turn on my Happy Light from Costco and hope for the best, right?
 
Look, I have shit, you have shit, we have shit, and each of us processes our shit a LOT differently than the other. You may cope with your yuck by consuming alcohol, smoking weed, eating enough for an army, or perhaps you choose to not feel the yuck. Some of you may meditate, push through that shit and simply persevere. Since we only know what we know and may not have the same coping mechanisms or biology as other’s, it is difficult to understand why one can’t just see the light at the end of the tunnel. Our unique chemistry steers us in all sorts of kooky ways and our feelings may seem out of our control. Fortunately, writing has been a savior to me, and when I do share it with other humans it is just SO fucking fabulous to hear that I made someone feel understood, you really have no idea what that means to me. THAT is what I need in my belly and in my soul. To know that I have made a positive impact somehow, if even for a tiny moment. That feeds the fire and light in my chest and is what I live my life for. That fire and drive has eluded me, and I must figure out how to get it back to where it is meant to be, and I will. It’s always found its way back to me in the past, this time around it just happens to be a real stubborn son of a bitch and taking its sweet ass time. 
 
I really want to make it clear that if you are struggling to ignore or perhaps demolish your own yuck, you are not even remotely close to being alone in that fight. I wish, with every bone in my body, for you to move forward in any direction you need to in order to find your truth and happiness again. I will be doing the work too. Seeking beauty and love above all else in hope that it will be truly felt inside, not just spoken about. Let’s try to manifest the positivity to outshine any darkness that tries to creep its ugly ass our way, because WE deserve all the goodness, and the darkness needs a good ol' fashion beat down.

​love, molly
 
 

 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

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I know it looks like I'm movin' but I'm standin' still

9/19/2018

2 Comments

 
​I began this entry over a month ago with such focus and strength because I was in the process of sharing some deep truths and liberating insight with all ya’ll. After some life hiccups, there was a pause with my writing. I proceeded to crack open some deep, dark and really difficult shit that shoved me into a pretty dark hole for a bit. I avoided writing in fear of sounding too negative or too emotional, and then there is the possibility of just sharing too damn much. 
Yes, apparently there is such a thing.
 
With that being said, finishing this post has been like forcing a watermelon into a fucking soda can.
 
The post began like this last month….
 
Summer is slowly coming to an end and Autumn is heading our way.
I was sweating my titts off, literally and figuratively, in the Reno desert this Summer. Damn, Gina. The sun is so close in this elevation that it constantly reminds me that I am not from these here parts and I may turn into jerky at any given point.
 
With my new location and vantage point, I am realizing that I am pretty much a big wuss when it comes to extremes on every account these days and cannot tolerate them.
Too hot. Too cold. Too hip. Too antisocial.  Too young. Too boring.
Nope x 6.
I literally can’t do it.
I do not have it in me.
For the first time in my life I want to be a happy medium. Happy being the operative word.
That freaks me the hell out to type, and perhaps freaks you out to even read.
Middle ground, is that settling for beige?
 
I am usually a go HUGE or go home person.
Fuck yes!
Fuck no!
Eat none of the foods.
Eat all of the foods.
Talk, talk, talk.
Clam up and shut down.
Party until we drop!
Shall not move all day.
 
I’d never half ass anything, good or bad.
 
These days, I am simply “here”, becoming more and more invisible.
I have no huge feelings about anything, either way. I am not finding passion in my soul towards anything in particular and I know this is not healthy. This is nothing I can ignore, is deeply out of character for me, and being vulnerable is painfully uncomfortable.
 
Admitting that I am not doing well and having no idea how to ask someone for help is killing me slowly because I cannot do it. Reaching out is proving to be near impossible for me and I need to push through the yuck. Sure, I will seemingly share anything with anyone, at any time, just ask me for a story and I shall perform my song and dance for you in the way that only I can provide. I do that well, and stating that makes my skin crawl on many different levels.
 
I am tired of being the happy and funny one all the time.
I am mentally exhausted trying to keep myself accountable because folks assume that I am out being a happy social butterfly spreading goodness all over the place.
 
I am tired of holding it all together.
Being strong makes everyone else comfortable, it’s what I do.
I am not as strong as everyone makes a point to tell me I am- ALL THE TIME.
I make you uncomfortable being vulnerable. I’ve seen it.
My feelings make you uncomfortable? I am too dramatic?
I have seen the faces and witnessed the actions of people when I am fragile.
No one wants my shit.
It’s too much.
I am too much.
This is where I lose my direction and hope.
 
Fuck.
This is really scary to share.
 
I am needing control more than I ever realized.
Having control keeps me from feeling insecure.
I am constantly battling and pushing myself to be strong, to ignore the yuck.
“You are so strong, it’s what you do, you always make things happen yourself!” say people.
Weakness means I am incapable and unable.
Who wants that?
 
I remember that Ignoring The Uncomfortable began full force when I was going through cancer treatment.
Anytime someone asked me what I did that day, or asked how I was, I had nothing to really say except that I went to chemo that day, possibly puked, maybe had radiation, or was taken on a car ride. Not much of a topic for chit chat, and no one knows how to respond to that answer, it’s a no-win situation. There were ALWAYS two looks: Their guilt of being healthy or a look of pity towards me, both of which pissed me off feeling as though I was delicate or less than.
 
Those experiences clammed me the hell up and I proceeded to become quite introverted. Who wants to hear all about the chemo therapy and sleeping you did? Not many. For months, nothing new was happening in my world, and it taught me to ask other’s how they were or what they did, and I always deflected the conversation from myself so as to not make waves of uncomfortableness for them or me.
 
Those skills plant their roots pretty deeply and move into relationships on all levels:  friendships, romantic ones and internally. That skillset isn’t healthy to hold on tightly to, has been used repeatedly and is a lonely way to live in the world. Each and everyone of us wants to be heard, understood and accepted on some level. People can listen and nod, but that means nothing until push comes to shove. If you are dealing with some deep shit, and all of a sudden you are on a journey alone, that shit is a hard trip to take by yourself. Doing things alone doesn’t mean you always choose to, it may be all you know.
 
I guess what I am saying is that I am having a really tough time here in Reno and I am sick and tired of coasting in my fog of false fronted strength. Things are currently really, really hard and I am feeling pretty alone the majority of the time. Sometimes I cry, and that’s OK, don’t pull the fire alarm, humans cry.
Sometimes I don’t always provide comic relief, and that doesn’t mean that I am mad at you, or crabby. I just may be comfortable in the moment, or tired from being up since 4:00a.m.
 
My point is this. Sharing this will no doubt be therapeutic for me and hopefully provide some strength and clarity for myself and maybe another person feeling lost in the shuffle of life these days. Searching for a connection can feel pretty overwhelming at times and it’s a difficult road to take by yourself, but you really aren’t all alone. I’m also out here looking for clues in the sky, wondering what in the hell is next and trying to welcome all the goodness instead of thinking about the fact that my dog is my best friend in Reno and she’s only known me for 2 weeks.
 
Now, if you see me, or chat with me, please do not be my cheerleader and say “it’s gonna be OK, you’re the best!” or look at me with That Look, ok?  I don’t always need or want a god damned pep talk, but what I do need is a friend to listen, not fix and to be heard. I hope to find that here soon and am taking baby steps away from my inner voice of yuck.
Thank you to the folks that have provided a supportive shoulder in the past, it means more to me than you will ever know. Please feel free to reach out to me, I will appreciate it beyond words. Remember to leave the pom poms at home.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

2 Comments

Commando

5/4/2018

3 Comments

 
​It’s amazing what a difference of 1,748 miles can make.
 
                         Minneapolis, MN     Reno, NV             
 Rainfall (in.)       32.3645                10.223   39.2           
 Snowfall (in.)      53.0958                24.1705                 
 Prec. Days          63.952                 22.6714                 
 Sunny Days        198                       252                        
 Avg. July High     83.5124               89.8657                  
 Avg. Jan. Low     7.44528                22.8324                 
Comfort Ind.(high=better) 42               73                       
 UV Index              3.1                         5.1                      
 Elevation ft.          854                      4,612                    
Target Stores        15 +                       2                         
Trader Joe’s           7                           1                        
Public Dispensaries  0                      15+                      
Brothels                     0                       5?                        

It has been about 2 months since I got in to my tightly packed Subaru to leave the flat lands of Minneapolis in search of sunshiny mountains. I picked up my BFF on a Sunday morning, and off we went on Highway 35 until we took THE only right, on 80.  
 
We witnessed white out conditions somewhere during our second day of driving, along with winds so strong that they literally blew over semi’s. For real, the highways were closed for them. Sue and I persevered, because I am a baller driver, and she was cool and collected, perfect team.
 
After the Snow and Wind Hell cleared, we were then attacked by 3,485,963 tumbleweeds, give or take. I have never witnessed a human that found it to be so hysterical and entertaining to be pummeled from all angles by tumbleweeds, and I am pretty sure that Sue split a gut laughing and shrieking so hard with pure glee. Brilliance.
​
That evening, we continued to find an oddly dated hotel near SLC, Utah and ordered in Chinese comfort food, because I was physically tired from gripping the damn wheel so hard that day.
And I needed a 40oz.
 
By the time that we I arrived in Reno the next day, we had learned everything that is currently happening with the entire cast of the ever-loved show from our youth: What’s Happening (R.I.P. Shirley and Re-Run) and may never listen to Sirius’ First Wave the same way again.

I gotta say that seeing all the sights with someone that has never had the pleasure of doing so before that drive, was pure joy viewing it with their eyes. I have completed that road trip between CA & MN almost 10 times, and I was a bit blasé thinking about the drive. I could not have imagined how much humor a tumble weed could hold, and that being forced to rest my car at a truck stop would provide such fabulous items as the photo book “Whose Butt?” and packaged pickles larger and seemingly older than me.

During her short visit in NV, Sue finally experienced the beauty of Lake Tahoe that I never shut up about, gazed upon pine trees taller than she’d ever been around and witnessed the oddities of Reno that I enjoy to no end. It was comforting to embark on this new adventure with a dear friend, but also heart wrenching knowing that she may be the last familiar face I see for quite some time.

When I dropped Sue off at the airport, I was in full denial, and didn’t want to get all gooey. I was trying to stay strong while waving good bye, then immediately began to hysterically ugly cry the second I got in my driver’s seat. If crying was my new job in NV, I would have got a fucking promotion that day….and could still be employed.

Cue freak outs.
This is not a holiday; this shit is for real.
I LIVE in mother F’in Reno, I know no one besides the 3-people related to me, and one of them is 12 years old.
I also need a job that doesn’t involve crying and does include a paycheck.

Starting entirely fresh at the new age of 46, may not be the smoothest idea I’ve ever had, but it can’t be the worst.
 
Sure, I walked away from a comfortable career of 12+ years, and left a huge amount of people that I love more than the moon, but that’s when we need to get out of our comfort zone, right?
Shake things up to progress in life?
Embrace the unknown and ignore the fear and self-doubt.
Rah, rah, shish boom bah!
Fuuuuuuck youuuuuuuuu and your ass face, Keeler.
 
I am so far from comfort, security, belonging, that home feels a million miles away.
 
I literally cannot run into anyone I know.
 
Generally, at this age, we move for a job, OR maybe move with or for someone, and have a small feeling of community from the get-go. You gain insight from colleagues about the new city you landed in and have a conversation with another human a few times a day at work, or at home. Perhaps you attend company functions or a happy hour and meet someone that you click with or have something fun to attend without totally free balling it all the time.  At the very least, you have a pay check coming in, and people depend on you.
 
Besides my brother’s family, his barber, and my landlord, no one knows I live in Reno, or who in the hell I am.
 
I miss seeing people’s smiling faces when I show up, knowing we’ll have good conversation and probably a lot of laughs. I love feeling their positivity when I leave, and the connection we created.

I want a purpose.
 
I am either under or over qualified for jobs here. Warehouse or White Collar. Elan Musk’s factory does not currently have a need for my skill set, unless I did security, and with this altitude, I am getting my ass kicked, not giving ass kicking’s.
 
I did accept a PT retail position that has a ton of perks and many like-minded people to work with, which is fabulous. Feels like every fitness trainer and college student in Reno works there, and they are supportive on all accounts. Plus, I get free fitness classes, and gym memberships, so I really couldn’t dream up a retail job better than that.
 
I am also supposed to start teaching a bootcamp class next week, 2 days a week, at the fitness center of a golf club in Sparks. They say no one goes to classes at the time I was hired for, so, they hope that I bring IT, and I hope to werk their shit UP in there!
 
Baby steps. Patience. Life shall start to settle in due time.
 
I am just aching to feel at ease, expel a sigh of relief, and to feel a sense of comfort that the growing pains have passed. To feel content and established cannot come soon enough….and to have a friend to grab a beer with over the age of 22 would be pretty swell too, that feels weird.
 
It gets old doing everything by myself. Mainly it gets exhausting always having “topical” conversations. Never building from another conversation I had, it’s always like a first date. Anything I may do with a possible friend from here on out, pretty much is a first date, it’s all background, getting to know each other, seeing if we click. First dates are exhausting, but you can't win if you don't play, or something like that.
 
Again, this is regular life stuff. My situation is just condensed as far as everything and everyone being new, and anything I wish for relies solely on my own actions. Reno IS an amazing city, the people are SO nice, and I really am having terrific experiences, don't get me wrong. I am just feeling defeated these days, and perhaps knowing that the energy in MN is bubbling over to bring summer the hell on, makes me home sick for that familiar,crazed feeling we all share in MN when spring has sprung.
 
Flux is my current state, resulting from my bright idea to up and move for sunshine and mountains, while relying on the Universe to present me with opportunities. Funny, we all really should be doing that, to some extent. Sit back and let it all unfold. Don’t over think what’s next, be present, loosen your bone, appreciate what IS, and trust in yourself. We can do hard things, we can tackle our yuck, focus on the yum, and some day we’ll look back on this and wonder why my panties were in such a bunch. Underwear is so over rated.



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Let me see you shake your tail feather

1/9/2018

1 Comment

 
I woke up December 31st feeling as though I had a deadline. I had to make use of all the positivity and clarity I woke up with, or I thought it would apparently be sucked away by a ginormous vacuum at midnight.  My creative energy and inspiration would escape from my mind, lost, never to be found, ever again. 2018 could begin unsatisfactory, just like soggy Rice Krispies, if I did not do ALL the things. Oh, hell no.

When the sunshine has found it’s way inside my brain, it feels like a HUGE energy rush inside of my entire body, and I find it very difficult to harness it in to one area. My mind races, and one spark sets off 3 more, those sparks ignite new synapses and then I have a full-fledged forest fire burning within my body. I SHOULD stop, drop, and roll. I SHOULD chill the fuck out, pause, and breathe. I SHOULD slow down and listen, but it is hard when most of those fires are Type A, clapping to be seen, and vying to be heard. Apparently, if I do not take note of every single spark, I could seemingly forget the MOST AMAZING thought EVER TO BE HAD by myself, and then WHAT WOULD HAPPEN THEN? HUH? WHAT!? Hint: life will not end, spazz.

Truth be told, on Dec 30th, my soul was spiritless. My mind was filled with static and the lights were off. I did nothing productive, what so ever, except random exercises for my legs so I felt blood move inside of me.  I was seemingly paralyzed on my couch or in my bed, depending on the hour. It sounds absolutely lovely to many, I know, and I am not complaining, however, it was as if I had no choice in the plans. Someone snuck into my brain while I slept Friday night to turn it off and demanded that I check the fuck out. When this happens, I wonder if it because I am surrendering to my seasonal depression, and ignoring dealing with my Yuck, or if I honestly need a day to not use my brain in any way, shape, or form. Perhaps the Universe is telling me to slow the hell down and focus, giving me a day to refill my happy tank.

Since I broke my clavicle in August, I haven’t really been able to concentrate or focus as I used to, or want to. I recently learned that I had some residual byproducts from a concussion, so waking up on Fuck Yeah Sunday with something good bubbling inside felt incredible and I shall accept it with glee!

That morning, many hours were spent in a bookstore, and the other part of my day was reflecting on 2017. A friend of mine does an annual year end writing ritual inspired by various questions that has always peaked my interest. I HAD to do it before 2018 began because one of my relentless fires kept bugging me OVER AND OVER to do so.

Question sampling from The Not So Big Life:  The Year End Ritual by Sarah Susanka :
• What has inspired me over the past year?
• What were my sorrows and disappointments from the year, and how have I been changed by them?
• What were my enthusiasms, accomplishments, creations and joys, and how have I been changed by them?
• How am I different this year than I was last year at this time?
• Are there any things I’m being asked to do right now that I am rejecting?  If so, what would happen if I simply did them?
• Are there any things I’m trying to force into existence right now?  If so, what would happen if I stopped trying to make them happen?
• What recent synchronicities do I recall?    What do they appear to point toward?
• What is it that I wish to focus on or experience in the coming year?
• If I could see far into the future, what wishes, longings, or creations will I be bringing into being, or engaging in some way?

I wrote endlessly, with a pen, a million miles an hour.  There were unfinished sentences, columns, scribbles, along-side of arrows, bullet points, and cross out’s. I had revelations that made me wide eyed, cry tears of joy and relief, and some that made me feel a pang of nausea. I recalled misplaced inspiration that now provided greater strength than it held before, and confirmed what I know now, more than ever. I am truly living if I am learning, progressing, connecting and contributing. I know that I need to continue sharing my light, listening to my soul, and ignoring the shadows and smack talkers- usually inside my own head.

These last few years of realizing what brings me honest joy, has brought my attention to an immense ache for family, and to be a part of something bigger than myself. I recognized how great the pull is for me to be close to my tribe, my family, and the need to give fully and unconditionally to the people I love so deeply. Seeing my brother, sister in-law and nephew 1 or 2 times a year just isn’t acceptable any longer.

This full realization happened before my yearly Thanksgiving visit to family. While meditating, I instantly felt calm and realized that my chapter living in MN was completed. I have soaked up all the goodness and love I was lucky to receive, and I am taking all of it with me when I move to Reno, NV. No questions or nerves, just certainty.  It was and is a “yep” moment.

Oh, the Reno decision, right? It has some background..
My older and only brother Matthew, his wife and my only sister in-law Susan, my only nephew Mason, and their dog Max, live in Sparks, NV. They are my tribe, and being closer to them is a happy buffet worth it’s weight in endless shrimp to me.

Tahoe is RIGHT. FUCKING. THERE. My family is RIGHT THERE. There are mountains to climb, rivers to kayak, deserts to wear cowboy boots on, casinos to hear Hall and Oates in, over 250 days of sunshine a year, San Francisco to take a weekend drive & visit my Bay Area peeps, I could start to smoke weed because it is legal, and there is no income tax!

Yes, I will arrive with all sorts of dreams, intent and ideas as to how I will somehow instantly re-connect with everyone. I’ll be instant buddies with Mason, be the dream Aunt, and the best sister anyone could hope for. Just tell me what to do, I’ll rise to any occasion and I shall live in the moment!

No, I haven’t started smoking weed already, and I KNOW it’s not gonna be all daisies and moonbeams. Family is haaaaard, but ignoring my heart is not an option and I cannot live wondering What If? So, in March, I am starting a new, big, amazing, and terribly exciting chapter in my almost 46 years of life.  

This feels good, real good.  There is not a fire yelling inside of me to press start and GO,GO,GO!! I simply feel like a dancing aircraft carrier marshal with jazz hands is telling me that this is where to go, and I am so gonna dance my ass off into the wide blue yonder.

Feel free to join me in this adventure, I look forward to sharing the up, down, and all around with all ya’ll. I hope that you have some dancing up your sleeves too. Moves that make you breathe a bit heavier than normal, and make you sweat, in all the good ways, cuz that means you're ALIVE!


 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

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Tick Tock....Ya don't stop.

8/7/2017

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It has been 2 years and 1 day since my mother PK left this earth.

It amazes me how much I have learned about myself since August 8th, 2015, and the amount of strength that she has granted me never goes un appreciated. With her passing, she has inspired me to start writing, to reach way outside my comfort zone, to accept guidance from others, and to see the beauty within myself and every other human.

I give my mom a shout out almost every single day. Every so often, it's a simple "thanks mom" when a blue bird literally swoops down in front of me in the oddest fucking locations when I am not engaged in the present and am focusing on the negative, or my never ending list of Should Do. That bird wakes me the hell up to see how kick ass life REALLY is and gives me smiles to share with folks and feel all sorts of happy for days.

Other times PK gives me a love tap when I am totally freaking the hell out about something, and suddenly, out of the fucking blue, Three Little Birds comes on a radio/Pandora/Sirius station that has never seen a Rastafarian in their life. I then proceed to ugly cry with a considerable amount of gust and have instant feelings of comfort and solace.

When thoughts are of my mother, I feel as though sunshine fills my chest, and I illuminate rays of love out of each and every pore. For real, this love shit is deep inside of me and never ending.

I know, some of you are thinking these "happenings" are all a coincidence, and that's totally fine with me if that is your interpretation. You may also be thinking that I am a little off my rails, and that does not bother me one teeny, tiny bit either. I am comfortable with my connection to my Power Source, and I shall rock it till the cows come home with a big ol' smile. At the very least, I hope you can see that these seemingly insignificant happenings help us SLOW THE HELL DOWN and be in the moment of NOW. Life, this minute, is happening, and I want to be a part of it, because what is happening around us is pretty fucking amazing if you just pay attention to the small stuff.

Random nudges are there to remind us to spend our time wisely. Spending being the pivotal word. Time is precious and valuable, and we cannot get any of it back. Why would you waste your time on anything or anyone that does not appreciate, deserve or respect it?  Be choosy how you give your time away, and may I suggest using time doing something or with someone that ignites your heart and soul? Any other use, seems to be a waste.

Living checked out, or not living your truth, in some capacity, is as though you don't appreciate the gifts you have been given to share with world. Why would you spend your valuable time living someone else's idea of what you Should Be, or letting other's negativity steal your time, when you could be living your life being the Bad Ass you are meant to be and radiating your own "Fuck Yeah" from inside of you?!

Even a minuscule, pocket sized, positive action or talent you bring and gift to the world, makes a HUGE fucking difference in the world around us. You get out of the world what you put in to it, and I am positive that you got some good shit to share. The world needs your good shit, and you totally fucking deserve to live it every single minute you grace this earth with your presence. 

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I knew you'd come around.

12/25/2016

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Another year has come and gone in the blink of an eye. In some ways I feel like 2016 just started a smidge ago, and I really cannot believe the number of events that have occurred in such a seemingly short amount of time. Some experiences were HUGE, heavy events inside my chest, and made me stronger in every way. Many, if not most memories are so fantabulous that my soul bounces with joy revisiting them, and as usual, there are some things that pretty much sucked big ol monkey ass that made me either cry or want to punch things. 

Lot's of folks look back and can only think about what went wrong, what they didn't accomplish or try to forget the stupid things they did. Join the club. My "oh-oh" list is cringe worthy every year, I get it. My "want to" list has hardly anything crossed off, and if I walked more than I talked, I'd get a shit ton more accomplished.

As much as we want to click our heels together and wish away the election, our bad choices, and remove the tough times, we can't, and that's life. Life is an asshole sometimes, but it usually tries really hard to point us in the right direction, and quite frankly does some pretty fucking amazing things for us. Sometimes we have to pause everything, or just plain STOP and reflect on the good shit going on around us. I swear to a god of some sort there is more good than bad going on in the world if you just LOOK.

Recently pausing, thinking, reflecting and sharing my thoughts with some friends has really helped me out of a deep depression I was in right after Thanksgiving for a couple of weeks. Realizing how many positive things were happening around me or that could happen if I just tried, has dramatically shifted my mind set to seeing AND reminding me how fortunate I am. I shall spare you the braggy, gloppy, Look At Me Everybody holiday card. What I do want to share are some of my big nuggets of happy that remind me of the goodness I experienced and that there is plenty more where that came from.

I went to fucking EUROPE the beginning of 2016, helloooooo!?!?!? Jesus H, Molly, remember!?
I went to Ireland, worked on a god damn farm and experienced things that make my knees buckle with over powering giddiness. Dude, I made cheese, milked goats, rode horses, fed chickens and met amazing folks. I also went to Spain to drool over architecture I had only studied about, and stopped by Norway to visit an amazing human/friend/mother that felt like a dream on so many levels that it cannnot be explained with words .
Sure, I may have spent my savings, but you know what, I wouldn't change a thing because I WENT TO EUROPE AND MOST PEOPLE CAN'T.

I JUST started speaking to my father more frequently. Until this past Thanksgiving, I had only spoke to him once since August of 2015. I have spoken to him 2 more times since Thanksgiving and am planning on visiting him in February. He may not even realize anything was up, is moving on up, or dig that I just said that, if he even reads this blog. I speak of this because it brings out enormous feelings, including apprehension, but these feelings are rooted with the purest of intent, and deep respect. I am feeling hopeful, which terrifies me, but currently this makes me feel pretty fantastic.

My friendships have become stronger in every which way and my list of who I would take a bullet for has grown longer. I didn't think it was possible to love larger than I was for my dearest friends, but I was incorrect. My bonds with them have been solidified with such strength and depth that I cry reflecting on it. It is incomprehensible having a life without my closest friends and quite frankly I would not be here if it wasn't for them and their unconditional love. Many of my newly formed friendships already feel like warm sweater's and provide me with so much strength, inspiration and support that I don't want to curse it all by babbling about it too much. 

2016 was full of all the sights, sounds, feelings and ingredients we all have going on at any given time. Happy, bright, dark, hopeful, sad, excited, scared, adored, pissed, insecure, aggravated, inpsired, bleak, loved, forgotten, amazing, valued, understood and most of all alive. I am trying like a MoFo to remind myself this is not a drive by situation going on. I am going to make a point to be in the mix of this life thing. I want to feel the prickly, the squishy, the sticky and the goodness that I am fortunate to be a part of because I CAN. Good, bad or ugly, life is happening and I am comitted to seeing possibility in every nook and cranny.

I have somewhat certainty that 2017 is going to be colossal. The anticipation of the upcoming year of brilliance is killing me, just like when we had to wait for a phone call on a land line. I want  2017 to know how happy I am to finally meet it, and tell it all about the cool things we are going to do, see, start, be apart of and take on. We are gonna need some kick in the pants, elbow grease and reminders of our kick assness, but this shit is so ON, it's not even up for debate. WE have each other, WE are strong and WE are alive. Let's do this.





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November 06th, 2016

11/6/2016

 

Your ass will follow

10/9/2016

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Back in another century, during the 1990's, I moved in October, every 2 years . It was as if an internal alarm went off reminding me that it was time to go, leave, or run. Some years I came back to MN, and the others I was venturing back to CA. This bi-annual trek started when I moved to San Francisco at 21, only knowing my boyfriend at the time, and random folk I had met during my hippie days.

That last sentence brings up about 1,704 stories to share in the near future.

What brought me to San Francisco in the first place you ask?
Well, it was rather a fluke of sorts, gather 'round for a long answer.

It was 1993 and I was in my second half of school at The Aveda Institute in Mpls for esthiology. It was Waxing Day to get my training hours in, which meant that all I did was wax body parts for the entire day, all day. Yes, you're jealous, and I am blessed. My first client that day, or more importantly, first waxing client EVER, was entire male body wax. That's not really important, just a fun fact to make you uncomfortable. After surviving that sweaty and nerve wracking session, I ended the afternoon by waxing the legs of a gal named Dana. While ripping off a wax strip, Dana asked me
"What do you want to do when you're done with school"? 
"Move to San Francisco", I said.
Of course, I had never been to San Francisco for more than a couple of hours of my life in 1989, when I got my nose pierced while visiting my friend Brandy in college.
Dana then said " I work at a spa in San Francisco, here's my card, call me when you're done with school."  

Well hot diggety damn, I shall call your ass up, don't you doubt THAT for a second.

School ended just in time for me to go on Dead Tour with a slew of folks I barely knew to sell grilled cheese, over priced hand-made dresses to suburbanites, and be the only one that doesn't smoke pot. I was a responsible and savvy hippie, so I planned my interview in San Francisco while the Grateful Dead was playing a show at Shoreline Amphitheater. I know. None of these words should be in the same sentence.

After a forgettable show, Bryan (boyfriend form PA), Chris (we called him Tough Guy) and another Chris (went by Farmer) and I checked into a hotel for a night so that I could shower up, scrub down and scoop up my freshly washed dreads into an immense ponytail/ bun/ nest. I even brought some "interview" clothes  to look as proper as I could to kill my interview.
**I must, for my own selfish reasons, state that I never have, nor ever will wear patchouli. I did rock Jasmine oil, however, so there is that to reflect on or have flashbacks.

I arrived to my interview at the epitome of a CA warehouse one see's in the movies that was 1 block away from an Esprit outlet, I shit you not. How's that for a fucking flashback, huh? I rode up a freight elevator I swear I saw in the movie Quicksilver that proceeded to open up to a sun filled, white washed, flower filled, Aveda smelling place of 1993 coolness. 

The owner Ann Marie greeted me with long blonde hair, wearing all black, and a judging smile. Dana gave me a huge hug and the rest of the crew smiled and waved. Apparently I clean up well, and I looked malleable (gullible?), because Ann Marie offered me a job as an esthetician after a short and way too easy of an interview.
 
An esthetician named DeAnna then came over to introduce herself to me and said
"I am going to India for a few months, you can totally sublet my apartment while I am gone. It's $500 since it's rent controlled, and you can use all my furniture."

FUCK YES, YES AND YES. Just give me sec to run home and pack....

I arrived in San Francisco on October 31st, 1993 during the early evening. There was no internet or cell phones then, I only had a paper map, address of unseen apartment, and phone number. My studio apartment was in Civic Center, right across the street from City Hall, on Van Ness Ave. I was one block away from the Opera House, lived above a cafe, and had a cool accordion door elevator. I was living in a Big City movie, and I never felt more alive or terrified in my entire life.

DeAnna greeted us with the news that River Phoenix had just passed away in L.A. and that she was shocked and saddened by the news, but to make ourselves at home while she packed. Bryan and I had tickets to see George Clinton and P Funk in Berkeley that night and had to meet some friends of his ASAP. Pretty sure Bryan and DeAnna smoked a bowl, and then Bryan and I jumped back in to my little 2 door Montero to haul ass over the Bay Bridge to meet his friends over in Rockridge.

I vividly remember taking a certain curve at the end of that bridge where you feel like you are on top of the world looking across mountains, water and twinkling lights in a 360 degree view. The feeling of energy, excitement and possibility is such a rush, that it still makes me feel that exact way, each and every time I take that bridge. It always feels like anything is possible, that something was on the verge of happening, and usually something did.

Bryan and I walked into the top floor of a cool Berkeley house duplex to be greeted by a petite girl with long blonde hair, wearing an orange, patterned, disco halter/jumper and roller skates. 

Holy fuck. I am in California deeeeeep.

"Happy Halloween, welcome to CA", said Disco Barbie, "Come on in!"

This stony, perma grinned NYC transplant named Lauren will soon become one of my closest friends and roommates for the next few years ....she is also a brunette, she was wearing a wig.  

Lauren introduced me to her roommate Jen, and I cannot remember her costume, but it was probably scant because her normal attire generally was revealing, but always in a cool and intimidating way. She would later be called Anatomically Perfect Jen by me, or SWOBO Jen by messenger boys later in my stories. I also saw Brad, who Bryan knew from Reading PA, whom I had met briefly at a show in MN. Brad managed a well known hippie jam band from VT and would give us tickets if we were attending shows. Brad lived in CA with Lauren and Jen when the band he worked for was not on tour and brought the drummer of the band with him for the Halloween P Funk show. Everyone was feeling fine and dandy and I was in total fucking awe of the people I was surrounded by during my first hours LIVING in CA. 

That evening, I was consumed by dancing my ass off, feeling funk in my chest, and sweating my soul dry to George Clinton for 4 fucking hours. No exaggeration. I laughed so hard, felt so pure and so right that night that I will never, ever forget that feeling. Never, ever, ever. NO fear, doubt or second thought, just LIVING OPEN.  

Feelings that pure seem hard to come by the older we get. We let clouds in, noise in, and a little bit of fear settles in too. We tend to ignore our truths, listening to the outside static, and sometimes lose our willingness to learn or be open to possibilities. I would never re-live any of my past, but I would love to re-kindle that spark of seeing potential in every encounter brought my way.

NO idea what in the hell happened the rest of the Halloween evening, at all.
I DO know that night was the perfect beginning of the next chapter of my cuckoo life, and with out a doubt, set the standard for the upcoming years and stories to come.... 
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Table for 1

9/1/2016

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Once again I have lived and quite possibly proven that a few old adages can be tossed to the curb, or at least need to be updated for wiggle room. Let's look further in to a few of these flawed adages, shall we?

1.You should date your best friend. 

This is something I generally still believe, but that is only part of a successful relationship.

The past 7 months I had been dating a good friend until, well, two days ago.
I met him almost 14 years ago through my ex husband Mike, and from day 1, said friend (that we will call "C") and I got along famously. We were both blunt, gregarious, opinionated, would take a bullet for those we loved and had filthy words spew out of our mouths more often than not. We usually talked smack to each other and tried to see who could annoy one another more. 

When we told our mutual friends and ex's that we were were dating, almost every single person replied with "duh", "of course you are", or "that's a no brainer". The possibility of this working out seemed completely worth while to give it a go.

C and I had such a long history together already, so we didn't have all the speed bumps of getting to know each other as one does in the beginning of a relationship. We could pretty much be comfortable right off the bat. At first it was awkward to figure out how to treat one another in public since we were always platonic. We continued talking a lot of smack, and were a lot of personality and energy together to take in at times, that's for sure. We had the friend part ironed out, and the gravitation towards each other was high, it was the other important stuff we lacked. Big things like finding time to hang out, talk or see each other.

This is where 2 adages can possibly be proven right:

There isn't enough time in a day.
Timing is everything.

We both were learning how to date with kids (he has 2, I have none). Parents never, ever, have enough time to do much besides Go, Go, Go, it is hard for them to even breathe, let alone have any solo time (not new news, I know). Throw in a demanding job and out of the norm career hours for both people, and it leaves a very tiny space for any type of relationship or other friendships to flourish. 


Flawed adage #2.
If it's important, you will find a way to make it happen.
I think there can be give an take on this, and sometimes you may be just too exhausted or know better than to try harder. 

The day before we ended the dating each other aspect of our lives,  I had been writing in my journal to figure out my own shit and realized that we are good at what we always had, a kick ass friendship, so let's just keep that going. Let go of trying to make the seemingly impossible relationship part fit into our worlds and avoid more anxiety worrying about what we are unable to currently give each other outside of our friendship.

We ended our girlfriend/boyfriend relationship at a really tasty lunch, quite uneventfully, at least for a "break up". It seemed as though the moment we said out loud what both of us were thinking the anxiety instantly left our minds, faces and mannerisms. That's telling of a few things and also confirmation that we made the right decision to stop dating and keep friend-ing. 

Flawed adage #4
Dating a friend jacks friendships up.

​Only if you're a jerk face.
Fortunately for C and I, we aren't jerks.....at least to each other. We had communicated open and honestly the entire time we were dating, so nothing we decided on was remotely surprising. We had various obstacles prohibiting us from making this relationship thing work, and pretty much knew where we stood.
 
I have absolutely no doubt about our friendship being all good between us, and that we will continue our shit talk, annoying banter and beer drinking. We shared some really amazing adventures together prior to being "a couple", as well as being one. With all honesty, the ones as a "couple" would have been just as amazing even if we weren't dating, we just may not have made them happen. More than likely we will have more adventures together since we both learned a shit ton from and about each other that made our friendship and minds grow in a new and improved ways. 

Possibly true adage #3
You can't force a square peg in a round hole.

Just because every one saw us as the perfect compliment to each other "on paper" and have a lot of the same values, tastes, and oddities, as well as attraction, doesn't mean it's going to work. Just because it's hard, doesn't mean you have to quit either. What is needed, as far as I am concerned, is for both people to be honest, on the same page, in the same chapter, reading the same story. C and I have always wanted the best for each other, and luckily, we have mad amounts of respect and love towards each other. That solid ground may be what made it easier to admit that we may not be That Person for one another, but still is one big ol' son of a bitch when you realize it.


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su pasado un año

7/28/2016

2 Comments

 
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PK
Today is August 8th, and it has been one year since my mother passed peacefully in her sleep, 5 days short of her 75th birthday. I have wondered how I would feel, where I would be brain wise, and how I would look back on that day when this anniversary arrived.  What instantly comes to my mind is the moment she left her body so very early in the morning while I was lying next to her, just the 2 of us. I knowingly watched her take one enormous last breath, which was followed by an instant, calm silence. I stood up feeling numb and stared at her feeling disbelief, panic, sadness and relief.  

What do I do at this moment? Who do I ask for assistance? What would I say to the next person I see? Where should I go now? Do I really just drive home like any other day? Am I going to have an insane breakdown at any moment? 

My brother Matt was in transit from NV via airplane, and I was dreading that I had to tell him that she passed before he landed. I think I picked him up from the airport, but I honestly cannot remember. I can’t recall how the few days following her passing lined up, except that at some point Matt & I went to the Peacock Lounge to consume a large amount of poutine and desert. One morning we went for a glorious run together in the rain around Wirth Park and Bryn Mawr. We looked at old photos and memorabilia while laughing our asses off sharing stories, looking at old artwork form our youth and reading letters mom had saved.

After a few days, Matt left and I was dazed. The only thing that I wanted to do, and did, was go for a super-fast and hard morning run that HAD to end by jumping in a lake. Any lake, any where. If there was a body of water, I needed to be in it. NO IDEA why, but it had to be that way or I would feel absolutely numb in every way.  I guess I would run home after jumping in those lakes, I cannot recall that either. I do know that various friends drove me to jump in lakes, and one day my BFF brought me to get a mani/pedi right after a jump in Cedar Lake. I looked at my reflection in the mirror while gittin’ my nails did and had NO IDEA who was looking back at me. She looked like Nick Nolte’s mug shot. She had wet & wild hair sticking up all over tarnation, was clearly sleep deprived, and was wearing a yellow, elephant print tank top from the girl’s section at Target with no bra. Shorts on? No idea, but I bet her nails looked gorgeous.

Other than instantly recalling The Exact Moment mom passed on this anniversary, I feel the emptiness inside my heart without her physical presence. Losing a mom was and can be unbearable at times. Before her Alzheimer’s kicked in she was my go to for instant support, and provided Oooh’s & Ahhh’s that made me feel like the coolest daughter on earth. She seemed to always be excited about almost anything I told her, never showing shock, just always seemed to be genuinely engaged in the conversation or moment.
“Your new tattoo is so beautiful Moonbeam*!” 
“You and ________ broke-up? They weren’t that great, really, and didn’t deserve you anyway.” 
“I love dancing at The Gay 90’s, the drag queens are SO FUN!”
“The only word I could understand that band said was fuck, but the music was great!”
​*one of my nicknames 

There are days when all I want is for her to give me hug, or let me put my head on her shoulder so she can play with my hair to make me feel tranquil and safe. I still think of her when I have good news to share, hear the bands we loved, or learn about some Edina gossip. I will NEVER forget all the Smucker's Uncrustables, ice cream sandwiches and 7oz cans of coke she consumed & requested when she lived in assisted living. I should have purchased stock in those companies, since she seemed to only consume those items....all the time.

Without a doubt, I know she is helping me along my own crazy trail of life, even from The Other Side. That is what keeps me going when I feel doubt or miss her more than I ever thought a human was capable of. She was an amazing soul that cannot be fully realized in one blog entry....at least I cannot seem to write that one. Maybe that will come one day, but I feel like she will be an enormous chapter in a book I write because there is just too much goodness, laughter and lessons to be shared with the world in one blog post. 

The day before she passed I wrote a journal entry that started with
Family conference yesterday and essentially mom is progressing quickly and will pass soon. It is all unbelievable and dream like. I cannot imagine a life without her in it.
​With out her:
Style
Smile
Open mind
Finger on the pulse
Supportive of my many ways
Purity of her heart that was never for selfish reasons.


Mom's challenges near the end, stemmed from her fight with Alzheimer's and a small stroke. Her last years really made an impact with me as far as living in fear and being stuck in that fear. Seeing that take such a toll on another human really hit home and made me make many changes in my life, even right after her death.
​
​Excerpt and from Journal entry Aug 11th, 7:15 p.m. 
I get to live another day.
I can make a difference in the world TODAY. I have that gift every single day to make a difference in someone's life. A smile, or possibly something huge. Be love, share love. Use this life I have been gifted to make others' lives a positive one- even if only for 1 minute, day, or moment.
Mom is unable to do that any longer and I am lucky enough to feel the sunshine, see the breeze flow through the trees, feel the embrace of another human, the sand between my toes, hear the snow squeak underneath my boots, and smell fresh cut grass.
PK is gonna be my sidekick to finally DO.
She's with me every step of this next chapter.
NO judgement, wide eyed, pure interest, with a kind heart and smile.

I love you mom. We got this. We are connected in every way, shape and form. Always.
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74th birthday
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anger management

7/13/2016

1 Comment

 

Cancer and fucker have the same amount of letters. Coincidence? I think not.

Cancer IS a fucker. It is also a selfish, evil monster that wants to demolish everything and everyone in it's way with no feelings of guilt or remorse. It has met more people than I can comprehend, inflicted an unbelievable amount of pain in it's path and is a conniving sonofabitch. The moment I hear the word/name cancer, I feel sick to my stomach. My blood boils, my mind races and I try to not think about my own battle with it in fear that it will curse me into letting it seep into my being once again.

When I was diagnosed over 12 years ago, it was a huge Wake The Fuck Up slap in my face. I felt like a couple of hands grabbed me around my neck so that I would always feel the tug of that leash to constantly remind me that I will never get to break up with that Fucker. As soon as you start to feel like you shook off of that horrific Fucker, it creeps back into your life in all sorts of other ways. It hits on your friends, calls your relatives, spreads it's self all over the damn neighborhood and city to make sure no one will ever doubt who in the fuck cancer is. 

Since my cancer diagnosis in June of 2004, I have not had any serious symptoms that would give me reason to think that I would run into or have a "drive-by" with Fucker anytime soon.... until this past month. My initial reaction was that I kicked it's ass before, and I'll do it again, duh. Then reality of that Fucker possibly creeping back into my life popped inside my brain and I soon panicked about dealing with that bloodthirsty asshole once again. What is going to happen if that Fucker finds it's way back in to my life? My family is no where near MN, I live alone, I am self employed, and by the way, why do I need another god damn life lesson?  

After tests and Dr visits, I found out last week that the possibility of battling it out again with that fuck face is not in my cards and I am incredibly fortunate and unbelievably relieved.
I also have am immense feeling of guilt. 

Why am I so lucky beyond comprehension to personally be spared dealing with that monster once again?
Why are so many people that I love still being diagnosed, being treated or have a personal relationship with cancer in some way? 
Why can't we get a handle on this beast that is taking away WAYYYYY too many amazing humans and making so many lives a nightmare?

Looking back on my treatment, I feel like I got the easy way out. 
I only had a couple of lumpectomies, 2 months of chemo and 1 month of radiation. That is a walk in the park compared to the humans and dear friends of all ages around me that are fighting cancer with every fiber of their being at this VERY MINUTE and that is TOTAL BULLSHIT. 

I have so much anger and disdain inside me towards cancer that I can barely see straight typing this.
I am also at a loss as to how we can squash the fuck out of the Asshole Fuck Face we know as cancer.
I do know that Susan G Komen paid for my biopsy when I had no insurance, so I did the 3 Day Walk. The money I raised to fight Leukemia via a Team In Training triathlon went to many amazing children, so that helped a beautiful soul smile. We all do or have done something to give a swift punch to cancer's gut in hopes of it getting the hell out of here, but it it just seems as though nothing is ever enough to win the war. Of course donating time and money is definitely huge, and brings awareness to the fight, but I really wanna give cancer the big ass beat down it deserves. I want to look cancer square in the eyes and make sure it feels the agony it forces upon others, that it suffers on every level of it's being and is annihilated beyond comprehension for being such a greedy, disgusting asshole.

Yes, I have large amounts of animosity towards cancer, and I am OK with that.
I love most things, I really do, but I can firmly say that without a doubt I fucking HATE cancer beyond measure.
As soon as we let our guard down, that prick will trample everything beautiful surrounding it, and I can't let that happen on my watch. 
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you talkin' to me?!

6/20/2016

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Recently I was having dinner with 4 incredible women to discuss an upcoming event we would be taking part in for Passion Collective. Some of us had never met and were sharing our personal stories, tossing around ideas for future events, or asking questions pertaining to the event. Each of us were asked to give our "elevator speech" and while listening to the other guests, I heard myself state various times how much I wanted to do a certain something, or what I admired in others. It dawned on me how many things I still wanted to conquer on my Fear List and squash the yuck. 

Somehow I managed to chat about the many things that make me vomit in my mouth, and I referred to my Fear List, which included taking a burlesque class. Personally, taking a burlesque class would push me so far out of my comfort zone I would need a plane flight back, so of course I ignore it at all costs. The women that do burlesque are completely and utterly amazing to me on so many different levels. It baffles me to no end how people have the confidence to get up in front of others to rock their femininity, celebrate their beautiful body, and radiate strength. 

This got me thinking on a deeper level regarding my own fear of femininity and my Inner Bully. The grisly inner dialogue so many women have going on inside their head regarding their bodies and of themselves as a whole is overwhelming.

Why is it so hard for us to celebrate how completely AMAZING each and every one of our bodies are and what they do for us?!
Why is so hard to say "thank you" ?
Why do we push aside compliments and disregard it as if it's a lie, not to mention acting as if the person delivering it is just being nice or bat shit crazy for even thinking something kind about ourselves?
Why in the hell am I and so many other women so insecure with their femininity and/or bodies?
Is it the media? Past relationships? 
Are we scared of looking weak? Too full of ourselves? Seen as shallow? Stupid? Ugly? Trying too hard?

The thought of trying to be "seductive" myself is just so outlandish to me and just TYPING that makes me cringe a bit.
WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT ABOUT?! 
If someone I knew was telling me this, I would titty punch her right now for even thinking it.

Hell, I train people every day and remind my clients how much they kick ass, how they are their own worse critic and that they should never speak negative to themselves. There is honestly not a day that goes by that I have not admired another woman because of their strength, confidence, beauty or bad assery, yet I'd rather stick a knife in my eye than strut my own ass like I mean it, and I am not alone having those feelings.

I don't remember ever feeling insecure as a young child, but I do vividly remember playing King Of The Hill during recess outside on a winter day in 6th grade. I was gettin' my pushes in, vying for the top of the hill when my classmate Andrew yelled "look out for metro dome."  That fucking comment hit me so hard in the face it could have destroyed a small city, and until last fall, made me cry. That exact moment I stopped being an unblemished child and never felt the same way in my own body. Over 30 years ago and it is still as fresh in my mind as the day it happened, I even remember the winter jacket I wore .

In high school I did the stint that many girls did of starving myself to be thin, and then in my 20's ate in excess or binged to fill "the hole" inside realizing it was due to a shitty boyfriend that belittled me. These situations built an unhealthy relationship with food and my body for most of my life. I always felt like the chubby girl entering a party or room and deflected in all ways to not be seen as feminine (only STRONG!) I would dream about what it would be like to leave the house and not think about my thighs rubbing together, to not worry if my love handles were hanging out or hoping that no one was looking at my butt because they would think it was gross. 
Never mind that I was really great at sports in high school and college, was a talented artist, got to travel, had wonderful friends, met amazing people, had a supportive mother, etc etc. 

Personal attacks were going on inside my head at all times and I am not alone hearing those conversations with a negative Inner Bully.


I thought that other women presenting themselves as feminine or pretty, no matter what genres, were relying on looks to get ahead. In reality I was jealous of their confidence and bad assery to rock the hello outta whatever the heck they wanted to wear, want to be or feel like that day. 
How did they do that?
How can we teach that?

In my 30's I began to feel more comfortable in my body, and contribute that to getting through cancer treatment after enduring surgeries, chemotherapy, radiation and being bald. I could literally see how my body became stronger and healthier after treatment, as well as appreciate the tasks it could perform after such a shit show. Facing my fears of femininity after that time, however, were difficult after acquiring scars on my breasts & chest, becoming pre-menopausal, and just trying to re-acquaint myself with a "regular" life.

When my marriage ended at 40+ years old after being with the same person for a decade or so, it made my insecurities start to boil up again. Who would date a twice divorced, half boobed, cancer survivor?

Thank fucking goodness for being introduced to meditation at that time in my life.
Yes, I mention it a lot, and this was the time in my life that I have referred to as my Holy Shit Moment. It was THEN that I realized that my negative body image/self talk stemmed from those assholes from back in the day and I let them win. Their negative voices became MY voice and that is revolting and exhilarating to realize at the same time. 

What does one do with that serving of What The Fuck?
Take the power back.

I continued to meditate a crap ton, cry while envisioning the beauty I am capable of providing and feeling, and slowly embrace the love I have to share AND receive from others. I surrounded myself with positive friends, spent less time with Energy Suckers, pushed myself out of my comfort zones, reached out to people that I admired, tried out dating, and honestly focused on putting Good Stuff out there every single day. Every day I would have a positive mantra and after a while, positivity and strength became the normal for me. I viewed life as more than a task and could finally SEE the beauty in my surroundings and other humans. That is a shift that feels so effervescent it'll make your goddamn chest explode. I am fucking serious.

You put good stuff out there, it'll come back to you in all sorts of ways.

NO, it is not all fluffy clouds, bunnies and hippie dances. It wasn't easy getting to that mind blowing place inside nor will the work cease in order to settle there. I wish it was that easy to say "I made it!", but keeping my inner voice positive is a perpetual task and will be until the end of time. I face my internal Bully Douche Bag frequently and through meditation, unbelievable friends and a phenomenal dude in my life, I squash the fuck out of that Bully more often than none. 

I am proud to say that I can usually accept a compliment with a thank you. I sometimes rock the hell out of high heels cuz I WANT to and am a strong ass person for presenting myself any way I damn well want to: feminine, masculine, or in a damn Snuggie. For me, it's about being proud as shit when I feel good inside my own skin and appreciate what my body and mind is 
capable of doing.

Maybe your positive voice has way different & cool things on the agenda to learn, to squash, or to take care of and THAT is why you are a beautiful human. You are a bad ass and don't let anyone or anything tell you different. YOUR true voice should be listened to, celebrated in all forms, and never ignored. The bullies and negative fuck faces are just that. They wish they could have the strength to be themselves, but they gave their power away. Let's break the cycle of negative bullshit inside our head and towards others. Everyone deserves be heard, to be themselves, to feel valued and be loved. Forget about feeding a human Bully back their own bullshit, they don't deserve your energy or time. Ignore the Energy Suckers, or better yet, kill em with kindness, they'll never know what hit 'em.. That internal Bully Douche Bag is another story, kick it's ass to the curb, and show 'em who in the hell you are.


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yes, dog poop.

5/27/2016

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​While I was at my waxing appointment the other week, my esthetician Marilyn proceeded to ask me what my ideal wedding would be like. I could not stop laughing because
  1. I have had 2 weddings of my own.
  2. I am 44, and for one second thought " That's what kids do".

I often wonder if my first husband, J, is still on this planet. It took me almost 2 years to FIND him for a divorce, and I have not spoken to him since I mailed him papers to sign. We got married almost exactly 17 years ago and the wedding question got me thinking about J and our "spirited" marriage. Looking back made me say aloud "what the fuck" so often that I cannot believe I was there.

The first time J and I met was at a house party in San Francisco, and I was listening to him talk smack to the delight of many bystanders. J had a significant reputation preceding him, was very self assured and commanded attention.  He was wearing the standard bike messenger attire of a Hanes white T, black cut off Dickies, a studded belt, black high-tops of some sort, spiked hair and smoked a cigarette with attitude. All this being said, I had to give him a taste of his own medicine, so I pointed to him, and asked everyone " What's with the mini Andrew Dice Clay? "

Pretty much love at first sight.

He'd skate board or ride his fixie from a shitty apartment in the Tenderloin to my apartment with many fabulous roommates in The Mission. Our lives consisted of parties until the sun came up, seeing some of the best bands ever play live, consuming mass amounts of PBR way before it was cool at The PBR House, having friends that we would take a bullet for, and fight with such passion it would take me days to recuperate. 

One fine Saturday, J and I met many of our messenger friends for a game of soccer followed by a BBQ in Golden Gate Park. In the middle of the game J said something rude to one of our female friends and it set me the hell off. We proceeded to launch into a very long, very NOT sober, and very loud YELLING match that makes me uncomfortable to think about. I share this because it makes me laugh super hard remembering that it ended with one of us throwing our raw steaks very dramatically into the bushes in our fit of rage.

what a waste of meat.

Another common memory was receiving a phone call In the middle of the night about J's whereabouts. One call woke me up stating that J was taken by ambulance to a hospital after splitting his head open. Apparently J mooned the audience at a Bad Religion show and the drummer threw his drum at J's head, and knowing J, he probably deserved it. Who in the hell knows what else really happened, but I am happy to not have witnessed it, and glad that all I had to do was wake him up every hour to make sure he was alive and didn't bleed out over night.

A fond memory where J didn't get physically hurt was during the Russian River Ride. Every year SF bike messengers would ride their bikes up to the Russian River for a weekend of camping and debauchery that was the back drop of many, many stories around the city. The one and only year I went, I drove up with some non messengers and met J and about 75 or so other's on the bank of the river. The first night there was a bonfire that would give Burning Man a run for the $, and I think it's safe to say not a sober person in the bunch. J (5'5") and our friend (and ex boyfriend of mine) Matt (6'2") ran around the camp ground wearing nothing but aluminum foil helmets, and doing butt dances around various small bonfires around the grounds. Later in the evening, the fires were even smaller, and decisions were less intelligent. Matt and J decided to jump over one last fire, and mind you, they are both still naked. J was a bit more agile and light on his feet, and Matt was not. As Matt made his last fire jump of the night, his crotch caught on fire, proceeded to run in to the ONLY tree on the river and provide one of the funniest fire scenes I have witnessed.* Thankfully our friend Leigh could drive Matt to the ER, where he was treated for the burns and received dressings for his crotch and I am thinking some clothes. The next day, Matt probably wished he didn't survive the jump, since the shit talk was deafening the rest of the weekend. 
* Matt is just fine.

This was normal in my 20's.

While J and I were in VT visiting his mother and step dad around 1998, he proposed, and we decided to move to MN to step away from the party scene, chill out a bit, and "be responsible." We both had enough of the Go Go Go. We wanted to embark on a cleaner, positive life, and he could try to let go of his shit childhood.

The many events that led up to our wedding on May 29th, 1999, in a small park in Edina MN, are pretty hazy. I worked at Garden Of Eden in Uptown selling natural bath and body products, spent almost every Friday at The CC Club, got in a bar fight at Triple Rock and was asked to "leave for a bit." 

The days prior to our wedding, however, were fantabulous. Many of our SF friends came via plane and car to have a pre wedding party at Nye's that moved on to Lake Minnetonka, etc the rest of the weekend. J played drums with 
Ruth Adams and the World's Most Dangerous Polka Band, we danced with the cute old men, and almost passed out in the kick ass sparkly booths. Our friends got to boat, swim and experience MN beauty and were surprised we didn't have cows everywhere. True statement.

During our marriage, J drank more and more, and I retreated more and more. I would try to support and motivate him, hoping to boost his morale so he would not sabotage his success, or go away on a bender for a day or two.

On our way to a Keeler reunion at my dad's house, he was being such an asshole to me, I broke. I started slamming my hands on the steering wheel screeching in audible words and just letting it ALL out. I pulled off of 35W on to the Diamond Lake exit, made him "get the fuck out of my car" and left him there. He came back the next day via foot. 

The last big fight before kicking him out of our apartment was above the old Muddy Water's on Lyndale and 24th St and it was quite a doozy. 3 of our SF messenger friends were in town visiting with their fixie bikes and were having quite the festive time around the city. They kept using an offensive word and I told them that the only thing I ask of them while with me is to not use that word, ever. Of course they did just to annoy me, so I gave them their last warning, "or else" and shockingly they failed. I proceeded to pick up each bike that was on our deck, and throw them off the balcony one by one with quite a bit of gusto and am guessing a bit of yelling....and gratification for sure.

I would pay to have a video of that.

Clyde and Leroy were 2 pugs that J and I had the pleasure to own. Leroy was rescued as a puppy right at the end of our marriage and was allergic to any and everything. Days after J moved out I woke up in the middle of the night to use the restroom which was on the other side of my apartment. While walking through my dark kitchen, I slipped in Leroy's poop, smashed my face against the floor or door jamb (who knows?) and blacked out. I woke up on the floor covered in dog crap, a couple of puffy shiners, and a broken nose. It's true, ask my friend Jenny who lived across the hall from me at the time. We laughed for EVER and still do about that dog shit story. 

Only ridiculous stuff like this seems to happen to me.

The last time I spoke to J was a Saturday morning while I was sleeping in bed with my then boyfriend, Mike, soon to be husband #2. It was a voicemail that I can still remember plain as day..." Your Mama Cleaning*, isn't that cleaver. I got your papers from my parents and wanted to talk to you." etc....Mike yelled " Quick call him back, you'll never get a hold of him again!". I called his ass up a.s.a.p. since no one knew his whereabouts or if he was even alive until that Saturday.
*The name of my house cleaning company back in the day. 

J and I did catch up that day, and he told me he was living with a 20 something year old (he is 4 years older than me) in Boston and was clean.....and then proceeded to open a beer and drink it while on the phone, and call all of our old friends that day while having more and more to drink. He also said he was no longer using a laundry list of drugs that I had no idea he was ever using while we were together, so I hoped that was at the least to be true. 

The greatest sorrow of our marriage is that I know what a beautiful soul J was deep inside, he just didn't believe it, no matter how often me or anyone else would tell him. I couldn't be the person to provide the support he needed, and was incapable of quieting the negative voices inside his head. His heart was so so polluted from his upbringing it seemed impossible for him to open himself up to get a glimpse of real happiness and no one can make that happen, except for oneself. 

My relationship with J was not a walk in the park for sure, but I don't regret it. Marriage was not the healthiest of choices, but at that moment in time, we gave each other someone to count on when we needed it the most. We were totally clueless as to who we were, who we wanted to be or where in the hell we were going, and thought we could find out together. Unfortunately we were not equipped with the skills or insight to navigate through our shit storm, and proceeded to choose vastly different paths in our lives.

I hope that J is having such an amazing time in his life that he can barely sit still and shares his amazement with people that know it to be true. J and every single one of us deserves to be happy, no matter what our circumstances or history, letting ourselves feel worthy of it is another story.
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microphone check

5/11/2016

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Last week it was brought to my attention during a conversation that it seems I had lost my true voice during my teens, and it was the start of tempering my emotions in order to make other people feel more comfortable and provide emotional security. 

I'm sorry, come again? I barely have a filter, and frequently find my foot deep inside my mouth, what could this possibly be referring to? 

After I did quite a bit of meditation, reflecting and asking said person various questions, I realized that this woman is pretty spot on and I am not sure I like the sound of that. That sounds like revisiting some places inside me that smell like burnt flesh and shall include a path made entirely out of my own shit. 

I dug up some crap that was quite difficult to see again, but in need of coming to the surface so they could move the fuck on outta here.

I recalled that in my teen years my mother was often consumed by depression. Even though the house was always ridiculously spotless, it seemed to me that when I returned from school, her little body would still be sitting in the same chair I saw her in when I left for school. Remarkably, she would visually blossom the moment I walked through the door, as if she was waiting to escape from the dark weight placed upon her shoulders. That being said, she was constantly interested, supportive and excited about any cockamamie idea or newfangled art I made, piercing I got, cool thingy I decided to like that week or loud as hell band I wanted to see. I can remember sensing her angst, knowing to "go with" her very high or very low mood swings. I was aware that I had the power to make her feel included in "The Scene", and "In The Know", and at the very least, have a feeling other than bleakness. She was basically holding it together by a thread living her life for and through me and my brother. This seemed to set me up for curtailing my vocalization of any personal feelings I may have that could rock the boat in future relationships.

I had not revisited my relationships in my 20's for a while, and am surprised I can remember most of them quite frankly. I partied like a rock star and sometimes with some, so I pretty much coasted along being the fun, party girl that always made you laugh and feel comfortable. Never too flashy, girly, or feminine and on the other hand, no one wants to be with a downer, so I gotta be just what you want me to be. I shall stuff my personal needs and ignore my own voice of desires in order to always be viewed as worthy to be with The Cool Kids. 

This does not fair well in marriages, let me tell ya, especially when both parties think similarly. Since we looked towards each other for supplying each other's happiness, it was doomed from day one. I would only talk about the good stuff, because that's my role. I supply the reason for laughter, the happy and comedic deflection when feeling uncomfortable. If I vocalized my unhappiness I was seen as a nag, negative or in my eyes, unworthy. 

Damn, ain't this self realization and meditating shit a son of a bitch?!

Feeling these old, smelly, moldy emotions this week sucked, but holy crap it felt good to feel them move the hell on outta here. Trudging through my emotional clogs have helped me out SO MUCH in my current life, friendships and relationships it's unbelievable. It's not an easy breezy process, and sometimes quite terrifying, I know. After being single for 3 years and starting to date someone, I knew I had to listen to my gut, speak my mind, and be honest. At the same time I have to be attentive and mindful of their feelings- just not mirror them to feel secure. I wanted to puke while beginning my first adult conversation with pure Me and deflect to high hell with fart jokes, but you know what? It felt so utterly and fantastically wonderful to be myself and no one ran away screaming that I am pretty sure I can do this thing called a Healthy Relationship. Of course I need to continue working hard on being open and not run away myself, because this shit is hard, yo. 

Finding our True Voice is tough, and vocalizing it confidently can be demanding, but I do know that we have to live Our Truth, as gushy as that sounds. If we do not, we are living someone else's life and why in the hell would we ignore how amaze balls our lives can be ? I know I totally fucking deserve someone that respects and wants to hear what I have to say and to live a life I dream about. So does the person I am dating. You do too and so does your neighbor.
WE ALL DO. 
So, let's go do it already, OK!?!?



ps. This entry was really tough for me, let me tell you. It took me 3 days, and I usually take about an hour to blog,
I need a damn nap..












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Gooey

4/24/2016

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Long time, no see, speak or a peep.
Yep, I slacked gettin' my groove back on this here blog and was really quite bummed that I could not seem to get my ass back into a writing frame of mind. I am finally feeling like my head is back in the game and would love to see where this thing goes since I have returned to the mother land almost 2 months ago.

I have sat down multiple times to write a post since my travels and seemed to me that each entry really had no real purpose to be shared except to feel like I updated ya'll on the end of my journey, sort of like a catch up in order to start blogging about my current ideas, thoughts and goings on. That felt stale to me. Subjects and ideas of my future posts are currently a mish mash of ingredients and seem to be vast in themes and avenues. Happy Trail has morphed into so much more than the physical act of being a sidekick on an adventure the past couple of months and I am so excited about the possibilities being presented to me that I can barely sit still.

After reflecting on feedback (that I welcome with open arms and is much needed), I now know that some folks like to hear my story, almost like a journal entry, about what my adventure involved for that day and to share my thoughts on the event. Some of you said you'd like to hear some stories about my past and what shaped me to be the "interesting" individual that I came to be. 

Sidekick requests are on the slim these days, but since there is interest in the Happy Trail evolution, I realized that sharing my stories in any which way can provide personal insight on some level, a place to feel a connection, or at the very least laugh your ass off when you need it the most.

That being said, I guess we'll just see where this damn trail goes, and I will try not to overthink everything like I normally would do. I'll share some tales with you, you can read them if you'd like, and we can all try to make our way on the trail of happy.

Quick update on my personal escapades to get ya'll up to speed since my life's refresh button was apparently pressed when I stepped on Minnesota land.

My home has moved to downtown Minneapolis for the first time and I rely on the slowest elevators known to human kind. I fucking LOVE being here, the energy is exhilarating and the proximity to everything I dig to do, eat or get to is just awesome.

Career wise, my personal training business makes me weep with appreciation more often than one might think. My clients provide me with so much love it really isn't even comprehensible how I became so lucky to spend my days with such thoughtful individuals. They may wonder what they were on or were drinking when they hired me, but let's just hope they keep it up!

Relationships in all areas currently make me smile until intense pain ensues, and my soul feel a whole lotta "Can I get a hell yeah!?" followed by a shameless boogie down session.

Real life is schooling me on patience, continually testing my fears, and reminding of my inner strength...whether I want to or not.   

My hope is that this finds you getting excited for springtime, feeling a sense of renewal, and ideally a moment of tranquility to reflect on the beauty as opposed to the ugly in the world. It's so much easier said than done, I get it. But, If even for one moment you can ignore the shit sandwich on the menu and just remind yourself of one thing that you are thankful for, and remember how amazing that makes you feel, a small shift will bring back that glimmer of optimism. There is goodness in the world, I swear, and I am pretty sure that you have a huge role in it being so kick ass.


 








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Trail Posting #7

3/9/2016

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The following entry began while I was in Olivella Spain on Feb 22nd, 2016.

Moments of imagination and clarity help me to reflect on what was going on in my head when I planned this trip and why I left Minneapolis for a farm or another country far, far away. My mind
 in MN was so clogged with various thoughts holding me back or clouding my judgement. I needed to vacuum all the fuzz, should of's, why can't I's and I wanna's out of my brain because I couldn't figure out how to arrange my life back in MN for it to work in the way that I wanted it to be. Does that make sense to you?

I had been planning for months and babbling about leaving Minnesota to explore my Happy Trail and to gain clarity on what my next steps in life would be. A week or two before I left Minneapolis I met some amazing people that truly inspired me to take the steps towards where I always envisioned I would be and what I was always capable of. Some other events completely flipped my insides upside down, as if I had just taken a huge suck off an oxygen tank that blew some Fuck Yeah's into my spirit and left me with a perma-grin. I said to a friend before I left "When I was planning Happy Trail it was my self induced slap in the ass and somewhat my made up support system in order to have a reason to leave Minneapolis by myself. I was leaving Minnesota to get away from everything, and to take a step back, but now I all I wanna do is come back to all these amazing people and start my next episode, because I know it is going to be amazing." 

I realize that Minneapolis is home and that is where I was going to experience my next phase of happy.

March 9th, 2016

I wanted to post this short entry because I feel as though it is so important. It is a huge revelation, and a lesson learned, not just preached. Wherever you go, there you are. Sometimes I guess you gotta just get the hell outta of yourself to appreciate who you are, where you are, what you have and notice the vast possibilities surrounding us.




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Trail Posting #6

2/22/2016

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I arrived in Barcelona with a kick in my step after taking the metro successfully, seeing the sunshine and squeegeeing the yuck from my brain. My hotel was friendly, not too cool for school, soundproof, and close to the few things I had planned to do (location was randomly picked too).

After settling in the first day, I wandered around my neighborhood to find a cute tapas place, since the few I heard about were slammed for Friday evening ( who knew it was Friday?). I went into one that wasn't too much or too little, just about right. The waitstaff was wonderful about working with my broken Spanglish, my lo siento's, and apparently could tell that I was in need of a beverage to keep the edge off. The gin and soda was the size of my head, and soda was the after thought, muchas gracias mi amigo!! I was also given a *bonus/free plate: of potatoes to eat with my better then almost everything in the world salad and my grilled calamari. That is step one of my love of Barcelona.

The next day I awoke to have breakfast at the hotel, and headed out by foot to the start of my bike tour. I didn't panic or ever worry that I would get lost or anything I normally get weird about. This city was already my friend and I was stoked to hangout with it. 

I found the red bike that I was instructed to via email, and the first person I came in contact with was speaking English. HOLY CRAP, what!? Her name was Kate, and she was in Barcelona with her husband Chris for the weekend. They moved to London a week and a half ago from San Francisco, and the guy next to them named Michael was from Dallas. We were instant friends for the next 4 hours. 

Our tour guide Crissy knew everything about the city's history in every which way, the current events, political stances of various parties and was lovely helping me pick out a juice at lunch...next to the sea. In the sunshine.
The people in the streets and boardwalk moved effortlessly and without a thought about the future. It seemed as though they were truly enjoying that exact moment in time. The child running and jumping after huge blown bubbles, taking a row boat ride wile wearing a huge grin, the older couple dancing to swing on the corner, or simply the super cool dressed woman walking leisurely to somewhere that she would get to at some point in time. It just feels calmer in Barcelona, even when cars zip past you, it's not tension, it's just a car going by. Yes, yes, I was on holiday. I honestly cannot remember the last time I felt like that in a city, or even an island, besides Eleuthera. It seemed somewhat effortless to live, unlike the States where it seems to go go go go to your next next next.

I walked home in my bubble of New Love watching cute couples, petting many small dogs (no big ones were anywhere besides a couple of Whippets, and they don't count), smiling by myself, and walking without a deadline. Didn't even bother me that I wasn't exactly sure where I was and my phone was dead. I liked this person I was, and was so blissful when I was suddenly in front of my hotel. I didn't really think about the way I got there, I found it by just chilling the hell out. Who knew?

I have this big romanticized story in my head that people in Barcelona rise out of bed looking gorgeous with no creases in their faces feeling very well rested. They stretch looking all cute & bed heady, and consume a fabulous cup of coffee in a sunlit room that looks like an Anthropology add, but slicker. They throw on some "old, effortless clothes" that I would pay any amount for if if could look like them, and walk to their lunch date of boisterous, loving, well styled, smiling people. The event will probably last about 2-3 hours because they want to revel in each other's company, not simply move on to The Next Thing. They end the meal with another fabulous cup of coffee that does not disrupt their sleep or send their minds into a tizzy of lists, and they leisurely leave to wherever they decide to go next. Again, I know, I am on holiday and everything is shiny and lickable, but just let me have it.

The next day brings me to my final Spain destination: Olivella, via the train stop in Stiges ....more to come. 
ps. The trains are immaculate, they let you bring dogs on and smooth as butter.








 
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Trail Posting #5

2/20/2016

3 Comments

 
Hola!
(one of about 20 words I can say in Spanish, besides counting to 100 )

I am aware that I have pretty much sucked at blogging and I apologize.
Couple of reasons were because my life on the farm was pretty consistent, as far what to report on, or the crap wifi in Madrid. For the post part, however, it was because I was feeling so many emotions and I wanted to get a clear head before I wrote anything.

When I left Ireland, I was pretty much spent brain wise. My health overtook my brain and I felt like I was giving nothing back to my wonderful family. I felt flu like almost the entire time, but mainly like the biggest dick in the world if I would remotely show or even suggest I felt off that day. Not cool if I was not pulling my weight with a family that worked non stop without a negative thought vocalized, especially when they had provided me with everything a person could ever need or want. 

The family taught me so much, especially in following your own path of happy. Judit and Patrick had no background in farming when they started over 13 (?) years ago, and off they went to farm. Of course, not that simple, but they are indeed farmers in every way. To see Judit's disposition change as soon as she came home to her evening animal feedings after working in the office, she seemed so peaceful and where she should be. It was as if nothing mattered for that moment besides herself and the farm. She was so gentle, genuine and devoted it was calming to see and experience. Even after farming for quite some time, she still has so much appreciation for each bucket of goats milk, every horse nuzzle and working everyday in the rain and mud wasn't even a thought because this was her mecca. There should be an app for being able to watch her, because your blood pressure would go down immediately and help you realize what is really important in life.

The last 2 days I was at Harmony Farm, they had quite a few bouts of horrible luck and I was wondering how they were keeping their heads up. In one day they found out most of their quail were taken away by a horrible, rotten critter, the trailer door fell of the back (was found later) and then that evening Patrick and Zoli hit a deer that kicked the car's ass. The next morning their heater blew and I am thinking they were glad I was leaving in case I brought the terrible luck to them. I felt so helpless and wish I could have left a large sum of money as a parting gift to at least pitch in some sort of something to make the sting burn a little less. All that Judit said was " It is what it is".....at least to me.

My train ride to the Dublin airport was accompanied by an older couple named Pat and Phyllis that had been together over 50 years, taught English in Ghana for 3 years over 20 years ago and wondered how in the hell Trump was leading in the American polls. I learned about each of their 4 kids, their distant family in Missouri, the in laws they were visiting in Dublin and their unsolicited thoughts on obesity (heavy shit for 930 am train ride). The 2+hour ride actually flew by, they made me laugh inside an out loud, and it ended in hugs at the gate.

Oh Ireland, I like you so much. I know that you will always be such a close and dear friend that I can always depend on and we will have an amazing friendship no matter how long it is between visits. Thank you for letting me be a part of your inner circle and showing me my ancestry in such an amazing and genuine way. 

MADRID

I sort of started to lose my shit. After being in someone else's home since January 1st (For 1 month in MN prior to Ireland for 2 weeks) all I wanted to do was sweat my sickness out, watch a stupid netflix movie, fart on my own bed, eat a candy bar with out any manners and not worry if I forgot to put pants on to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night. Yes, I am a selfish creep.

When I arrived in Madrid, I was on CITY FUCKING OVERLOAD. I didn't seem to realize how in the MIDDLE of the FUCKING city my place was when I made the reservation, or if at one time I did, I was not capable of staying in it after living on a remote farm in Ireland for 12 days. Throw in the Spanish speaking part, and I wanted to run back to anyone's home that spoke English anywhere, but not here. I was about to shut the fuck down.

After a message from someone asking what I was going to do I realized this was about doing things that made me get out of my comfort zones. And yes, I know it is, but sometimes I should just shut up about that crap, right? Not everything has to be about some bigger thing Molly, fuuuuck! None the less, I left my room to walk the blindingly bright street at 10 in the evening, just so I could try to not stay in the fetal position until my flight leaves for Barcelona in 36 hours.....and counting. I found a place to eat a mish mash of tapas that were not memorable, made a point to not drink and went to room to try and sleep my boo hooey out, but insomnia over took me until about 4 a.m. 

In the morning I awoke to maids slamming doors around 9 a.m. and I was not exactly springing out of bed. Decided to venture out to see a couple of places, move my ass and take in the neato parts on the outskirts of town. I walked about 2 blocks in the cool sunshine that soon turned into cold downpours, so I stopped for coffee to wait it out. That break in the rain came about 4 hours later, where I had returned to my room wishing I could speak to ANYONE in English, and not feel stupid with every question asked in a foreign tongue. Quite honestly, I just didn't want to be in the damn rain and wanted to feel warm in my bedroom for once. I surrendered to the fact that I was a piece of crap, and since it wasn't going to make anyone else's day suck, I stayed in my room until my flight for Barcelona the next day. I ate out 2 times, got coffee once, walked for about 4 hours total.

I feel very ashamed and embarrassed for saying that is what I did in Madrid for the 36 hours I was there. I sound unappreciative for my opportunity and ability to be in Madrid, but most of all I absolutely hate to say that I shut down. I feel like I did something wrong, like I cheated on a partner. Like you- the reader/friend/HappyTrailSupporter are my boy/girl friend, and I let you down because I am supposed to DO, GO, TRY and BE and I didn't pull it off. I didn't fulfill my part of the agreement and now your stuck with the crumbs at the end of the Pringle's can, and they're stale. 
For some reason I HAD to tell you this, because I honestly feel so much guilt and I am sorry.

I hope that you won't break up with me because of this minor hiccup.
We can move forward from this.
I know that I can and will be better, and I am going to prove it to you.
 
****The good news is that the morning I left for Barcelona, some of you know that I faced a HUGE fear of traveling on public transportation in a foreign country and KICKED IT'S ASS. Since that morning I have got back on the wagon of No Whining When You Are Traveling In Europe Ya Ungrateful Jerk !!

Stay tuned for Barcelona and a big, resounding YES to this place. Hubba Hubba!!




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Trail Posting #4

2/12/2016

1 Comment

 
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It has been one week since I arrived at Harmony Farm, and it feels like so much longer, considering the 7 million things I have done, learned, screwed up and experienced.

Day 1 was meeting animals, no sleep, trying to act competent, and goat milk product making of all kinds: kefir, yogurt, cheeses, milk, etc.

The rest of the week I have no idea what the days were but as far as my wee memory can grasp on a Friday evening after 2 pints of Guinness I have accomplished:
bread making, animal feeding, goat milking, egg gathering, helping in the classroom, feeling bad about Trump and responded that I have no idea if he will get shot (for real), cooking up a STORM- even for kids (!), laundry, cleaning, cutting tress, hauling timber, making fences, learning and trying woodworking- like bowls, plates, etc, learning about blacksmith tools, viewed old time Irish TV shows via DVD from back in the day (no TV here), seed organization, dinner party attending, computer helping, feeling like I am painfully from the city, eating, eating, eating and more eating.
And more eating.

Here are photos (from that one day it was sunny!) to give you feel the past week of sorts- sorry, I have sucked at taking them, rain is not inspiring, sorry ya"ll...pretend it is around 40 degrees, damp as shit, you are wearing wellies, on cold medicine, and it is most likely raining. 
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Trail Posting #3

2/10/2016

1 Comment

 
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Glenveagh National Park, Feb 9th, 2016


*written while on cold meds
Yesterday I had the pleasure of accompanying Judit for a work meeting at the INSANELY gorgeous Glenveagh National Park, about 3 hours away from Boyle. We left at 7:30 for a beautiful drive, where I was dropped off in Letterkenny to meander around the small city which consisted of cute little cafe's, sporting good stores, salon's etc etc, which were nestled along a hillside. I had a snack in a cafe before I walked up the hillside to look at a beautiful church and wander the city looking at stores until it started to rain (no shock there). I popped into a hotel lobby that was suggested by Judit for wifi, where I did some research until she picked me up. We proceeded to have the lunch we packed (yummy, homemade salads, BLISS!) in the Educational Center at Glenveagh during her short hour break before her next meetings. 

The evening before,Patrick explained a great amount about the "inside" history of the many owners and past drama at the castle during it's colorful past. He and Judit have been working with this park for some time..(more of both of their AMAZEBALLS career history when I force them to blog about it), so seeing it all in person was CRAZY wonderful.

I began with a small hike to the top vantage point where I took the photo on this blog header. Holy crap, photo does not do it justice. The place is so lush with moss everywhere, gorgeous foliage, small streams, ponds, etc etc. 

At the base of hill is the castle and gardens, which were out of a storybook. I don't know why I slacked on the photos, and wish you could see it all in person. I blame the humidity got into my wee brain.

I got a personal tour of the inside, yet the lights were not on since it was not technically open for the day. I did not have a chance to take photos, but it was surreal to think that people (some from the U.S.) had lived in this castle with this view, gardens and grandiose lifestyle. I'd be happy living in the damn bathroom it was so large and had a gorgeous view.

I am so lucky to be apart of this family until the 17th, it's mind boggling. I look forward to our next outings and sharing them with you, even though it is seemingly impossible to do it justice.

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