It certainly has been a while since I’ve dedicated any real time to this wonderful blog. I’ve thought wistfully of composing something; anything, but I had to break up with SayAnything for a while. I’ve been up to my eyeballs with stress and work that seems to endlessly grow and threaten to bury me underneath it’s mass. Like any ex-boyfriend does, if you don’t have someone or something to fill that fresh void, SayAnthing has haunted me all along. Am I mercifully relieved of the paperwork, responsibility, or stress?


I’m buried much farther beneath it than I would have ever thought possible. It’s been dangerous waters, and I’m treading as carefully as possible; mindful of the hungry sharks circling my kicking feet, waiting for me to falter.

Shit. I am so tired.

As I listen to Journey’s “Faithfully”, I just have the overwhelming feeling of curling into a ball underneath warm covers and forgetting everything but sleep for the longest time. No amount of coffee can come close the the bone-deep exhaustion I’ve nursed like a child for the past four months. My new friend slash boss, Zooey [after Zooey Deschanel], has helped alleviate the pressure and shown me what a mentor truly is. Zooey is human, bright, bubbly, genuine, selfless, motherly, and everything I needed after my war with Ruby finally ended. Picture a wounded soldier, ravaged after two years of war, most of the time being beaten to a pulp; that is the image my soul was left two months ago.

I know that my journey to rehabilitation has only just began, but I feel like I have made tremendous steps to being happy here again. There still is a lot of healing that needs to be done between me and Atticus, but I know that takes time.

Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

I have that as a tattoo. It is a portion of one of the greatest poems I have ever read. I define greatness as something or someone who makes a deep, resounding, crater-like impact on me. ‘Invictus’ by William Ernest Henley did just that.



Out of the night that covers me,
      Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
      For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
      I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
      My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
      Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
      Finds and shall find me unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
      How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate,
      I am the captain of my soul.

Whenever I feel depressed, and drowning in my own pity I think of the reason why I got that tattoo and what it really means to me. Then I simply pick myself back up, brush my sorry self off, and keep charging. I remember what Atticus or Meryl would say to me when I was a child and I would fall down: “Pick yourself up and brush yourself off,” or “Rub some dirt on it.” Okay, that last one was more my older brother, Josh, but still…you get the point.

I’ve learned at my early age that you have to have fiery resolve to make it in this world. I find mine somehow every day through a rousing song, a gripping book, over a thoughtful and long cigarette, in the eyes of Matt, in an inspiring movie, in a passing breeze, in an emotional memory, in the smile of a stranger, in a project well done, holding my niece or nephew, in a new task that I decide is added to my bucket list, or surrounded by my family.

Today I will be going to have a drink with Zooey and Matt after work. This week has been especially hard, for one reason or another, here at the office. Every day Zooey and I have chanted, as our mantra, “Drinks on Friday!” The very fact that we still are able to laugh among every thing we both have going on, both professionally and not, is proof that we are both women of fiery resolve. We are made of stern stuff. I knew, in a way, that about myself for a while but after Ruby, I lost the confidence that I was strong. Zooey, God bless her, has taken on the task of rebuilding me.

God works that way with me, I just realize as I sit here typing this entry. He gives me the gift of being tested, just to let me overcome it. He always, always sends me an angel to help me back up whenever I need one the most. It’s a common saying that God doesn’t give you any more than you can handle. Well I believe this is true. I’m still here, breathing, typing, thinking, smiling. Therefore, I have handled every tough, heart wrenching, you-name-it burden that has been thrown my way. I’ve been so lost and off my path, wracked with heartache that I thought I would literally die of it. The pain was very real for me. I could feel being stabbed with a knife made of loneliness or despair, and wonder how I could ever recover.

Then, miraculously, I would find the white-hot fire within myself and I would pick my sorry self up, brush myself off, and keep charging.

Keep charging guys.