Life is only available in the present moment.

– Thich Nhat Hahn


I am a Roman candle lit at both ends.

It is exhausting and exhilarating and sometimes, I have to extinguish and restore myself a little bit. This weekend I was on fire. Tomorrow, hopefully, I’ll find some time for restoration. But in this present moment, I am extinguished and exhausted but still sizzling from all the activity within.

I say all that, and my weekend was spent working in my garden and yard. That was one side of me in flame, the physical. The other side, the internal, was burning much hotter. Below is a facebook/Instagram post I shared on Saturday. I’ll catch you up after the jump.


My daughter is with her dad today. This is the first time she’s seen him since January and the first time she’s spent time one on one with him…. since he lived with us in 2015. She was an anxious mess yesterday and this morning. Everything set her to tears yesterday. I was anxious, too, and lost my temper when I shouldn’t have. This is so hard. My son said he wouldn’t go and both his dad and I understand and respect his choice and his feelings.

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When his dad showed up, he asked “what’s his deal?”

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I looked at him. He is so different from the young man I married. He has tattoos that are obviously new. Clothes that are expensive/brand names. He drove up in a janky handicapped van that he lives in. He asked me for money to get to the end of the month.

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His deal? His deal is he doesn’t have a dad, but he had one. The one he had was broken and sad and angry. But at least he was around. Now, he has a ghost.

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“He’s hurt. He’s angry. He has a lot of resentment towards you.”

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“I understand.” He said. And then he started talking about how he went from riding the short bus, to driving the short bus, and laughingly said adding magnetic Jesus fish to the back has created a “anti-cop force field” so he never gets pulled over.

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He started talking about “working for free” to help other GB’s who are suicidal and how one I know is in trouble.

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“I guess he’s not married to his wife anymore?”, I asked, remembering their wedding in Charleston and how happy they had been.

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“Fuck no. Not for years. Of course I would tell you how he’s tried to kill himself and you ask about her. Fuck her.”

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Yes, of course I would ask about her. He has the brotherhood of veterans. Who does she have to tend her battlewounds?

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My baby girl is hiking with her dad and going to a roller skating party while her brother and I are quietly counting the hours waiting for her to be back home and safe. We are hyper vigilant today.

#cptsd #crazyisntparttime #ptsd


She came home safely and happily two hours earlier than expected. Nothing terrible happened, that I know of, and she has been happy today, although a bit quieter and more content to play by herself. My son has hardly left his room. I spent the bulk of today outside organizing my flower beds and planting roses and other things. Today I had to turn my brain almost completely off. I hardly spoke to any one except my children the last two days. My mother called for a short chat today. I spoke with my best friend for a couple of minutes yesterday afternoon, after my daughter was home and all I could think of during both conversations was how desperately I wanted to not speak but just to be comforted. I started talking though and all the words came tumbling out. But they weren’t the words I wanted to say. It was just anxious word vomit, just like the word vomit above.


Seeing my ex is still such a big trigger for me. It makes me feel broken. Like, broken in a way that is unfixable. It may be unfixable. That may be my exhaustion talking. Mostly, I just want a hug from someone who is not seeking to be hugged but is seeking to give a hug. You know what I mean?