Hi Chippy

The urge yesterday was resisted in sending a quick hello to a sibling who spent his life buddying up with an abuser, yet I love him- Seth.

The abuser, the only living one left, Tom, moved out west, while Seth moved to the city here. He emailed me a hello.  

Then I dreamt a recurring dream that comes with a feeling of having no place to call home albeit having a physical home.

Makes sense. Growing up, that wasn’t a home, it was a place of terror.

Now I tend my gardens, talk to chipmunks, and make a place inside myself to call home.  


Walking the meadow each day on my own, as well on my own the rest of the day, though Samuel is always around since retiring, my solitary life doesn’t mean being disconnected from the world or others cared about. My core, my soul, connects intuitively with all.

That includes origin family members, though after repeated attempts at connecting in person, it is best for me not to as doing so leaves lasting feelings of hurt, confusion, and sadness behind.

Though many families enjoy their extended family’s, as it should be, not so for me, and probably many more like me who were sexually abused as a child by a family member(s).

A piranha, which is how it feels. Shut up, shut down, be what we want, not who you are.

No thanks. My best buddies continue to be what mother nature offers, bringing smiles, peace, and fulfillment; birds, flowers, chipmunks, squirrels, and so much more. But mostly it is getting to know myself.

Though sometimes helpful, it isn’t from others that answers come, it comes from within, that well springing eternal even after death. Because we each make an imprint with our lives. Given the gift of life… live it. Because it is a gift, there is only one of you.


Many times a post is written in the early morning well intended then later in the day the intentions fall and goals washed away with the buzzing in my body coming from years of separation from it.

But yesterday the intent stayed, and so too did my mind, body, psyche, emotions, and spirit. It took repeated focus, remember, go slow, breathe, stay.

Push, push, push, and by some afternoons a sickness in my aging body that cannot cope with too much. My evil brain attacks telling other systems to do more, otherwise you are not worthwhile.

Yet the truth is that slowing down, letting all aspects of my being have the time to come along meshing as one, is of worth, is caring, loving, and respectful.

Since sexual attacks to my being in childhood, the shattering meant that parts were locked in cells separately, other than in my body. Being in my body was too dangerous, so too being in the present moment.

It has taken years to be present. First for relished moments while meditating, then longer as years go by. Then, even more challenging, being in my body, a work in progress, but wondrous when succeeding and feeling safe at the same time.

A miracle still exploring. Is it safe?

Thank you mother earth for this morning’s miracle, a morning walk before the sun rises yielding thick wisps of fog off the creek creating a curtain with shadows of trees behind the mysterious shimmering wall decorated with sunbeams….

Living or Dying?

Fear grabs hold tightening my chest, chasing me throughout the day like a shadow invading my body. Fear of aging, of bad things happening as they are around the world, but even in one’s own life a horror can happen in a millisecond.

Fears compile, the boulder gaining speed tumbling down the hill of thoughts speeding into nowhere but doom. Pull yourself up, rustle up courage, and stop the spread.

Everyone dies, every single person. You are not alone in that. When aging, dying comes closer in thoughts. Losing both a father at age 8, and a brother by suicide at age 21, brought thoughts of death closer earlier than what might be usual for most.

But in these past years, looking at Samuel as he limps, or the lines in his face as they deepen, thoughts of dying, or who goes first, invade many precious moments. And maybe that’s not all bad.

Thinking of coping if I were alone is one thing, worrying about it is another and wasteful. I might go first. Thinking about dying might help me live better, if the worrying boulder of fear is kept from rocketing off.

To guard every moment of a limited amount of them is using the fear wisely, not letting it curdle them. Guard each moment, live it fully.  I don’t have to save the world, just myself.

Make every moment precious.


And slowly she came forward, this real being, being me. It doesn’t pay to be otherwise, but this is the life lead, being what you want- not me.

Decades of pleasing, being underground, steamrolled, lying dormant while being squashed. Allowing it, inviting it with self-apologetic ways.

But then? It came up, a flash of anger, that spark that fumed in silence like a bomb smoldering but never erupting, the friendship over.

Too many ended this way, adding to the failures of just living, feeling since age 8 that I had no right to be here. Yet deep down my real feelings mother didn’t want or allow, nor anyone else in that group called ‘family.’

To live inauthentically is not life, nor coming with the drive or passion to live. Daily thoughts of death came to visit instead.

Late in life, after mother died, the one who silenced me, truth. And with truth my being began to come alive, and moments of magic came with it. Authenticity. Wholeness. Worthiness. Love.


Photo by son, Cory

My boots crunch the frosty grass, crisp, lush, and growing fast, the sun barely peeping over the hill. Round and round, then respite waterside. Get out of your head!

In my head, legs crossed, sitting on a stool in the empty, dim room, with open eyes that don’t see. Brains are necessary, but too much time there squashes the present. Come, awake, experience miracles right there in front of you!

Out of my head into the present. Diamonds sparkling golden orange on dew dropped tips of glistening grass. Dancing ghosts swirling by upon the water, the mist mesmerizing as it glides.

Again, and again the reminder needs repeating, get out of your head into now! Thinking this, or that, when what is right before me delights, enlightens, and is miraculously enthralling.  

Earth, mother loving me with all her gifts.


There is the realm of thinking. Then emotions. Physical abilities which often don’t work right because thinking is on fast forward… Then there is the rich loam of the soul, the core gathering all the parts into one.

How many of us are able to collect the fruits into one basket? Often it feels like everyone but me. Yet another whisper floats up, you have the power to live in the now, right this moment.

There are only so many strung together to make a life. And right this moment, be there.


We each are a flame, sometimes burning by each other enjoying the warmth, but always on our own even when together. Leaving the warmth of another’s flame dims the glow, but work on my own flame makes it shine brighter.

And that work is accomplished in solitude, with stillness to hear my own soul, my own heartbeat, my flame that sometimes is almost ash.

Needing space to revive, space that comes with softness, beauty and grace. Breathe.

Reverie. Respite. Peace.


And so, the bone-tired weariness begins to wane, so too the anxious lonely missing of Cory because leaving sooner than he’d hoped caused a feeling of great failure as a mother.

But home. Sleep comes. No drugs. Kitty and I patter out to porch coffee in hand, lighting a rose scented candle as a golden quarter orb rises over the horizon. First thinking it was a house light at the edge of the forest on the hill, a crescent moon shone her happy orange-yellow glow.

The male daddy bird chirped from the birdhouse in the dark, much earlier than the other birds, announcing his ownership of the castle with his wife inside on her nest. The peepers in harmony in the distance entering my core soothing like a purring cat upon a lap.

My core, remember that? Touching base with it only momentarily for way too long, anxiety’s roiling keeping me away from it.

Now I know I needed to be home, even if all the other people around me didn’t. Even if it means being a bad mother. Even if letting others down.

It is so extremely uncomfortable advocating for my own needs. My husband and son did not debate my needs. I did. I did for two days after coming home.

But now I know that home is where I need to be. Dreams continue as if still there, working through the unfinished business. Others that met me wondering about my differentness, not knowing of my shattered past.

So naïve to trauma and life’s harsh cruelty, and what it does to someone, making blithe comments that I take home to heal over until realizing they just don’t know.

And hopefully never will. It is not wished upon them. But I know. It is only my own internal self that needs to know and love me though their ignorance. But so hard when in their environment, not mine where mother is nature loving me.

But home. The unusual warm two days, yesterday by the creek in reverie bringing me back into my internal home. Slowly strength and health return.

The Thrill of Spring

Spring brings an ecstasy that overwhelms making it too easy to split from my body orbiting around it rather than in it. Come back in, come to center, and breathe. Feel the moments fully rather than escaping in the flurry of wonderous beauty. Be with the splendor but stay in my body.  

My being readily becomes excited unable to handle over stimulation even if not of the human kind. Take in each moment and do not run. It’s OK.

It is not my job to save the world, just me. Take time, go slow, breathe…. The racing ahead calls for work. Come back to the moment, over and over, repeating the words slow down.

So much happening. Each day the grass is greener and growing. Though the trees appear brown, looking closer there are all budded ready to explode!

Animals vibrating with movement and sound everywhere as two duck splash down gliding by. Usually so shy but they are unaware of my presence. The robin above leaves her newly made nest swooping upon the grass to grab a piece of dry weed, flying back up to poke it in her home before settling in again.

Flowers erupt more each day, and each day an adventure wondering what will I see? But stay within while looking out…the work? Being with both fully.