Sunday, September 13, 2020

Unhomed Video Trailer


The post at the top

Thank you for reading my work.  Seriously.

  Thank you.  

I've decided to tackle this post early on to think through how to handle things before they arise.

There are some rules - basic stuff. Please take the minute to read over them.

Wednesday, September 9, 2020

A Very Short Story About Beer

It is a typical summer evening for my husband and I. The cicadas are humming in the trees, the occasional addition of frog song chimes in. The windows are open and a lazy fan turns on the ceiling as if it is protesting the heat as well.

As the evening light fails, I can watch the sunset from the window of my office. One cat is curled on the pillow of my desk the other is slowly batting at the poodle's tail in sleepy distraction.

From the kitchen below, I hear the rattling of pans and the opening of the fridge. The cats both perk an ear towards the sound, but both return to napping when the sound doesn't end with the squeak and pop of my husband opening the plastic container of sliced turkey. It's too hot to move for anything less than - the good stuff.

I agree with them. I would much rather be outside on the porch trying to catch the ghost of an evening breeze. Instead, I have a deadline to meet and I have to keep cranking out 'product'.

The peace of the evening is shattered by my husband's yell. It's only a single word, but I know that tone.


There is some disaster afoot. I abandon my office and pelt down the stairs, remembering to skip the fourth because it is loose.

Must remember to fix that tomorrow.

I put the thought aside with the hollow promise that I will surely remember it. As I skid into the kitchen with the poodle trailing at my heels, I see my husband standing at the refrigerator.

The icebox door is wide open. He's standing there with a beer in his hand and a look of utter confusion on his face.

"What's wrong?" I'm envisioning a lost finger or tooth. Or some calamity that is going to require us both to spring into action.

My husband simply holds up the beer bottle.

"I can't believe it," he says.
"Look at how small it is?"

Now, I see what the 'problem' is.
The beer bottle is indeed smaller than the usual 12oz. It's about half the usual size.

"Why did they do that?" he asked putting the bottle on the counter between us.

I didn't have time to ponder the marketing strategies of a Mexican beer company. I had a deadline to meet. Snatching the bottle from the counter I started back to my office.
"What's the problem? It's a single cervesa."

Tuesday, September 8, 2020

You're telling me what?


Let me get this straight, 

I spent my childhood

building all these defenses

and now I'm gonna spend my

adulthood undoing 

this fuckery. 

Saturday, August 15, 2020

A brief letter to the Board of Governors of the United States Postal Service

 Dear Sirs,

It is no exaggeration to say that the USPS is now the sole guardian of American democracy. You represent and are the last defense of the Constitution. Without the ability to hold impartial and safe elections the U.S. will go the way of so many other 'democratic' nations where a vote is not a choice but is instead compelled. How you serve the Constitution and the nation it stands for will be remembered by history. Choose wisely. Sincerely,,,,,,

Tuesday, August 11, 2020

A letter to someone who is struggling with CPTSD and recovery.

First off. You are enough. You are worthy of love.

Secondly. Things can get better. And, no, not everyone will leave.

Thirdly. I could have written this post a while ago - and it isn't out of the picture that I might do something like it in the future.

I also have CPTSD. I also never thought I would live to see 30. And yes, I have felt that unfairness, I have railed against it.
I don't know what I can offer you. I wish I could save you, but we both know that filling the void that exists at the very center of our being is something only we can do. I can cheer you on. I can tell you my story, but you must do the work. Which, you already know.

I can tell you this much.
You are still climbing because despite all that crap, despite everything you experienced and suffered, despite all the feelings of loss and emptiness - there is something within you that is stronger than all of that. It is tiny, but that does not mean that it isn't there, nor that it is weak.
You are digging, fumbling to find it. Keep going. It is there.

You may not know it, and you may not feel it, but you have made progress. How can I tell that? By the things you say. You know you have CPTSD. You know your past. You know you want help.
Those are NOT small things. They are a mountain range within themselves. So, don't dismiss the progress you have made by only looking at how far you have to go. You have already run a marathon. Give yourself credit for that.

I'm going to ask some questions. I don't need to know the answers, but they might help.
Is your therapist trained in working with CPTSD?
Is your therapist trained in EMDR?
Personally, I found that EMDR helped - although I felt intensely silly at the time.
If talk therapy (CBT) isn't working - perhaps there is a different type of therapy that could.
And, importantly - there are forms of therapy that do not need to retraumatize you. They are worth a look.

I still have ups and downs. But, now when I have those downs - I can sift what is emotional flashback and the CPTSD talking from my real reaction. That is a huge step forward for me. I'm learning my triggers. That is another important step. I talk about my journey and the bumps and setbacks.

Hang in there.
And remember, seek and you will find.