Beach Birds and monsters

Sometimes, the greatest of ideas become the worst of ideas. Having found myself turned into a lobster, I quickly discovered the beach umbrella at the local grocery store. “This could work” I thought, snatching it up for myself like a gluttonous pig in a cupcake shop.

Eager to put that little treasure up, I went straight to the beach, snapped it together and screwed it into the sand. Viola.. Instant perfection.

But then again, nothing is ever perfect. Neither is weather. Obviously, ignoring the gusting wind blowing ferociously off the ocean I proceeded to plop out my things in a neat arrangement under the shade of my giant red umbrella.

I opened my book and began to read, while feeling extremely proud of this new found comfort I had successfully created for myself. Without warning, as these things usually happen, the giant umbrella snapped itself loose from the pole still screwed into the sand and began to flip and roll across the beach like a paper sack. It managed to flip itself right into the lap /stomach of a woman sunbathing with her elderly Mother and Aunt who happened to be visiting from Connecticut.

I’m of course chasing behind the giant red bohemeth of an umbrella, now lumbering in somersaults worthy of an Olympic medal. I, of course can’t catch the red tumbling megalodon anymore than they can stop it’s unwanted invasion upon their relaxation. Spirited and kind, these women managed to grab a hold of the beastly creature disguised as an umbrella, although I think it might have been something they sell to make fun of tourists with.

The elderly mother quickly says, “I’m fully Vaccinated” and I reply “Yes, so am I” and think, this is what our world has weirdly become. Nevertheless the oddity of the conversation didn’t stop her from helping me wrangle that bucking bronco back to my, now disheveled things. Pissed at this monster I had created but couldn’t hide, I beat it into a ball and shoved its unruly red canvas into its easy to carry case and pitched it to the side.

I certainly couldn’t allow such a hideous contraption to ruin my perfect afternoon, so I proceeded to play it off by straightening my things and picking up my crumpled book.

Peacefulness isn’t always something I have experienced and it wasn’t then either, because the man who runs the umbrella /chair rental business for the hotel made no qualms in walking past me to say, “Those umbrellas aren’t meant for this wind, someone’s gonna get hurt” as if his umbrellas were somehow better or his intelligence keener than mine as the tragedy had already happened and he hadn’t bothered saying anything until it had already occurred. So, I’m thinking, “OK buddy, suck some sand” when low and behold the wind Goddess reached out and plucked one of his golden umbs from the sand and launched it in a tailspin.

“karma is I bitch I hear” I mutter under my breath, but I could have screamed it, he couldn’t hear me chasing his massive blue umbrella, now spinning like a vaulted spear, towards the pool.

Returning to my book, ignoring the spectacle behind me, I settle into a few good pages before I hear racket to my left. A large builded, old man of retired age has begun setting up his lawn chairs, practically next to me. His buddy, (Gerald) and two unnamed grandma ladies, show up talking as loud as lawn mowers running diesel. They begin to argue about what the concrete structure to the side of us is, although only a hotel with bad 1970s architecture, they yell about what it must be, never even considering that it might be a hotel.

Try as I might, I attempted to continue reading, but the noisy elders decided yell talking wasn’t sufficient enough in decibels and turn on music from a phone or small device one of them has carried with them. That only creates one more thing to cause them to yell at each other whilst sitting in their matching fold up chairs, all in a a row like roosting birds on a lone wire.

Gerald, loudly announced over his wife’s now humming, that the other man and his wife will be responsible for buying dinner and they did care what they ate, after which the other old man yells “What!? I can’t hear you”

His wife yells the repeated words of Gerald before he says “Okay, I ain’t got nothing to do so it’s no problem”

At this point, I have decided between old yelling grandparents, attacking umbrellas and a vicious sun that is hell bent on cooking me alive, my best bet is to seek refuge on my balcony.

I didn’t mention that I purchased some cute sodas in glass bottles did I, with no bottle opener, well I did. And, determined to open one left me with two split open, bleeding fingers and no bandages. So, I’d say that today was extremely adventurous and full of whimsical Follies designed to make me laugh, except, I’m not laughing.

I’m not crying either, but I did give the chair/business guy the stink eye and smiled nicely to the old birds who seemed perplexed at my departure.

Tomorrow is a new day and a new adventure, but one that will not begin with a monstrous umbrella named Goliath asshole.

Thank you for reading ❤️

Real talk. Non Fiction.

On a serious note.

I typically try to find humor in even my worst experiences because somehow that makes it easier to digest. But, it doesn’t mean that there isn’t a lasting affect or a serious situation just because I made light of it. Matter of fact, I never discuss this or talk about it openly. I do talk, but that’s only when asked or I feel the need to say something in order to help someone else. I don’t like classifying myself as a “survivor” or any other title. I’m not special by any means that made me “Survive”. In a sense, I don’t think I did survive. But let me get to the root of this.

I’m the… (I really hate saying this) survivor of mental and emotional abuse or more commonly known as NPD. I didn’t know I was suffering from abuse when I was subjected to it. I only knew I thought I was in hell, dying or going crazy. It took 15 years of solid therapy, twice a week. I still have my struggles, but ultimately I have overcome a great deal of it. My husband of roughly 4 years, has been the biggest thing in my life to finally heal that wound. He gave me the stability, strength and courage I needed. By doing that, he allowed me to have a safe place to live, free of fear.

The part I never expected was where I began to re-emerge into the girl I had once been. I did not know that I had tucked her away to protect her from the most heinous stuff, but I had. Therapy could never have done what he did. His love for me, alone, was the driving force to healing. However, because of that it allows me a bit more ability to talk about it. I don’t ever want it (abuse) to be the only thing that defines me.

For some, their tragedies become how they help others, and its an amazing thing, because those people are saints in every way. I certainly wouldn’t want to take away or deminish their journeys, but for me, I choose to just be me.

No ropes, chains or signs. No titles or signifying marks, just me. I want to be the person outwardly that I should have always been, without abuse scrawled across me like graffiti. It’s always difficult to remember, especially when I discuss it detail even though I have overcome it. Some things you just don’t forget and it’s hard to not cry about it. It doesn’t hurt the way it did. Instead of pain or fear, it makes me feel such sadness for the time I lost. It makes me have a great sadness for that young girl I was and the one who suffered for most of my adult life. It saddens me, and I cry for my daughters who had a very broken mommy as they grew up. It saddens me because I can not change it no matter how hard I try.

What I can do, is move forward without looking backwards. I can be this person I am destined to be and a whole mom to my adult daughters. And although it’s not the same as when they were young, this is what we get now. We can make it through just about anything because we made it through hell and back. That part, I know is true.

I was fortunate to not have been the victim of domestic violence. I was not hit, beaten or physically tortured and I won’t say I think that’s better because I honestly don’t know that suffering, but there were times I wished my abuser had hit me instead of the psychological warfare I was hit with every minute of the day for 10 plus years. It’s hard to fathom when it’s happening to you what’s going on, because it’s so foreign.

I didn’t grow up in an abusive home, I didn’t know anyone who had been abused this way, which made it difficult to recognize. It’s not like anyone knew what it was until it was way too late and by then I was out of the relationship. Unfortunately, the damage had already been done.

I still have PTSD. I don’t think it ever goes away fully. I have chronic anxiety and I take medication that has helped with that for some years now. Had I not found this particular medication, I don’t think I would be capable of functioning. The anxiety had gotten so bad I could barely leave my home for a few years. I missed school functions, movies, birthdays and outtings with friends because the anxiety had crippled me completely.

Trust me when I say, I hated myself for the invalid I had become. I had often viewed other people like I had become as weak, pathetic and lazy. I knew that wasn’t the truth and I couldn’t make the anxiety stop if I had wanted to because God knows I tried. I had horrible panic attacks that made me think I was suffocating to bouts of fatigue so bad I could barely get up to dress myself.

In the worst part of my abuse, I developed an eating disorder so badly that I have permanent liver damage, including damage to my digestive track, colon and bowels. Anorexia was a severe, and near dead problem for me that lasted a course of 15 to 18 years. To this day, ( I’m a healthy weight now), I still struggle with forms of body dismorphia. I am however, the most happy and comfortable I’ve ever been in my entire life. Peace is nice, when you’ve never had it. Happiness and joy is too.

I remember vividly, a few years ago before I married my current husband, praying to God that I before I died I just wanted to know what it happiness felt like. I didn’t know and the thought of not knowing what actual joy felt like inside me, made me devastated to no end.

Thankfully, I have been given that gift again, and, I can remember that feeling from when I was a very young girl. It’s truly something. It’s life changing when you are filled with joy and happiness that isn’t manufactured but real. There are few words for it and none that describe it best, because a feeling isn’t always tangible, but this feeling is the one that healed. This feeling inside me now is the one that truly set me apart from who I was, and I am.

Emotional abuse is more than just abuse of the mind, it’s an attack on your spirt, your soul and everything you’re made of. It tears you apart, layer by layer until it devours you whole. It changes you in a way that you won’t even recognize your own self when you take a good long look at that face staring back at you in the mirror. It’s the worst punishment, a human being can inflict on another that doesn’t cause death or blood to flow. And it’s 190 % real. It’s not lip service and when someone complains about things in a relationship with any person, friend, spouse, parent, listen. They may actually need you to see, what they themselves can not.

I have known women who have suffered as I have and were by far less fortunate. If they didn’t wreck their lives in an irreversible way, they ended it. It’s warfare of the worst kind.

I decided to share this much because I think it’s important to atleast say out loud, these things happened, they are very real and they can be life altering.

People who have NPD, narcissistic personality disorder and BPD, borderline personality disorder are abusers through mental illness. They need professional help. If you know someone who may fall into those categories, look them up, especially covert and overt narcissism, seek help for them. Check on the people closest to them. Most likely they will be in denial, but don’t give up. I would have been grateful to have been pulled from that sooner than later.

Thank you for reading ❤️

Black Widow Oblivion

This is another fictional story from The black widow series. Enjoy. All characters are just figments of my imagination. Any or all resemblance to an individual is merely coincidence.

She (the black widow) sat hours in her easy chair, oblivious to the world around her, including her children. She furiously stretched her mind into the massive organ it is by spending countless hours crushing candy as if it were her only reason to live. She spent every waking moment doing as little as possible just so she could crush those striped candies into a big win.

Without a care in the world the widow crushed candy all the while ignoring her husband as if he never existed, whilst her children were raiding the pantry for every sugary, carb loaded treat they could find. Laundry was piled into mountainous heaps in the garage as if the washer itself had violently vomited them across the floor. Which isn’t surprising since the clothes often smelled so putrid and so sour it would make you gag if you smelled them, thinking they were clean.

The widow was typically in a real maddening hurry and had no choice, but to run over the laundry with her car. She never had a problem rolling over those stacks of dirty jeans, t- shirts, towels and underwear like speed bumps in the car line at school. She couldn’t be bothered with that stufg, she was just too tired. She wasn’t even going to be able to cook because she was so tired. Besides, she really needed to get to her easy chair and crush candy.

She spent so much time engrossed in candy bombs that she never saw the beautiful bombs chasing around her very ignored husband by her back. They snickered and laughed, asking him why he was even with her. They loved coming to her parties where she tired to sell some kind of plastic bowl or scented waxy shit because the widow loved to drink. And, when she did… They would go on the hunt for that sexy husband of hers that she didn’t even know she had. She would sit on her sofa, pounding beer from a bottle, laughing about menial things no one really wanted to talk to her about. That gave the perfect little out for a friend to slip out to the garage.

The widows friend spotted the highly attractive husband in the garage. He had been hiding from the cats in the house when one, bad, little kitty escaped. She pawed and nipped hoping he would play. The kitty friend told him the widow never had to know, meowing like a cat in heat.

To be frank here, this sort of thing happened quite often. But, as fate would have it, the widow wouldn’t have noticed. She couldn’t have because, she was so very very busy. Busy making ass imprints on the sofa with her dildo, that is….

It was obvious she didn’t want her husband like the babysitter did. And, she couldn’t possibly want him like those women at church who loved their fitness training. They frequently invited him over for some cross training, if ya know what I mean…

The widow sure loved the energizer bunny, while her closest, and dearest friend was still fantasizing about the time she had her way wity the widows husband. Of course, the dear friend never told the Widow, but then again, she never told the widow she had once warned her husband before their marriage not to marry her because she was a user.

Which of course, all of that said was true. The woman couldn’t do a thing on her own, she needed him to do everything for her or slave her children out. She couldn’t clean the house and she couldn’t cook, and she certainly couldn’t do laundry anymore than she could clean her ass. She was busy you know and that was a chronic problem, but then again so was her month long periods too.

Behind her back people whispered. She thought she had snowed them all including the congregation at her church, but her husband had been two steps ahead the whole time. He never let an opportunity go without sharing to the Pastor and other deacons about her “personal issues”.. Like the one where she puts her ass print on the sofa…

Unbeknownst to her, he forwarded her emails she sent him, photos of food rot crusted in the fridge, laundry stacked in the garage and filth everywhere she never cleaned. He recorded her cussing like a sailor and let the pastor hear what she really sounded like when no one was listening. He even sent the church, the most damning email of all, where she admitted to all her egregious acts.

One day, her husband decided that he had never loved her and put her to the curb. He had only felt sorry for her little snot nose toddler she had when he met her and against his better judgment stayed for the rug rat. But, that rug rat had grown up and it was time. He hadn’t found her attractive for years and years. He couldn’t stand her voice anymore than he could stand her, so… he left.

She thought she had won. She gloated around town like she had just taken him to the cleaners, except he didn’t want anything she got. Andvthe best part was he had the last laugh. He had bested her in her own playground.

Every week she went to church after he left, and told the poor abandoned wife tale, they placated her and then snickered all over again. They laughed and made fun of her knowing she was the liar and fake that she was. They knew, because her husband made sure to let everyone know the truth, just before he divorced her. In fact, she may never have known what all those sideways glances were actually for and probably wouldn’t have wanted know either.

She had been made a fool in her own backyard. If it couldn’t get any worse for her, it did when her son began telling the world about her drunken escapades with men from dating apps. She thought no one knew, but everyone knew. Her place of employment knew, her church, her neighbors and even her so called friends.

The black widow had been stripped of her power and dethroned. Her crown was stripped and she had to sell the big house, trade in the mom mobile and take the demotion in front of the entire world and God.

Thank you for reading ❤️

Black Widow Poison Eater

The slight itch grew, although mild for a second, became a frenzied clawing motion just shy of mind numbing. She never thought the itch could get worse, but it had. The itch moved into her skin as if it were apart of it, biting and nawing itself raw. Delusional with it’s interference, she could barely think straight, let alone do anything. Her mind was always focused on the unyielding burn in her flesh. It never ceased to stop because it was always there. Occasionally, she would get occupied enough to forget it’s annoyance, but just when she did it emerged back with a vengeance. It stirred her thoughts and chased her everywhere she went.

Of course, the itch was only an itch that is, until she allowed it to fester into a disease. It took over her ever waking thoughts like a plague and haunted her dreams. It pulled at her brain every time she dressed herself or looked in the mirror. She let it naw at her to the point she couldn’t even do the simplist of tasks without it ravaging her thoughts like poison.

What she would never understand is that the disease was derived from nothing short of poison. Easily fed she lapped it up like a gluttonous pig, eating it by the spoonfuls.

She couldn’t help herself, because with every bite she took the more addicted to it she became. She craved it like a drug, wanting it over anything else in the world. She tried to tell herself she didn’t like it and that it was awful and vile, but the truth was she couldn’t get enough.

She ate and ate until it bloated her head and ate at her blackened soul. She let it devour her without ever knowing it had been feeding on her, hollowimg her out like a pumpkin.

She couldn’t hide it and when other people saw her infection, turning away, she found a million low hanging excuses to justify why “she” wasn’t at fault. It was always someone else’s problem and never hers because she thought she was perfect in every way. She had only had bad things happen to her not the other way around where she was the one being abusive and cruel to those around her. She never even saw how her little chickens were carbon copies of herself, incapable of love because they had never been taught how to love.

But, that of course wasn’t her fault. It was someone else’s fault. It wasn’t, her fault, she had only but a couple of friends, never keeping any for long periods of time. It was their fault. It wasn’t her fault she couldn’t get or keep a boyfriend, there wete things wrong with them, not her.

She didn’t even understand why the surroundings of her choosing were sub par. If you guessed it was somone else’s fault, you would be correct. You see, narcissistic people ways find the right poison the fastest. The gravitate to it out of their own need to be important. They need attention and a stroked ego. They want to find every fault in someone else so to justify why they are somehow better and when that isn’t enough they will attempt to attack someone they have no business attacking.

In fact, they think the poison is made just for them and it is. They just don’t understand the true nature of it. It’s like feeding candy to a baby. Every good witch can spot it early on and begin working her magic. It’s quite easy and takes little or no effort. To be precise, it’s like weaving a blanket. You begin with the first stitch, looping each thread into another, building it one square at a time until after a while you have sown a beautiful quilt ready for the taking.

Poison is the easiest to give and in a sense it’s her own greediness that gets her the most. Ultimately, she will hang herself right in front of everyone, showing the world the ugliness she truly is. But, by then the damage is done, irreversible actually.

If you come close, I’ll whisper to you what the poison is, but… Shhh you mustn’t tell. It’s a secret you know.

Are you listening… Words. The poison is words. That’s it.

All you have to do is feed a person a bundle of words they can search for and when they gobble them like a starving dog you won’t have to do another thing. The words do it all for you.

Character is defined by who you are when no one is looking. When your heart is pure, words have no affect. Those magical words, can’t hurt you, mostly because you already know who you are. And so does everyone else. You’re loved by many and people that barely know you love you immediately. That’s when you know your immune to the poison.

If your heart is blackened and you look to take without ever giving an ounce, expect what isn’t deserved and couldn’t show love or empathy without killing yourself first, then get ready to be eaten alive.

Thank you for reading ❤️

Snowwhite & the ocean oh toahs

Elephant Seal, aka oh toah. Along hwy 1, California

The world is filled with surprising moments that even for myself, I am easily dumbfounded. I’ve always had this uncanny ability with animals and when I was young my Father often referred to me as Snowwhite. That ability hasn’t changed now that I’m plenty grown up. In most cases they just appear to me, out of the blue. Sometimes, they show up as if I called them upon doing my thing in their environment. I’m not doing anything in particular, just being. Weirdly, they will almost appear tame and have even attempted to come up to me.

Typically, I refrain from those interactions as much as I want to touch, I know it’s harmful for a wild animal to have human friends, but nevertheless I’m often touched by this encounter. There’s something humbling about being in the presence of something wild and beautiful. But, even more so when it chooses you for whatever reason to find safe. There curiosity about me is mutual as I’m curious about them too. The eyes truly speak volumes.

My husband, unbeknownst to myself has almost the same gift and when we married in 2017 it became this overwhelming experience where no matter where we went or what we did we always had animal visitors showing up. I can’t say I know why or what they are thinking, but both my husband and I are in awe most of the time.

Upon traveling for my husband job which is what lead us to California, we found a lone stretch of the coast line. The elephant seals are known for the area but typically reside in certain area. However, we took to the beach. It wasn’t a perfect day as far as sun goes. It was rainy looking, cool and windy. It made it perfect as far as not seeing any other people exploring the area we had found. In fact this area was one dedicated to a certain bird. So, to say we expected finding one of these little oh toahs would be a farse.

We walked a good distance down to the beach from the road, which was deserted. Immediately, I spotted shells to collect and began gathering some for my pocket. I took a few photos before we decided to venture further down away from the rocks and then when we spotted this little guy. We almost didn’t see him there. Seals blend in pretty good with nature except for those big round eyes looking back, that’s when you know it’s not a rock.

This area wasn’t far from where they live but also not a normal place for them. There weren’t any other seals near by and being that this one was clearly a young one, it did appear strange. Although, neither of us know much about seals. We were so exceptionally close and not because we invaded his space but because we didn’t really see him until we were on top of him.

It looked at us probably in the same way we were looking at it, with curiosity. We watched each other and although I was concerned it might be frightened, it didn’t appear that way. It seemed at ease and comfortable and that gave me the opportunity to take a photo and say sweet words to it. As usual, they always appear to enjoy my speaking to them, and so did the little seal.

We moved away from him to give him space and the lityle guy made an effort to watch us as it made its way to the water and jetted off to some magical place seals frolic. However, just the warmth in its eyes is enough to be incredibly grateful to see him so closely without disturbing his safety or ours.

I’m super grateful to have so many amazing experiences and even more so with the greatest love of my life. It’s a beautiful thing to get to share these moments with another person. It’s a beautiful world and every moment is precious. I’m happy to be able to have had so many where I can just be in the moment and enjoy some little aspect that is as enchanting as it is divine.

I love those seals. They touched my heart like most animals do, but they really captivated me. And, they are such a fun backdrop to an already beautiful place, but somehow they made it even more special. Magical in a sense. I am beyond elation that I’ve had this experience and I look forward to even more strange animal encounters in the future.

Thank you for reading ❤️