Button to Beans: Finding fresh happy and healthy paths

Why do you apologize for feeling sad?
Sad was made for days like these.
On the spectrum of bad days - this ranks among the champions.

If today isn't allowed to be sad,
how long are you going to miss out
on all the other emotions
before you realize you're denying yourself.

You deserve the right to be sad,
happy or mad.
Even puppies are sad when you make them sleep alone.
So why not you?

If today is sad,
and there is no way around it -
do me a favor and promise
not to apologize for it.

Apologies mean there's something to be sorry for
and you didn't choose, nor cause this bad day.
So embrace the shitty, hug the sad, cry yourself to sleep
and keep the hope alive that tomorrow turns the bend.

Wednesday, January 2, 2013

Who are "baby widows"?

Baby widows, trying to find humor in "deer widows weekend"
I tell you - we have dark senses of humor!

(Post Publishing Note: I wrote this over a year ago and it has had well over a thousand page views, people who, like yourself, or someone you know searched for "baby" or "young widow" please don't feel as isolated and scared as you do. You are not alone.)

I identify myself as a baby widow.
Why?
Well probably because I made up the term.
But the story is simple...

The day after I received the horrible call I sat at a computer and tried to search "whats next?"
Mr Google didn't seem to know what I meant.
I tried searching for "young widow", hoping to find direction.
Instead I was horrified -
a "young widow" is one who loses their spouse before age 50.

EXCUSE ME! I am 25!
I turn 26 next week,
tomorrow is our 2 year wedding anniversary,
what do you mean 50?
My parents aren't even 50!

What does that make me -
a baby widow?

Yes, a baby widow.

I sent a text to my cousin
(married the same day, widowed one year earlier)
What are we - baby widows?!
She replied back that she still didn't know what we were,
But she was sorry I joined her ranks
"Baby Widow" fit as well as anything else.

So who is a baby widow?
Someone whose heart was broken before it was even fully developed.
A baby widow lost her future before she had even begun to live it.
A baby widow cries about the children she never got to have,
the legacy that has been lost, the connection severed.

Mike's 27th birthday - taken by my first "baby widow sister"

Baby widows cry next to grave sites,
and onlookers carefully ask if you are visiting your parents.

Baby widows get "hit on" when they transition their wedding ring to the other hand -
young lustful men sense the opportunity and assume divorce.
But baby widows are cunning, and a little bit spiteful of innocence -
they quietly savor the shock of putting a cocky gent in his place with words like:
"dead husband", "widow" or "cemetery".
Even better if you can sneak "autopsy", "cancer", "corpse" or "suicide" in there,
but those opportunities are harder to come by.

Baby widows become crusaders.
Their youth and feelings of powerlessness revolt against the sadness
they can't allow this world to push them so far down.
They rise back up
with a vengance they fight for anything they can:
better FMLA coverage, cancer screenings, suicide prevention, MS treatment, widow's support.

They tirelessly support each other.
There is nothing more important to a baby widow -
than the well being of another baby widow.
It is why we show up with bottles of wine to "help" clean out garages.
Why we hold each other while we sob about the sale of a house.
We offer to pick up each other's kids from ballet -
because we know the betrayal of the heart that comes from one more family member not getting why we don't "have it all together yet".

A baby widow is isolated.
Not because she necessarily wants to be,
but at an age when your friends are either partying hard, or having their second planned child
who could possibly relate?

Friends have barely begun to lose grandparents,
and a few unfortunate ones have lost parent(s)
You start identifying those friends who "get it".
Those whom you don't have to tire yourself out
by trying to put on your "public face".
Death eyes I called it.
Those who had looked death in the eyes,
and were daring to continue living.

Baby widow hear thoughtless things:
"you're pretty, you'll be remarried soon"
"at least you didn't have kids"
"this is all for the best"
"haven't you moved on yet"

The worst is when its from your own family.
The ones who supported you and celebrated at your wedding,
now barely 3 years later, struggle to look you in the eye
as you prepare your husband's grave for its one year memorial.
They wonder why you return.
Why you wipe the dirt, leaves and snow away.
Why you swear at his parents every time you come here.
Why can't you just let it go?
When in your heart you can't let go the one thing you were supposed to do
as his wife, was to ensure he was cremated - and scattered.
You curse his family every time the snow is deep, it means they haven't visited.
The cold hard earth that they interned him in.
Now he's lonely, not free on the breath of the plateau.

My pseudo ceremony with fake fire-pit ashes, but real tears.

A baby widow fights these feelings of inadequacy
as she begins to put her life back together.
She tries to date, but finds the pedestal hard to see around.
As is the glaring fact that she has already failed.
He died! How much worse of a wife can you find?
Who would possibly want to stand where a dead man stood.

But baby widows are nothing if not resilient.
Baby widows love as if there is nothing left in their souls.
They wake up and find the sunshine -
or put on a record and find some within their own smile that sneaks out.
Baby widows are a miraculous breed of impassioned, dedicated, beautiful souls.

They will always get back up.
They will even have the strength to give in,
to look inside,
to examine how to do it better.
They will always find a way through.

Baby widows inspire me.

PS. If you like this post - please consider following me (available to the upper left)

Friday, December 21, 2012

Side Project with a Good Cause

Ladies and Gentlemen...I'm back in the game!

Back in the non-profit, fundraising and event planning game that is.

Its nice to return to my roots.
Invigorating even.
I haven't been this excited about anything that took serious effort in a LOOOONG time!

Last night I had the opportunity to combine my social circles (widowed and non-widowed) to brainstorm how to support the cause of One Billion Rising.

One In Three Women On The Planet Will Be Raped Or Beaten In Her Lifetime.

One Billion Women Violated Is An Atrocity.

One Billion Women Dancing Is A Revolution.

I have my own story with the unique journey as a woman on this planet. I will find the strength to elaborate on those stories during this journey. But this project isn't about me. It also isn't about sorrow or being a victim. Its about rising up, dancing and claiming the happiness and peace that any woman - any human, deserves.

Please check out our page on facebook: https://www.facebook.com/OBRSlc
And the new One Billion Rising SLC specific blog: www.obrslc.blogspot.com

I couldn't be more excited for the things we have planned. You should check it out!

Friday, December 14, 2012

Sometimes loss DOES make the world pause

feels like the world is coming at you like this

When someone dies you wonder why the world keeps on moving.

People keep posting funny jokes,

and pictures of their lunch on Facebook.

You wonder why everyone else is so crass -

how could they be happy at a time like this?

Eventually the anger and resentment fades

with the cold realization that the loss of those most dear to you,

didn't affect others the way it changed your world.

It is weird to me that today, people experienced horrific loss

-and in many ways everyone did look up and take notice

and the world stopped moving - just for a minute.

PS. I haven't left, deserted you or fallen off a bridge. I tore the ligaments in my elbow, making typing complicated and painful. I will be back to my blogging, yoga-ing, and krav maga-ing badass self in the near future.

With love and light,

Jess

Wednesday, November 7, 2012

Uh huh, Yep, Sure, Fine...wait what?

In general I feel like I am able to fit into normal society with typical emotional and physical reactions to life. I can at least fake it until I get home. The auto shop is one of those places that, even 2 years later, invokes complete "widow brain".

Widow Brain (noun): The state of complete disbelief and inability to remember facts or function logically after the death of spouse. See Also: break downs at grocery store, mechanics, car pool lane and any serious/mundane decisions points. Visualization can be seen at right:

Today I took my car to my usual mechanic's office, at the entire other edge of town, so running on my lunch break wasn't the brightest idea. This is the mechanic that I used when I lived on this side of town (read: when I lived with Mike in "Our House") (also note the inherent potential for underlying anxiety at getting off the exit which used to mean "home".) In spite of all of these things, I was cocky: I figured it would be a quick "nothing big" visit. I needed an oil change and my check engine light had come on over the weekend. But since I have a 13 year old Subaru, I wasn't worried about the check engine light, it wasn't flashing the impending-doom flash, and old Subarus are notorious for ghost lights.

Via

I was lucky enough that my little brother was headed to the same mechanic's for his emission and inspection. So he brought me a Pelligrino and I shared a bite of my lunch and we chatted and harassed each other like brothers and sisters do.

Then came the lecture from the mechanic:

I apparently use the wrong gas (didn't know that was possible)
I also apparently drive a legacy like a baja (whatever that means)
not enough undercarriage washes (like I even knew that was a thing)
dented exhaust (apparently, from a family reunion up a dirt road NOT meant for low clearance vehicles)
leaking power steering (I don't want to deal with it!)
leaking oil ("if its our fault I'll warranty it, but if you're adventures punctured something it'll be several hundred dollars")

And my not so composed responses:

Uh huh
huh?
Sure
Great
Bring it in when?
ok
whatever
Can I leave now?

I realized as soon as I pulled back onto the freeway to hurry back to work (after my now TWO HOUR lunch break) that I hadn't heard a thing. I called my brother = not that much help. So I called the mechanic back and explained that I had just been panicking instead of listening. He laughed and said "as soon as you left I turned to the other guy and told him you didn't get a word of that".

Its true. I panicked. I was shaking and in a cold sweat. Cars aren't my thing. Mike dealt with cars needing to go to the shop, he even dealt with oil changes. (I've learned that cars still need oil changes even when spouses die. ITS TRUE! Even when your husband dies, you're supposed to remember to take your car in for an oil change. Even if you haven't done that yourself in 6 years. Otherwise you have to pay to rebuild the engine. True, and pitiful story. )

I am reaching a new normal in so many areas of my life. But there are still these Kryptonite issues that humble my cocky-ass and remind me that I'm not so special. I can't defeat loss. I have good days and bad days, and sometimes both at once. In some ways I think its kind of (nice isn't the word) comforting maybe, to know that there are still places that Mike's life affects mine, for better or worse. Its good to be reminded that his impact in my life is still there.

You can watch the tree today because it is still alive, but it is only alive because of the rain and the nutrients of all the years before.

With Love and Light,

Jess

Thursday, October 25, 2012

Moving from "Late" to "First" - losing the need to tell everyone I'm a widow

Lately I have noticed a change in myself. Something shifted. I no longer automatically refer to Mike as "my late husband". There are a lot of people who don't even know that I was once married. When he comes up in anticdote I sometimes refer to him as "my first husband". But always with a smile.

A year ago, I couldn't imagine not speaking about Mike. Not making sure that EVERYONE knew that I was once married, he had left and now I was a widow. Doctors, grocers who inquired about my crying over the produce, mechanics who questioned my inability to make a decision without staring at my phone - wanting to call Mike but not knowing the number to heaven: all of them heard that I USED to have my act together, and death ripped it apart.

Maybe its because I'm less "apart" these days. I don't feel conflicted, or even guilty about living. I don't feel mad at Mike the way I used to. And I don't feel like I need to justify his absence with the shock word "widowed".

This doesn't mean that I feel any less widowed, I guess I don't feel just widowed anymore. I've been married to Mike in death longer than I was in life. We spent 8 (mostly) happy years of our lives intertwined. That may be a lie. We probably spent 6 1/2 (mostly) happy years and 1 1/2 insanely hellish (with blotches of joy) years.

I believe that being with Mike was the most revolutionary force in my life to date. But that doesn't mean he, or even his death, has been the only force. The sands of the desert are scarred by wind, sun and water. Etching deep samskara or scars/grooves that show the next rounds of breath and tears the paths that have already been carved.

There will be more pain, there will be more loss. There are more arguments, more relationships. Though each is affected by the existing scars, the new experiences shape the scenery and are constantly changing it into something new.

My landscape has now been shaped by so much since the loss of Mike, that though the chasms of his death remain, the lines are no longer sharp and the edges not so steep. They have been weathered and worn with time and patience.

Here's a song that I heard that completely expresses how I feel about Mike and our marriage. It brings happy, contented tears to my eyes every time. No Regrets.

Darling, no regrets
I'm so glad we met
Even though we made a mess
I'm glad we said yes
Darling, no regrets

You know I love you still
and I always will.
Love is not a test,
I know we did our best.
darling, no regrets

oh darling,
no regrets
oh darling,
no regrets

Darling, no regrets
Here's to your success
may all you do be blessed
i wish you every happiness
darling, no regrets

oh darling,
no regrets
oh darling,
no regrets

- "No Regrets" Forest Sun

With Love and Light,
Jess

Thursday, October 18, 2012

Are you enough for YOU

Malala Yousafzai - age 14

Are you enough for you?

When was the last time you validated yourself?

You can live life looking for someone else to validate you, prove your worth:
the pat on the head for a job done well,
a hug of appreciation for helping out a friend,
warm fuzzies of doing "the right thing".

But when was the last time you told yourself
that you are enough,
that you are doing the right thing,
that you are the best you can be?
Right now. As you are!

Are you enough- for you?

I am not advocating indiscriminate selfishness.
But you should be selfish with validating yourself.
You don't need to be enough for someone else,
in fact its really hard to be enough for anyone else,
if you aren't enough for you.

Sad is ok.
Happy is ok.
Grumpy is ok.
In Love is ok.

All of it is ok if it is what you are feeling.

You aren't going to be able to pass THROUGH sad,
and onto whatever is next,
if you don't sit in sad-land and accept it.

Listen to yourself.
Why are you sad?
It is probably pretty logical to be sad
Can you tell yourself its ok to be sad?

On the other end of the emotional spectrum,
Why should you hide when you are happy?
Even if others are struggling.
You may feel like you should hide your "glow"
because it will make them more sad.

Truth is, they are already sad,
hiding happiness is no way to reinforce that happiness exists
that there is something more worth hoping for.

I see this often in widows who are moving forward,
when they find happiness they try to hide it, so others don't feel bad.
Its the silliest thing!
What could be better for a grieving soul,
than to see one that was once just as pained as our own
flourishing with life and happiness.

My favorite quote is by Marianne Williamson.
It is so awesome that it is even mis-attributed to Nelson Mandela's 1994 inaugural speech.

(please read with intention):
Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There's nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let your own light shine, we unconsciously give others permission to do the same. As we're liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.

Will you re-read that quote one more time? Please

"We are all meant to shine, as children do"
What imagery!
Children do not hide their happy, or their sad.
They exist as perfect expressions of themselves.

By epsos.de

Please accept the happy, the sad, the bitchy, the glamorous
They are all essential, they are all you.

I know that I can live a more fulfilling life:
one with more direction, worth and purpose.
When I live for ME
not you
not my partner.
Just live every day knowing that whatever I do
I am enough
for me.

Are you enough for you?

With Love and Light,
Jess

Friday, October 12, 2012

Malala's Dreams

Free Like Butterflies

"My life is like a movie, full of dreams. I used to dream of becoming famous, to see my valley freed from the clutches of Taliban, to see girls flying like butterflies, free from any restrictions. It is becoming as a reality so I am happy, happy, and very happy," she said. "I want to change the political system so there is social justice and equality and change in the status of girls and women. I plan to set up my own academy for girls." Malala Yousafzai

I haven't written on a current event yet. I have always left that to the journalists. In fact, I haven't felt like I had much to offer the writing world lately, so I have been much quieter.

But today I feel I need to speak up.

Today I will speak, purely because I can.

And that is why I must.

Because today, someone else can't.

Three days ago the young woman who wrote the quote above was critically shot in the head and neck. She was shot because she spoke out against the Taliban.
She wanted to be allowed to go to school. She didn't want to weigh life against education. But that is what she did.

"She was fearless. Whenever we spoke about it she would tell me how the Taliban is still alive and well, they can do anything, but of course that would never stop her," said filmmaker Adam Ellick.

She refused to be quiet about the war that was tearing her home of the Swat Valley apart. She continued her education at every chance and wasn't afraid to talk to the rest of the world about the injustice she saw. On Tuesday full grown men, members of the Pakistani Taliban, boarded a van packed with children and declared that she must be punished as they shot her at point blank range. She now lies in critical condition after several surgeries. Malala Yousafzai is 14 years old.

I don't know which shocks me more. The strength of this 14 year old girl to stand up, blog on BBC, meet with top government officials and plead for government intervention to the closure and destruction of schools. Or the fact that any organized group would have the heart to be proud of shooting a child? A child. They have made public that they shot a child. And will continue to target her until they succeed in killing her. Again I ask - you shot a child?

But they were wrong. They thought that by shooting Malala they would silence her voice - but now her voice has been taken up by so many others. Women, men, school children and politicians all over the world are reading her story and becoming more informed. I have read comments by Laura Bush, Hillary Clinton and Barack Obama. She did exactly what she set out to do. I knew that it was difficult to gain higher education in other parts of the world and that I was blessed for having my Masters degree. I did not realize the depth of the fear and fighting denying elementary aged children from school. I thought ignorance, or inadequate facilities and poverty impeded education - not savage hatred.

As I look at the opportunities I take for granted. This week I watched my aunt making cloth letters for her daughters at the table while they slumber peacefully. The stories that I watch being read to my little sister. The books that I already have sitting on a shelf for children that have yet to be conceived. I take all of these things for granted. I know my children will be educated. I can say this with certainty. I didn't realize it needed to be a conviction.

When did this become worth killing for? When did someone decide they would kill to prevent a girl from sitting in a desk and learning?

When I write I usually have a point, a challenge, a goal. But today, I don't know what the point is.
I'm dumbfounded and shellshocked. Wondering how to make a difference and wondering how much else I don't know about.
I hope that the evil in this world will be met with the Malala's of this world. I hope, and I pray, and I commit that when the decision to sit down or stand up comes - I will stand up. Even when fear is around the corner with guns. Because speaking up is the whole reason we can think, and I would argue the whole reason we are here.

Malala's voice will not be silenced. Neither will mine. Will yours?

Other articles regarding Malala:
Hello Giggles: 14-YEAR-OLD PAKISTANI GIRL MALALA YOUSUFZAI SHOT BY THE TALIBAN FOR BEING A FEMINIST BLOGGER
New York Times: Taliban Gun Down Girl Who Spoke Up for Rights
BBC: Malala Yousafzai: Portrait of the girl blogger

With Love and Light,
Jess

Monday, September 24, 2012

Taking control of your own path

Via creative commons

I am not one to assert that you can choose not to grieve or have bad times.
When life hits the sh*t fan, you simply can't catch all the pieces.

But you can choose how you grieve.
You can choose to get help,
choose to receive help.

There is no "right" way to grieve that will make everything easy,
you will still make decisions that you wish you hadn't.
You will still have to work at it.

I wrote a few weeks ago about loving yourself
accepting where you are, letting go,
and moving through it, not against it.
Also about recognizing what you are putting out to the world.

There's another step in this equation.
OWNING IT.

Grief, life, the world did not happen "to you"
I hate to destroy millions of pity parties.
But the world is not against you.
No deity singled you out to crap on your pretty life.

Sometimes life didn't go as planned,
if you ask most people,
life didn't go as they planned - sometimes its just a bigger deviation.

But you know what you can control...YOU.
Get yourself up, brush your teeth, and keep trudging.

If you feel "stuck",
think to yourself - "self, have we done anything different lately,
or are we expecting new results from old behavior?"

If working out isn't working, try a peer group,
if dwelling in grief chat rooms isn't working, try running,
if playing atlas and carrying the world on your shoulders is crushing you with its weight, try allowing others to help. You may even have to ask for help because you've pushed all of your helpers away for so long that they've stopped asking.

But if you're willing to change,
if you want to own your path,
you are going to have to step out of your comfort zone.

There are days when you need to hide under the covers,
ignore the world,
and sit with the pain of love, loss and the world.

But that is not every day,
there is balance in this world.
You must own the responsibility for finding happiness to balance your sorrow.

Watch a funny tv show,
go for a bike ride,
appreciate the beauty of the changing colors,
snuggle a kitten.
Most importantly: appreciate what you have, and create what you want.

This weekend I watched a group of 10 widows and widowers do just that.
They took control: they showed up, they opened up
they made a difference: for each other and for themselves.

I heard how much they hate the word "widow"
and that it applies to them.
How they hate raising fatherless children,
feeling crazy all the time,
and not knowing what to do with their beloved's posessions.

I also heard how they wanted more,
more from life, more for themselves
more for their children.
How they were terrified, but going after "more" regardless.

These women (and man) have been handed what's considered the worst cards in the deck,
but they show up, take control, and dare for something more.
I am inspired and in love with the energy and compassion and *hope* we share.

My hope
is that everyone will find it in themselves
to imagine more
then have the guts to proactively go get it.

Its not easy. But its worth it.

What can you do to take more control?

With love and light,
Jess

Tuesday, September 18, 2012

October Unprocessed

So we all started a 30 day challenge around here...about 30 days ago.
I'd love to hear how everyone did.
Here I come with your next challenge.

30 days of unprocessed foods.
AKA
OCTOBER UNPROCESSED!

The original idea came from a re-post from one of my favorite blogs: 100 days of real food.
The concept is as follows:
can you,
for the month of October
give up processed foods?

30 days...its not so bad right?

"Processed" being anything that when you look at the label,
you don't have the ingredients in your kitchen.
(not because you haven't been to the store, but because you don't stock potassium sorbate or maltodextrose in a normal kitchen).
If you (given superpower cooking skills) couldn't make it, then don't eat it.

BUT, just because a Big Mac contains crap you shouldn't eat,
doesn't mean you are hamburger-less.
Go home and MAKE IT YOURSELF!

Its amazing the satisfaction that comes from cooking with whole ingredients
and producing a product that is: spectacular, fulfilling, yummy & edible!

Visit Andrew at Eating Rules to learn more
and to sign up for their daily emails during the month of October.

I know I will be participating,
and you may thing "but she already eats like that, so its easy"
If you think avoiding a list of 30+ allergens is easy, try it.

Also, a mere 2 years ago I didn't watch my diet,
I ate all the processed foods:
Dr Pepper, Reese Pieces, Dominos Pizza ......
One by one I started eating healthier, and making my own "take out favorites" at home.
My body appreciates the dedication and commitment I have toward putting good fuel into it.
I feel (and look) a million times better.

I'm not asking you to go organic,
I'm not asking for you to remove soda for forever.
But 30 days of a little change...you can do that.
You already have!

With love and light,
Jess

Friday, September 14, 2012

Bored with Grief

Bored - Moyan Brenn

I am bored with grief.
I want it to retire,
grief is tired. (or I'm tired of grief)
Its like the drive to work -
I know every turn,
every pothole, every advertisement.
And I'm bored.

I want to take a new road
The side street with lush trees
cute little houses,
and kids walking to school.

I'm so sick of grief.
Its not even really traumatic anymore,
just worn-out and tired.
I see it coming and I just sigh
"oh this again, really?! We've done this before"
can't we change the channel?

My grief is becoming similar to a video
not one that I like,
but one I know every word to regardless.
Like the favorite of my little brother that was always playing.

Akin to Beauty & the Beast - I know every word to my grief story.
I can recite it without even thinking.
It can run in the background for a while before I even notice.

I have lots of other emotions,
lots of other movies.
But time after time,
every month or two,
something happens
and that same old dingy film plays again.

Today I am bored with grief.
But it won't turn off,
and I can't find a good side road to take instead.

With Light and love,
Jess

Tuesday, September 11, 2012

Don't let fear run the show

I realized why it is so hard to fundraise for the AFSP (American Foundation for Suicide Prevention) and their Out of the Darkness Community Walk.

Fear.

We don't want to talk about suicide.
We are afraid that we will be labeled.
We are afraid that we'll be looked down upon.

People will assume things.
They will assume that we have problems.
Assume that we know someone who died of suicide.
Assume that we weren't good enough.

F-K THAT!

You know what I'm afraid of?
I'm afraid of hearing that one more person
is heartbroken and confused.
That one more person thought about suicide but didn't know where to turn.

I fear going into the house when I don't see movement.
There is no peaceful calm,
in the still silence
only fear,
petrifying fear,
that today is the day I lose someone dear to me again.

So yes, I'm afraid of talking about suicide.
I hate fundraising for this.
I hate having to tell friends and family why its important.
But I can't just keep waiting.

Waiting until it is too late.
Until someone I didn't expect to lose
is ripped from me again.

I will make you uncomfortable when I talk about it.
Hell,
I make myself uncomfortable.
But, you don't get it - I don't care about the fear.
Its worth it.

I will not lose one more person
because I was afraid.
I need to know that EVERYONE who knows me
knows that I am someone they can come to.
Because I "get it"
without judgement
only love
and desperation
to please look at those you love, who love you
and realize that you are irreplaceable.

On Saturday I walk,
I walk with family,
I walk with friends,
I walk with widows.

I don't walk "for Mike"
he let his demons take him.
I walk so that somebody else -
has the strength to confront theirs.

Also seen here on thewiddahood.com

For the Love of Corgis

I'm stuck on a post that I feel like I should write, but can't. So in the meantime a few people have suggested that I pull out of my writing slump by writing about something that I love. Writing-candy if you will.

So what is my cotton candy of the blogging world......

CORGIS!

I freaking love corgis. I don't know if I have ever even met one in person. I think I might burst. Like the feeling when I got to give Jane Goodall a hug! But maybe even bigger. And if you know my love of Jane Goodall, you can extrapolate how much I have the experience of playing with a corgi built up in my heart/head.

What would I do if I got to play with a corgi? I'd pretty much do this.....

Then go for a swim at the lake

via Creative Commons

Maybe a drive to the park

via Creative Commons

Where we would play with some toys

My buddy and I would have to hike in the mountains

And definitely not settle down until someone dragged us home!

How are you feeling after some corgi lovins?
I'm feeling a bit better. Still don't know how to write about the AFSP and why I'm walking for the OUT OF THE DARKNESS Suicide Prevention walk this weekend.

So just cut me some slack and join our team or donate to our cause.....the corgis would do it.