Venus’s Long Moonless Day & Relationship/Dating Series Post 1: Grieve First, then Find What’s Next in Your Story

Ah Venus. What more appropriate planet in our Galaxy to kick off this series on dating and venusrelationships, or lack thereof, since this planet is named after the Roman goddess of love and beauty?  Right? Uh huh.

The second planet from the Sun, Venus is the second brightest object after Earth’s Moon. It has a similar size and mass to Earth, so they are often called “Sister Planets.”  Like Uranus that I spoke about in the previous post below, Venus rotates in a retrograde fashion, in the opposite direction to the sun. It has no satellites, meaning no moon! Yes, Venus is not in a relationship with any satellite. It has no co-dependent, symbiotic-like thing hanging around it to keep it company as Earth has Moon. And Venus seems to be doing just fine on its own in its own ironic way.

Venus is the hottest planet in our solar system with temperatures of over 870 degrees Fahrenheit—its atmosphere is made of carbon dioxide and extreme greenhouse effect heats up its surface. This is well hot enough to melt lead, people.

A weird little quirk about Venus is that a day on Venus, at 243 Earth days, lasts longer than its year, which is 224.7 days. A 243-day day. Well Dang!

If you weighed 115 pounds on Earth, you’d weigh 104.3 on Venus. If your birthday was today, August 5, and we use the year 1970 again, you would be 74.7 years old, and your next birthday would be September 24, 2016.

It’s telling that a planet so known for its symbol of love and beauty is also uninhabitable, with long DSC09985long long long uber windy searing hot unbreathable days, and not even a Moon to gaze up at. Double Dang.

I could gaze longingly out the windows of the Lil Log Spaceship as I skirt around a symbol of love and beauty before jetting off to somewhere safe. Or, I could figure out how to completely alter myself so I could inhabit this hot uninhabitable planet.

Or, I could spend some time alone in the Galaxy until I figure out: What do you really really want, Kat? Who are you so you can know who you want in your life?

And most important:  What’s next in your own life story, Kat? Don’t you want to ask yourself that, too? And then find out?

Because if we become involved with someone too soon after being involved with someone else, we risk not finding out what’s next in our own stories but instead once again become entangled in someone else’s story.

So if I want to visit Venus, I will be equipped with the materials I need to explore its surface on my own terms. And if I cannot figure that out, I won’t go until I do.

(And nowhere in this post am I referring to the “Men are from Mars; Women from Venus” stuff—my post here has nothing to do with that.)

To start off this series on dating and relationships, I must tell you that being Lonely isn’t the end of the world. Sure we can melt on Venus, or be blown by raging winds, or slog through a 243-long day, but if we have to go there alone to discover what’s next in our stories, then we survive it. Because we must. Because we should. Because being alone is NECESSARY for us to move on and forward and tally ho!

If you are fresh out of a relationship and immediately jump into dating, how is that healthy? Where is the retrospective?  Where is the respect for that previous relationship—and if there is no respect, photothen why not? Where is the grieving period? Yes, grieving period. You are experiencing the death of something. I don’t care if you are telling me, “But it was a terrible relationship! We crashed on Venus and melted to smithereens!” If you were in a relationship, you must grieve its end. Even if only to grieve the “Idea” of that relationship.

If you were in a relationship that often made you happy, you must grieve the companionship, the intimacy, the veritable Two that becomes One. If you were in a relationship that was often stormy and chaotic, you must still grieve the moments of exciting madness.

If you felt you were a better person in this relationship than without it, then your grieving will be acutely lonely and sad. If you felt you became someone unrecognizable—someone you no longer wanted to be—in a relationship, you still must grieve, even if you are grieving over how something that seemingly held such promise ended with such messy crapitude.

I don’t care if you tell me you hate the person you were with and would cheerfully sock them in their big fat nose—if you do not deal with the grief to the end of a relationship, the death of something, and you rush headlong into dating, or worse into another relationship, you are setting yourself up for a world—a galaxy—of troubles. Yes yes yes, there are exceptions to every Rule in Life, but those exceptions are just that: Exceptions. Exceptions are rare.

Exceptions sure hurl us into a lot of trouble, don’t they? How many times do we hear, “So and so did this and such and it worked out perfectly! They’ve been together 5 million Venus days and each day is better than the last! Oohhhh, I want that! If they have it, there’s a chance I can, too! Ohhh!” Yeah. Trouble. Because sometimes those Exceptions lead to Expectations that lead to Justifications that lead to Oh Shit What Have I Done? And yes, okay, sometimes they can lead us to magical wonderlands in a galaxy far far away.

You willing to take that risk with what’s next in your story?

Do please believe me that taking time to lick your wounds and consider just what happened to you and to your partner is imperative for the health of your next relationship—if you decide ever to go there again! Ha! And you will. One day. And that One Day should be after you are strong and healthy. It should be after you consider YOUR OWN role in the “Just what happened here” planet.

Nope, I am closing my ears to your saying, “But my partner was a train wreck! He/She was *fill in blank with putritude*!” Well, even if you only have to answer to my, “Then why were you with them? What attracted you to the putritude train wreck?” Because as adults we do all make our own choices, don’t we? You can tell yourselves you were fooled, or blind with love, or blind with lust, or unaware, or lied to, or whatever justification you need to feel better about yourself, but reality is that there were two people in that relationship and neither one of you is was were perfect. Yes yes yes I understand there are some people who are Bad News and good decent people are swept away by events and personalities that surprise and fool and trick—another Exception. If that happens, then the healthy person quickly extracts themselves from that situation, right? Right! If not, then why not?

If the partnership had beautiful, and mind-blowing, moments, then the grieving and retrospective will be fraught with entanglements. Because you’ll miss those things, and you’ll want to feel them 3BDA8B33-0566-4847-B345-5FF7128F7FC2again, and you’ll want to feel them again NOW NOW NOW! I urge you to stop. Take a moment. Take bunches and oodles and millions of moments. Take some deep breaths. Learn to live alone for a while. Learn what it feels like to rely on You and You Only. Learn to be independent. Become strong. Become healthy. Find out What is Next in Your Story, without entangling yourself in someone else’s story—until it is Time.

Now, of course you want the support of your trusted friend(s)—who doesn’t? But even they can only help you so far as you are willing to help yourself.

Consider the reasons you were with your previous partner and then extract what worked about it—file that away for future reference. Then consider what did not work about it, extract that, and file that away in another file for your future reference. Be brutally honest with yourself. We humans have a funny way of denying reality and focusing only on what we want to hear/believe/see that feels comfy cozy to us. You must be so brutally honest with yourself that it hurts—deeply hurts—to consider. And I don’t mean just about your previous partner, but brutally honest about yourself, too. Perhaps you really did do all you could do and you tried with all your big beautiful heart, but, does that mean you did not have some responsibility in the demise of your partnership? Only until you are brutally honest will you flesh out what’s really going on in the head and heart and desires of You.

Though we won’t talk about No 9 right now, will we?

The good, the bad, and the ugly should be examined.

Diving headlong into another relationship before you’ve grieved the last one, before you’ve extracted the “Whys Hows Whens Wheres” of it all, will set you up either to look for what you are missing from the last partnership, or set you off to find something/someone completely different/opposite. Neither one of those missions is healthy, strong, independent-thinking. When you are ready to date again, you should be dating not with the idea of finding someone to replace the other person. Or finding someone to fill some hole in you. Or finding someone who will make you feel different from the last person. Or finding some warm body to keep you company.

Being with someone just so you are not alone is exactly the wrong reason to be with someone! It’s a sucky shitty reason. And it is certainly a Not Fair reason to the people you involve yourself with.

My last relationship was very intoxicating. And I grieved it. Not for days or weeks. I grieved for months. I stopped telling myself, “I should be over this. I should this. I should that.” Instead, I let myself feel all the horrible sad feelings. The tender moment feelings. The powerful intimate moment feelings. I let myself feel rage, too. Depression. Anxiety. Loneliness. Fear. I allowed myself to feel all the terrible awful things that we want to deny. Because we try to Feel Good all the time. article-2302364-00570A6100000258-460_634x430Because we are told to Suck It Up. Because we are told to Get Out There Again! Because we are told strength means something different from what it really does mean: Strength means we must first feel weak and then build ourselves up again. Strength means facing all the shitty crappyness and feeling all the shitty crappyness without denying its existence so hard that we shove it into the Black Hole where we think it’ll disappear forever. Oh, it’ll find its way back up in some quasar supernova explosion—and in the most unexpected and un-wanted moments and times of our lives. It’ll find its way to you when you think you are happy again because you want to be HAPPY! so bad you won’t allow yourself any discomfort. *Shaking my head no*

There were many things I missed about Being Two. My Lil Log Spaceship became so quiet I could hear my own anxiety-ridden heartbeat. I wandered about as a ghost would, sad, lonely, scared. Suddenly, I had to figure out everything on my own. Suddenly, all the bills were mine. Suddenly, there was no sex, no intimacy, no kiss, no touch. Suddenly, there was no one to talk to. Suddenly, I ate alone, slept alone, did every single thing alone. I grieved. I assessed. I contemplated.

But, my friends, I did not jump out there and start dating just to fill up a hole left by someone else. And I’m still not dating. And I will not date until I know I am Ready. And by Ready I mean when I am completely strong again; when I feel like Myself again—myself as a whole independent mind and body. I will know when I get there and I will not rush this. I cannot. I should not. And neither should you.

The other day I looked into the mirror and thought, “There you are.” Because I am discovering myself again. Yes, I am Lonely Woman, but this Lonely Woman life is exactly what I need to find Me ipod photos 081again. And once I am ready to date again, I will make choices that are healthy and strong. And the men I date will be healthy and strong. If they are not, then I want to be able to know that quickly so I’m outta there. You must be a healthy and strong person yourself so you can recognize one who matches you in strength and independence. You must find Respect. So you find Self Respect first.

So, my dear ones, though I am not dating right now, I have dated in the past. And, I have been talking to, and listening to, people who are or were dating, and in my next post in this series, I am going to explore some Dating Do’s and Don’t’s. Some of these were real eye openers—just when you think people would have common sense, and decency, and showers (haha!), well, they do not! Ha!


My next give away is Kat’s Choice. That means I get to randomly choose something to send to you. Yup, you just have to trust me . . . and of course you can! Can too! I’ll choose the names to draw from comments, “likes,” and from FB comments/likes, as well. Thank you!

No repairs or whatever today since this post ran a little long, but next week I’ll have more on simple repairs/tools, etc.


1964980_10152466287074176_8369086502746553258_nIf you like Southern/Appalachian/Family Saga fiction (sometimes with a supernatural touch), then I hope you will consider one of my novels (or short story “snacks”) by clicking on this link to my 51j6n1OihJL._BO2,204,203,200_PIsitb-sticker-v3-big,TopRight,0,-55_SX278_SY278_PIkin4,BottomRight,1,22_AA300_SH20_OU01_Amazon Page. I appreciate your support!

1461250_496657083765127_1387255473_nAnd I thank you, my readers.

 

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Alcohol Clouds in Space, and the Sneaky Bad Sucky Friend called Alcohol.

There is a big cloud of alcohol in space many many light years away. Larger than our solar system. As well, in our Milky Way Galaxy, at Sagittarius B2,  is a vast alcohol cloud that it is thought by alcohol and womenscientists that it tastes a bit like raspberries and smells like rum. Alcohol is an organic compound made up of hydrogen, carbon, and oxygen. For such a simple molecule, it holds great power. Consider that we are made up of four main elements: hydrogen, oxygen, nitrogen, and carbon. So, alcohol—building block of life? Ironic isn’t it? Since alcohol often tears down lives.

You can read more about Alcohol In Space by clicking.

So we steer towards that alcohol cloud, safely park where we won’t have to drive again, and stick a big straw out of the Little Log Spaceship to have us a big ole raspberry-flavored rum drink party. Wheeeeee! Of course we can’t drink the alcohol in space—it’s full of poisons. But isn’t the alcohol we do drink a poison? Poison to our minds, bodies, families, friends, lovers, loved ones. If it is abused.

If it is abused. Again—if it is abused.

Now comes the hard part. I feel anxious even as I begin to write it publicly.

Last night I parked the Lil Log Spaceship, for I have a hard and fast rule I have never strayed from: no drinking and driving, and I drank too much. I did it with purpose. Nothing good ever comes out of saying, “Fuck it.” Once you utter those words, you are giving yourself permission to act like an idiot, an ass, or to be hurtful, or reckless, or stupid, silly, childish.

While I drank, I noted with distant fascination that I can hold more alcohol than I used to be able to. That somehow over the last year or so, I’ve built up a tolerance—one or two glasses of wine, or a bottle of beer, at a time. While the grownup rational side of my brain thought, “What are you doing? This isn’t healthy!” The “Fuck it” part of my brain laughed gleefully and went on social media and thought how witty and funny I was being because my inhibitions were released all willy nilly. A party of one in the Lonely Woman’s Galaxy slurping up the alcohol gas cloud at Sagittarius B2.

There was a time when I drank socially. Other than my mad-wild-partying teen years, I have not since then been a big drinker. There’s alcoholism in my family—my father stayed sober 50 years but his years of drinking took a heavy toll on his life and loved ones, and very small children—of which I was one.

Until last night, I never considered that alcohol had suddenly, sneakily, insidiously, wormed its way into my life as a Bad Friend, a very bad sucky friend who pretends they only want to be your friend and all the while they are sucking the life out of you and leading you down Bad Decision Making paths. Why, I told myself, I only drink a glass of wine or drink a beer every so often—though “every so often” began to mean almost every day. I told myself: “I don’t get drunk!” Though, last night I did, and I wasn’t sick or dizzy and I didn’t wake with a hangover—this sounds great, but it is not great. It means I have built a tolerance. It means my body and my brain are growing used to me poisoning myself.

But consider that most evenings I do not over-drink. I have one, and on occasion two drinks. In the big scheme of things that’s not so bad, right? Maybe not.

Until.

Until you look at your face in the mirror the morning after you drank too much and acted like an ass and begin taking stock of how you are using alcohol to cope with the anxiety, and with the loneliness, and with the stress. You are using alcohol to numb the fact that you are not writing and writer's blodkathat has made you unhappy so you drink so you don’t feel unhappy but then you act like a ridiculous ass and that makes you more unhappy—and more anxious—and more alone. And the big ole ferris wheel of horror goes round and round and round and round and round. If you are looking up from below as the riders whizz by, you see faces lit up with terrified glee—a few gripping the bars and begging to be let off. You see yourself and you are not having fun.

You again consider that the thought you had while slamming down that alcohol last night is a thought you’ve had before over the last few months—the: “Wow, always before I was unable to drink this much without being dizzy and sick! Huh.” Oh well. La Tee Dah. Shrug! *Guzzle Guzzle Glub*

This morning, as I crawled out of bed after a sleepless night—for alcohol may put you to sleep right away but it will shake you the hell awake all night—and drank my coffee in the Little Log Spaceship, the realization and recognition of just where I am heading slapped me hard against my very hard peahead.

Here it is. The hard thing to say. What I didn’t see coming. What I don’t want to publicly admit but I am:

Alcohol is beginning to be a problem in my life. If I don’t jump off the Ferris Wheel of Horror, alcohol WILL be a problem in my life.

Alcohol is already a problem in my life.

I’ve watched as alcohol destroyed or near destroyed others’ lives and I always felt my Power and my Control over it. I was nearly arrogant in my complacent attitude towards alcohol despite my family history. Despite my own history from my teen years. Despite how lately my drinking to numb whatever I thought needed numbing was happening more often.

This Morning After I sit writing this and consider that if I am writing it, then I am living it. That if I am concerned over what seemed “innocent drinking” then it isn’t innocent. If I am sometimes an ass or out of control, or reckless, or maudlin, or giddy-then-depressed-then-regretful, then it is time to stop before it goes any further.

Like a very bad for me lover, I’m kicking alcohol out of my life. Forever? I don’t know. But it has to be until I know for sure I am not heading down a slippery path paved with Morning After regrets and a body that I have made healthy and strong over the years that alcohol will have no problems at all destroying. It has to be when I am not afraid of my drinking. It has to be No Alcohol until it has no power over me. When I am not lying to myself any longer about it.

Or when alcohol is not lying to me.

Because if I can’t stop after one, or if I look forward to that One far too fondly and anticipating that One too much, it is time to steer the Lil Log Spaceship away from the alcohol cloud.

And even as I write this, I am missing the person I was—the one who could sip on one drink once in a while and barely finish it before she felt all giddy and light-headed and would then just put it down. I miss that woman, but I’m not her right now. Maybe I’ll find her again. And maybe I won’t.

I love myself too much to let myself ever say, “Fuck it” to anything again. I love myself too much to poison myself and my thoughts and my dignity with alcohol. My dignity—just writing that I realize the truth: I care about my reputation and my dignity as a woman and a writer and an editor and a mother and a friend. Alcohol-induced “Fuck It’s” take away our dignity. Alcohol-induced buffoonery makes us look ridiculous. Makes us asses or assholes. And years of Living Right and Working Well and being proud of the reputation and life and work I have built can end in a destructive rubble after one night of Fuck It drinking.

I love myself, so I am going to prove it by taking care of myself. I am strong. I am independent. I am a woman who has much to lose. I am too smart for this. I am ready.

I feel relief now. As if the weight of those bottles has been on my shoulders pushing me into a hole. Free. Free. I feel free.

If you find yourself in my words, I hope you will love yourself and free yourself, too.


There is still time to click “like” or comment for the pound of Starbuck’s coffee drawing (below post). I’ll be drawing for that in about a week.


If you like Southern/Appalachian/Family Saga fiction (sometimes with a supernatural touch), then I hope you will consider one of my novels (or short story “snacks”) by clicking on this link to myAmazon Page. I appreciate your support! And I thank you, my readers.

I do also, suddenly, realize as I am about to publish this, that my Graces books have alcoholism- and alcohol-related themes to them. Huhn. Well now.

Black Holes. Deaths of Stars. “How to” of the day. Give-away drawing.

This from The Physics of the Universe, which has more information on Black Holes you may be article-2302364-00570A6100000258-460_634x430interested in reading: “A black hole’s mass is concentrated at a single point deep in its heart, and clearly cannot be seen.” A single point deep in its heart—ah, how poetic and lovely. In my lil log spaceship, I only skim around the places where the black holes are in our Milky Way Galaxy, because to go too close is dangerous. The blackness pulls, pulls, pulls, and once inside, just as with the light, there is no escape from it. We must search out the light and leave behind the darkness, though the darkness holds fascination and we are often drawn to its mysteries.

You see, black holes are places in space where the gravity is such that even light can’t escape; the gravity is so strong because matter is condensed into a tiny space. It can occur when a star is dying. The idea of shining beautiful stars dying is poetic in itself. Nothing escapes death—so shine as bright and beautiful as you can while you can. As the narrator in the video below says, “Out of catastrophe, comes creation.” Ah. yes.

Since no light escapes, black holes are invisible, but scientists can use their sciencey toys to look at stars close to black holes and study how they act differently from other stars.

The Big Ones are called supermassive black holes—imagine a mass that’s more than a million suns. Our galaxy has a supermassive black hole and it’s called Sagittarius A. Sagittarius A has a mass that’s equal to about 4 million suns. A whole bunch of Earth’s could fit in that black hole. But some are tiny enough to hold in my hand. *Kat takes a moment to picture this—holding a tiny black hole and feeding it light. Amazing.*

To say it most unscientifically, black holes are constantly “hungry,” and if the spaceship is too close, DSC09985we could be sucked into the blackness. Of course, then we’d know what was inside and that would be kind of awesome. Though, we’d never survive—once you arrive at the Event Horizon, time slows way down, and you are spaghettified—streeeeeetched out most uncomfortably.

Earth is probably safe, since black holes are too far away to swallow up our Earth. But even if Sagittarius A drifted our way, the black hole’s gravity would be the same as the sun and we’d just orbit the black hole.  Now, that presents problems all of its own, right? Sometimes in life we orbit around black holes instead of the sun, don’t we? Where light doesn’t escape. But we don’t stay there, because we are strong and we are fearless and we are determined. Right? Right!

Over the last few posts, I’ve talked about what it’s like to be lonely—the feelings and emotions behind loneliness. Now I want to explore our galaxy in other ways. Ways that will be helpful—I can’t guarantee I won’t become Black Hole-ish where light can’t escape and I am dark and mysterious and looming, but it’s all part of the Lonely Woman’s (or Lonely Man’s) journey, right?

Today I made you a video of how to check your oil. We all should learn how to do simple things with our vehicles, our homes, our lives. And taking care of simple things gives us a feeling of accomplishment and power. It saves us a little money, too. The first week I showed you a simple “repair” of your garbage disposal. Week after that, what to try if your ceiling fan is making noise. Today, checking your oil!

Next week, I will be talking about cooking for one. And, I’ll be asking you for ideas and recipes. It’s easy to slip into buying quick easy processed frozen food and though that’s okay for an occasional meal, preparing fresh healthy food will keep us at top performance, just as we want our vehicles to be at their top performance.

So let’s move away from the Black Hole for a while and towards the shining stars that are still brilliant and light-giving. Shall we?


Give Away: I’ll be drawing for a pound of Starbucks coffee. Beans or Ground, strong or medium or light, your choice. Coffee! Coffee! Oh how I love coffee! The winner is chosen by me drawing a name from the comments or “likes” section-either one, it’s just nice to have you drop by and acknowledge you were here so I can smile at you. My plan is to have at least one give-away a month, perhaps two. Judy D won the chocolate from the last give-away.


If you like Southern/Appalachian/Family Saga fiction (sometimes with a supernatural touch), then I hope you will consider one of my novels (or short story “snacks”) by clicking on this link to my Amazon Page. I appreciate your support! And I thank you, my readers.

Visiting Earth. The deafening loud-ass silence of loneliness.

Earth. Third planet from the sun and the only planet known to support life. It’s the only planet not imagesnamed after a Greek or Roman god. And unlike the naming of other planets’ moons, our moon is simply called Moon—this struck me today, that we didn’t name Earth’s moon; I wonder why? Though I like Moon and if they named it, I’d still call it Moon.

As Earth ages it is slowing down. Only about 17 milliseconds per hundred years, but it lengthens the days. Many millions of years from now, Earth will have a 25-hour day. What to do with that extra hour? Sleep in? Waste it? Yeah. We’ll waste it.

Though we have a 24-hour day, it actually takes 23 hours, 56 minutes, and 4 seconds for the Earth to rotate on its axis—that’s called a Sidereal Day. No, our nights and days won’t eventually be wonky. Why? Because Earth orbits around the sun and if you consider the motion from the sun as Earth orbits it as well as the rotation of Earth on its axis, it comes to 24 hours, and that’s called a Solar Day. Solar Day is the time it takes for the sun to be back in the same place in the sky—24 hours. Yeah, that sounds confusing, but really it’s not when you think about it a moment, or just accept it.

And a year isn’t exactly 365 days. There is an extra .2564 days to make a total of 365.2564 days. To make things even out, every 4 years we have Leap Year. We are so clever.

Click here to see: Earth rotating at night.

And since I usually mention a weight measure when we visit other planets, did you know that at the equator you would weigh a few ounces less than if standing at one of the poles? Gravity.

If we were aware of how fast we are actually moving, spinning through space, at, depending where you are on Earth, a bit over 1,000 miles per hour, you’d at the very least vomit.  It’s weird to think though that people on the equator move fastest and people on the North or South poles are still. So if we were aware of our spinning and moving, we’d all rush to the poles and freeze our asses off.

It is on Earth I land my little log spaceship and trek down to The City for supplies and fuel. The City where I have my home-base is tiny with only 1,000 or so full-time residents. But during peak tourist seasons that swells and quite considerably. There are people and cars everywhere. You would think dsc06364that having more people would make the lonely feel less alone, but it does not. People are not meant to be alone. Like water finding water, people find people. We are social animals. Everywhere we go, there are groups, or couples. There are parents/grandparents and their children. There are couples—lovers or friends or both. There are groups of friends. There are families. There is touch and talk and laughter and argument and discussion and kiss and hold and share.

If you are alone and find something funny or interesting or amazing, the funny or interesting or amazing loses its shine when there is no one to say, “I know! Right?”

When you have been alone in your spaceship for many days, you are not sure of how you sound or appear to others. If you speak to someone, you wonder if you made sense. If your words and 002sentences and phrases come out coherent. You forget what conversation sounds like. If you are in a social situation, you either babble a million words, or you have few words at all and stare dumbly at the other person as they wait with raised eyebrows for you to say something. You practice speaking to your little dog because you aren’t sure if your voice will go rusty—can vocal cords forget how to speak if not used regularly? You google it, and find out, here, that you’d be just fine—that when someone woke from a 19-year coma, he was able to speak. You are relieved, and also, strangely, disappointed.

Though Earth is loud, especially during the busy seasons, or when you visit other cities while on Earth, and even more especially after returning from Pluto and Mars (previous posts), there is a vacuum of silence around you. While the silence of loneliness is quite apparent, the sound of loneliness is really quite loud.

When alone most all the time, you forget what you look like. Reflections lie. They do, really. If there 074is no one to tell you that you are beautiful or handsome and sexy and wonderful, what are you then to yourself? Though you shower, brush and floss your teeth, eat fairly healthfully, drink in moderation, and sleep, and exercise, and stretch, and take care of yourself in many various ways, you may not brush your hair for days; you may wear clean but comfortable-and-not-attractive clothes for weeks; you may wander about the spaceship touching things just to make sure you are real—because if the things you touch are real, then so are you. You don’t doubt your sanity—you don’t. You don’t. You don’t. Don’t. Don’t. You. Don’t.

Some nights the loneliness becomes shapes in the dark and you aren’t even afraid. Instead you ask, “Who are you? What do you want? Guess what I saw today?” And there is no answer, so you sleep and dream of people. People people people populate your dreams—and you are doing things with the people: talking, laughing, having sex, kissing, hugging, arguing, running from them and to them. You wake from your dreams and for a moment it is enough.

You have a constant “cruel wanting.”

The paradox is: though you are lonely, you want to be left alone. Because you get it in your head that people are not to be trusted. People mean hurt and chaos and responsibility. You can’t stand it but you do.

And that’s all I have to say to you today. That’s all I got.

————

(P.S. I’ll have another give-away next week, as well as a Repair of the Day, and some Dinner Ideas for One – WHEEHAW!.  – Judy D – you won the Mars Chocolate drawing from last week. Email or FB message me.  . . . )

Pluto: too tiny to clear away obstacles? (& Repair for the Day)

At one time Pluto, though the smallest in the solar system and the farthest away (as far as we knew), was a Planet, a regular old planet and a part of the Nine Planets we all grew up reciting in school using a mnemonic, such as: My Very Educated Mother Just Served Us Nine Pizzas (for more, plutoclick on this site: Mnemonic Devices Memory Tools ). But one fine day Pluto was flung out of its A Part of the Whole planet status in our galaxy, left to drift there in the cold and dark.  Oh people rooted for it and that made Pluto feel hope, but it was still alone out there. Perhaps because scientists felt so sorry for Pluto in all its lonely isolation, they upgraded it to a Dwarf Planet. A consolation prize that didn’t lessen the sting so much as make Pluto feel its pride surging up but its feeling of belonging surging down.

Tpluto_color_beforeclosestapproach.jpg.CROP.original-originalhough Pluto’s status in the galaxy changed, Pluto had not changed other than the natural changes that occur with any living thing—and one could say that planets are not living things if there is no life there, but that’s a subject for another day. Pluto was doing as it always did, so far away in its own little world. Pluto is so difficult to explore and know about, since it’s so far away, that it is often misunderstood—and even so, it relays its heart on its pale face (and you can see and read about that heart on Nasa’s Site), sending messages of please love me! I am worthy! While at the same time keeping its distance away from all the others. A strange contradiction.

A Dwarf Planet is called this because it is so little it cannot clear other objects out of its path. Oh, my friends, how we do relate to that. In our One Status, tucked inside our spaceship, we see obstacles of every size and though we may feel mighty, we can’t seem to clear the way—and we see the other planets big and important doing what we struggle with and that only make us feel smaller and lonelier. We begin to feel this ineptness creep up on us. That inept feeling erodes and causes us to flounder. It’s all too much!, we wail. And, it is. No platitudes from well-meaning friends and family helps. Yes, they mean well when they say the supportive things they say out of their own helpless way of helping you. But it means nothing when you are struggling to clear the way through the galaxy’s bombardment.

One day on earth is 24 hours. But on Pluto? One day is the equivalent of 6 and ½ days. Time drags on slowly and methodically, though at the end of it, how much was accomplished? It feels as if we squandered that six and one-half days. We pass by Earth and see all the busy people accomplishing in one day what it takes us almost a week to do—because it’s all on us. Because no one has our back. Things pile up. Housework, food shopping, bill paying, dog care, work. And repairs to the ship (see below!). We’re pocked by the obstacles smacking us senseless and we cannot clear the way because we are so tiny.

It’s very cold on Pluto. 375 to 400 degrees below zero cold. It’s icy. Cold, dark, icy. Who would love
Ice Walk at Killian Knob + Video Whale Back Rock & VK's Sagathat? It is only icy because it is so far away from everything and everyone else. Isolation. But yet, there is that big heart. There is that grit. There is that tenacity despite its smallness.  There is that, I am Here! I am HERE! You will not discount me! Goddammit! You will see me! You will respect me!

On Pluto, you can eat whatever you want and hop on those scales and laugh your ass off. Pass the ice cream! Pass the cookies! More chips and dip please! Because 100 pounds on Earth is only about 7 pounds on Pluto. So, my lovelies, the nights you are alone watching rerun marathons of Grey’s Anatomy with all that love and kissing and sex and people interacting and hope and loss and the 630320whole messiness of life and death, you, One You, are eating an ice-cream bar with enough calories to run a couple marathons around the perimeter of Pluto. And if you have not tried Magnums, and I mean the ice cream you sillies you, then travel in your spaceship over to Earth to the nearest store and find them. But know that they will taunt you from the freezer—call out to you, entice you. And you will answer because you crave the enticement, the taunting. You must save them for a special treat because once you return to Earth from Pluto, the weight difference will astound and amaze, and my friends, we must stay healthy! Magnuming ourselves into bad health isn’t the answer either. haw!

So how do you navigate your One-ness world? How do you clear objects out of your path even if Ring around the universe, pocket full of planetsyou are told you cannot or you tell yourself that you cannot, or reality is you in reality cannot? You rise out of bed. You make your bed. You wash your face. You comb your hair. You turn on the coffee pot. You eat breakfast. You put one foot in front of the other and you Do. You try not to look at the other planets who hang in the air with all their importance. You show your heart and hope that one day that heart will be a beacon for Something More. But until then? Until then you try and you try and you try some more. And in the failings come success. Even small successes are accomplishments that will make you feel empowered. All by yourself.

That is what Pluto does. That is what Lonely Woman does (mostly). That is what we who are One in the galaxy must do.


Repair for the day: If your garbage disposal in the spaceship quits working, don’t immediately start wondering how you will replace it. Instead, grab a flashlight and dive under that sink and look for the Reset Button. Yes, if you did not know, there is a reset button on your garbage disposal. I found it, and it worked, so I didn’t need to do anything else. Before you go resetting, you’ll need to make sure there is nothing stuck in the disposal causing it not to work. Please do not go sticking your hand in there until you not only turn it off, but find the plug to unplug it! I once chewed up an entire glass in the disposal and had to unplug it so I could dig out millions of shards of glass. But I did it! And I did it this time, too, by not letting panic take over: Where will I find the money to replace this? Who can I trust to install it? OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG! (More on those thoughts another time). I simply hit Reset.

There are other troubleshooting ways to fix your disposal on your own. It will give you a feeling of power to be able to fix what goes wrong in your spaceship, without having to travel to one of the Big Important Planets to find someone, or pay someone, to help you. Again, please make sure that if you are sticking your hand down in that dark nasty abyss, you turn off the disposal and unplug it. Two videos to help you: Short One with only Music & Visuals & Longer One with Voice Instruction.

Next week, I will have a give-away. If you did not receive anything from me last week and you should have received the Kindle Copy because you “won” it, then please contact me.

Writing out the Fear . . . .

(I wrote this a few years ago – I need to read it as if it was written by someone else and then listen – yes, Kathryn, listen to this writer/novelist who stomped over her fears; who didn’t let anything stop her from writing what she wanted to write. Who didn’t let depression, anxiety, anger, or anything else keep her from what she loves, and what she is, frankly, good at.)

—————————————————————————————–

10398086_10152474576124176_3232207411175342070_nBefore I was published, whenever I’d read about an author who wrote a book and never wrote another one, I’d say, “If I had the chance, I sure wouldn’t be hesitating. I’d sure be writing to beat the band!” I simply couldn’t understand why a writer who had the chance to have his/her next book published would not jump on that chance with all the glee and energy and writing writer write they had, especially if that book was a success.

Until my own books were published. Then came the understanding of how fear plays such a part in this business.

writer's blodkaAn artist and I were in a conversation about not letting the negativity get in the way of creativity. I said to the artist how we have to have the dark and the light in our work, but we have to make sure the dark is not someone else’s shadow. Much of what you hear after you publish your book is Everyone Else’s Opinion—if you are not careful, you begin to listen to too many voices/opinions. Finding a way to separate the “should not listen to” versus the “this will help me in my journey” is a difficult one.

cropped-emailed-002.jpgAfter my first book, Tender Graces, was released, I woke up with anxiety so fierce that my stomach tied in a snarl of knots. Fear of what someone may say about my work. That I’d disappoint readers. Some of this faded as time went by, but only because I stomped over it—how else could I go back to work? But it came again with the release of the Secret Graces, and then with Sweetie, and onward with my other novels. Will people still love me and my characters? Did I do okay? Are my words reaching anyone? Will I be loved?

Just Do It

Just Do It

My friends, I understand why some writers do not write that second book. An author can become paralyzed with fear. That fear can permeate and penetrate and become so prevalent that creativity is stifled. Imagine writing a book and being compared to other writers—but—imagine writing a book and being compared to yourself! Harper Lee, Stephen King, Oscar Wilde, Gail Godwin, Ralph Ellison, Margaret Mitchell, Elizabeth Berg—all have one thing in common: they wrote a book. What they don’t have in common is some went on to write more and others never wrote another book, or at least one that we know about.

If I had not stomped over my fears, skirted around the dark that is someone else’s shadow, ignored my terror, more work would not have come to me and then to readers. Writers and artists and singers and dancers and actors—all those whose work is out for public consumption and review and deliberation—must find a way to stop the: “I have to be loved by everyone. My work must be adored by everyone. I am afraid of what will happen. I am afraid of success/failure/mediocrity.” And instead, we must do what we love and do it the best we can and do it with love and hope and strength and honesty.

DSC_0052-001Of course, we must also do it in a way that sells, don’t forget that. Art aside, love of books and reading and writing aside, it has to be deconstructed into the business side of things as well. Heart and Brain go hand in hand in this business. What a terrifyingly fascinatingly wonderful sucky horrid confusing business!

dsc04492Am I still worried about the books I write to be released into the hands of readers? Well, yes. But am I letting that stop me? No. Step out from that shadow and show yourself. Be brave and hearty in whatever you love to do. How will you know what you can create until the creating is accomplished?

Stop! Five “don’ts” when you are feeling vulnerable (and five “do’s”):

All righty then. From the list in the “never say never” post below:

  1. writer's blodkaDon’t drink too much. Okay, allow yourself that one night where you slug down some vodka and dance around the living room to techno trance (for the first 30 minutes) before feeling  sorry for yourself and throwing a mug against a tree and railing against your fates and . . .  and then just don’t . . . don’t allow yourself to drink yourself into a stupor where you curl into a ball in a chair and sob and fall asleep and wake up with your mouth dry and your pea-headed brain full of cotton and then unsteadily climb into your bed where you wake the next day feeling like crap on a stick that’s been beaten against a tree. Don’t. Find another way to cope. For that alcohol habit is not one you want to find yourself embedded in. No scenario has you drinking too much and then going, “Sure am glad I did that! I feel great now! All my problems are SOLVED!” Yeah  . . . no. And especially do not drink and text . . . .
  2. Don’t text whiny self-indulgent messages to anyone but your most trusted BFF (or post Facebook updates). No one wants to read that shit. No one wants to see your dark depressed underbelly. Believe me dangity do, that if you DO text/message/FB update with your whiny ramblings, you will forever regret it. Yes you will. YES YOU WILL! Do whatever is necessary not to bare your darkened squishy brain ramblings to anyone other than that trusted bestie. Later, when you are back to your strong kickass self, you will rather that you had not let people see a side of you that you’d have rather not—you will forever wonder if they now see you differently and not in a completely positive self-respecting I know my worth way. Remember, once again: NO ONE wants to read that shit—not even your BFF, but the contract of BFF’dom says they have to, so they have to suck it up. Only them, and you’d do the same for your BFF.
  3. well, sheee'it

    well, sheee’it

    Don’t further isolate yourself by further isolating yourself. Give yourself a little time–a week? two? three? four? oh oh-five? six? oops . . . seven? erk . . .  to push all the nasties out of your system, and then it’s time to stop wallowing. Get out with friends. Go for a drive. Invite someone(s) over. Workout. Smile at people. Talk to people. Be aware of your surroundings and remember where you once found joy. Remember that things are not all BAD, just different, and if there is some BAD, then remember it will not last forever unless you give the bad POWER—don’t give away your power. Find excitement in that different—isn’t this what you wanted? *Did you think this would be easy?*

  4. However, pertaining to Number 3, don’t spend time with people you don’t give a rat’s big ole ass about or who don’t give a rat’s big old heiny about you, just so you won’t feel alone. Self-Worth! Say it to yourself, in your head and then aloud: I know my worth! I am worthy! Look about your psyche-house until you find your self-worth and self-respect – are they under the bed, all dusty and rusty? Pull them out, dust them off, and let them back onto your life. Say it with me: I am worthy; I know my worth. You do not NEED people or company or that “friend” or that man or that woman or that crowd—be with the ones who give you joy, or are fun to be with/around, or you complement each other’s psyches or whatever. “I am worthy; I know my worth.”
  5. *I Kiss You*

    *I Kiss You*

    Beating yourself up? Don’t. Stop it. Yes, even if you’ve done the above. Give yourself a big fat break for being human. Beating yourself up will only make things worse. Even if you are the one who made the decision to dive into dark terrifying unknowns, who cut ties, who said, “I do not want this anymore,” why are you punishing yourself?  Why are you saying, “Oh well, this is what I get. This is what I deserve for shaking things up.” Nope. Not reality. Be your own BFF for a while. Use this quiet solitude time to discover just what kinds of guts you have. Recognize how you are doing exactly what you wanted and needed and considered for quite some time—and did you really think it was going to be easy? Hell no! Not much worth doing and having and obtaining ever comes “Easy.” Be kind to yourself. Love yourself. Give yourself some credit for Going For It, whatever that is, despite the initial feelings of grief and terror and stark-raving-madness.

DO!

  1. Do find gratitude—every day. Every morning take a deep breath and consider just what you are grateful for. And throughout the day, remind yourself what you are grateful for! Don’t forget to let out that breath. Ha.
  2. flexibility - yeah, it helps . . . uh huh

    exercise outdoors when you can

    Do get out and breathe in some fresh air; and definitely get some exercise. Your body and your brain will love you for it, and you will feel GREAT. I promise you this. If you have never exercised, then take a simple walk, and then another, and then another, and one after that, and another after that, and feel your body grow strong and your brain feel centered.

  3. Do live in the NOW, not some future. Remind yourself throughout the day to calm the voices in your head, stop for a moment, and BE IN THE NOW. What scents are surrounding you? How does your skin feel when you touch it? How do your lungs feel as you fill them with air? Your feet as they connect to the ground? Find the NOW, the present, this very moment in time, and savor it. The future will come soon enough and it’s rarely exactly how you envisioned it.
  4. Do reach out to your BFF(s) and your family. You can allow yourself a few whiny self-indulgent messages to the BFF (and maybe, MAYBE a trusted close family member), but after that, work with your besties and/or family on solutions to how you can transition from Old Life to New Life. There will have to be some grieving of the old life, even if you were ready to move on.  So . . . .
  5. photoDo allow yourself to grieve. If you don’t, then you are only denying what was once an important part of your life, no matter whether it wasn’t all healthy or perfect or wonderful or enlightened, it was still YOUR LIFE. Grieve the old as you step into the new.

 

A Whole Sackful of Crazy-let it out a bit of a time, Kat, and they'be be none the wiser -hahahahahahahaahahahhaNow. Go kickass.

The phrase “I will never . . . .” is a coiled snake ready to bite us on our asses

Snake_strike_coiled_HIHow many times have you used that phrase only to have it come back later and bite the shit out of your ass? Now, that doesn’t mean the biting isn’t going to be a good thing—maybe you needed to be bit on your ass to propel you in to some kind of motion. Maybe you’ve been stagnant, bored but not recognizing that, or meandering around aimlessly, or unhappy with a situation but in denial.

007Maybe you said “never” with the fever and fervor of THIS WILL NEVER EVER CHANGE and have just been bitten on the ass and aren’t sure if that bite will propel you towards something better, or just as good, or towards—THE SCARYASS UNKNOWN! *cue dramatic thunderous slightly dark music*

Or perhaps, my friends, you told someone, “I will never,” and you didn’t really mean it. It isn’t that you lied, it’s just that you could not face up to the truth inside of you—buried there deep, where only the snake biting you on the ass could cause a draining away and revealing of your truths. You said the words because to admit the other words would cause pain and turmoil and disruption and feelings of failure and that SCARYASS UNKNOWN looming. You said them so the other would believe and not be hurt, yes, but also to force yourself to believe so you wouldn’t do the hurting.

We do have our “Nevers” that are iron-clad. For example, “I will never kill another human being,” but then, is that true? If someone were going to fatally harm me or mine, wouldn’t I kill the shit out of them? “I will never jump off the Empire State Building!” Okay, that seems pretty safe. But what if I’m up there and there’s a fire behind me and no escape—I  either have to jump or burn up. I’m jumping! Okay. Well. Huhn. “I will never stop loving my son and granddaughter!” There. That’s a never that holds forever true! But those iron-clad “nevers” are few, even when we think they are not.

2051_46867294175_1646_n

Then . . . .

15111_10152228089399176_116688420_n

Now . . . .

“I will never grow out my hair.” “I will never write erotica.” “I will never sit around crying like a big baby because I’m a tough-ass bitch.” “I will never leave *insert something or someone here*” “I will never give up/give in/give to/give back . . . .”

Oh, my friends. The phrase “I will never . . . .” is the universe’s big laugh at you; it’s the coiled snake ready to bite you on your ass; it’s the swallow those words you spoke because, guess what? Never became “oh shit, it’s happening/happened/going to happen.”

Maybe that snake did surprise you. Or, maybe you sat on that badass snake so it WOULD bite you! Maybe you pretended you didn’t see the snake and just stuck your bared ass right in its face and taunted it while pretending you were going about your business all la tee dah.

So. Little things are easy to talk about first. For instance, I remember clearly and distinctly standing at Hart Theater in Waynesville, North Carolina a couple years ago, talking to a theater friend who’d just cut her hair short, and I said (there’s a metaphor here, isn’t there?), “Yeah. I love mine short and will NEVER go back to longer hair. Ever.” Um. Yeah. Guess what? I not only grew it out, but longer than I ever thought I would have. But that night as I stood there smiling and confident, I really truly believed myself. I honestly thought the words “I will never  . . . .” were true and real and were never to be altered. I thought myself completely  happy with my shorty ole hair. I couldn’t see a day when I wouldn’t be satisfied with that look. Oh how we tempt the fates with our ultimatums and declarations!

SEDUCTION COVE CVR6_edited-1 for amazonOr, I remember standing by my mother, my face all sincere and true: “Nah. Not for me. I’m not going to write trashy erotica stuff! I will never do that. I will stick to what I write.” And then, three months later, on a night when I was full of vodka and bad intent and after I’d smashed a writer’s conference mug against the tree outside my little log house and yelled into the night, “I QUIT! I am NOT WRITING ANOTHER WORD! I AM PISSED OFF AT THE WHOLE BUSINESS! FUCK THIS SHIT!” (the snow hid my shame, until it melted – lawd), I preternaturally-calm opened my word document and wrote Seduction Cove and I laughed a vodka-infused laugh, and of course, I ain’t telling my mom. I also said, “I will NEVER tell anyone I wrote it–I’ll keep Tasha a secret.” Oops; didn’t happen that way. Mom, if you happen by here: I’m sorry. Dang. And now my writing world has altered. Where will I take it next?

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I will never leave this beautiful place

So, my friends. There have been some changes in my life, and more are coming. I’ve spent the last six months or so (actually, the last two years after my father died—something about a parent dying sets a woman on quests and questionings and searchings)—wading through the molasses of change and discovery and heartache and decisions that changed my life and the life of others and etc etc etc – ET CET ER A!

I will begin a series of posts about my “nevers” and my “soon to comes” and my “already happeneds” – and I hope you’ll learn something from them, or be entertained, or nod or shake your head, or ignore it all—but I need to write it. That’s what I do. I am a writer. I write things out. And when I do not, I bother my friends with my whiny angst, or send texts that are full of self-indulgent whines that I later regret (that’s a post in itself). So write I will.

Some topics—and I will never stray from them (hahaha!) are:

  • What not to do when you are alone and vulnerable
  • When you are the one you says, “I want a separation”
  • When you have said you “never” have writer’s block and suddenly you cannot write
  • When you have to leave a place/an ideal/a way of life that you thought was “forever” because you said “never will I leave this place/ideal/way of life
  • When disappointment in people attacks—when you realize the people you thought would call never do, and the ones you never thought would reach out to you do.
  • When the word “lonely” expands beyond and above what you ever thought it could be
  • When you think you cannot, absolutely cannot, face something—but then you do
  • What happens next?
  • At my age! . . . the prospects of dating and all that jazz (and being called a cougar—? Um, what?)
  • Etc.

I’ll be back soon . . . .