I have never kept secret, well too much, but in this case, my shame on Catholicism despite being raised going to church every weekend and attending Catholic school.

I think you get to know the obvious lapses I have…belief in birth control, sex before marriage – lots of it, being able to marry whoever you love and, if necessary, due to extreme circumstances even divorce – though probably not for myself.  I would rather not get married than have to walk away from a marriage.  Though it know there are very valid reasons to do so.  I also swear a lot.

What you don’t know much about is how I do pray to God every night, even when angry or horribly disappointed.  I thank him (or her) every night for the people and dogs in my life.  I do the sign of the cross in my car when I drive by bad accidents.  I pause in thought at the sound of ambulances.  Most of all, I treat others with kindness and compassion.  It may not always be immediately as it contends with my fiery Irish spirit but when the embers cool, I find my way to an abyss of empathy.  I have very deep rooted morals, my blacks and whites of doing the right thing.  When I have sinned, the mental flogging and penance I put on myself is more than you could likely endure and still get out of bed in the morning and carry.

My fear of death is rooted in a true fear of going to hell for the things I only admit in my head and never to any of you.  I believe everything I suffer as an adult is deserved for something bad I have done, even as a child.  So you must be able to make the connection between all my  suffering and realizing as you read this what a truly terrible child and overall person I believe myself to be.  When you think I lack self awareness for something I have said or done,  you could not be more wrong in your assessment.

Just the other day, I went to light a prayer candle and couldn’t find the fuse they insisted I use.  So I accidentally extinguished someone else’s prayer trying to light mine from theirs.  I added extra Euros and lit them a new candle but I will carry that with me, horrendous guilt.  In fact, I plan to light a new candle for them every time I enter a church as penance because I don’t want their person to be forgotten about.

I write this to you while sitting in a church in Sablon in Brussels.  Sacrilege?  Probably.  But what I have come to learn is that I feel at great peace when sitting in these old churches.  It’s meditative.  It’s the service I take exception to because I resent being told how to act and feel by old white men who preach belief in a book which may or may not be true.  I also loathe the Catholics who sit here for an hour each week and then think they are exempt from the real teachings the rest of the week.  There may he a sentence or two in the good book denouncing homosexual acts but there are thousands of pages about love, acceptance and forgiveness.  How convenient it is to grasp for life onto one sentence and ignore everything else.  It appears to be what our country is founded upon.

But sitting here, I feel closest to my God, whatever that may be.  I was probably meant to be somewhat Quaker but they can’t drink or buy nice clothes so I don’t fit them either.

I sit here, close to God feeling 50 pounds lighter on one shoulder and 50 pounds heavier on the other one but still, serene, safe and sane.  Thousands of years ago, people came together in belief, right or wrong and built this masterpiece of space.  Their eyes and hands meticulous in detail to make a space to honor their God.  I get the privilege to sit here and honor mine.  And yes, mine is a HUGE part of who I am.  You just never knew that before.

More random thoughts of things I don’t want to forget.  I wish to develop the capability to enjoy a simpler life.  My entire life I would never have been caught dead in a dress with sneakers but I did it today.  And nobody cares because everyone was doing the same.

No one seems to be wearing makeup or have much hair styling and they look fine.  Why am I such a Slave to that?  All the makeup, hair dye jobs, fitness regimens, clothes to stand out purposely as best dressed or on trend….none of it has made me richer, married, promoted.  Yet, when I go home, I will feel as though I have to keep this up when at this very moment I want to throw away thousands of dollars worth of beauty products.

I did as much as I could being as sick as I am but didn’t get to check everything off my list because I simply lack the stamina.  I truly am insanely angry about it for 3 reasons  .  1) PTSD has done such a number on my body that I cannot get large breaks from being sick.  I only just got through a sinus infection 6 weeks ago which was only 2 months from the last one.  2) Even with all the dr appointments I have and the holistic healing on the side, we can’t figure out how to improve my immune system even if only for longer respites between illnesses.  3) which is why I am very open and specific in asking sick  people to communicate with me via email for a bit rather than come to me face to face because I catch all their illnesses.  And, not only that, could pass them on to my parents who are also frequently compromised.

• Additionally, I give my heart And soul to folks, walk through fire for them and I ask for nothing other than space when they are ill.  And they can’t even give me that.  This is more than just not feeling well on vacation which can happen to anyone.  It’s the basic premise of what chips away at me every day and I can’t even get that tiny amount  of selflessness for a couple days from anyone when I give far more with minuscule ask.  Seriously, how does someone’s lack of self control justify me not being able to taste chocolate in Belgium and Experience more beer tasting – 2 very big reasons for taking this trip.

Anyhow, I digress a lot.  Fergus would love be it here. Very dog friendly and so many wonderful walks we could take.  If the Cape house isn’t a long term plan, I could retire here and take holidays Back and forth through Belgium, Holland and France at whim.  It’s just so beautiful here and they support my bed time.

Did a canal ride today which was nice.  Climbed the Belfry and experienced a superb view of this interestingly round city.

I am breaking down and ordering taxis tomorrow because I haven’t the stamina for pushing luggage across cobblestones or the patience for getting lost which normally doesn’t bug me.  Plus, I need to find my 9 am chocolate tour in Brussels tomorrow which is 4 hours long.  I think I will just try to buy some key stuff and eat it at home when I feel better…..hopefully before my August vacation I am sure will be ruined just like Christmas vacation last year.

I must channel this anger into productivity towards getting out of this bad situation and seeing if I can mentally challenge myself to just be simpler.  I downgraded the car which is a start but I need to do more.  Europeans are amazing and interesting.  I really want to be changed by this experience.

I know I am down about being sick but I really  am enjoying the trip and pushing myself. I can crash at work and be sick and slow there 🤧.  Then we might be equal in what they took away from me being able to relax and mend on this vacation.

Oh, completely forgot that I stumbled onto a nunnery which was so peaceful because you had to be silent walking around.  There was a small church I walked into where a handful of nuns were having service so I sat for awhile.  It was so peaceful to hear her voice, singing and prayer even though it was a different language.  Very enlightening experience where all my Catholic kneeling, quiet, prayers and sign of the cross kicked in right away.

I need to jot a bunch of things down so I don’t forget th a experience.  I may expound later.

Day 1

Caught in a thunderstorm on the way to the hotel which I guess is typical here – the rain, at least.  Guess I am good luck because it hasn’t rained since.  It was grey during the early part of the day Tuesday but other than that it had been sunny and warm.  Also, sun doesn’t set until after 10.  Awesome. You get a lot out of your day.

Did a walking tour to orient myself with the city and learned cool things.  Tried Gouda and stroopwafels for the first time and am in love.  Just shipped Gouda home.

Walked through a street where only women can have apartments.  I think it was originally a religious thing but has expanded.  So if you get divorced, you can live there.  Respect for women.  It’s also very quaint and well kept, of course.  There wAs also a hall with visible boxes that were each individualized by orphanage children so one can learn about them through their art.

Decided to go for it and wait in the Anne Frank line which was so worth it.  I did not previously understand the involvement of Amsterdam in the Jewish culture and how many citizens were eventually lost.

By the way, so many things are connected here and very much tied to human rights.

That night, I did the Red Light district walking tour.  Fascinating to learn about prostitution and how it’s    run by the women themselves. No pimps, lots of rules to protect the workers.  They pay taxes and they are required to speak 4 languages.  You know what this plan does?  Avoids any need for human trafficking.  The workers pick and choose who they will or won’t sleep with.  You get 15-20 minutes.  50 Euro gets you a BJ and laid if you can cram that all in. The whole area is fairly safe.  Cameras everywhere and police everywhere.  One night I decided to check out one of the many sex shops.  2 women my mom’s age were comparing vibrators trying to decide on the best one.  A couple also came in with their baby.  Baby life is very different here.

Tuesday was the Ecco shoe day which slaughtered my feet.  Plus, the walking tour did not help with city navigation.  Halfway down many streets the names change or if you take a wrong turn and take an alley to get back on track it doesn’t work.  You end up very far away.  I walked too much that day.  Sure, it’s the canals that cause that but they are man made so there’s that.

This was Van Gogh and Rijksmuseum day, maybe something else I can’t recall right now.  And that was the night I went to the smallest bar in town and met Americans – 2 of them 60 years old and killing time on their way to Uganda.  She was fascinating.  Used to work for Schwab, saved a bunch of $ and retired young to chase her real passions.  She and her husband are now in a band and she runs her own business which involves humanitarian work in Africa.  We were also chatting up some 19 year old boys from CA.  3 nerds with girlfriends afraid to go too far in the Red Light.  We encouraged them to hook up with prostitutes by explaining they will not have those girlfriends long term.  Enjoy Amsterdam, boys.

Wednesday, no beer at all.  I had 2 days worth Tuesday night.  Went to the zoo because animals.  Fell in love with the butterfly room as I had  never done that before.  I also learned how much money this zoo throws into animal protection efforts which is why I am happy to spend my money there.

From there, took a side trip to the botanical garden which has actually been around for centuries and is connected to the science behind one of the ingredients used by Heineken.      Connection.  Very cool place with people just sitting on benches or painting. Very relaxing.  And, more butterflies.  Twice in one day.

Grabbed a sandwich from a side street bakery and killed some time before touring Delft, The Hague and Madouradam.  Cool trip but a good lesson as to why I should never take a group trip.  There’s always a couple assholes who don’t follow directions and return to the bus on time and for some reason think it’s funny.  I work with people like that and it makes my skin crawl.  Also, parents who don’t keep their children quiet when the guide is speaking.  The guide speaking is the reason we all paid to be there.  Oh, and as I stepped off the bus there was a kid puking on the sidewalk.  I’m thinking if your kid has motion sickness a five hour bus tour might not be the best idea…for anyone.

Anyway, didn’t think I would care about the pottery but it was actually an interesting process.  No average human can afford that stuff.

Drove around The Hague and learned a lot about their government and Royal Family.  They have elections every 4 years like us but have 38 parties.  Right now the most popular one is the animal rights group.

Madouradam is a miniature city of Amsterdam and its supporting suberbs.  Seems like a really weird thing to have but it was built to honor George Maduro who had been in government at some point.  Loved his city and they loved him back.  He was executed at Auschwitz.  Proceeds from the park support tons of charities. Connection.

Today was a poke around day.  Went to the tulip museum and learned a lot of cool stuff which linked back up to stories we were told about bud vases back at the pottery factory.  Connection.

Took a canal ride to the Heineken Experience which was phenomenal. It’s a can’t miss if you ever come here.  You can tell it’s a company who treats their employees well.  Super happy, super engaged and proud to tell the story.

Saw the Homomonument which is its real name.  Again, a community supporting every human’s rights.  At the end of the day, black balloons had been placed there to honor the Chevhnya victims of murder because of sexual identity.  This was the moment I fully understood why I love this city.  They face ugliness head on for everyone.  They don’t turn away like Americans do.  We figure if it doesn’t impact us we don’t need to worry.  It shouldn’t be about that.

Other random stuff…

I did not rent a bike.  You would have to be here to understand but it’s a contact sport.  They come out of the womb and straight to the bike.  You can see parents on their bikes side by side with very young children learning to ride their own.  The family sedan is a bike with baby bike seat.  And no helmets for anyone including babies.  I imagine the bike dictates how many kids you can have and when.  Certainly no more than 2 young ones.  There is a baby seat on the back and then a small seat in front of the actual biker for 2 kids.  People text while riding and don’t hit anything.

I have enjoyed taking baths at the end of the day as they gave me a bathroom with a tub.  It feels very European to take that time to relax and give the muscles some relief.

The Dutch people are the kindest people ever.  They usually speak several languages and don’t make foreigners feel bad.  They do rely heavily on the tourist economy so maybe they hide their hatred really well but they seem pretty authentic. What I feel bad about is how rude some other cultures can be to them. It’s embarrassing.  There are a few nationalities who give Zero effs about anyone but themselves.  Wild animals behave better.  Simple things like not cutting in line, saying please and thank you, ladies first completely elude them.  Americans actually look good over here compared to some others.

That’s a wrap for now.  Bruges tomorrow.

I just finished a bike ride and decided to hit up Hopkins House for a bunch of cookies for my mom coming home from the hospital today.  These are our favorite cookies down here.

As I was driving and listening to a little live U2 it dawned on me that Memorial Day 2 years ago was a bit of a reckoning for me as I was reaping back pieces of my life I had blown up and strewn across the landscape.  Pieces of me dangling from trees, pieces of me blown into the bushes, pieces of me washing up with the tides and rotting away on the rocks.

It was a time of deep shame.  

As I look back on how I survived that it literally was from the strength of my family and a very limited group of friends.  It was one of those things that had my family’s response been just a hair too far to the right of the dial, I wouldn’t still be here today.

They could have been judgmental or preachy.  They were looking at something our family wasn’t exposed to and wasn’t supposed to be exposed to.  But they acted like this was something that could just have easily happened to them.  It wouldn’t but I appreciate that they presented it.

My friends were remarkably similar in response.  And they pitched in to help me through it too.

Two years later I am prepping for my first trip to Europe in 10 years.  I worry every day about blowing myself up again and a lot of my angst is thinking through how to handle certain scenarios to keep myself together.  I can’t really go anywhere alone without worrying what I could do to myself.  I will never have freedom from that.

But my friends and family allowed me the freedom from judgment and the freedom from being told how I should behave and who I was supposed to be.  They kept the weight off of me and allowed me the freedom to work through my head on my own and in my own time.  I am sure they were holding their breath on the sidelines, white knuckling my every move.  They probably still do.  So do I.  

The difference is that until 2 years ago I wasn’t white knuckling or holding my breath before doing anything.  I was taking on anything I could to numb my thoughts and absolve myself from decisions.  I was pretty much playing life by ear and not hoping for anything.

Today, my biggest concern is going to Europe with acne and my roots coming in a little gray.  And yes, getting on a plane but I have a prescription for that.  I am starting off in the freest city in the world but I also feel like I can handle it.  

This is more of a stream of consciousness vent which I think people need to be allowed to do in order to stay healthy.

First, Goo Gone is my new favorite thing.  It cleaned the white paint right off my car in 5 minutes.  Thank god.  Since the mailbox is fine, I just don’t even want to have that conversation with my parents.

Both my parents are disabled at the moment and I feel completely useless as well as selfish since I am supposed to go to Europe in a few days and leave Fergus with them.  Oh, and my dad is my ride to Hyannis to catch the bus to Logan Sunday but he can’t move right now.  Mom is in rehab for her back and no idea when she comes home.  Not that it matters because my father is home not moving because of his pain.  Is he eating?  Able to take care of the dog?  Does he know not to drive?  Cos he was texting my cousin while on dilaudid which set off her alarm bells.  So, basically can’t have a coherent conversation with either parent at the moment.  That’s encouraging.  

Do I cancel this trip?  I can’t afford a kennel on top of it.  I don’t know what to do.  

I have headaches every day starting at noon and I’m sick of that.

Children were killed at a concert last night.   Don’t have children and yet I am insanely empathetic to parents and devastated for these kids.  I have been having similar pangs towards teenagers and all my friends who are parents as I watch 13 Reasons Why.  What is wrong with me?  I never wanted kids so why do I feel so deeply for them?

I almost bought fried chicken for dinner tonight for the same reason I backed into a mailbox.  The brain is on overdrive and just not even aware of the most basic things right now.

The dog pooped on the basement floor today while I was still here so I don’t know what that’s about.

And seriously, who gives a shit about Billy Bush who lost his job for being a pervert with Trump?  I have Zero interest in his little sympathy tour after he considers himself reformed after going to a spa and hitting a pillow with a hammer and having one uncomfortable conversation with his teenage daughter.  Seriously, go away!

That is all for now.

Warning.  This is a bit of a Kurt Cobain cliche I am going to lead with.  Chris Cornell committed suicide at age 52, leaving behind a wife and 3 kids and an insanely successful musical career.

I liked Soundgarden and Audioslave ok enough.  Soundgarden was a major backdrop to high school and college as my musically formative years happened around Grunge and the Seattle scene.  “Singles” was my favorite movie at the time and no one knew Eddie Vedder when he acted in it briefly.  I did but I am a music snob.  I had the Nirvana album LONG before anyone else had heard “Smells Like Teen Spirit” because they were being played on Framingham State college radio which was on my station rotation at the time.

Boys liked Chris Cornell because he rocked.  Girls liked Chris Cornell because he was beautiful.  I didn’t care for the long hair.  I perked up when he cut it short right around Spoonman time and I could see his eyes.  I bought that tape and cranked it in my mom’s Caravan cassette player when I got to borrow the car on college breaks.  Big fan of the song Superunknown.  I way overplayed that one while everyone else was listening to Black Hole Sun.

What really stood out to me was this man’s talent.  His voice really is phenomenal with multiple ranges.  Not only that, he has been writing lyrics for over 30 years…in prolific fashion while having dozens of hits.  He has battled depression, alcoholism, the recession of grunge and  managed to be a talent that has evolved with music and remained highly, highly relevant.  Whether you enjoy his music or not, he is a talent worth respecting.  Other musicians seek him out.

Kurt Cobain offed himself and people were holding vigils, crying for days.  I was sad but it wasn’t a surprise to me.  Lane Staley of Alice In Chains, even sadder to me for some reason.  Major talent but writing was on the wall there too.  It so often is with young artists dealing with emotional turmoil, drugs and the wild life style.  You just sort of know to brace yourself for it.

What you don’t brace yourself for is the 52 year old family man who rode 30 years of the industry wave and survived it.  The rocker who lost a marriage, went to rehab and wrote some of his best work sober and got married again…raised a family.  You figure there could be a younger death because of substance abuse and past hard living but you don’t expect suicide.  You sort of think a person like that is on the other side of it.

Mental illness…depression, anxiety, substance abuse…all of the above.  They are diseases.  Lifelong, incurable diseases that can kill you at any time because the “reasoning” a diabetic or cancer patient has to take his/her meds, go to their appointments is a reasoning people with mental illness don’t get to have.  Your illness overrides your rationale and you are able to attack yourself and not know when to stop.  A moment in time to someone else is the moment you decide to end your life.  A wave you can’t ride out.

I have been so deeply affected by this death today – not in a lost icon sort of way but in a human to human way.  I got your disease too, Cornell, and you are vastly more successful and financially stable than I will ever be.  You found love twice.   You had just successfully performed your art hours before.  And you still hung yourself in a hotel bathroom.  That was your stroke, your fatal heart attack, your lost cancer fight.  Your illness killed you.  People think you had a choice but you didn’t.  You didn’t have reason at your side because that illness or combo of illnesses takes away from you what everyone else can reason through in their lives.

You scare the shit out of me.  I still have crappy days and experiences but I feel more controlled and optimistic than I ever have.  I can even dare to say that happy is my default a lot lately.  I am still sarcastic, skeptical, having nightmares on the regular, and  scared to death of America right now but it’s proportioned.  I just plain feel good.  I feel like I have the tools I need right now.  I bet you had felt like that sometimes too.

Back to the realization I am only one failed prescription away, another traumatic event away from the disease gaining hold and erasing my reason.  We all are and it’s frightening.

I watched a video today of you singing “Redemption Song” with your daughter.  It was surreal, the talent she has and the proud dad moment you had with your kid.  You would never choose to inflict pain on her.  I am sure you believed she is better off without you.  She so totally isn’t and never will be but it had to be what you believed.  And that is tragic.  I feel deep empathy for your family and what they have lost.  You weren’t Soundgarden to them.  You were their person.  You were a person with a disease so many other people have but so many people judge and disregard.

If you can’t make it after all you have accomplished, what does that say for the rest of us?

I feel like I lost someone I know, not because of your fame or music but because we share a disease.  It’s a grief from one mental illness sufferer to another where I am just so desperately, shakingly, achingly sorry that you lost your battle.  If there is a God, I hope you find peace.  I hope your family gets the support they need.  I hope they know they were loved and in your twisted mental illness, you probably thought this was the greatest gift of love you could bestow on them.  I get it.  Man, I am just so sorry you lost your fight.  You were simply beautiful all around.  Peace….I hope.

My world is dark.  It’s full of making sure the doors in the house and my car are always locked.  I have been known to pile beach chairs against my back door that’s 2 floors down from my bedroom so I might hear when my house is being broken into.  Every time I get in the car in a parking lot, I panic if I am not getting situated fast enough for fear of a carjacker.  I even check the back seat of the car to make sure no one is there waiting for me.  And yes, I frequently walk around with the car key sticking out between my fingers when walking alone in case I need to punch or jab someone to get away.  I also run like that.

I take sedatives to fly because I fear that kind of death over every other kind and frequently dream that is how I will die.  I definitely WebMD my every medical symptom so I can get a complete picture of everything I may need to consider ahead of time because I was once told I might have pancreatic cancer and then – oops, “we don’t see that spot now so we must have been wrong the last 3 times we saw it.”

I was once approached by a French man who was being very pleasant and walked with me on my way to the Louvre but I panicked that he was just trying to mug me so I ditched him as fast as I could.  I knew there was no way a handsome French man found me so attractive in a crowd that he just had to catch up with me.  Yes, it’s happened to friends but for me he could only want my purse.

I am conditioned to assume any drink I leave unattended at a bar will be drugged.  I often figure any man paying attention to me is trying to get my defenses down so he can rape me – never that he is just trying to get to know me and thought I was pretty.  I have driven at questionable times because I was more afraid to accept a ride from a polite man than getting myself into an accident.

I grew up not being allowed to go to the playground down the street with my friends during the day because my mom felt there could be bad men there.  One day, I went to the park with my friends who were allowed to go (even though I knew I was breaking the rules) and there was a bad man.  And all the kids saw things small children shouldn’t have to see.  I missed it because my guilt caught up with me and I started walking home a couple minutes before it happened.  But I had to tell my mother about the bad men because my friends were afraid to tell and I knew we needed to tell.

My brother and I were playing outside one day when a car pulled up and literally asked if we wanted candy.  You bet I had already been taught that was wrong but my brother went for it.  I grabbed him and pulled him away.  Turns out, someone was trying to kidnap us.  The police came by to take my statement.

Once, when my parents were watching TV, my mom saw a man looking in our living room window at her.  My dad went out after him and saw he was naked running away.  Weird and gross.  Every time my dad was away on business after that, my mom put paper bags over the small windows at the top of our front door and one of my uncles would stay with us.  Another time, I woke up in the middle of a summer night and decided to look out the window.  In that very moment I saw people breaking into the car across the street from us.  I crawled into my parents’ bedroom, afraid if I stood up I would be seen, and had them call the police.

I once had a dream that the woman who lived diagonally across from us died.  The next morning, there was a fire engine and ambulance at her house because she died.  I also dreamt that my grandfather died.  He died four days after that dream.

I saw a boyfriend drive past my window at work on his way in that morning and noticed he was wearing glasses.  He only wore glasses when he forgot his contacts at my house.  But he hadn’t been at my house the night before which meant he had been at someone else’s.  He denied it and denied it – called me crazy, publicly shamed me amongst all our friends – made them think I was crazy.  Eventually, I found out I was right.

When 9/11 happened, I was in the office at my parents’ house where there was picture of one of the terrorists in a folder on the desk.  This is because the car they used had a bank receipt from my dad’s bank and my dad was the guy the FBI went to for the ATM video tapes.  That’s how they made the connection to who perpetrated the attacks.  And how many times have I gotten a new ATM card because of potential compromise?  Not to mention, my father once texted me about what he felt might be potential fraud in my account when he saw a Match.com debit.  I had to explain to him I was not being hacked and was shamefully trying to meet men.

I went to the Boston Marathon the one time it was attacked by Terrorists.

I guess I just don’t know how to believe in pure intentions vs. dark motives.  If someone appears to like me, I assume it’s a joke.  Because when I was a kid, it was a joke.  Fat jokes, hair pulling, being egged on my way to school, pretending to like me and then laughing at me if I returned the intention.

If I am on a date, I assume I am not really on a date.  I just figure it’s 2 friends getting together…maybe I am being slightly auditioned for potential but even if that’s the case, I would never believe I could “pass” so I don’t try to.  I have done nice things for guy friends just as a friend and they assume I want more when that’s not the case so then I feel like a repulsive freak.  But even if that were me trying to show an interest – why is it received like a wart?  And every time a guy has approached a friend to tell me they think I am pretty and want an intro – I have always declined because I assume it’s a joke or just for sex.

So yeah, online dating feels like 70% scam, 20% weirdo and maybe 10% actual possibility.  How would I even know when I am on 10% actual possibility with those odds? I am not desperate to be in a relationship.  I am very sincere about having a high quality single life on most days.  Yet, it would be nice to have someone to travel with, laugh with, beach with, music with.  I think being online or “open” to possibilities is a discipline I have just like working out, eating healthy, writing with more regularity because that’s how goals are accomplished.  You don’t go out and achieve glory the first time you aim for it.  You have to be at it for a bit to hone it and create good habits before something bites.  And you have to have your wits about you when something bites for safety reasons.  I guess I also don’t like to be embarrassed and there’s a big play there around that too because people seem to enjoy watching someone be shamed for something natural like wanting to trust or love.

I grew up amongst suspicious people – who were right.  I have always had a weird sixth sense – which ends up right.  I guess most people see romantic movies and believe “The Notebook” can happen to them and it does.  I watch Manchester-By-the-Sea and find that more likely.

Everyone should be required to partake in a writing group.  I know, not everyone has a passion for writing.  That’s ok.  There are critical life lessons to learn in a proper writing group.

Your work is critiqued by your peers. I know, way to be naked in front of strangers.  But here’s the thing…no one actually critiques your nudity.  The point is to understand everyone is naked and sharing something personal.  No one  judges the purpose itself ….the place inside you where it comes from.  That is sacred and respected.  What the critiques do is more mechanical.  They help you make the body of your work better than you think it can be or better than you know how to do by yourself.  

As an adult, mostly in the professional world, you are criticized all the time in search of the best you that can be.  Some people are better than others.  The good ones don’t point at your personality trait as a failure when it’s not working.  They look for the mechanics of how that trait may be making others feel, how it’s presenting differently from how you may intend it.  I have had many bosses appreciate how calm I am at accepting and implementing feedback.  Because when done like a writing group, they aren’t criticizing me as a person.  They are writing notes in the margins and crossing some words out, re-arranging paragraphs and pointing out cliches.  Then, I get to take that draft back and rework it. I don’t have any emotion tied to critique of my work.  

It’s also the spirit in which I also give feedback because in a writing group, you are reading other people’s work and making your recommendations.  I make my margin notes too and at the end of the day, we all go home and get to work on the re-writes.

Once you do another draft, you bring it back to the group and get new critiques which let you know what progress you have made and any areas which may need further attention.  No tears.  No hurt feelings.  Just more suggestions and another draft until you get your work to the place you feel best and you publish.  At no time does anyone tell you that you should not be a writer.  

When you are at work or In social circles and criticized for who you are, that hurts.  You are naked alone and no one else has the guts to do the same.  These people don’t understand to be naked is to be respected no matter what moles, fat,  cellulite, scars they may be privileged to be seeing.  The fact someone is showing this to you is art. She isnt asking you to tell her she is fat, she may be asking you to suggest how she might lose weight or tone up her arms.  That’s what writing is.  A writer isn’t asking you to decide whether or not it’s a good story or if it should or should not be told.  The writer is asking you to help her tell the story in a better way.  

When you learn how to be a writer and how to be a reader of writers in this way, you learn how to move about the world as a true adult, able to take feedback for its true intent and able to give feedback that is not to scold, but to lift.  I cherish my experience in a writing group from 20 years ago.  It has stuck with me to this day.  It gives me a bullet proof vest so that I am able to do my work in risky venues without getting hurt.  

Trader Joe’s parking lot.  I pull out of my spot and start to drive away but must slam on my breaks because of the dude who pulled out of his spot without looking and almost hit me.  I had to honk at him to get him to stop and he was surprised because he hadn’t been looking.  I threw my hands in the air.  He made faces at me and gave me the finger….with his girlfriend in the passenger side.  Charming boyfriend she has there.

Trader Joe’s parking lot.  I am at the end of the lot with my left blinker on preparing to turn onto the road.  A man swings far into the lot nearly hitting my car because he wasn’t paying attention to the fact I was there.  I threw my hands in the air after gasping for breath from the panic.  He Laughed at me, mouthed some words and acted like I was in the wrong.

Route 3 south.  Nashua, NH.  Red light just before exit 8.  I was just waiting at the red light.   No idea the guy behind me was expecting me to have done something for him.  When the light turned green we went and then he followed me onto the highway riding my bumper and tried to run me off the road.  When I tried to speed up to get into another lane away from him, he would speed in front of me and cut me off so I couldn’t get past him.  He did this for 5 exits while trying to also run me off the road.  I never even threw my hands in the air on that one.  I still don’t know what I did but I was scared on that one.

Marlborough.  Route 20.  Sitting at a red light.  Older man gets out of his car and walks up to my window, starts yelling at me and banging on my car.  I think I just wouldn’t let him cut me off but it was still an extreme response.  I took his picture and he walked back to his car.  I cried.

Tyngsboro.  Dunkin Donuts drive thru.  Delivery truck got himself in a pickle when he didn’t realize he had backed himself into a drive thru lane.  He drove forward and it looked like he was going to hit me.  Then he stopped within an inch of my car and wouldn’t move so I couldn’t get around him.  He just sat there expecting me to move so I threw my hands in the air.  He got out of his truck and approached my car yelling at me.  He was telling me I had room.  I couldn’t see it.  He could because he was elevated in a truck but it really didn’t Look like I did.  He was becoming so aggressive I told him if he didn’t stop yelling at me I was calling the cops.  He got back in his truck and I did some tricky maneuvering to get around him.  The fact he was comfortable approaching me like that in front of about 30 witnesses is rather telling.

Route 9 East side Framingham.  Before weight loss.  Guy was in the wrong lane and wanted to be in mine at the last minute but I didn’t let him in.  I may or may not have had a good reason.  I am a MA driver, not aggressive but assertive.  Plan ahead for your lane change.  My motto is that your lack of planning is not my emergency.  Anyway, my failure to be his welcome mat resulted in him rolling down his window to call me a fat bitch.  I stopped at a store, bought a bunch of crappy food and binge ate.  Then I stuck my fingers down my throat to throw it up.

Should I continue?  I have one question….do men do this to other men when driving?