Wednesday, October 31, 2012

True Story

ET and Spielberg
Spielberg and ET


Somehow, I had weighed the pros and cons and decided that hitch-hiking was a good idea.  

I'd even convinced a friend that the high adventure pros outweighed the possible cons of hitch-hiking through rural Montana.  Besides, all the spooky stories about the one-armed man with a hook preying on hitch-hikers weren't true.

It was the morning before Thanksgiving.  Promises of mashed potatoes and a roasted tofurky (the not-so-delightful mash of tofu shaped into a holiday turkey) sent us out the door with our backpacks.  We planned to make it to my friends parents house in Missoula Montana by sun-down.

Walking toward the edge of our small Idaho college town, I felt the thrilling nervousness of gambling.  Clad in a thick red mitten my thumb gave the universal signal of a traveler.

A rusted yellow hatchback buzzed us out of town.  We rode for a hour.  Then 30 minutes in the back of a potato farmers truck with his dog and another 30 with a blonde-haired kid who listened to Depeche Mode's Somebody on repeat.  It began to drizzle rain. Silent, my friend and I stared at each other till the kid dumped us somewhere on I-15.  The high adventure I had promised wasn't panning out.  We couldn't get a solid ride.

There's always a moment when you wonder if you made the wrong choice.  Suddenly, being cold, hungry and trapped in a snow storm on a black empty highway not longer held its romance.  This was that moment.

Out of the darkness the bright lights of a truck wheeled closer.  Shielding our eyes we stuck out our thumbs and crossing our fingers.  Slush sprayed in my face as the truck flew past us.  But then...
there were break lights!  Ha!!

Laughing, we ran for the truck!  A ride.

As I opened the passenger door, the smell of new car wafted over us.  My eyes took a quick inventory.  Clean truck.  Nice older man with gray hair and no mustache (watch out for mustaches) his teeth were clean and white, no plaque (watch out for plaque).  He was eating Wheat Thins.  Good people eat Wheat Thins.  Introducing myself, I jumped into the middle seat and began thawing my mittens. My friend shook his jacket and settled next to me.  The man was passing through Missoula!!  This was perfect.

The mans left arm reached for the steering wheel and his right moved to shift the gears.  In an instant, I felt like ice was penetrating my lungs and I froze.  Afraid to breath.  Blinking.  Then shifting my eyes.  Gawking.  A hook was where this mans hand was supposed to be.  A HOOK!

My insides scattered into a billion tiny pieces searching for a way out.  Foolish hitch-hikers!  I could see how quickly his hook could gut us, then hang our bloody dripping bodies in a tree over an broken down car full of  teenagers making out, then screaming as they listen to a radio bulletin about a dangerous escaped convict in the area!  The dripping blood would coax the teens out of the car and then he would gut them too!

Every scary true story I'd ever hear coming to fruition.


Hope your Halloween is Happy!

here's some costume inspiration

Great Halloween costume! #halloween #costume

Adorable Halloween costume idea for a couple

Tuesday, October 30, 2012

Mr. Scabs Revealed

 Mr Scabs Revealed
Add caption

"I read your post today.  'Complacency is my worst enemy.'
It's true.   
I really want to be a different person.  When I think about what I've done, do I really just say to myself, 'I'm not a bad person but I did some bad things?'  I mean, is that what a murderer says to himself?  I don't know... 
It's hard to own it and accept my past. 
  I guess that's why I didn't get much done today.  I've been thinking about that."

                               -Mr. Scabs 

Even though most of this video is in another language, Mr. Scabs was inspired by it.  Maybe running 400 meters straight up an Alpine slope is a lot like addiction recovery.

He said,
"I want to do that."

And, Mr. Scabs and I had a good laugh at this:

Insanity Challenge Update

insanity challenge update

Thank you for all the great Insanity submissions!
A winner will be chosen at random Tonight.  I'll contact you and get your instructions for publishing your Insanity...anon or non-anon.  And instructions on your personalized stamped necklace.  yipee!

Good Luck, ya'll!

If you sent a submission and didn't get a reply, that means I didn't get your email.  Resend it to
eatmyscab {at}
[notice there is no 's' on scab]

Monday, October 29, 2012

pillow fights & ball kicking

Eat My Scabs: pillow fight

Follow the story.
Read the previous entry here.

Today's the last day to submit your Insanity Challenge. 
If you haven't already, take a few minutes and send me an email personifying your Insanity.  Enter to win a personalized hand-stamped necklace. See the details here.


What is it about sex that makes it so hard to honest without being raunchy?  I've been thinking about this post for awhile but haven't been able to put it into words.  
Here's to being honest...

October 2011

It's a frightening moment.

Unguarded, naked and wrapped in the arms of the man who once held my love feels like mania.  The hands are the same.  Same scar on his finger.  His touch feel the same as he glides across my back but quality of the mood is different.  It's stagnant, rehearsed.  I feel like a hooker.

For a moment I let go, the sensuous feeling of skin on skin, giggling and some excited squealing, offering myself to salvage a partnership in ruin.  But, it's like having a pillow-fight and then kicking him in the balls because without warning, everything freezes and I know I don't want to be there, in his arms. I'm not safe.

What Mr. Scabs doesn't see, is that when he is given a second chance, I open myself to a genuine do-over.  Complacency is his worst enemy.

Since moving out 7 months ago, he'd been attempting to prove his commitment and honesty.
"I'm trying," he says.

Each therapy session has been a comical repeat of the same scene.  Mr. Scabs has been caught lying, again.  and again. and again.  Have his lies become truth?  I'm betting his spleen would burst with purity if he shares something honest and straightforward.  How does someone get into such a snarly, confused mass of lies?  Lies about porn, past indiscretions, money and even what he ate for dinner!

Bill, Mr. Scabs and I literally laugh at the string of lies that keep coming from his mouth.

It's a slow realization but like the awakening of a middle-aged man at a dead end job, I see that lies have been our constant marital companion.  And, just like the middle-aged man, I'm sick of getting meaningless "memos" and I'm about to light this place on fire.

Why then did I invite him inside the house?  And into my bed?

Is it because I believe do-overs.  Mistakes and reconstruction are part of life.

Is it because I believe in our second honeymoon (here and here).

Or, is it because I am a woman, with a pulse.

Naked, bare and exposed I'm paralyzed in the arms of my estranged husband.  My husband who has spent years investing in the local hooker economy and sex trafficking.  Nice. This is where the pillow fight turns into ball kicking because suddenly I burst into a torrent of tears.  My body's passion is replaced by a terribly dark fear.   Trauma.

Squirming away from him, hiding under the sheets and burying my face in the pillow I scream a muffled raging pain!  Demanding he disappear.

Dejected and disassociated.  No longer wanted, he grabs his clothes and stumbles over an apology.  Even the walls of our home cough him out as the wind catches the door and slams it shut.  As I hear his truck shift away, I breath and my body relaxes into a peaceful sleep.

It's a 40 minute drive back to the pink bed.

That is the last time I was naked with Mr. Scabs.

Follow the story.
Read the next entry here.

Wednesday, October 24, 2012


There have been some RAD submissions to the Insanity Challenge!  
Thank you!

If you want to participate go here and email me your 
character sketch of Insanity.  

eatmyscab {at}

Tuesday, October 23, 2012


using boundaries with an addict
Follow the story.
Read the previous entry here.

"Things get worse! 

Things get worse with an effective strategy.  It’s true.  

Expect conflict when you stop exhibiting the codependent behaviors of rescuing, persecuting, and suffering.  The addict’s behavior typically gets worse with the behaviors of self-love, unconditional-love and tough-love properly applied.  Family members and close friends will require time to adjust to the addict’s worsened behavior.  It takes both objectivity and courage to initiate effective strategies, knowing that the addict’s threats, yelling, and name calling will increase.  

But be assured that the increasing tension is a sign that you are changing and likely eliminating codependent behaviors.  If you are unable to withstand the increased conflict that comes with change, don’t plan a strategy.  Go back and work on self-love and find a support resource…"

Hold on to Hope pgs 154-155

What's your effective strategy?  

Mine include Detaching, Self-care, Boundaries, Support, Accountability, SpeakingLimbo and the Big Thaw.  

The Big Thaw isn't something I've talked a lot about yet.  I've just begun to feel myself melting and warming up to Mr. Scabs.  More later on that subject.

And I've certainly seen things get worse before they've gotten better.  

Monday, October 22, 2012

Insanity Challenge

Insanity Contest via
Does this look like your Insanity?

In lieu of Halloween and Marlee's comment on Triggers are Lies we're going to hold an Insanity Challenge!

Let's hear a Whoop-Whoop!

The personification of Insanity has popped up here, here, here and here.  

She is my anti-god-mother granting none of my wishes.  She's a Camel Red chain smoking, raspy-voiced psycho wearing David Bowie's checkered pants and hot pink lipstick.  There's a thin scraggly, over-bleached mullet on top of her head that moves when she talks.  She exists on a diet of Pepsi, Oreos and apples dipped in Nutella, but oddly, weighs only 98 pounds---I think she's a borderline diabetic. I've seen her flirt and try her charms with the dude behind the counter while she picks up a crusty ole' corn dog from the neighborhood gas station.  She's crazy and endearing all at once. But most of all she's co-dependent and completely diabolical.  She's also my ex BFF.

The idea is, that once our Insanity is personified we can better identify it and let it go.  
Maybe we'll have a Sanity Challenge later.  Cause Sanity is Insanity's much cooler twin sister.

Challenge Rules:

1.  Write a description of your Insanity personified.  What do they look like?  How do they act? When do they appear?  Where do they live?  Why do they exist?  How do they manipulate you?  How do you get rid of them?

Paint a picture of your Insanity.  Reach into your gut and show us a glimpse of what your Insanity would look like personified.  Your Insanity doesn't have to be about betrayal or addiction it can be about anything.  This isn't a writing contest it's a description contest.  Grammar and writing skills not required.

2.  Please keep your description under 500 words...ok 550...fine 600 words (I know some of you are novelists).  Cut and paste your description here for your word count.

3.  You can be a blogger, anonymous commenter, addict, man, woman, new reader, someone I know personally or even a  lurker...everyone is invited to participate.  Of course your identity will be protected if you wish to remain anonymous.  Your trust is of the utmost importance to me.

4.  Email your submissions with the words "Insanity Challenge" in the subject line by Monday Oct 29th.

              Eatmyscab [at] gmail [dot] com


You will win your choice of  a hand stamped personalized necklace made by your truly.  
A perfect gift for you!
See the pictures below.

The winning description will be posted on Halloween, Oct 31st.   If you wish to remain anonymous or wish to have your blog linked please let me know. 
 I will contact you before I post your submission to get your final approval.

Also, Mr. Scabs has promised to write his own Insanity description if we receive 25 or more submissions so please send in your Insanity pronto!  

Wouldn't you love a glimpse into Mr. Scabs Insanity?  
I would.

Personalized Gold Filled Initial Necklace - Celebrity Inspired Jewelry - Hand Stamped -  Mommy Necklace - Celebrity Style

Friday, October 19, 2012

triggers are lies

BOWIE! 1970s. I need this suit.
Have I mentioned I love David Bowie?
Follow the story.
Read the previous entry here.

This is my own theory and my own experience.  It is also one of my most important discoveries.  (See more important discoveries here)

I have decided that triggers are lies.

This does not mean that triggers aren't real.  They are real.  I've spent months avoiding all things Asian, I torched every pair of Mr. Scabs underwear, I fell into the emotional equivalent of an affection-starved, mange-covered mutt at the simple sight of glazed donuts.  Anything could hijack my senses, triggering.  I could smell, hear, feel, see and taste Insanity.

There was a time when Insanity and I were BFFs.  Her hand tightly holding mine, leading me through the darkened narrow gorges of betrayal.  I may have even taken a few drags from her ashy cigarette.   I invited her to take over.  In case you're wondering, she has a striking resemblance to David Bowie's picture above.  In fact, I swear she wore those same checked pants.

I felt comfort in blaming an entire race for my marital break-up, I felt the burn of hysteria when the flames rose from his pile of boxer briefs...those were good times.  Necessary times.  I had to feel the insanity, the crazy, the numb, the blinding anger, the overwhelming sick-pitted pain to get to the other side.

One day, intoxicated with piss and stumbling side-by-side with Insanity, I began to notice the narrowing walls of the canyon.  Closing in on me, leaving no way out.  Linking arm tighter with her, taking the same stride  wearing matching checked pants.  She's my best friend, she'll keep me safe.  The canyon walls closing in, darkening as I listen to her familiar raspy whisper introduce a trigger...

"You see his belt.  The dark brown leather one, the belt you bought him for Christmas a few years ago?  That's the same belt he unbuckled for those hookers.  He undid the silver clasp and dropped his drawers!  Can you imagine their fingers on his belt?  The belt you bought!  Damn hookers!  Damn him..."

Her voice trails off in a disgustingly graphic description of the belt and Mr. Scabs and hookers.

I realize, I can't listen anymore.  She is lying.  In the end, the belt is just a leather belt.  A genius device used to hold ones pants up.  Nothing more, nothing less.

At this moment a flood light blinds us shining through the narrow canyon.  Squinting into the light I see a rescue chopper hovering above.  Sanity (Insanity's much cooler twin sister) hangs out the side and drops a rope ladder.  A rescue!

I am not trapped in this cycle of self-destruction!
Triggers don't have to throw me to my knees.
There is another choice.
I don't have to wallow in Insanity's friendship.

Jumping for the ladder, Insanity grabs at my shoe as I'm lifted into the air.  Under the whirl of the choppers blades, I look down. My shoe in her hand as she shakes it toward the sky, cursing me.  Insanity doesn't like to be alone.

Dear Self,  

Today you will let the pain, hurt, anger, depression enter my heart but you will not let it take over.  You will acknowledge it and then you will dismiss it.  You will literally dump it from your brain and heart.  You will replace it with gratitude.

You will walk to the refrigerator, fill your glass with ice and water, then drink it slowly as you let the negative pass and let good things fill you.
You have the metal prowess of a puma.  You are in charge of your thoughts. 



And that is the story of how I decided triggers were lies.

Follow the story.
Read the next entry here.

Wednesday, October 17, 2012

and the survey says...

did you tell your mother about you spouses porn addiction survey results

First of all, free pie charts on the internet are ugly!  The nerd in me loves a good pie chart. 
Second, we got 52 responses!  RAD!

Eat My Scabs: Did you tell your mother survey results

Written responses to:

Did you tell your mother/family about your partners porn/sex addiction?

Told a relative I am very close to only once I had reached peace that I could leave.

I told them somewhat reluctantly after a few years

I told my mom. My Dad knew before me :-SI told my Mom, but my Dad doesn't know.

My in-laws know, and my husband and I are working on a plan to tell my parents within the next few years

I felt really strongly I needed to tell my parents, but my hubby decided they needed to hear it from him. No one else knows.

My partners habit never became an addiction, I did tell some people about his use and my reaction, not my mom though

I only told a sister

I told my sister. He told his brother. We planned to not tell any other family members but I broke down one day & told my mom (who was staying with us because we had newborn twins), who told my father. The OW's BH wrote a letter to my H's parents, so they found out that way. Fun times!

I told my in-laws.

Written responses to:
What was their reaction?

Shock. Sadness. Compassion. Anger. Love.

She thought something was wrong the whole time but didn't know the details...everything just made sense to her at that point. She was loving and reminded me about forgiveness.

Super supportive. I didn't want to tell them but I am glad that I did. You need support.


worried for me. but very supporitve

shock, support, love

My Mom is super supportive. She us my sounding board. She gives me perspective. She has been living and kind to both of us as we go through this.

Reaction?..she commented on men being visual in nature as a catalyst for my H's porn addiction. Nothing to personal.

In laws: my father in law was really supportive to both me and my husband. Mother in law really struggled with it. Her response was difficult for me. I think she blamed me a bit at first, and sent me books about how to be a good wife, etc. then she started researching addiction and I think her perception is still a bit skewed but it is better. We have been able to talk about it frankly, although she still asks me in a way of checking in on my husband how he is doing.

Mom was ridiculously supportive, but it was three years post d-day and I think we're gonna make it

Incredibly shocked

Sad. As hubby told my dad, my mom sat with me on the stairs and cried, she kept saying how sorry she was and she hugged me. They love him as their own, and my parents are really compassionate  The news just broke their hearts for him and for our little family. But they have cheered him (us) on throughout the healing process. I have never felt judged by them.

Complete shock and heartbreak, just like me.

surprise that I cared, Surprise that I wouldn't rather he look at porn and take care of himself instead of bothering me. And pretty much shock that I addressed it with him. I didn't share every tiny detail though, some things are too personal.

Very supportive, though after 13 years and more lying from him, they're getting stern with him and worried about the fate of our marriage.

kind, sweet, supportive, understanding.

Shock. Hope that we can reconcile. Support. I know the moms each cried when by themselves.

You need to support him! Stand by him! He is a special boy with a difficult challenge! The lying portion must be because he knows you and knew you would react badly - he was always an honest child. Mostly they are hush hush about it though.

Written responses to:
Are you happy you told them?  
And, if given a second change what advice would you give?

I am very happy I told her. There was an almost instant relief to telling someone that I trust and that has known me my entire life. I had her support and advice. My advice is that I hadn't thought about the impact on our (my husband's and mine) relationship with her and her husband. Blessedly, it hasn't changed too much.

Yes it has brought relief in my life not having to hide and pretend that everything is fine. I can show my emotions now.

Yes and I would

most of the time, it depends on their personality are they intrusive or will they trust you that you are a mature person and can make proper decisions for yourself.

I am. but it sucks when things keep happening.. and i dont know whether to KEEP telling them. :/

Yes, I am happy I told them. They haven't acted weird and have given me the space and privacy that I asked for. I'm just glad they know. I was sick of hearing them praise my husband and be thinking in my mind, "But if you only knew!"

Absolutely. My advice would be to reach out to those you love who love you sooner, rather than later as long as you feel they won't hold an eternal grudge against your partner.

I told them for me. Honestly, not much has been said. They haven't even asked me how I'm doing with all of this. Advice? Share when you feel ready. Do it for yourself and try not to expect a certain reaction. You never know how it might play out.

I wish we had waited and thout it through a bit more before telling my in laws. It was just a gut reaction where honestly I just wanted them to know the reason if we didn't end up staying married. They took it a lot worse than I expected they would, which was maybe naive of me, I don't know. For advice I would just say to think on it for a few days before telling them to make sure it is what you want. I literally asked my husband to call them about an hour after I found out, and then already the next day I had some regrets about it.

Not happy, not sad. Just needed to make sure I had a contingency plan and her support was necessary.

Yep- I have an extremely supportive network and it feels good, to not be alone. If you tell, tell people who are supportive of you both.

I am happy we told them, I'm not sure about hubby though, I've never asked. For me, it was important for healing. My parents are very wise and as a church leader, my dad has helped many young men, men and families and I knew I needed him more than ever in that moment. Like I said before, not once have I felt judged, just love and support. If I had a second chance, I would do it the same. My parents have always been very strict with me and I was terrified that they'd hate him, and they'd be very harsh but I felt the Savior's love through them at the time more than ever before.

Yes! My mom, dad and sister are the only ones that know. I wouldnt be alive without them supporting me through this hell.

I spoke with a cousin, a sister in law and a best friend. All of whom know my husband and hang out with us regularly. I am glad I told them because as I said, he wasn't addicted, he wasn't raking up bills or making excuses to be alone or completely not having sex with me. And I still was upset. I kind of think hopefully that I set a precedent among my circle of friends for not having to shut up and deal with your partners solo sex life. If that makes sense?

Yes! I desperately needed someone to talk to and help me, especially when he was resistant to therapy or change.


I wish I hadn't told my parents because I think they now worry about me, and I wish they weren't saddled with that. I often wonder how they could look at my husband kindly; I don't think I'd have as much poise if my daughter's H cheated on her when she was pregnant. I think it all depends on one's family dynamic. My parent's overly-identify & over-empathize with their children - their children's struggles become their own. My H's parents don't do that so I think they could keep more distance. In general I wish our parents didn't know but I'm so happy my sister is there to support me. I don't know what I'd have done without that!

I'm happy I told the in-laws for my husband sake. One of his issues is that he is afraid to disappoint people. It's good to see that his parents both still love him AND he makes them proud, even though he is a sex addict. There isn't a lot of contact with them about it, but at least they KNOW and can pray for him and us. Unfortunately they haven't really been helpful to my healing because they have a pretty skewed perspective. But I guess that is ok.

Thanks for participating.
The end.

Monday, October 15, 2012

Allegory of the "Wall"
Mr. Scabs is a one-man crew.  Nights, weekends, holidays and spare moments he has undertaken a huge remodel of our old home (maybe it's part of his penance).  One day he was knocking down walls with a sledgehammer!  Plaster flying, 2x4's splintering, wife screaming, cabinets crashing, dogs howling...Mr. Scabs cheesing an ear to ear grin.  He was ecstatic!

Our shrink calls it an "anger-release".

"Destruction is an infinity easier than creation!"
(theme of our life?)

Weeks later he rebuilt a wall.  Hammering studs and a thumb, fitting drywall and smoothing putty.  In fact, it took 3 days to smooth and mud the walls.  Sanding, puttying, smoothing, drying, repeat.  Frustrated with the lest than instant results he shared the Allegory of the "Wall" in our 12-step meeting.

"I worked all day on that wall, from early morning till late night.  And, when I stopped, it looked like I hadn't done anything!  It looked only mildly different.  Nothing the average observer would notice.
Working on that wall is like recovery.  You work all day making the smallest changes and no one notices.  The changes are almost undetectable.  It's depressing.  I want instant results. I want someone to notice!  
But, I've got to wake up, strap on my tool belt, not get discouraged and work on it some more."

Mr. Scabs, I'm starting to not only notice the changes but believe that they are genuine.
                                                                                                                      p.s. the wall looks great.

Thursday, October 11, 2012


December 18, 1999

Piled like human pick-up sticks, we wheel through town. My companion and I are perched, balancing, barely hanging on.  It's a fantastically dangerous place to be!  Whizzing through street, sounds and smells.  A full-bodied experience, imprinting itself on my DNA.  These moments make me.

In the speedy split of a half second, my eye catches a girl, I KNOW HER!  She's selling sticky breakfast rice. My hand raises to waive as I hear her trailing soprano announce that a woman we know has passed away in the night.

She's gone.  A heart stopped.

Forty years earlier she made her screaming entrance into the world.  No epidurals here.  Her baby body was  washed and swaddled tightly with a pouch of garden herbs pinned to her blanket.  Traditions explain: "it keeps the vampires away".

We'd just seen her the other day.

She was ill.  And, in the usual way it goes in third-world countries, they aren't really sure what was wrong.  I heard the medicine woman explain,  "her body got sick after giving birth to her last baby."  That baby is now a t-shirt clad toddler laughing and running up the street with a stick in hand.  We get a high-five as he runs by.

Her body seemed to be accelerating through the wearing out and withering process.  A dark blue patterned house dress hovered around her and never seemed to touch her skin.  My clearest memory recalls her shiny dark eyes and witty laughter.

Dislodging ourselves from the human pick-up sticks, the motorcycle coughs into low gear and stops.  I pass the driver a few coins.

A dozen vigil candles burn skipping shadows across the endless collection of Roman Catholic Patron Saints holding the Christ Child.  In place of her chair is a box, a coffin.

With the greatest reverence, her husband asks if we will help dress her body for burial.  My heart gasps while my throat closes and my eyes water with emotion, we both nod "yes".  My companion and I, holding hands, squeeze tightly.  I feel as if I have been invited to participate in a solemn ancient human ritual.

Preparing the dead to cross over.

His hands reverently placed on the small packet of clothing he passes to us.  A mans' hands tell his story.  These hands are rough and on any other day may be found working, repairing and providing, but this morning they shake with the loss of his love, his wife, the mother.

Humbly and silently, we begin the task of caring for her.  I have never felt the cold clay of a human body before.  The stark difference between our warm, living hands against her clay is profound.  Her skin literally feels like thick clay, almost as if it could be molded.  The breath of life no longer filling her nostrils.

With her clay in my hands, I see that our bodies are a fantastic gift, a vessel to be honored.  And without our Spirits, the breath of life, we are nothing but clay to be recycled by the earth.

I begin to understand that she is not dead.  Her body is clay and stiff but this is not the end.

September 20, 2012

My own grandmother's warbling breath faded.  And as it did, she slid her footstool to the side, preparing to stand while reaching her arms out.

"Who do you think came to get her?" my mom asks as tears fill her eyes.

The whole family agrees, it must have been her son and two grandsons who have already passed over.

She lived for 89 years, rode horses, lived through the blizzard of '49 and survived a plane crash!  She was married to my grandfather for 66 years.  They gave life to 3 daughters and 2 sons.  At 90 years old he is navigating through his first nights without her.  He whimpers with the dignity of a man who has let his love go.

My 3-year-old son asks, "Did her heart stop?"

The touch of her cheek is a piercing reminder that we are more than just bodies of clay.
Part body: electrical pulses, H2O, mitochondrial DNA, subject to disintegration.
Part spirit: purpose, freedom, instinctive, ageless.

Their separation highlights their need for each other as working, equal parts, unified.

I love my life.  I love the gift of my body which gives me freedom and agency.  I choose who I will be, how I feel no matter what surrounds me.  Mr. Scabs brought things into his life that made him a slave.  A man without freedom.

There is something really fantastic about these men in honest recovery.  It is the ultimate collaboration of spirit and body.  I'm thankful for the possibility of metamorphosis. 

Wednesday, October 10, 2012

Photos & Updates
Yes!  Another headless photo of me and my favorite T

During the last few weeks I've:

Worked for biscuits and cool drinks of deep mountain well water as a ranch hand.
Built a barb-wire fence.
Hillside on FIRE

Gasped at the beauty of a hillside on fire!
Grieved the loss of my beloved grandmother.
Ate casserole and pie with aunts, uncles, cousins and brothers while telling grandma's stories.
My Boy, fascinated how cows can lick their own boogers.  

Boy and the Ranch

Chased cows and hunted for arrowheads with my grandfather.
Held his hand and kissed his cheek as my Grandfather felt the loss of his wife, the mother of his family.
Sissy and her ball

Threw a tennis ball from dawn to dusk for "Sissy" the dog.
Cried when I woke up the next morning and felt the strain in my throwing arm!

Over the last few weeks I:

Felt your love!  My deepest gracias for all the email, texts and phone calls.  
Fell in love with Fall and Pumpkins.

Shared a real kiss with Mr. Scabs!
It was the sweetest, most passionate kiss.
Worth all the waiting.

The Boy's bedside pumpkin

Hello Fall!

Monday, October 8, 2012

am I falling in love...again?

Happy Little Pea from The Panic Room Videos on Vimeo.

For those who wonder if an addict can heal, they can!

For those who wonder if a love can be repaired, it can!

For those who wonder if you'll survive, you will thrive!

Life is brilliant!
and the human heart is resilient.
No matter what happens, make sure you let yourself feel happiness!

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...

Template by Best Web Hosting