Follow-up on Previous Post

Ok.  I reviewed my notes and found the original epiphany I found that I wrote down for myself.  Here it is:

“Fear of happiness.  I am afraid to let go and fully embrace an ecstatic path because I do not know how to cede control.  I need to learn to cede control and give things over to nature and deity.”

In a nutshell: pretty much what I posted in my previous entry, but in the exact words as they came to mind.  I even have about 10 boxes surrounding it and a ton of stars.  My way of saying “REMEMBER THIS AND PAY ATTENTION, STUBBORN ASS!!”

Short and sweet entry here.  Time for me to go do a little “work” on this block. 🙂

In frith,


Hello, Phoenix & Inner Self

Well, here we are in Phoenix and moved into our new apartment.  Ok…maybe not MOVED in (our stuff is currently somewhere over the Pacific in transit).  But we are here, and we have a roof over our heads.  Here we are smack in the middle of the civilian sector.  After 12 years either serving in or working for the Air Force, this is new terrain for us.  A new yet old experience.  I think it’s hard for us both to remember far enough back to fully remember what it’s like having “normal” jobs.  But it seems to be a good fit for us so far.  I know both of us will miss the Air Force lifestyle and the constant moving around.  I have no doubt that both of us will experience a touch of wanderlust in about two to three years.  And who knows…there could come an opportunity in that time for us to relocate for bigger jobs.  Who knows what will fall into our laps when we work for it.

So…while my husband is busy working at his new job at Channel 12 here in Phoenix, I’m “busy” taking a break from the chaos of Marketing and gathering myself back together.  I’ll be staying home and being a “temporary housewife” for the next few months so I can recover from burning the candle at both ends.  I’m also using the break as an opportunity to focus on areas of my life and my self that need improving, but I never made time for because I was too worried and preoccupied with my professional self.

I’m taking another class with Francesca De Grandis (my teacher whom I have written about on several occasions here).  I’ve only been in two classes this session, but I am already feeling the effects.  It’s amazing how much self-reflection you can do when you don’t have to focus on deadlines, orders, surveys, and all the other things that happen behind the curtains in Marketing.  Honestly, the self-reflection began several months ago, but I always pushed it aside because I felt that my career took priority, that it defined me.  I worked so hard to reach my goals, I completely put the rest of myself on hold.  What a HUGE mistake.  The fact I was so preoccupied with that speaks volumes on its own.  I completely sacrificed my spiritual and inner self for my career self. *sigh*  Why do we do this?

Anyhow…on to my biggest moment of self-reflection thus far.  I’m going to come back to sacrificing spiritual and inner self to career at a later time.  It’s something I’m still mulling around in my head.

During our first class last week, I had an epiphany.  (Don’t expect me to share what we were talking about specifically.  It’s not going to happen.  I am simply going to relate MY thoughts).  I made a comment about being afraid of happiness.  I don’t know why that specific thought decided to come into my mind at that precise moment, but there it was.  I think I dumbfounded myself.  I thought about it for a moment in class, then brought myself back to what was being said by Francesca and my fellow students.  But the thought sat in the back of my mind for the remainder of class.  I jotted my thought down on my tablet so I could remember the precise phrase that came to mind (I have it written down still, and I’ll share it at some point, but I forgot to bring my notepad with me on my way to write this).  My thought was this:  I am afraid of happiness not in the sense that I am afraid of it in general…I am afraid of screwing it up.

I grew up in a manner that was difficult and challenging.  I don’t regret it.  I don’t judge it.  I am thankful for it.  After all, if I didn’t have the childhood I had, I wouldn’t be the woman I am today.  I love the woman I am today.  BUT…the manner in which I grew up required perseverance, hard work, independence at an early age.  CONTROL of the things around me…of my life.  And that is what this fear boils down to.  I am afraid to CEDE control in my life.  Yes, when I was younger, I was VERY afraid of what happiness was because I didn’t truly KNOW it.  There was always turmoil.  There was always a fight to be had (whether for survival, with a person, etc.). NOTHING came easily (not that it always should).  As I became older and I worked for the people and things in my life, I did become more comfortable and accepting of “happiness.”  I realized that not everything had to be fought for.  That sometimes you can just go with the flow and just BE HAPPY.  But that whole part of ceding control would bother me to no end.  I AM a control freak.  No so much regarding others…but regarding ME and MY life.  I CONTROL MY OWN FATE!  And I do very much believe that is true…that I control my own fate.  But…BUT…don’t we sometimes need to cede control in order to gain a better view of the bigger picture?  Putting control into the hands of someone other than myself is my weakness.  In many cases.  Not always.  But I find that my unwillingness to just throw my hands to the wind and say, “OK!!  IT’S OUT OF MY CONTROL!!!  DO YOUR THING GODDESS!” hinders me.  It hinders my progress.  It hinders my ability to perceive. To listen. To speak. To fully…BE.  It also hinders me in other facets of life.  It hinders my profession.  It hinders the full potential of my marriage.  It hinders my relationship with people.  With other living things.   It is a block.  A big, huge, massive, concrete, ugly block.  It is a block I NEED to get rid of.  To wash away.  And it’s something that is sooooo engrained in me, so much of a part of my psyche that the very thought of cleansing this block terrifies me.  Again, the control.  You see the pattern here?  Despite knowing that I could reach a level of enlightenment and inner peace and bringing myself closer to myself and to deity, I am still stubborn and don’t want to give away my control.  How frustrated I am with myself.  And this is precisely why this block needs to be washed away.  Control is good.  The extent of the control I wish to have over my own life is unhealthy.

So, this is where I am.  I have been sitting on the fence for a few months, and now I am ready to take the plunge.  Am I still scared?  Yup!  But if I don’t take that plunge, I will continue hurting myself.  The next few months are going to be difficult, but they are also going to be liberating and beautiful.  This has been in the making for a long time.  Now it is time.  I pray that I can cede control  yet maintain control.  I pray for a balance that is needed in myself and in my universe.

In frith,


Goodbye and Thank You, Wolf Pack

Here it is.  Close to the end of my time in Korea.  It’s my last night in Gunsan.  My last night with the Wolf Pack, the 8th Fighter Wing.  For those unfamiliar with the Air Force and the legacy of the Wolf Pack, click here.  This place is truly unique within the Air Force, a place with morale and a camaraderie I’ve never seen.  It’s unlikely I will see it again.

So, now it’s time for the obligatory sentimentalities.

First, I want to thank everyone who has been part of the Wolf Pack since 2010 for making my time here so memorable and fun.  Thank you for all the experiences, and for allowing me to serve you while you were here.  Thank you for the opportunity to learn more about my career field, and giving me insight into our younger Air Force demographic.  The information I have learned from you is invaluable to me as a marketer.

Next, thank you to my wonderful staff in the Marketing department.  You already had the tools to be great marketers, and you were already using them.  I hope that I was able to teach you new things and to use those tools in new ways.  Keep using those tools and concentrating on your talents, and learning new talents.  You have taught me so much as a supervisor and Marketing Director, and I hope I was able to teach you half as much as you taught me.  I have no doubt you will continue to do well, and that you will continue to do great things.  Thank you for the teamwork and the friendship for the last three years.

For all the close friends I’ve made here: thank you so much for welcoming me into your life and for letting me get to know you.  I have never met such a diverse group of people who are so willing to go out on a limb and make new friends.  One of the effects, I think, of being Wolf Pack.  Many of you have such limited time here, and to make the time go faster and easier, you have to make friends fast.  And many of these friendships will last a lifetime.  This is the bond that forms with Wolf Pack.  Thank you all for simply being my friend and accepting me as I am.  You are by far the most open minded and accepting people I have come across in my life.  And a lot of you have become a surrogate family.  Much love to you all.

Tomorrow, I will drive away from the Wolf Pack for the final time, and I will be thinking of all of you and the memories created here in this remote location, where everyone works and plays together.  Where some of the best memories of my life were formed.  I have no doubt I will be fighting back tears as I see the 8th Fighter Wing grow smaller in the rear view mirror.  Please know I will miss you all dearly, and that you have made a huge impact on me personally and professionally.  And you all have my most sincere and heartfelt respect.  No one does it better than you.

So, until we meet again some other place and time: Defend the Base, Accept Follow on Forces, Take the Fight North.

Take care of each other, Wolf Pack.




So…I’ve found myself wrestling with something over the past few days since I received my orders from the Air Force to return to the United States.  For the first time in 12.5 years, I will be living on U.S. soil again.  What keeps rolling around in my mind is that I’ll be touching down in my home state of California the day before the one year anniversary of my mother’s death.  It’s irony at its best.

My mother was not thrilled at the idea of me moving to England 12-and-a-half years ago, but she understood I had to go.  I was married to my first husband at the time, and he served in the Air Force.  When the Air Force tells you to go somewhere, you don’t really have much of a choice.  And my mother told me at the time, “Sara, I am your past, not your future.  Your future is your husband.”  I know it was very difficult for her to say those words, but my mom was completely selfless in a lot of ways.

After my first husband and I separated and I decided to stay in England, mom pretty much said the next thing.  Sure, she would have loved for me to move back home. What mother wouldn’t want her baby close to her? But again, she said, “I am your past, not your future.  Live your life.  This is the woman I raised you to be.”  And again, I know it was very difficult for her to say that.  I know she meant it, but I also knew she wanted me to come home.  She agreed with my point of view that staying in England was a once in a lifetime deal.  Never again would I have the opportunity to live there.  So, I stayed.  And we talked on the phone at least two or three times per week. For hours on end.

When I started applying for Marketing Director jobs, there were many places I considered applying.  I knew the position at Travis Air Force Base (near my mother) wasn’t available, so I applied stateside with other branches of the military, and I applied overseas with the Air Force.  When the job here in Korea was offered to me, I called my mom, and for the THIRD time, she told me, “I am your past, not your future.  This is your dream job. I want you to take it.  Yes, I would love to have you home, but you are a grown woman and I am so proud of the woman you’ve become.  Live your life.”  And for the third time, I knew saying that had to be excruciating to her.  Again…the most selfless woman I’ve ever known.  I know she wanted me home then as much as she did before, but I also knew (because mom often told me so) that if I gave up my goal to be a Marketing Director and career woman, I’d never hear the end of it.  More than wanting me home with her, my mom wanted me to be successful and happy.  Mom told me all the time, especially after she had her  first stroke and got sick, that if I packed things up and moved home to be with her or take care of her, she’d never speak to me again.  She flat out told me she would be disappointed in me.  That it wasn’t the life she wanted for me.  People assumed I was selfish in my choices to stay overseas and strive to attain my goal.  Here’s the thing:  I didn’t just do it for me.  I also did it for her.  Because she was so proud of me.  Because she wanted that for me.  Because I couldn’t stand to disappoint her.  And because I knew above all else that I was becoming the woman she had always wanted me to be.

So here I am getting ready to move back to the U.S.  I’m not moving to California, but I’m moving to a nearby state.  I’m not going there with my career in mind, for the first time.  I’m going because that is where my husband’s career is taking us.  Above all else, I support him and his career choices and prospects.  But, here I am 12 years later finally moving home to the states.  So close to the first anniversary of mom’s death.  I can’t help but wonder why life didn’t take another turn and I didn’t find the opportunity for my career to progress in the states.  Why I couldn’t have gotten home sooner so I could have spent more time with mom before her passing.  I guess if I did find a job in her area, I wouldn’t have had the same life.  I would never have met my husband.  I would never have met my future.  And mom would tell me the same thing now as she did with my first husband, “I am your past; not your future.  Your husband is your future.”

I love my mom, no matter what some people may say.  Do I feel selfish sometimes for following a career path that kept me overseas for so long?  Of course I do.  But I also know my mother never would have forgiven me if I’d passed on those opportunities.  And now that I’m headed back to the states, a part of me feels that it’s too little too late, regardless of what my mother wanted for me in life.  I feel a pang in my heart much like a dagger because I wasn’t able to get home in time to be able to see mom more frequently.  But…no matter what, I’m finally on my way there.  And I know mom is looking at me from wherever she is and thinking, “I’m happy you’re coming home and that you have this new life ahead of you.  I am your past, not your future.”

So…I guess I’ll end this with the immortal words of Ozzy Osbourne…”Mama, I’m coming home.”  I just wish you were still here to see it.

In frith,


Been Too Long

It has been WAY too long since I last posted here.  Between dealing with the loss of mom, a completely chaotic work environment (resulting in total exhaustion by the time I get home), and a Sony laptop that decided to give up the ghost AND the will to live, I haven’t wanted to do ANYTHING other than veg out and do NOTHING on the weekends.

Nothing too new to report.  Still awaiting word on future employment (long story.  Short version…my job has fallen victim along with the approximately 17.5K folks that work for the Air Force with the current economic climate).  But, I have faith that all will sort itself out and we’ll be taken care of the best way the Air Force can take care of us.  One thing that makes me VERY proud to work for the USAF, they ALWAYS take care of their folks the best way they can.  I also have my feelers out for potential jobs elsewhere…so I’m doing my part with what I can and leaving the rest to the powers that be in the government and in the hands of the gods.  It takes a joint effort, right?

As for the laptop issue….I now have a BEAUTIFUL 15″ Macbook Pro.  Lots more memory and works MUCH faster than the VAIO ever did, even when I first purchased it.  Never thought I’d willingly buy an Apple product, but after working on one for the last 2.5 years, I’ve softened my heart a bit and decided it’s the better way to go.  And my Creative Suite programs will run much smoother. 🙂

So, where I am now: Just passed the six month anniversary of mom’s passing.  Got a little misty-eyed, but didn’t cry.  So, I think I’m doing rather well with it all.  I still miss her every day, but the pain softens little by little, week by week.  I did just recently have a day where I needed to vent and cry and I couldn’t do what I normally did: snuggle up in bed with mom and cry while she ran her fingers through my hair and listened, or (since out of the house and living overseas for over a decade) call her.  Instead, I opted to grab her urn off the curio cabinet, place it on my nightstand next to the bed, and curl up and vent and cry.  I figured, “Why stop tradition just because her physical body is no longer in this realm?”  Why stop tradition?  And shockingly, I found it more therapeutic than I thought.  That’s how I’m dealing with it all.  I keep the traditions alive, just slightly altered.  It’s making the healing slightly easier.

Also coming up to the time of year where the people I’ve met and become friends with over the course of a year are moving on to their next locations.  It’s sad when you meet so many awesome people, just to tell them “goodbye” or “see you later” a short time later.  But, that is the lifestyle in which we live with the Armed Forces.  I just look forward to hearing from them on their journeys.

Of course, the local pagan group to which I belong had a fantastic Samhain ritual.  Outdoors…night….big bonfire….ancestors….many concoctions of wonderful liquors, and steak.  Turned out to be a really great evening, and one that I won’t likely ever forget.  The bond I’ve formed with a lot of the folks in the group is strong, and I find kindred spirits in them.  It’s comforting to feel that again.  Next up is Yule, and I can’t WAIT.  Lots of great things in store for that.  And more dear company is coming in for the ritual.  I’m so thankful I have a good support network here.  They may not be blood, but they are most definitely family in every other sense of the word.

I’ve also taken up a hobby of brewing my own mead!  Have a batch going now that a dear friend of mine was kind enough to help me get going again after the first batch kind of fizzled out and died….almost literally.  We managed to revive it and now it’s going strong.  Can’t wait to see how it turns out.  Will definitely post more information when my maiden voyage of brewing is complete. 🙂

So, I guess there’s really not much going on.  Nothing too new.  And I’m determined to start doing more interesting things with my life, just for the sake of actually having something to say other than, “I’m gradually getting over my mom’s death!  Oh, and by the way, this is how boring my life REALLY is!”

So…until I have something more interesting to say…

In frith,


First Typhoon

So, I’m currently sitting through my first typhoon…Bolaven (Julian).  A LOT of wind right now but very little rain.  Somewhat disappointed.   Was looking forward to seeing a little craziness….nature’s temper tantrum.   Of course, I am a bit scared as I hear two panes of window “walls” rattling through my entire apartment.   But there are still people walking the streets!  And businesses are open! CUH-RAAAAZY!  Of course, if it WERE a full force typhoon, I’d be peeing my pants.

Still….it’s an adventure.  How many girls can say they gave themselves a facial in the middle of a typhoon?!

More to come.

Stay safe and dry, all. 


Posted from SaraKitty’s Android

Thank Yous

Hi, all!

So, it’s been a little longer than a week since I posted my last entry.  I had wanted to sit down once per week and write about random things that pop up, but evidently time had a different idea for me….

Nothing new or exciting to write about…still dealing with mom’s death.  But now I’m playing catch up at work from the time I took off for mom then more time I took off for a medical procedure.  All in all, about three-four weeks of work to catch up on.  Yikes!  So, the blog “thing” has kind of taken the back burner for the time being.  I do promise to have more interesting things to say (more frequently) in the future.

Also just wanted to say “thank you” to those who have stopped by my blog over the past few weeks, especially those who have taken time out of their busy lives to reach out and offer words of encouragement and condolence.  One reader, Raine, was right.  Such love from virtual strangers.  And such love from those I do have relationships with (albeit digital and social media relationships mostly).  I am blessed to have you all wander into my life.  Some of you I will know for only a short time, and others I may know for a lifetime.  No matter where you are in the grand scheme of things, I’m happy to have you in my life. 🙂

I’ve left replies to some of the comments posted on my last blog entry.  I do hope those who left comments are able to read them when they have the time.

Be well.  Write soon.


Word Vomit: Wading Through Grief

So…..I’ve been trying to formulate the words in my head, but I always end up losing my thoughts. So much to say about the last two months and the torrential downpour my emotions have become….so I’m going to do what my mentor and teacher, Francesca, says to do: “Say it badly.”

A little background, because what I’m about to say is very personal and painful. But I know there are others like me, suffering in the same manner as I am…

I have been reading Francesca De Grandis’ books for some time. She is a pagan, witch, shaman, and wonderful person. For any of my pagan followers, she is the creator of The Third Road , a Faerie Tradition.  This is the path I also follow.
The books of hers I’ve read are listed under my Good Reads page.  More books of hers I’m working on are soon to follow.

I recently began taking tele-seminars with Francesca, and as part of that training, she is available for one-on-ones, which is priceless.  I had my first one-on-one with her this weekend.  It was soul-opening.

So, that being said, here is more background on what is happening:

I lost my mother on June 2. This year. It’s very fresh for me. My mother raised me mainly as a single mother. She and my father divorced when I was one year old. She later remarried and divorced again by the time I was five. She didn’t marry again until I was around nine or so. The last husband split on us, took all of my mother’s savings, and left us high and dry…homeless. My mother and I were close. She was my best friend, confidante, hero, and other things I can’t possibly express. She was my one safe haven. I was free from judgment. I could be myself. She gave me the freedom to be whom I wanted and needed to be. I am also her only child. The grief I feel is incomparable. I feel as though a piece of me died with her. I’m actually writing this as I’m gazing over my laptop and looking at her urn. I received it via registered mail on Friday. I should probably mention I live in South Korea, a half a world away from where my mother was. My home. California. I’m looking at all that physically remains of my maternal soul mate. It’s gut wrenching.

When mom’s ashes arrived on Friday I finally lost it. I stood at the post office window, where one of our nation’s finest, an Airman in the USAF, brought me the box holding my mother’s remains. I cried on the spot. I broke down in public. Everything just started pouring out. He looked at me rather confused, and I could only say, “It’s my mom.” The poor guy was utterly speechless. It’s hard sometimes for people to express sympathy or empathy, especially with something so huge. But he did manage to say to me, “I’m so sorry for your loss.” Then he returned to silence.

I cried to the car. I cried my way through the store as I picked up a few things I needed to get through the weekend. I cried my way home, up 13 flights, and into my apartment. I cried as I opened the package and gently unwrapped my mother. I set her on the hutch area in my dining room, and I just looked at her. And I talked to her. I cried to her. I let it all out. The only problem was I couldn’t hear her voice. I couldn’t feel her arms around me. I couldn’t see her. And I got angry. So angry.

So, here I am now writing this blog. With my notorious word vomit.

Francesca (my aforementioned mentor and teacher) and I communicate regularly via Twitter. She knows what I’m going through. And I’m told she understands and knows my pain. I believe her. I trust her. So….through Twitter and through classes I’m also taking with her (I’m now on my fourth), we’ve talked a little bit about the trauma I’ve endured since mom died to date. And she offered to have one-on-one time with me in a spiritual lesson…a little faith healing if you will. That’s what I like to call it. I’m sure she also refers to it as shamanism. 🙂

So, we scheduled a time to speak, and when we did speak, it was powerful. Turns out the feelings I’ve written about are only the tip of the iceberg. For those unfamiliar with Francesca, when you do work with her, she channels. She is in trance. And what she is able to feel/see/sense is uncanny. She’s amazing.

There were many things we discussed, but one piece is prominent in my mind. Something that just rings so true! Francesca sensed that a large portion of me feels as though showing my feelings requires permission (for lack of better terms). I thought about it for a minute, and it hit me: WHAM! “Of course I feel that way!!!” See, I lived with a very strong woman. A woman who stayed strong for me, never let me see her falter. A woman who held the family together the best she could (until recent years and a very toxic addition to the family), when my grandmother passed away 15 years ago. Grandma was the glue that held the family together, and I was just as close to her as I was my mother. Only now can I appreciate the closeness of my mother and her mother. How devastating grandma’s loss was to mom. Of course, I was heartbroken and devastated over grandma’s death, but nothing compared to what my mom must have been feeling. I tell you: my mother kept her shit together! I didn’t see her cry one single time when we went back for grandma’s memorial (except during the memorial). My mother didn’t fall apart until after we’d returned to California and my subsequent departure to Nevada, where I was living at the time. She never let me see her fall apart. And not to diminish my mother’s strength or effectiveness as a good mother, I learned that through her. I don’t fall apart in public (except on Friday. That was awkward.). I keep my emotions in check around people. I keep my emotions in check at work. I even keep my emotions in check when I am at home and no one is here. I just keep my emotions in check. Period. And in this case, I did so because I am my mother’s only living heir. Her only blood relative who showed up when she passed. All of a sudden, I was in her role. I was the adult this time. I had to take care of everything this time. I had to hold it together. For her. No family was there, but I had to hold it together for her. To make sure she was taken care of. To make sure her wishes were followed. To make sure that if she was watching over me, she could see she created a strong woman of me. I thought, “I will make her proud. I will show her I can keep my head on my shoulders.” I never had a full breakdown. I cried at her memorial, yes, but not the whole time. I cried up in Oregon visiting my father and my step-mother and siblings. But I always stopped. I never let myself hit “critical mass.” I never fell apart. Because, you know, if you fall apart that means you’re not strong. Strong people don’t fall apart. Yeah, ok. I’m challenging that completely archaic and asinine belief. I said to Francesca in our session, “Who says that falling apart and picking yourself back up again means you can’t be strong?!”

Well, after hanging up with her, the thoughts and feelings that had just started to boil to the top just poured over. They wouldn’t stop coming. I lost my mom.  I was already crying on the phone, but by the time we hung up, the session with Francesca had opened the door for me. The floodgates I built up to hold my emotions in check opened. I couldn’t stop crying. And I couldn’t stop being angry. I couldn’t stop thinking, “who the hell is anyone to tell me I’m not strong!?” Oooooh……you don’t even know what strength is until you fall apart! And that’s when the anger kicked in. I started getting angry at everything. I got angry with the gods. I got angry with myself. I got angry with my mother. I got angry with the fates. I sat in my living room and screamed, “Why?! Why take my mother so early?! Fuck you! Keep throwing it at me! I will make it through this!” I was genuinely pissed off at everything. I still am. Of course, anger isn’t an emotion on its own . It’s usually present because of a different emotion: fear, betrayal, what have you.  There’s something underneath the anger.

I figured out I am angry because I am afraid. I am afraid of what my life is going to be like without mom. I’m afraid because now I truly have to stand on my own two feet. Granted, I’ve lived overseas without my mother near me for 12 years now. I know what it’s like to live on my own. I just don’t know how to live on my own. I don’t know what to do without getting mom’s input first. Don’t get me wrong. I can make decisions on my own, obviously. I’m essentially an expatriate, only not really because I work for the US Government. I’ve just been overseas a long time. I don’t know what I’m going to do without her input on those huge life changing experiences or decisions. I always asked for her advice, even if I didn’t follow it. I’m good about listening to the input then taking it into consideration. If it’s the better choice, then I’ll follow it. If not, then I don’t. What I’m afraid of is: living life without my mom. Yes, death is a part of life. I knew she would pass eventually. I didn’t expect it to be at 58 years old because of a heart attack due to pneumonia. I didn’t expect her to never go home again after she suffered a major stroke a little over a year ago. I didn’t expect it to be so soon. She was so young. Too young!!! I am afraid.

I’m angry because I feel betrayed. The most important person in my life was taken away from me.  Don’t get me wrong, I love the goddess. I love several goddesses from several pantheons. It’s kind of like family….and what my mother and I always used to say to each other when we were mad at each other: “I may not always like you, but I always love you.”

To be honest, I feel cheated. I feel that my mother was cheated.  She won’t be alive when I ever remarry.  To greet her first grandchild when I have a child. I felt the goddess robbed me of more time with my mom.  I also felt guilty for moving away from my mother.  I felt guilty for not moving back to the states.  My mother didn’t want me to.  Of course she wanted her baby with her, but she always told me, “I’m your past, not your future.”  Mom…I have this to say to you: You were everything to me! Mom didn’t want me to stop my career to be at home and take care of her.  She didn’t want that life for me.  And that’s something that some people in my family don’t understand.  About her or about me.   I FEEL BETRAYED! I feel betrayed by the Great Mother. Now here is where the Catholic guilt kicks in (yes, I was raised Catholic for a time). *Gasp!* “You’re not supposed to get angry with God!” Yeah, well I am. Deal with it. I love the Great Mother. But I am angry. I know…I keep saying that. Maybe if I do keep saying it, she’ll hear me (Kidding. I know she hears me).

And while all these thoughts and feelings are running through me, I’m trying to keep my sanity in check. All I want to do is lie in bed and cry and cry and cry and cry. But I can’t. I have a life to live. I have a job to do…to keep. I have responsibilities to honor. So I have to get my emotions back in check. It’s a nasty cycle. One I have to alter to survive mentally and emotionally. How proud of me would my mother be if I just gave up like I want to? More importantly, how proud of myself would I be if I gave up? I’m no quitter. Instead, I have to break through traditional perceptions of “strength” and find my own version of it. I need that to fully become and realize the woman I truly am….and the woman my mother truly wanted me to be. Both of my mothers want me to be.

There is still a lot going on in my head and heart. Things I know I will address with Francesca in the future. Things that Francesca will guide me through. That’s what she does. She guides people. She doesn’t lead them. She talks to you. Listens to you. Throws out a glimpse of what she sees in you, and lets you run with it. Not the other way around. I’m a big ball of crazy right now, so I can only imagine where I’ll end up. Stronger on the other side of it, somehow.

If what I’m saying resonates with you, let me know. If Francesca interests you, you’ll find a link to her page on my “Who I Follow” tab.

In closing, I’ll share this:

I was recently rifling through my old writings and I found a poem I wrote several years ago when my grandmother passed.   As I read it, I realized the traits I saw and learned through my grandmother and wrote in the poem were the same traits I saw and learned through my mother.  Through my mother and grandmother I learned real, true, loyal love.  As I was still a budding writer at the time, it reads very much like a child wrote it.  And I was barely hitting 20 at the time.  It was also before I discovered that poetry didn’t have to rhyme to make sense. Anyhow, I thought it was relevant to share here.

Warm kisses felt on my aching brow
A gentle hand to calm me down
A silky voice so pure of love
Soothing words to comfort a child
A voice so sleek, so soft, so mild
A security blanket in a world so cold
A voice to teach me to be bold
A voice to give me courage in the night
A voice that inspires, says “…, take flight”
The woman who taught me much that I know
Finally broke free, found courage to go
Her lessons taught will stay in my heart
A woman and mentor who will never depart

So there is my first real purging of word vomit. Hopefully the next blog I post will be happier. Until next time….


S’mores Bread Recipe from Betty Crocker

After several comments on the photos I posted on Facebook and Twitter, I’m posting this recipe.  PURE AWESOME!!

Blogger Deborah Harroun of Taste and Tell brings the outdoors in with this s’mores-inspired quick bread.

14 graham cracker squares
1 cup Gold Medal® all-purpose flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/3 cup vegetable oil
3/4 cup packed light brown sugar
2 eggs
1 cup milk
1 teaspoon vanilla
1/2 cup whipping cream
3/4 cup semisweet chocolate chips
1 to 2 tablespoons boiling water
1 cup marshmallow creme
1 graham cracker square, crushed


Heat oven to 350°F. Spray 9×5-inch loaf pan with cooking spray. In food processor or blender, place 14 graham cracker squares. Cover; process, using quick on-and-off motions, until finely crushed.

In medium bowl, mix graham cracker crumbs, flour, baking powder, baking soda and salt; set aside. In large bowl, beat oil and brown sugar with electric mixer on medium speed until combined, about 1 minute. Beat in eggs, one at a time, scraping side of bowl between additions. Beat in milk and vanilla. Add graham cracker mixture; stir just until combined (batter will be thin). Pour into loaf pan.

Bake about 1 hour or until toothpick inserted in center comes out clean. Cool 15 minutes; remove from pan to cooling rack. Cool completely.

In small microwavable bowl, microwave whipping cream on High 1 minute 30 seconds. Add chocolate chips; let stand 2 minutes. Stir until smooth. Pour glaze over top of bread, allowing some to drip down sides.

In another small bowl, stir about 1 tablespoon of the boiling water into marshmallow creme until smooth. If glaze is too thick, stir in remaining boiling water. Pour marshmallow glaze over chocolate glaze. Sprinkle with crushed graham cracker.

Let glaze set before slicing.

So Heavy…

Been missing my mom since she had her stroke last year.  She was never the same after.  But I really miss hearing her voice right now.  And I’m really hating that I will never feel her arms around me again.  I hate knowing that even as an adult, she will never grab me, sit me in her lap, and hold me.  I will never feel her running her fingers through my hair to comfort me. 

My mom is gone.  And I haven’t felt my heart hurt like this … this level of such sorrow…since my grandmother passed away 15 years ago.  I can’t even begin to describe what this truly feels like.   The utter loss of the ONE constant I had in life.  How it feels to know that it’s only me now.  That I’m alone in that bloodline.  I’m the last…her only child.  I am her legacy.   And praying every day that I don’t fail her.

Posted from SaraKitty’s Android