Tuesday, July 23, 2013


Are you daydreaming?

Daydreaming of spending a weekend away at Camp Scabs but your purse is already stretched thin?   Is traveling to Boise seemingly foreign and impossible?  Are you isolated in some tiny Nebraskan farm town?  

Forget about it!  Schedule a babysitter!  Dig out your sweatpants and cross your fingers!
Here's the jist; 
I have two travel stipends, for up to $400 each, available for Camp Scabs Idaho!!
I'd like to buy your airline ticket.

You would not believe the golden heart of our benefactor!  In his words, and I hope he doesn't mind (send me a text if you do and I'll remove it), "When you are 35 years old, not married and don't have any children, you can easily fall into living a selfish life.  I find myself in that position all to often.  This gives me a sense of purpose and makes me feel like I am making a contribution to improving the lives of other people."

His generosity has left me speechless.

I can't think of any other way to do this so here it goes...

Two names will be chosen at random.  Of course, I understand privacy is extremely important so I won't be posting the winners names on the Scabs blog.  I'll simply send you an email and we'll work out the details.   Friday, August 2nd will be the close date for receiving entries.  

To participate please do the following:.

  1. Send me a private email with the subject line "Daydreaming" to campscabs @ gmail {dot} com
  2. Tell me your nearest airport
  3. Give me your name (i'll give you mine)
  4. Write a few sentences telling your story

If you have any questions/concerns, 
email campscabs and either Jane from His Struggle My Struggle or myself will respond.

Keep our camp qualifications in mind:

1. You must be female
2. You must be a wife/daughter/sister who has experienced trauma because of a loved ones porn/sex addiction and or similar betrayal
3. You can be divorced, married, separated or in limbo, blogger or non-blogger, any faith or none at all, carnivore, omnivore or herbivore.
4. More Camp Scabs Idaho information here

p.s. it's 5 minutes before midnight...I said I'd get this info out on Tuesday and I'm making my deadline!

Monday, July 22, 2013

Speaking in public?!

I'l be presenting here on Saturday, October 19, 2013.
If your healing and need a boost, come.
It will be inspirational!

I'm a little late to the party on this one but its a healthy show of unity that I want to support
click here

Plan B?


What's your plan B?

Saturday, July 20, 2013

Let's learn jiu jitsu


Have a nice weekend.

I have some amazing news about our Camp Scabs Scholarship fund.
Do you want to come but it's just not in the budget 
or do you live too far away and an airline ticket is out of the question?

I am utterly humbled to announce we have had the most generous anonymous donor!
These funds are designated for your travel expenses.

More details to come Tuesday next week.

Tuesday, July 16, 2013

parallel lives



If you knew him you wouldn't recognize him.  His body is still and silent.  Only the constant beep of the heart monitor and rasp of the breathing machine filling his lungs with oxygen signal he's alive.  A 21-year old Mr. Scabs is comatose, breathing in a rhythmic slow motion echoing in the small hospital room on an island in Southeast Asia.

For almost 2 weeks the doctors struggle to bring him to life. During this time, Mr. Scab gets a gigantic staph infection in a bedsore on his head, they discover Dengue Fever in his blood stream, his liver and kidneys fail and he begins a rudimentary version of dialysis.  This is the moment they call his mother and speak the unspeakable news, "We don't expect him to live through the night."  

But, Mr. Scabs has more lives than a tore up alley cat.

His eyes open.  They can't focus but they are open.  He can't hear well but he's aware of muffled sounds. His body doesn't respond to his brain telling it to move and it takes and everlastingly, frustrating 15 minutes just to give a thumbs up.  And, the most maddening thing of all, his mind works clearly, quickly, acutely.  Captive in his vegetable state!

After a month they load his weakened, slow moving body into wheelchair (he can give 2 thumbs up now) and he flies across the Pacific Ocean heading home to local doctors, medicine and his mom.

Thinking back, his memory is fuzzy at best.  He recalls waking up one night ill, vomiting and then nothing. Two weeks gone, just a mish-mash of stories, second-hand accounts and sketchy hospital records at best. It's the biggest mystery of Mr. Scabs life.

Mr. Scabs made a practically full recovery from his coma.  When we met he still had issues but I didn't see them.  I saw Mr. Scabs for the smart, generous, strong and sexy man that he was.  And so, we fell in love.

December 2011

If you knew me, you'd probably recognize me but see that something is terribly wrong.

My son was two and still in diapers.  My daughter was in school.  Mr. Scabs had tentatively moved into the spare room to care for me and my paralyzed legs.  But this particular morning, Mr. Scabs had left early for work and my sons good-morning diaper was full to the brim.

My body wasn't working, my legs wouldn't allow me to get out of bed, to stand, to pick up my son and change his diaper.  I tried and crumpled to the floor in the most excruciating pain.  This is when one of my best old friends came to the door with some muffins.  I hadn't seen her in months and she didn't know about my legs.

She saw me and gasped.

She changed my boys diaper.  Helped me to the sofa.  Fed me and cleaned my house.  But most of all she held my hand as I told my story.

Sometimes things happen for a reason.  When I think of Mr. Scabs in 1998 not able to walk or even breath on his own, I think of myself crumpled on the floor with no hope of walking or standing.  It's as if I was able to walk in his shoes and he was able to walk in mine.  We share in a new sense of empathy.  Is this how lives are woven together?  In parallels?


Monday, July 15, 2013



Did you spend some of your weekend cutting and pruning out those things that tell you, you are anything less than awesome?   This includes our own voices.  

Changing the way we speak to ourselves will change everything.  

Friday, July 12, 2013


The cabin has been reserved!
Camp Scabs Idaho  
Click the link Camp Scabs above for more details.

This is something I learned when I was a kid but didn't understand until I was grown-up.

I come from a long line of mean people.

Each generation passing cruelty up the family tree.  As time moves forward, I imagine our meanness fading and our family tree branches spreading wider while we soak up more knowledge, more empathy and more compassion.

I don't know where all this meanness came from, I only know that it is part of the concoction that makes me, me.  

As a seven-year-old little girl, I was terrorized by the meanness.  When you're a kid and someone is cruel to you, there is no level of understanding.  Could it really be because I couldn't find my shoes?  The panicked pace of my little heart mirrored that confusion and I lived in a world of anxiety.

By the time I was 10, I began to flirt with the idea that it might be my fault.  This thought spattered itself throughout my tween years.  Maybe if I found my shoes I would deserve kindness?  Maybe if I did everything right?  Maybe if I was different?  Maybe if I didn't exist?  Maybe if...?

Self-preservation is an fascinating concept.

Do you remember the climber (Aron Ralston) who got trapped in a canyon and cut of his own arm off to save his life?  Unimaginable!  And, I think I've heard a million stories of wolves and tigers and mice chewing their legs in half to free them from a trap.

At an age where most of our brain goes haywire and we make lousy choices and care nothing for consequences, I found myself settling at least one positive neuron path.  I began to trim and cut out the notion that people are mean because of some real or imagined set of flaws in myself.  If I listened to that lie it would cripple me.

So, with that, was born this fundamental piece to my self-preservation:

People aren't mean to you because of you, 
they are mean because of themselves.

If you have been neglected, abused, bullied or treated poorly and believe it's your fault, get out your scissors this weekend, because I would love to see you trim and cut that crippling lie from your life.


Sunday, July 7, 2013

Camp Idaho News


First, I need to apologize.  I'm more than 3 months behind on some emails.  I could be the worlds slowest emailer.  Each response comes from my heart.  Each letter you send me is valuable.  I read each one, but struggle with the time it takes to respond.  I wish there was a better way.  
Can I clone myself?
I ask for patience.  I will get to you, and if you think I've missed you, please send it again.
I love you.


Second, somehow, I've got the flu.  How can I get the flu when it's 113 outside?  Doesn't the heat kill everything?  Anyway, I'm not feeling well and before the NyQuil sets in, I want to update you all on 
our next Camp Scabs.

Some of you have already sent me emails about possibly coming to camp.  I've got your names and I'm adding you to our list.  Later this week I'll send out an email to you all giving more instructions.  There is no deadline so if you read this post and a few weeks have gone by, send your email anyway.

If you're interested in Camp Scabs Idaho email me at 

CampScabs @ gmail {dot} com.

I've added a Camp Scabs link to my header, check there for more details.

And to answer a few questions from the survey:

Yes, YOU are invited.  These are the guidelines.
#1 You must be female (I know women addiction too but for obvious reasons, this is a womens only camp.
#2 Your life must be touched by sex or porn addiction , cheating or some related topic. Generally, spouses and daughters of addicts.
#3 If I don't know you, send me an email.  Let me get to know you.

Camp Scabs in California is a possibility.  If you are from CA reach out and let me know you want this.  I'd like to have Camps be at least 10 women but that's not set in stone.

Camp Utah.  I'm shooting for Janurary 2014 in SLC.  Second weekend or third weekend in January?  What do you think?  In fact, I've been looking at some condos and homes for rent in downtown SLC.  Thank you for the warning me about the snow, we will keep the January camp near the metro center.  The response for Camp in Utah is a bit overwhelming so I may have another in the Spring.  Someone offered a family cabin in Southern Utah near Brianhead.  That would be amazing.  I'd love to get with you about a spring or summer camp there.

You don't have to be from Idaho to go to the Idaho Camp.  It's an open invitation.  But camp virgins do get priority.  Although, we would love to have repeat campers, so don't be discouraged if you are already Camp Alumni, email me anyway.

Did I answer all your questions?  If you have more leave them in the comments below.  I will come out of my NyQuil stupor to answer them.

Tuesday, July 2, 2013

crawdading 101


Crawdading 101. 
1. Get a string.
2. Tie some fish guts to the end of your string.
3. Hover your fish guts along the bottom of a stream.
4. Pull the string out of the river when the crawdads take the bait.

I'm kinda fascinated by the brainless way crawdads work.  Their crusty blue claws fight and grab and cling to the bait; an impulsive, instinctual reflex.  Clutching, gripping, pinching.  Completely strung out and oblivious to being pulled from their watery beds and laid to rest in the bottom of my kids bucket.  It's as if they want to be caught.  They don't know how to let go of the fish guts until they hit the bucket floor.  And, that's when they notice it's too late.  They've been duped, trapped, bushwhacked and boiled with cayenne pepper!

"Don't take the bait" my 12-step sponsor warned.
I knew what she meant.
I knew she was right,
but I couldn't help but take the bait.

Mr. Scabs would hover the right kind of fish guts in front of my nose and I'd take the bait. It was an impulsive, instinctual reflex. Clutching, gripping, pinching.  I was completely strung out and oblivious to being pulled from my peace and being laid to rest in the bottom of a dirty bucket.  I was duped, trapped, bushwhacked and boiled with cayenne pepper!

I took the bait almost every single time. Honestly!!

The remedy to this has been the simplest boundary: "I'm sorry, I won't get involved in this kind of conversation with you."

Then the hardest part...walk away from those fish guts and don't look back.

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