Hey There!

It’s been a year since I began growing this beautiful blog. As the holidays approached and passed, I began to step back and dip into other things, somewhat neglecting my blog baby. Naturally, that little voice in my mind kept niggling, telling me I needed to get a move on. I felt stuck. Like I was incapable of picking the ball up again.

But here I am on a Wednesday night, house to myself until 10pm and an idea I’ve been chewing on for a while is finally coming to fruition.

Ladies and gentlemen, I will be taking a short break.

I’ll be back! But I have posted so much on this blog that I think it’s time to do some dusting. Call it metaphorical Fung Shui. So until further notice, whether that be a week or a month from now, I will be working on reverting some posts to drafts for refurbishment and doing some general cleaning up.

This will give me more than just a cleaner blog; hopefully giving me the insight I need to create some new stuff and really see who I’ve become over who I was when I wrote some of these awesome pieces.

Wish me luck and I will see you all soon… ish.



In the Best of Ways

Listening to: First Class by Rainbow Kitten Surprise

Photo Credit: Edward Eyer

ears ringing
hearing bells, singing
a pain never felt this way before
always coming back
wanting more
because this is what it means
when love is worth fighting for

giving every breath to a concept
we thought was dead
but were reminded
that lie was force fed by someone who
didn’t really deserve the best of what
could also be the worst
coerced into thinking these bodies
were only able to be loved by them

too sour to swallow
now taste sweet
the grass under feet easier to follow
a path made complete by one meeting
love never fleeting, never hollow
through feeding what’s best
instead of resentment boiling over
the pot finally in order
but still a mess
in the best of ways


The Journey of a Thousand Miles

Listening to: Broken by Lund

Photo credit: unknown

It’s hard not to get so wrapped up in your own storm that you forget about your neighboring islands’ weather. When that happens, you tend to think that nobody understands you or your story.

But the truth is that there are many people who do, that look at your picture and say “Oh, I’ve been there before!”. Sometimes that’s heard. Sometimes it’s better left unsaid because inside knowledge of past experience gives the wisdom: some things are easier said than done. Either way, the only person that can see you through that hurricane is yourself.

I was born with my disability. There was no big event that took my hands away. There was an official diagnosis of “bi-lateral deletion of digits” and “congenital malformation”. After that, seven years of pretty consistent doctors visits and surgeries. Then after the age of nine(ish), things came to a slow and it wasn’t until I was in my twenties that I picked the ball back up and really looked at it.

Because that was when the occasional pain turned chronic. When there were days I fumbled everything I held. Days I was irritable, frustrated and angry. Between then and now, those days have steadily increased. I have pinched nerves, involuntary muscle spasms, anxiety attacks and just really low grumpy days. Days where I have to admit it does hurt, otherwise I would be lying.

That isn’t to say there aren’t good days. In fact, right now there are still a LOT more good days than bad. Sometimes I have to remind myself of that; I strive to live everyday the best way I can. As soon as I let the fear of what is to come get the best of me, I am letting the bad days win. Yeah, that means that every once in a while I lose too.

I carry an extreme awareness of the inevitability that the not-great days will increase. When I have to opt out of being as active as I WANT to be. When I have to do the “Okay, I can’t do that. But I can do this. And I will do this”, self pep talks. And when those fail, relying more on those around me to do things that, in a more perfect world, I SHOULD be able to do. It absolutely sucks. But this world was born of entropy, it is chaotic and turbulent and nothing, NOTHING is guaranteed– not even the ability to be as independent as you want to be.

People compliment me all the time and will go so far to ask me how I do it. Dude, I’m in the same boat as you are. You might have hands, but neither one of us know what the hell we’re doing. I wing it? Maybe. Or maybe I stumble around in the dark until I can find the right switch. It might not be the same room you’re standing in, but I am still stuck with no other choice but to find a way through. Just like you are.

What I can tell you is that by growing and weeding out some people and habits, I have improved my outlook and my security immeasurably. My support group is a huge part of that security and one not so secret part of its success is acceptance that this group should be built on quality over quantity. Surround yourself with people who support and encourage you, while making the commitment to pick your broken ass up when you fall.

This last year, I have worked hard to reaffirm my self-sufficiency. What I mean by that is the only person in this life that you can control is Y-O-U. Even when you choose to walk away from someone or something, you are really just removing yourself. For everyone you’ve ever left, life keeps moving. Sometimes it means you are doing what is best for you, and you know it. Sometimes it means you are giving up on something that had the potential to be good for you, and you regret it. The important thing to remember is either one of those options will take you on a path that leads you to a truer self than what you were before– if you let it.

Every step taken so far has not been perfect; I’m fairly certain if you looked at my trail you’d wonder what weird ass beat I’ve been stepping to and X has yet to mark the spot. There have been stumbles, setbacks, moments I had to be dragged through the mud and parts where I chose to skip. There is no end in sight, but that’s half the fun. The other half is the adrenaline rush when you realize the end will look nothing like the present. Even if my steps slow because of my disability and I have to be pushed or even carried through by my loved ones, I will never forget how hard I’ve fought and how loved they have made and continue to make me feel. And if I ever do, I know they’ll remind me whether I like it or not. So much more than that, I know in my heart I will end on a positive note, because life is way too short to waste it on feeling sorry for myself until there isn’t time to reverse that sorrow or playing into the thought that I am useless without them.

Mental or physical, being disabled is a trial of errors. You fail a lot, and it’s hard as hell to see those failures as stepping stones to success. Even harder to remember that even the most able bodied individuals fail too. I’ve believe in the fact that humans are highly adaptable beings; they are capable of learning from their mistakes and improving upon reflection. If you have failed, you are more likely to succeed. For that reason, as a card carrying human, I believe in myself.

Keep walking. Only look back if you need a good reminder of everything you have overcome. Otherwise, mind the gap and keep your chin up. You are doing just fine.


Listening to…

Listening to: You Worry Me by Nathaniel Rateliff & The Night Sweats
               -or- Half Moon by Blind Pilot

Photo credit: Karyme Franca

today I saw a
Newfoundland puppy
in the park
by the playground
six months old
his name is Koda
and I smiled as
I realized how
beautiful he was
his chocolate brown coat
brought out by
bright green grass
glittering with fall leaves
gliding through the small field
happy and carefree

and I thought of how
you would want to see
I thought of how you’d maybe
want to take a photo
I know because
the opportunity was way
too good to pass up

I’m stuck
missing what I knew
and learning to forget you
because I think that’s
what you would
want me to do
but then again there was
a lot you never knew
and I hesitate to
find out if you do

I’m willing to show you
how sorry I am
but you cant help
the way you feel sometimes
I had to say goodbye
even if you didn’t understand
and before getting my opportunity
to say “just so I don’t live to regret it”
but I knew if I had said it
I wasn’t strong enough
to stand up and
take the credit
to weather the storm
that would have followed
to land on ground
that wasn’t hollow

I can only hope
we get a day
and are in the same place
to clear the air
I left stagnant
you probably haven’t
thought of what you would say
or maybe you have
admittedly I am afraid
of what might have faded away
enough to allow
sharp spades and hard faces
but all I can say is
you hadn’t stood
in the same position
it wasn’t just a bad place
there was a lot at stake

I hope things are good
I hope you’re okay
I hope it’s not weird to say
“tell her hi for me”
I know that seems silly
or even dumb
but even through the worst
parts of numb
I want you to know
that it was the friendship we had
that kept me on the road
what we shared
was my lifeboat
sailing me into safer dreams
when the darkness seemed
bigger than the light
hearing words I knew you would
know what they meant to me
even in the toughest of fights
I survived through
a gift of fate

so thank you
and I’m sorry
if this is too late


Year One

Listening to: Shake it Out by Florence + The Machine

Photo Credit: Miguel Salgado

year one
of coming undone
then putting me back together
of only feeling strong
when holding a pen
of every word written
a stitch on the mend

year one
of coming into my own
growing new from old
of wearing red instead of blue
feeling confident and sexy too

year one
of taking two steps forward
and only one step back
of acknowledging the good things
after wading through the crap
of creating a foundation
that will last

year one
of skin pricked
by broken shards
of a heart
held tightly away
of a tongue tasting tart
and fears coming to play

year one
of his hand holding mine
until I find peace of mind
of the destination
being worth the climb

year one
of letting it go
finding the fight
of pushing up
with all of my might
of looking back
and letting it die
of living a truth
told to be a lie
of telling year one goodbye
for what is to come


Counting Sheep

so tired of
being awake
counting every mistake
on repeat
having no choice
in the demon or
the company they keep
ready to cut
with sharp teeth
thirsty for blood
once thought healed
tears concealed
remembering years
where sleep meant fear
of much worse
than restlessness
when darkness was
their friend
not mine

a time when
being a kid was freedom
of innocent expression
not a constant state
of depression insistent
on following obediently
into young adulthood
no concessions
staying for dessert
flirting with happiness
trying to convince reason
to run the other way
scared to stay put where
life has given respite
from long felt pain
so wary of war
willing to pay
the price for a peace
numbness hides
there to be seen
eyes shut tight but
I can’t sleep


Three Strikes, You’re Out

Listening to: Cold Little Heart by Michael Kiwanuka

Photo Credit: Unknown

Strike one
hearing you speak
so hollow
a rock
echoing through
the shallow
part of deep
working too hard
for effortless
but words
carry no weight
and talk is
too cheap
for taste
with ears burning
trying to play
hand to hand
games change
cards waylaid
at every move
according to plan

Strike two
shame on me
knowing better
vested interest
like gathering feathers
pulled by strings
every little thing
enough to
fill the room
with plenty of clues
to the knife
finally cutting cold
from every page
turned in hope
of finding change
and rearranged

Strike three
yes, it’s me
not talking
hard to breath
with the old
in the air
less give
more take
maybe not fair
time flew but
maybe you
should have
thought this through
before deciding
to call me fake
when it was
really you

Playing by rules
that are mine
accepting the cost
on my own dime
the buy in
peace of mind
no next time
after three strikes
you’re out.