Wednesday, August 28, 2013

Boise Camp Alert


Sent an important Camp Scab Boise email last night.  
If you are registered please check your inbox and if you didn't get it send me a quick note.  


Tuesday, August 27, 2013

Porn Kills Love & giveaway

Happy Birthday Alicia!  She bought herself one of these little beauties and sports it proudly!

As for the Scabs household, we are DIYers.  We DIY our kids school valentines, home renos and anything else we need including our own version of the Porn Kills Love t-shirt.  It started with an argument that turned into some laughing especially when Mr. Scabs tore his shirt in half and then let me write those famous words on the back.  I couldn't help but snap an Instagram shot!

Anyway, Porn does kill love.

We know that right?

The pendulum is swinging in our direction and the pro-real love/anti-porn movement is gaining speed.  There are so many passionate groups popping up supporting these ideas.  A wave speaking loudly and giving hope to all of us.

The Arizona Family Council is one of those groups.

They are hosting a conference in Arizona November 2, 2013 for families, educators, leaders and citizens of the world!  Tools, resources, speakers, education, protections for our families and kids, I can't wait to go! Did I mention the RAD speakers?  There is so much I want to learn.

So, lets unite in bringing real love back.  I'll be there and I've been give 4 tickets to giveaway to you!!  So, let's go on a date.  Maybe even a double date.  Mr. Scabs, are you game? 


Eatmyscab @ gmail {dot} com

conference details

p.s. Don't forget the Togetherness Project--my friend, Jacy, with the most compassionate heart has made this little idea we talked about last summer a reality.  I'll be speaking along with so many other RAD speakers.  Join us.

Thursday, August 22, 2013

Backyard Taco

Me, circa 1986, not really but I wish

I get a little jeally when I see the cute little family at Backyard Taco.  You know the one, the husband holding the hand of the adorable pregnant wife and 3 well behaved little kids following them around.   Eating tacos, drinking horchata, I think I can see the love in their eye as they chat; is that what love looks like?  Ahhh, comparison (it is the thief of joy).

I get a little jeally because being married to an addict, for me, has become a bit like living with infertility.  I am not in a position to get pregnant.  As much as I would have loved more children, it hasn't worked out that way.  Years of wondering why he didn't want another child confused me. I thought he was waiting for the right moment.    This is one of my greatest unresolved pains.  A loss.

I have been given two healthy, amazing children.  And, this feeling does not diminish them, In fact, we share this heartache together; they wish for more siblings.  An addition to our tribe.  Another brother, another sister.  Another connection.

As Jane pointed out to me the other day, we are asking for the bare minimum in a marriage, not a brood of little towheads or a perfect lunch at Backyard Taco.  We're asking for loyalty.

Do the hard work guys.  Fight laziness.  Cultivate self-awareness and empathy.  Get gung-ho, balls to the wall, hyped up.  Make getting healthy your number one priority!  Love is so much more fulfilling than addiction.

I truly believe anything can be healed, anyone can change.  I am proof.  And I started by rejecting the worlds lie that change is hard and practically impossible and you are what you are.

Change isn't that hard.  I love change!  I love it!  And, it all starts with believing.

I believe.

Monday, August 19, 2013

resentmetns and mowing the weeds

I just like her turban.

Camp Scabs Idaho registration has officially begun!  
I've sent private invites to those I know are interested in attending.  Check you email :)
campscabs @ gmail {dot} com

Let's talk about resentments and mowing the weeds.

A few years ago (before a few lies drastically changed my life), Mr. Scabs and I bought an old, old house. Over 60 years old.  In an old part of town.  When we bought it, part of me wondered what the hell we were doing.  The other part of me fell in love with the close-knit neighborhood, the wide streets, the quirky nooks and cranny's and the creaky old house with it's rancid cat-lady smell. Thank you Kilz paint!!

Funny how this home has become the metaphor of our lives.  We have been gutting it.  Tearing down walls, rebuilding walls, re-doing the electricity, replacing and re-doing the old and dysfunctional.

For all the work we've done inside, it doesn't really show on the outside.  Our curb appeal isn't cute.  In fact, there are flower beds that run the length of the house that at some future date will be full of gorgeous greenery, but for now, they are not.  They are weed beds.  Full of terrible, nasty, deep rooted weeds.

Every few weeks, Mr. Scabs does his due diligence as a husband and mows the lawn including the weed beds.  He just chops them off at the root.  And there they sit, nestled in their hard, Arizona sun-baked dirt with nothing but what the endlessly blue, hot sky has to offer in the way of water. We keep expecting them to die.  But they don't.  They are ruthless and tenacious.  Their spindly roots grow deeper stealing moisture and sending it to their dry, grey leaves.  Then before you know it, the weeds are a foot tall!  Time to mow again.

Tonight we talked about mowing the weeds vs picking the weeds.  If we really want to get rid of them, we may need to soak the hard clay soil, loosening the roots. And, there is no replacement for getting down on your knees and plucking the weeds and roots out one by one.  

Resentments are weeds that can grow deep, spindly roots.  Time for me to do some weeding instead of mowing.

Monday, August 12, 2013

Mr. T. Roosevelt & yoga

Some wise words from Mr. T. Roosevelt.  No?

It's Monday, the weekend is over and I'm back to my day job.  
I know there have been some hard things happening out there.  Triggers, impossible decisions and just the general difficulty of living.
While walking around the office, typing reports and standing at the water cooler, I am thinking about you and I am praying for all of us.  

For those of us who have small amounts of trust and faith, it is the strangest thing to have our prayers answered by the Creator.  To fervently say, "I need help," and then be washed with that feeling of peace. It is unreal.  Does He really know me?  

I know He does.
He is our Maker, intimately tied to each of us.
And, I know that sometimes it doesn't seem like it, but our pleas for peace are heard and acted on.  Because, that is His only objective; our peace, our joy.


P.S. All Arizona locals, I have the most compassionate and self-less friend.  She has agreed to teach a women's only private yoga class on a regular basis, just for us!!  She is the same yoga teacher who came to Camp Scabs AZ and led a guided healing meditation that was phenomenal.  
Phenomenal.  Camp Alumni, back me up on this.

Yoga has taught me how to heal and reconnect with my mind, body, spirit and emotions.  It has been central to my own healing.

This is still in the planning stage but we are thinking Monday evenings around 8 or 8:30 at night.  It will be held at a yoga studio in Tempe.  Anyone interested?  Make some comments below or just email me.  I'd like to see how much interest there is.

If you've never practiced yoga, don't worry.  
This will be very simple, basic and meditative catering to our sensitive needs and of course we will practice the same anonymity of 12-step.

I am thrilled!!

Thursday, August 8, 2013

the damn notebook


I've sent an email to all interested campers with some info.  If you didn't get an email and are considering Camp Scabs.  Send me a quick note, I'll fwd it to you.


I'd been having some moments.

You know the kind that are filled with fiery emotion and confusion hopelessness and a loss of the general guidance I feel in my life. Then magnified by the cycle that makes us women.   Of course, when this happens the only thing to do is put everyone to bed early, make a heaping plate of nachos, sit in my skivvies in front of the fan and torture myself by watching "The Notebook".  

Uggg, why doesn't Mr. Scabs hang perilously from a ferris wheel begging for a date and other stuff?

I've made progress, I used to torture myself by staying up past midnight to watch "Cheaters" while spewing out a slew of swear words, spitting and emailing Elsie.  She'd validate me, calm me down and send me off to bed.

I've had other moments where the only thing to do was to pull on my shorts and lace my running shoes and race out the door with Bon Jovi as my side kick.  I ran and ran and ran until I came to a clump of trees and then I kept running trying to breathe in the humid warmth of the summer leaves.  Then the road swerved around a corner and then another, so I raced around those corners.  Spent and out of breath I reached a small river and a rusty old bridge.  Slowing to a jog, I crossed over the river and sat on the side rail of the bridge.  

Pastures and cows to my left, trees to my right.  A truck drove by shaking the bridge as it crossed.  I just sat there.  I sat there and stared at the river and the blue summer sky and the glow of light through the trees and the cows and the plastic grocery sack stuck in the muck and willows at the edge of the river: I stared at all this while Bon Jovi strummed in my ear.   Then I heard it like I'd never heard it before, "You give love a bad name!".  In an instant tears jerked from my eyes and my hoarse voice screamed into the wind, 

"Shot through the heart and your to blame, you give love a bad name!  

But, we all know I wasn't hollering at the wind, I was shouting at Mr. Scabs.  I was grieving.

When I told Mr. Scabs that I had shouted about love and bad names at the wind, we laughed a bit and felt sad a bit and looked into each others teary eyes as we kind of smiled and frowned at the same time, then we shrugged as if there's nothing else to do but move forward, linked pinky fingers and took our kids to the zoo. 

These little moments of emotion have become so valuable to me.  It's a release of the deep darkness that was once the norm in my life.  I've discovered a healthy way to explore these feelings and come to know them.  Knowing the dark is the only way to feel the fuller light and cleanliness that is divinely ours.  Because He who made us, made opposition in all things.

Understanding my dark lends way to more brilliance in my light.

Tuesday, August 6, 2013

Travel Award!


Having a scholarship fund is kind of a double edged sword. 

Of course, I'm so incredibly thankful for the chance to give an opportunity to women who wouldn't have been able to come to camp.  On the other hand, after reading your stories, I wish you could all come!  
Thank you for your letters.

In fact, it was so heart wrenching that Jane was sick about the idea of only choosing two.
She has the most tender, kind heart and I can't wait for ya'll to meet her.
Yep, I said, "Ya'll", it just felt right.

The 2 winners were picked at random and I did it the old fashioned way.  If  you submitted an entry, you should have received an email with a not-so-great, one handed phone video of me pulling 2 names from a bowl.  Didn't get this email/video?  Let me know.

Congratulations to our winners and 
"may the odds be ever in your favor!"

(I channeled a little bit of Effie Trinket while I swirled my fingers around the bowl) 

Monday, August 5, 2013

making mittens from sheep

My people have grown deep roots in Idaho, intimately tied to the earth and the seasons.  

We spent this last week sleeping and eating in the home that my great-great-grandmother built and that both my mother, grandmother and great-grandmother were raised in.  Now my cousin and his wife are raising their daughters in the heirloom ranch house surrounded by a sea of golden grass under the shadow of Caribou Mountain.  Generations.

I love that valley.  More populated by cattle than people.  Where wi-fi and cell service are sporadic at best. Where the grandfathers and grandmothers tell their stories and we all laugh and cry.  And where, when you fall down and bloody your knee you get back up and try again.  This is a land where tenacity grows.

Decades and decades ago my great-great-grandmother was pregnant and widowed with 7 young children to care for.  How this all happened is another story but the part of the story that I'm in awe of is the part my grandfather told me last week.

My great-great-grandmother had no family or relatives to rely on  She had been disowned for following her heart.  As a girl, she was raised in Switzerland and came to the U.S. when she was 18.  After the loss of her husband, she decided to sell her home and the land around it.  The cash she earned was used to buy the land where the little ranch house swimming in a sea of golden grass now sits.  I rinsed dishes in the same kitchen where she boiled water and cooked. She bought a few cattle and sheep.  She worked in the field.  She dug in the garden. She gathered wool from sheep who had died, washed it, prepared it, spun it into wool and made mittens and sweaters for her 8 kids! Can you make mittens from a dead sheep??  I can't!

She grew her cattle and sheep herd, bought more land and more land.  In her old age she split the land between her children. And her children split the land between their children and so on until today where my daughter and her cousins drive the ranger and mow down thistles in the same fields where this great woman worked.

I have her blood.  She is my great-great-grandmother of tenacity.

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