Tag Archives: life

Death to EGO

IMG_8376We are taught in this culture to strive, to push hard against people and obstacles that stand in the way of our desired outcome. The end game is our only game anymore.

This wrung-ladder goal oriented life promises success manifested in material goods we accumulate. We then spend our time maintaining our accumulated material goods, because when our cars are waxed, our counters are marble, our plastic lawns stay green … we reek of success, our egos are filled.

We hand over our children to others to raise, we gracefully hand over our peace to hours of freeway traffic, we hand over our time of fellowship and worship on Sundays to our children’s sports so they so they can begin their own competitive striving, we spend little to no time around dining room tables talking, we resent our spouse because we don’t have time to nurture our promise. We are hurried through life.

Fulfilling Ego costs us, and instead of stopping to see this, instead of recognizing that our nervous system has had enough, we pop a yellow oval into our mouths and we silently become the Xanax nation. We quiet our truth with pharmaceuticals, and become a nation with the highest pill addiction because we do not want to slow down enough to face our own and others frailty, we do not want to feel pain emotionally or physically. Sadly, truth does not change because we don’t want to see it.

We are a culture that is dying on the inside despite the fact that we look better externally. We glamorize our professional athletes, that are propped up on pain killers and steroids and when we’re done with them and they no longer perform to our artificial expectations, we retire them to their broken bodies and minds. We glamorize our celebrities until they age and then we continue to employ them after they cling to silicone, fillers and surgeries. We’re reconstructing the ego, one anti anxiety med, one procedure at a time and we don’t even see it.

Instead, i profess it is time to die to Ego. It is time for our culture to take inventory of who we are and who we want to be, it is time we listen to our own bodies, our children, our spouses and those around us. It is time to embrace the beauty in the quiet stillness of our lives and the lives of those around us. It is time we acknowledge our pain AND begin to take care of ourselves, others and our earth. It is time for us to stop talking and start listening.

The process of dying to ego can be painful but on the other side I promise you, life will hold meaning in a way you have never known or experienced. When you begin to lose EGO, you will truly begin to live and love.

When I stopped being all that I was not, when I stopped propping myself up and let myself fall my eyes were opened.
I began to truly see others, and to accept people; their beauty, their raw emotion. I began to feel with them their glimpses of joy and grief. I began to feel my mother’s embrace of nature and my father’s sacrificial love for me. And because I was not hurried with Ego I found the time to listen, to see, and feel and I feel in love with life again.

If you are hurried, pained, exhausted let Ego go and nurture yourself, your loved ones. Make peace with your creator and love what he has made, find your place in it as nurturer, lover, admirer, he will show you if you allow him. It is a simpler, quieter way to live and be, to find love and life in the details. TRUTH & GRACE my friends ❤️


Truth & Grace

Christ died for ME last Easter. Every Easter Christ’s resurrection has meaning but March of 2016, I had the notion through my mental illness fogged thinking that THIS Easter I was going to die and rise along with Christ. In this deep depression and hopeless I somehow thought this symbolism would bring less pain to my children and husband.

March 2016, I lay in bed and helped with the Easter church preparation; my daughter’s dress, hair bows, all in place. As my family prepared to go to church I prepared for my death and what I hoped would be my resurrection. Revolver or glock? I was going to free us all from this misery that was me, I was going to lay next Christ that very day WHOLE finally. I prayed that Christ would provide a beautiful woman to cherish my husband and children in ways that I could not.

I share with you the thoughts of suicide so you can see the lack of clarity and rationale that can be stripped away by an organ that is not functioning as it should, whether it be because of genetic neurological wiring and or life circumstances. Doctors can amputate an appendage that no longer works, organs can be transplanted, skin can be grafted but when the brain is damaged or not functioning we are left with much less remedy.

We are left with pills, therapy, hospitalization (which consists of more pills and therapy) and if you’re brave/desperate enough you can do shock therapy. When you’ve done this pill and therapy process for years to no avail it is difficult to accept that what’s being offered isn’t working or is no longer working.

The true reality of this manifests itself in the fact that many commit suicide by shooting themselves in the head …they are taking out the source of pain, the part of them that betrays their sense of reality and robs them of peace. This was my desperate intent that Easter Day, a new beginning for all of us, free of illness.

That Easter Day WAS a new beginning for me and my family and it did come through death … but not my own. That Easter Day I became keenly aware of the fact that blood had already been shed, I just had to mentally reconcile that it was shed for ME. the blood that ran from Christ’s hands and down his wrists covered those that felt the need to cut, that the blood that ran from his head covered those that felt the need to take their own life … i was spared … I was aware of the pain that day that Christ felt both physically and mentally, the isolation. I committed that day to either end my life or try to live again a new way. I chose the latter and began rebuilding my life.

Since March 2016 I have run/walked 1,200 miles, lost 80 pounds, changed my diet, been sober a year, given up pharmaceuticals for Natural/ alternative meds, began studying MINDFULNESS, meditation and began accepting the fact that my family already had a beautiful woman to cherish them and with Christ filling in the gaps … she’s enough. Each one of these changes required commitment, discipline, TRUTH  and GRACE for myself. It required a complete reset of my mind, it was not easy and remains work, but I’m grateful for the opportunity for recovery .. not complete healing, I will always bare this cross but I don’t bare it alone.

I don’t share this for praise, or to solicit any kind of response, it’s really not about me in the end … Anyone can accomplish any of these goals .. I share it to give hope, to those that quietly suffer, to those that want more than to be numb, for those that feel that their burden is too heavy, to those with a chronic illness to which there is no end date … YOU can do this, there is hope, there is peace, there is love for you. Find it in Christ, find it in nature, find it in your family, and find it within yourself … it’s there I promise ❤️

A Well Lived Life

Those brave of heart really want to know us. They hear what we say when we have no words. They are ok with who we are, even when we can’t find the grace to love ourselves. They see our weakness, see us and are ok when we bleed.

I have a morbid, sarcastic sense of humor and a very detailed memory. With that confession, I share these memories with a sense of self-reflection and admiration for those who have chosen to participate in this well lived life with me. Some of these recollections were painful as hell at the time but I can laugh about them now, some are still painful but have brought a significant amount of meaning to my forty plus years of life.

This is an unchronological, unfiltered list of my life well lived. Grab a glass of; wine, coffee, sparkling water, put on some; ABBA, Johnny Cash, Dave Matthews, Led Zeplin, and let the ride begin.


Some of you were my first crush.

Some of you had to wipe my mascara stricken face from your shoulder.

Some of you I learned to “mother” with.

Some of you saw me in a speedo before my thighs touched.

Some of you were my brothers when I didn’t understand men.

Some of you learned with me that Grey Goose isn’t a flock on Animal Planet.

Some of you were my roommate and taught me how to cook.

Some of you cried over an Autism diagnosis with me.

Some of you taught me about faith by being Christ to me.

Some of you tried to be my trainer and realized that the only thing I do better than lift is drink.

Some of you are my last love.

Some of you laughed at my dark sense of humor.

Some of you are related to me and I’m sorry.

Some of you let me live with you instead of in my car.

Some of you became a foodie/ wino with me and we now shop at Lane Bryant.

Some of you have enjoyed my obsession with Neurophysiology.

Some of you were parents to me when mine were broken.

Some of you loved me when I hated myself.

Some of you learned that a Volvo can be totaled.

Some of you were my first love.

Some of you are with Christ.

Some of you taught me the love of the written word.

Some of you took me to dances because no one else asked.

Some of you taught me that the black & white only exist in a crayon box.

Some of you taught me that National Geographic boobs are still beautiful.

Some of you have loved me from miles away.

Some of you share my intense love of sports despite the fact that I kicked your ass on more than one occasion.

Some of you have been tattooed with me.

Some of you married me thinking I was Mary Tyler Moore.

Some of you know in my teens and twenties are erred on the side of law and that now I err on the side of gospel/grace.

Some of you should have stopped reading long before this list even started and can still do so.

Some of you unknowingly walked through the darkness with me.

Some of you annoy the shit out of me but we tolerate each other because you love my husband or children.

Some of you taught me that I’m both saint & sinner at the same time.

Some of you have taught me that love is not about sexual orientation.

Some of you are my soul mate.

Some of you were my parents when mine were broken.

Some of you helped me to remember things I wish I had forgotten while drunk.

Some of you know I’m serious when I say I should have been a lesbian with cats, those same some of you know that it wouldn’t matter I’d still bitch.

Some of you have been a far greater example to my children than I could ever be.

Some of you brought me to Christ.

Some of you are the reason I’m alive today.

Some of you know I almost lost my faith.

Some of you repeated a grade in school with me.

Some of you went to my first concert with me.

Some of you told me the truth on no uncertain terms.

Some of you broke my heart.

Some of watched me bitterly grow to hate the church but embrace Christ.

Some of you inherited me through marriage and again I’m sorry.

Some of you understand the kernel of truth.

Some of you remember that if you shit in the woods it only makes noise if the people skiing behind you catch up with you.

I encourage each of you to take the time to go through your inventory, be it your FB list, journal, photos, writings, etc. and reflect upon the living you’ve done, your life details and those who have participated in it with you.

Hollow Days

Some days, weeks and months I go through the motions.

I prepare meals, assist with homework, go to church, attend baseball games, attempt intimacy and provide transportation when needed. I say I love you and try to embrace my children, my husband and my life that is. Some days this doesn’t feel like enough for me and I’m sure it’s not for them.

It takes all my emotional energy to just exist, but it’s not much of an existence. I’m hollow. I’m flat. I’m a shell of a person.   My life consists of doing things for others out of obligation.

I signed up for this/my life fifteen years ago, when I thought I had some depression and that is was completely treatable by my morning coffee and Zoloft. I signed up for a lot not knowing there would be times when I had little to give. That when there was so little of me left, I would cling onto my last morsels of self, for preservation’s sake. This naivete meant not realizing that having lives depend upon you for sustenance and nurturing and not being able give it freely, produces a tremendous amount of unbearable guilt.

Some of the fifteen years were better suited for that morning fix, or I was better suited for it. There have been a lot of days, weeks, months, and this last year that make me doubt my decision and myself, I call them my hollows.

I want to feel love and connection to those I’ve committed my life to, but during the hollows all I feel is an urge to flee. I know logically that fleeing would fix nothing, that I cannot be free of myself, that I have to put my big girl panties on and address it here in this life that I’ve committed to. I know that love is more than a feeling, it’s a commitment and that the emotion of love will come back after the hollows leave. And I stay. And it does.

I want to appreciate my life, I want to enjoy it. I have so much. I know I’m fortunate. Many have it much harder and are not as blessed, but this line of reasoning doesn’t help me at all, I wish it would. I read about young moms that die of cancer and their grief stricken families, and I want to grasp this … and tell myself to stop the bullshit in my head. I want to. I want to hold this knowledge so tightly that it frees me from myself.

My family can sense these hollow days, I am more distant, angry, sad or irritated. My husband will try to fix it, though I’ve asked him to stop. I try to just move forward with the best of intentions on these days. I try to reassure them that I will come back around on another day, maybe tomorrow. I tell myself this as well. I want it for myself and for my family, I want better. A better me. I want years, month, weeks and days with no hollows.