Prompt: what you think your life would be like if you didn’t have depression or anxiety.

For certain, I would be thin. It would be easy to motivate myself to work out and I wouldn’t feed my feelings with food. I would also drink far less. I’d probably just be like everyone else who has one glass of wine with dinner.

I’d probably have more confidence around taking career risks. I’m terrified of somehow losing the ability to financially provide for myself so I don’t rock any boats too much.

Certain I would have finished college the first time around. But not sure if that would have led to a Masters or not. More likely I would have gone to law school.

I probably would have had healthy relationships and definitely be married by now. Not sure about kids. I have never felt the urge but maybe I would have had depression not made me fear passing on bad genes or being unable to manage the stress of being a parent.

I would definitely sleep a lot more. I’d be more rational when stressed. Simple things like people approaching me from behind wouldn’t increase my heart rate.

Basically, I’d just be normal. Probably coffee with friends. Couples dinners. Skinny. Maybe no acne. Yeah, just normal.

In honor of one of my closest friend’s birthdays, I guess it’s appropriate to try and write about this even though I think I’m still marinating. Could be a little soon but I will give it a try.

This is a very unique friendship born out of a very old, immature relationship which didn’t work out. There were many years we both lived separate lives and didn’t communicate but I think it’s been about 6 years around this time since we have re-connected. Our lives could not have turned out more differently from each other’s but I think we’re both ok with where we landed most days. Sometimes I wonder if I missed out on having the life he has….not with him specifically but just more in general. He did the married with kids, live a good suburban life thing. I haven’t done that. I have had a slower journey to becoming an adult….somewhat of a failure to launch for a long time and just now catching up.

We message periodically about all sorts of stuff whether it be Game of Thrones, music suggestions, family updates and he’s there a lot when things get dark for me and I can’t open up to anyone else. Can’t risk my job and don’t want to worry my family. He knows when to check in and when to ignore me.

I am in communication electronically with all my friends. With the exception of any wakes and my visit with friends in Spain, he’s the only friend I have actually gone out with this year. Anytime I’m in a town where my friends live, I always mention making plans to meet up. It never works out or no one takes me up on it. When I was headed his way this summer, I threw out the same suggestion expecting nothing from it. He made plans and kept them. I think that says a lot about his character and why this friendship is so important to me.

Over the past 2 years, we have been discovering that we have political differences. More that mine have changed significantly from 20 years ago based on family dynamic and personal experiences which place me in the MeToo and Time’s Up movements multiple ways, unfortunately. Not to mention, in my 20s, I cared more about fitting in with guys, whereas I don’t care now. They should be worrying about my approval now. So, we are on very different spectrums. But we are both fundamentally good people. And he still has to survive a teenage daughter so we shall see how that goes for him 😄. He might need a little more of my perspective when navigating that. He and his wife are both very smart people which tends to produce smart children. Some smart teenage girls can be tame and obedient ; some can be assholes. Basically, you could get me or you could get my sister. Guess which one I was?

As you know from FB, I have gotten much more politically aggressive in recent months. I have PTSD which is easily triggered by shootings/bombings and the more those happen, the more vulnerable I get and the less time I have between episodes to build myself back up. I also found myself pretty traumatized with the whole Kavanaugh thing. I’m not being overly dramatic when I state that felt like being raped all over again. There is no other way to explain it. The more aggressive I get, the more I point out male privilege, the more offended he became which I didn’t know. I think he thought I was directing a lot at him. Yes, he lives male privilege and he doesn’t see it because that’s the beauty of it. They don’t usually see it and so many of them don’t perpetrate terrible things onto women so it’s literally invisible to them. That is ok. I understand it a whole lot. He’s still one of the good guys.

In a massive PTSD episode last week, I messaged him from this place of complete exasperation…hopelessness about our country and heartbroken for all the people so recently affected in mass shootings. He thought it was an attack on him and it got very ugly, very fast. In fact, I was making friends with a guy at a bar and talking to him when one of the messages popped up that just gutted me because I couldn’t believe what had come out of his mouth. The guy I was with said he saw something change very drastically in my eyes which gave away the seriousness of what had just been said. Honestly, I am so glad for the guy I was drinking beer with who talked me through the continued messages. Had I not had that diversion and calmness…I just don’t know.

I will not repeat what either of us said. But it was almost unforgivable. Actually, without additional context to us, what he said to me was life changing and unforgivable as was what he thought I meant by something I said to him. When that conversation stopped, I over drank to numb it down.

I spent the entire weekend upset with myself but also trying to understand who he was, how I could have missed these things and how could I ever move forward with him in my life. I had moments where I just thought our friendship was over and what was the point to everything else I’m doing in my life if I no longer have him to share it with? I got that crazy wanderlust thing where I wondered how hard it would be to just quit my job, sell my house and move a thousand miles away with no friends and just start from scratch. Funny, that was the same reaction I once had to him 20ish years ago when I actually did do that and moved to New Mexico. Same guy, same gut reaction.

But, I also thought about some things which are also just between me and him – some unforgivable things I have done to him in the past that he has forgiven me for. That forgiveness was an incredibly powerful gift which has helped ground my confidence in myself in the past few years, meaning I’m not as awful a person as I have been punishing myself for over 2 decades. His friendship gave me the release I needed to let up on myself. Therefore, I wasn’t going to reach out to him after last week’s argument but I was going to stand by. I decided either I’d never hear from him again or, if I did, if he asked for it, I would forgive him.

He reached out last night to apologize and wave a white flag – that we could have different views and either I could accept it or we go our separate ways….my choice. I chose to forgive him and accept it as well as apologize for my role in it. That’s what you do when you love your friends. And for him to reach out to my on his own means I matter to him. Very few people do that in life. I don’t have any real idea what I mean to anyone really. So I take his actions pretty seriously and through this odd friendship, I find myself growing to be a better person year over year. I only hope I can occasionally return the favor to him.

So happy birthday, bud. I know it’s been a tough year with some loss on your end. Let’s agree to disagree and not take my political rants or basically any of my literature too personally. And no, I am not crazy but, yes, I do have PTSD with wild anxiety so I do have irrational moments. I don’t think I can do much more to change that. Don’t throw in the towel on me and I won’t throw in the towel on you. Cheers to another year! I hope you get to at least enjoy a decent beer.

Another prompt: Favorite quote

I love quotes. I’m surfing Pinterest constantly looking for them. I copy some in Evernote. I read all my books with a pen so I can underline anything which strikes me as meaningful. I even have books of just quotes. I love words. Mine, yours, so many. Writing is beauty.

But one of my favorite quotes is from Mohammed Ali “Float Like a butterfly, sting like a bee.”

It’s kind of funny but it’s also kind of an easy way to understand my approach to work, dating, debate, etc.

I always start out nice, trusting, super open. Because of my sense of humor and vulnerability which I openly share so my mistakes are on display, people often underestimate my intelligence. When they do that and double cross me, I sting and I sting hard. I do it with all the facts I keep stored in my mental file. I enjoy it because when I am at that point, I know I am running circles around them. Just like my dad, I just sting, sit back and enjoy the show.

I’m way smarter than people give me credit for- both emotionally and intellectually. Never let my silliness fool you. Yes, I have confused my bedroom closet with my bathroom after a night of drinking but that doesn’t make me dumb. I’m just drunk and I share the foibles because we all have them. The world would be a better place if we had the courage to share more of ourselves with others. There’s so much more common ground than we think.

But don’t think you are going to fool me because you think I won’t notice. It’s always better to just play everything straight with me. It goes more smoothly. Once I’m in fight mode, I’m not coming out of it until you’re the one on the floor of the ring. And like Ali, I enjoy the crap out of that victory and will rub it in your face.

I said I’d write every day. I didn’t say it would be good or compelling. I have to put a lot of thought into some work stuff this week so when that happens, I get really laser focused and when I get home, I have nothing creative left in me. So I need another prompt.

Greatest rock Band:

We can all debate this but when I look back on my lifetime and what really caught my attention early on, it was U2. I’m not going to argue their latest stuff is anywhere near their best. When you’ve been at it as long as they have and your most amazing albums happened in the 80s and 90s, the transition is hard. But, I give them a ton of credit for sticking to it, selling out stadiums still and being able to evolve creatively while integrating technology, social media and cultural shifts. That, in itself, is pretty phenomenal. Plus, whether you like their songs or not, to be able to write new music themselves for 40ish years is not easy. Look at the crap I’ve been churning out every day this month. To be able to write personally for that long and not run out of topics…..bow down.

What stood out for me at an early age was it was the first time I heard music with a “cause.” I don’t know how many generations removed from the homeland I am (I’ll take a DNA kit for Xmas by the way) but I believe we pre-dated the potato famine. Oh, Dolans…..always able to see 10 steps ahead and take early action when everyone else thinks you are overreacting. It’s in my blood, people. I can’t stop.

Sunday, Bloody, Sunday was so passionate and full of angst…especially live. I was really curious. I didn’t even know what a “pensioner” was so I learned about it. This music introduced me to my culture and “the troubles.” I started digging into the fight in Northern Ireland…the IRA. It was the first terrorism I ever really understood. As I got older, it fed into my reading and research on the famine which is how I discovered that the English took advantage of the potato blight in an effort to speed up our deaths so they could get the fishing zones of the Irish coast. I even read Trinity by Leon Uris. Basically, U2 introduced me to my heritage and planted the seeds of a “fighter.” It’s when I first started looking for the underdog and subconsciously decided to spend my life arguing on their behalf.

It wasn’t just that song. Unforgettable Fire moved me musically. I didn’t even need to understand the words to blast that one on the radio. Of all the times I have seen U2, I only saw them do that one once at Gillette the year with that giant spider thing. I was with my mom, sister and sister-in- law 10 years ago…had just made the offer on my house that morning. Dad got us upgraded seats – a few thousand dollars worth. Nuts but worth it.

Whenever tragedy strikes like gun massacres, school shootings, club shootings and I feel so lost, exasperated…I need to hear “Bad” the live version. I don’t know why but I think the way it’s performed feels like my exasperation put to sound. And I think we all need to be “wide awake” when that shit happens.

I also have to admit I hadn’t spent a whole lot of time learning about MLK until I heard Pride. Who were they talking about “early morning, April 4….”. And do you know what song I hated? With or Without You. Yep, my favorite song in high school after seeing Rattle and Hum (great album you never hear from anymore, by the way.) Can’t get enough of every version of that song now but in 1987…not interested.

Where The Streets Have No Name. The song I want playing if I get married when I enter my reception…hated it! Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For quoted in my high school year book….hated it! Basically, it took me about 5 years to get into Joshua Tree. Now, I think it’s one of the best albums ever compiled and I feel blessed to have seen it done live last year. Red Hill Mining Town and Exit are at the top of my list. Exit is dark but so intense if you crank up the volume. I find it really cathartic when I am full of angst, super edgy. I’ll put that one on repeat several times without getting sick of it. If you hear me playing it, know I am pissed as hell about something and steer clear.

Bullet the Blue Sky written 30 years ago still holds true today. I always loved how Bono had a cause, an anger in some songs, a political point to prove. He preached but never too much….not like Springsteen who can’t shut the fuck up and sings the same lyric over and over for 20 minutes followed by another 20 minutes of talking. My mother keeps the Springsteen satellite radio on at all times in the car. 1st, the point of paying for Satellite radio is for variety. 2nd, with the exception of one or two songs, he annoys the shit out of me because we can drive to the end of the Cape on the same song which started in the driveway. With the exception of Atlantic City, I’d rather put a lit cigarette in my eye than listen to him.

I feel like at every U2 concert I have learned something about a person/leader or another part of the world I may never have had access to. Pretty sure I learned about apartheid, health issues in Africa, AIDS, (famine…my favorite Christmas song from Band Aid which Bono belts out “tonight thank it’s them instead of you…hmmm, sounds like something the GOP thinks when they pray at night…) leaders improperly jailed, Sarajevo, Myanmar….really fascinating stuff. And, this band gives a shit ton of their money away….like meaningful amounts to causes they believe in. Bono has the clout to meet with and influence world leaders. In fact, as Trump began to emerge as a serious threat I found myself surfing the web for Bono commentary and there wasn’t any. I went to a concert figuring the whole thing would be trashing Trump and the GOP….not much, just a little cartoon/video backdrop during one of the songs. I have been pretty disappointed, actually. I think we could have used his voice and I think it could have influenced the election.

Their most recent albums haven’t been nearly as good as their first 15-20 years but they did sneak one onto the album, How to Build an Atomic Bomb. Sometimes You Can’t Make It On Your Own absolutely, fucking guts me and makes me cry when I listen to it. I have never found lyrics which so closely represent the relationship I have with my father. Especially when he started his cancers 5 or 6 years ago. Listen to it. It’s powerful. The only other song which does the same thing so I basically can’t hear it is Landslide from Fleetwood Mac.

Unlike most kids I grew up with, I wasn’t really into pop music. I had an early inclination towards actual artists….people who wrote their own lyrics and played their own instruments. Even if I don’t like an artist now, if they are a real artist like that I respect them. I can’t listen to Taylor Swift but I very much respect her as an artist and business woman. Same as U2. I only grew up with one friend who listened to U2 besides me. Everyone else was doing Madonna and New Kids on the Block. Manufactured\image over talent just didn’t interest me. Even hair bands were better. Def Leppard, rock on 🤘🏻!

This annoying, won’t back down activist I am right now started when I was young and fascinated to learn about oppression….the “other” people….the ones who didn’t make it because of what church they attended or the color their of their skin. Why were they oppressed? Why did one group think their way superior to another? I truly couldn’t understand and wanted to. I started questioning the teachings of Catholicism….what we said on Sundays didn’t really line up with what we did to people the other 6 days of the week.

To this day, I still can’t find a civilized answer to my 6th grade inquisitiveness. It always seems to go back to something like land, proximity to food source, gems, oil, money and someone’s fear of either not being able to steal it or forever keep it to themselves…a fear based on absolutely nothing solid as the Irish didn’t take from the British, the Africans didn’t take from the British or Belgians, black people haven’t taken anything from white people, poor people haven’t taken anything from rich people and women haven’t taken anything from men. Freedom and equality don’t require taking anything from anyone else. I had figured this out by Junior High because my escape was coming home from school and popping U2 tapes in my stereo in my bedroom while writing down song lyrics I wanted to look further into.

While my musical tastes are diverse, they do stick to indie label, alternative and authentic songwriters. I go to tons of concerts. My playlists have thousands of songs on them. But U2 had the most influence in my formative years and I actually think I am a better person because my social conscience was awoken at a very young age. I think most music now is missing this….unless you want to teach your 9 year olds about blow jobs, Eiffel towers, some misogyny and revealing clothing. “Which short skirt should I get?” “Which Kylie lip kit color should I get?” “Google Eiffel Tower,…no, not the thing in France… the thing in that song.” Yep, social conscience isnt finding them through music these days.

I’m really not in the mood to write. The biggest thing I’m tackling this week is something I can’t talk about. I know the right action to take but because I am human, I still hate it. My work is very, very, very hard. That’s all I can say.

So, something light hearted…..

Christine Elizabeth Dolan

Leo

3 fears: flying, dying alone, dying in general

3 things I love: Fergus, peanut butter cups, music

4 turn ons: humor/sarcasm, confidence, intelligence, decisiveness

4 turn offs: small hands, beards, tank tops on guys, gym/bathroom selfies

My best friend: Fergus

Straight

Best first date: haven’t had it yet

5’3

I miss sex

I was born sometime after 8 or 9 am. I confuse my time with my sister’s

Red

I don’t have crushes. I either date you or I don’t.

“Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee”

Favorite place: beach

Favorite food: I go through phases. This time of year I am always looking for Shepard’s pie

Yes, I use sarcasm all the time

Right now I am listening to Fergus snore.

First thing I notice in a new person: are they listening? Meaning, if they ask you a question, do they listen to the answer or get distracted and turn away to talk to someone else?

Shoe size 7

Brown eyes

Brown hair

Favorite style of clothing: I’m all over the map in this but default to a more preppy look

Yes I am old enough to have done prank calls before caller ID. Now it’s drunk texting and not anonymous.

Current underwear color is black

My URL meaning…,I’m a misfit. I have never fit in anywhere in my life.

Favorite movie: Less Than Zero

Favorite song: way too many. This month it’s Home by John Butler Trio

Favorite band: so many. U2, Afghan Whigs, Lucero, JBT, Jason Isbell, Ryan Bingham, BHTM….

How do I feel right now? Killer headache.

Someone I love: my sister

Current relationship status: single and I think lucky because of it

Relationship with my parents: mostly good. There are a few hiccups with my dad here and there but overall a big 180 from even 10 years ago.

Favorite holiday: holidays actually are depression triggers for me

Tattoos: 4: tramp stamp, 2 shoulder and 1 ankle.

Tattoos I want: ready for tattoo number 5. Not saying what it is but it’s music inspired. Think Anton Corbin

I have not joined tumblr

Last book I read: Tiny Beautiful Things by Cheryl Strayed

Do I ever get good morning or good night texts: only when dating

Have I ever kissed the last person I texted? No

When did I last hold hands? PTown bday weekend

How long it takes me to get ready in the morning: over an hour. I take super long showers for my mental health.

Have I shaved my legs in the last 3 days? Nope. That’s for Tuesday and Friday

Where am I right now? In the winter of my discontent

If I was drunk and can’t stand, who is taking care of me? If not the bartender then no one. Hence why I recently found myself trying to get to the bathroom via my bedroom closet.

Do I like music loud or reasonable level? The louder the better

Another journal prompt day. This one has interesting timing. I recently sought out comfort from a friend and received vitriol, personality slamming and well, things I can’t even re-read because they were really ugly, unnecessary things to say. It’s made me question my self worth and even my own mental health, despite having a million doctors tell me I am not crazy. Only one person needs to insinuate it and you forget medical opinions and diagnosis immediately.

“Why are you worth knowing?”

If you do know me, sometimes I have a hard time determining my worth. When something goes wrong, I blame myself immediately. I figure I always fall short whether it be because of my weight, my brain issues, my social awkwardness, my stubbornness, the fact I pretty much say anything I want without filter. You name it, it’s my fault. But as I have spent my weekend going through my latest assessment of damage, it dawned on me that my “flaws” are part of my personality. They don’t make me worthless. They make me different, sometimes they make me harder to tolerate than others because I am like the darkest brew of coffee to drink. It’s an acquired taste.

I’m very much worth knowing and being in your life. First of all, I can be really funny. I am sarcastic all the time and very quick with witty response when humor is needed. As deep as I am and as heady as I can get in conversations with people, I always insert humor and sarcasm at some point to deflate the weight. My humor and ability to laugh at myself gets me through a lot. It also works when I have Irish friends in mourning because they tend to have similar DNA to mine and they too can’t be serious for too long of any stretch. I can express condolences with humor. It’s a lot trickier than you think but I can pull it off.

I’m as loyal as the day is long. I can be in the shittiest relationship with someone, or even just starting one out that I don’t want to mess up and I don’t cheat. I just don’t. I have been cheated on plenty and I have been the other woman more than once…somehow conveniently forgotten by the one who benefitted from it. But I just do not do it even if there is only a tiny little shred holding us together. The damage is irreparable. I can’t do that to someone. I also stick by my friends no matter what. I have had friends do seedy things back in the day I may not have approved of but I never walked away. I always rode it out with them because I love them. We all have our flaws and weaknesses. At no time does that mean we should be loved any less, in fact, those are the times we need to hang onto each other a lot harder because when the crash happens, we could die if we don’t have each other.

It’s weird but I think a lot about your kids. I was a pretty difficult teenager with a mind of my own. I was socially conscious and just beginning to figure out what separates people from each other. Why does one person have a nicer house than the other one? What must it be like to grow up with divorced parents? I disagreed with much of the shit my parents were pushing and I made sure they knew it. I didn’t have the words for it back then but what I saw was white privilege and I couldn’t understand why I had it and what it meant. I now watch some of my guy friends maneuver in life with their adorable, strong willed young girls and I envision them as teenagers. They aren’t going to like you very much if you don’t alter the way you deliver some of your present day beliefs. It doesn’t bode well because there will be a lot of yelling and you turn from great, protective dad to dad she needs therapy to overcome. I’m not a parent and know nothing about that role. But I do know I fought a lot with my dad and then he fought a lot with my mom who was always caught in the middle….she also being a girl and all. So, I’m the kind of friend who will listen when that happens and if anyone’s kids need a stranger to unload on about anything, I’m your girl.

I show up. There are a lot of things I go through alone that I would never allow you to. I check in. I think about you all the time. I feel your feelings from no matter how far away. I’ll be there if you need company. I’ll do your errands or I’ll give you space. Whatever you need, I know it and I show up.

You never have to wonder how I feel about you. If I love you, I will tell you. If I have been keeping something from you, I will eventually confess and trust you will understand I share something so deeply personal with you out of respect and the trite saying that life is short….because it is and I have seen it firsthand. You may not understand those kinds of extremes but I live them and so I don’t let too much time go by not letting you know your value in my life even if it leaves me vulnerable or misinterpreted. My life has been saved before due to only a few simple gestures of people caring about me checking in. So I never let life slip by not letting you know the place you fill in mine….even if you think it’s embarrassing that I fillet myself for what you think is no reason. Geez, I’d definitely be pretty proud to have a person like that in my life. I wouldn’t know what I had done to deserve that kind of person but I’d grab onto her and never let her go…never insult her, shame her, anger her. I’d just thank fucking God I have her and that there is so little I need to contribute to have a gift like that.

I’m really strong and very independent. I don’t need a whole lot in return. I go out to eat myself, concerts by myself and travel by myself because I want to and I don’t need to drag any of you into things which don’t interest you in order for me to have a fulfilling life.

I’m also a fighter. I believe in human rights. I believe we shouldn’t take rights away that have already been given to people. I believe my needs shouldn’t be at the cutting off of benefits for other people. I will march in protest. I will use my words to fight for you. I use my privilege because you can’t afford to put your neck out there so I do it because it’s supposed to be my peer group stepping up now. I am not afraid that I am going to lose any of my life comforts by others gaining some of their own. I don’t believe anyone should be discriminated against because of who they love or what church they visit, their color, gender or dialect. My sister has a healthier family life than my hetero Sunday church friends right now. Your kids are the ones I worry about as teens, not hers. I speak up against gun violence because I don’t want your child in lockdown at school or hiding in a dressing room at a mall while there is an active shooter. Currently, the odds of your child experiencing that are far higher than you believe. Sunday church isn’t what keeps them safe.

I will not stop speaking these things, not because I have been brainwashed or live in liberal New England (I have a red governor, By the way…. and Romney also passed though here) but because I am a fundamentally good person who wants the best for everyone because it’s the right thing to do. I have stepped over plaques denoting Jewish families made obsolete during the Holocaust. I have been in the Anne Frank House, seen the risk a family took to hide her family in Amsterdam and my heart is so full knowing people like that exist. I watched a monument being built in Amsterdam to honor all the gay men in Chechnya who were being killed for being gay 2 summers ago. Most of you didn’t pay any attention to it on the news. I went and prayed by that monument every morning.

I’m the daughter of a war vet. I’m the sister of a gay woman, the aunt of IVF babies. My sister in law is one of the highest quality people I have ever known and Canadian 😄. Her intelligence and awareness blow the rest of us off the map. I am the daughter of a half Italian woman who was discriminated against for being Italian. I’m an Irish girl whose ancestors were discriminated against when they first arrived in Boston. I keep a magnet on my fridge in honor “Irish need not apply.” And by the way, the Irish famine became an opportunity for the English to exploit and further starve the Irish because they wanted control of the Irish Seacoast. They pretended to help by only sending food they knew the Irish wouldn’t be able to grow and hoped they would just all die off. That’s real. I am also a proud friend of Jewish people, black people, Asian people, gay people, swingers, feminists, witches…even people who voluntarily listen to Taylor Swift and go to country music concerts. You name it. If they are kind and make me laugh, they are my friends.

I kind of think I’d want me as a friend if I stumbled across a person like me in the wilderness. Someone who will share her food even if she’s running low. Someone who will insist on telling you what your value in the world is and, if you make me laugh, I’ll pretty much die for you if I have to. Kind of not that bad a person to have in your life.

Need a journal prompt today. I have something major on my mind I could write about but it’s a pretty open, oozing wound at the moment which if I go at too soon, could sever tendon and bone…become irreparable. An amputation May need to be the outcome. I don’t know right now. So I’m hanging onto that limb for the moment and will play it out while trying not to damage it further.

Today’s prompt: A dream that seems impossible

I want to write. I don’t do it well but it’s all I want to do. I think in order to do it well, I would need to free up more of my brain which means quitting my line of work entirely. However, I cannot do that because I very much need that income. That said, if money were no issue, I would quit and write every day with my dog on my lap.

I wish to travel a lot more. Norway, Sweden, Finland, Iceland, Denmark, More Spain, parts of Africa, Vietnam, Cambodia, more time in the desert out west….kind of wish to have a 2nd home out by Joshua Tree for escapes where I could go days with my phone and iPad turned off. I’d also like my primary home to be on the beach.

I would like a male companion who thinks I am a good person, who cares about humanity in ways similar to me….someone kind and forgiving. A liberal, a feminist because that’s actually really sexy to me now. I didn’t know that for a good 20 years but when I look back on what was missing from 2 decades of relationships, it feels like a latent disrespect and fear of strong women may always have been present.

All my exes liked to be around more when I was broken or sad….there was some kind of solution they felt they could provide. Or maybe it was easier for them to get laid. But whenever I got strong or felt like they might not be acting in my best interest, they disappeared at first feedback. So that’s been the missing piece and what makes me super attracted to the feminist guys I have been meeting more often in the last couple years. Their minds, their graces and kindnesses towards others have made me crave them.

So that kind of companion to travel with is a dream which seems pretty impossible at the moment. It would be cool to be lounging around together on a Saturday while I write and he reads. Or, I go to a coffee shop alone for awhile to write and we meet mid day for a beer or grab the beach chairs and hit the sun for a bit.

It’s a really beautiful dream and fairly simple, I think. And yet, just not really all that realistic. I need my job for my income. My writing isn’t good enough to a pay a mortgage with. Although if I were not distracted by my exhausting work and responsibilities I would likely have the discipline to make the writing much better.

So a life of writing, a love who travels and doesn’t hate/fear a woman like me who wants me to just be me and nothing more or less.

That’s my impossible dream.

My brain is so broken. My PTSD stuff feels a lot stronger than I remember it for awhile. The first year or 2 were super ugly. Then I seemed to get into more of a rhythm with it. Noticeable to me but much less noticeable to others. This past year it’s really been creeping back up on me and catching me off guard. Whether it’s triggered by the obvious violent stuff happening every day or something more subtle such as a work day schedule where meetings are booked back to back with no breaks in between for a full day. That lack of control and inability to collect myself throws me off. Control is a huge piece of it.

Since August, I have had 3 really brutal, multi day episodes….one of which landed me an emergency EKG. Last night was a really fast one. I think it had been pent up all day but I was just stopping at a bar to write, have a couple beers while waiting on takeout. I wound up making a new friend and stuck around for a little while longer and a couple more drinks (don’t worry, I did Uber.) By the time I got home I was in full blown panic, racing thoughts, sky rocketing heart rate and didn’t sleep at all. Right now, I am home with the dog and planning to fall asleep on the couch once I take an anxiety pill. The idea of being around anyone I know, being looked at or touched causes this really gross, shivery feeling.

It’s embarrassing to have so little control of my thoughts and my body. It’s also haphazard. Some violent events really get me and others sort of just breeze on by. I’m an empath so when something catches onto me, it just sort of starts at the top and drips it’s way all the way down my veins to my toes. I’m actually pretty used to being able to feel other people’s feelings and mistakenly assume everyone has the same ability as me. It’s oddly naive and childish the genuine shock I experience when I encounter someone who doesn’t. It does not compute.

I am not embarrassed by my human rights beliefs. I was going to call them political but they really aren’t. I have voted Democrat and Republican on midterm ballots more than once. I used to only look as far into issues which impacted me personally. Amsterdam was the catalyst of me beginning to change that stance. Then, once Trump was elected and I saw McConnell in much more action, I stopped voting based on what I hoped a politician would do for me and started supporting anyone who would basically promise not to do anything to me or my loved ones. Because right now, in this country, that’s all it can be about. I actually feel very sorry for anyone who hasn’t caught up to that.

I am not embarrassed by noticing my privilege and wanting to change the way I move in the world. I am not embarrassed that I am willing to put my needs aside to vote for someone who needs more than I do. I am not brainwashed by anything other than my own heart and empathy for others. I am many flawed things but a follower has never been one of them. I’m a leader in my career which was never what I set out to do. It happens wherever I go because I have a moral courage and very unshakable “why” that makes me comfortable actually standing away from any crowd which carries less than those intentions. It’s just coincidence my love for other humans has led me to a small crowd of courageous, eccentric, like hearted people. These people exist in every historic moment of adversity. They are always the minority who stand firm and fight….and win while everyone else benefits from it. That’s just the skin I was born into. There’s no reason to be anything but proud of that.

But, yes, it is embarrassing to have a broken brain. I believe it is for everyone who has one like mine. The ones who hide it are even more broken than me. So you may see my dysfunction right out in the open like an oil spill. You don’t understand it. You are often even frustrated and angered by it. I get that. But it’s better for me to turn on the tv of myself than to put it on mute.

I watched my dad explode all the time when I was growing up. He made me so angry sometimes. But I didn’t love him any less. In fact, as I grew to understand more about his broken brain, I only loved him more. Someone like him as broken as him getting up and going to work every day to provide for his family, give us an amazing education and teach us to empathize for others….kind of remarkable, actually. He certainly seems to function better than I do. I think I have inherited a little more of his father’s weaknesses in the way I deal with things. I’m a little more destructive and numbing.

I also received no training for the things I have experienced and I certainly don’t encounter troops and troops of other people just like me in my daily life. I’m pretty much alone with my broken brain. And even though I can’t stop it, I know you are judging. Maybe try a little less of that and dip your toes into some empathy. Not just for me but for everyone who can’t follow your standards or exhibit your grace in life. Who is to say my brain is the only broken one? We just know my diagnosis.

12 people killed in a bar shooting. I am at a bar with strangers which is where I always gravitate when these things happen. Despite my introversion, I find more comfort in being with strangers, keeping conversations light and funny or focused on the news we are all seeing on the bar tv. They don’t know I have PTSD. They don’t feel the need to offer opinions on anything other than how good my perfume smells.

At work today, we had an amazing speaker who was a Brigadier in the army up until a few years ago. Fascinating man. The focus of his conversation was about PTSD. I was gutted listening to him. Especially when he said that at one point his wife and kids drew the line, said he was an asshole and needed help. I knew exactly what they meant. My dad is the most honorable man I know. But he was a major asshole growing up. He’s way better now but asshole still slips through on occasion.

This guy showed a picture of his brain scan next to a normal brain. Holy shit (which his doctor also says when he saw it.). His brain is entirely backwards with a big dot denoting a traumatic brain injury. Minus the TBI, is that what my dad’s brain looks like? Is it what mine looks like? You can’t argue science, friends. You just can’t.

But I love his perspective that it’s not a disorder but a survival mechanism. His brain had to re-order itself to sense, look for and anticipate danger the average civilian would never consider. The only issue with it is that when you return to civilian life, it doesn’t go back to the way it was before. You always remain on edge seeing things other people don’t. It’s a good thing and bad thing.

I am pretty blessed to work for a company that cares about these things. It hasn’t always been that way. When the bombing originally happened, it was correctly assumed I was fucked up. But it was held against me, impacted my pay and career mobility. Now, it’s considered an asset because my level of empathy and deep people are top notch. So is my self awareness. I am a leader and I am fully aware of how to inspire just as much as I know the weaknesses I have which can sink everything. I also report dotted line to a service guy who nods his head at me differently from everyone else because he knows my brain, my morals, my integrity and my silent triggers. When we are all in a meeting in a conference room, I am pretty sure he knows why I sit where I do and that I silently slip in and out of flashbacks while everyone else is thinking about the project, their kids or happy hour. I feel pretty lucky and supported right now. No one is using it as a convenient excuse to hold me back without saying that’s why.

12 people died today. Many more will have their brains flip on them. Some won’t understand what’s happening to them… why they start drinking more, falling down and cracking their heads open on toilets or getting arrested for drunk driving and losing their licenses. Some won’t know to ask for help or even what help might look like.

For me, it’s a shit ton of therapy with the best doctor I have ever had, yoga, massage, OTF, writing and EL fudge…some alcohol. But that took some time to figure out. Still does.

Anyway,great conversation with strangers. God bless the families grieving today.

I needed some topic help so I looked up some lists of questions.

“What is your favorite room?”

This is a tough one because when I bought my house, I spent a lot of time planning the design of each room. Lots of paint samples and I took some risks. When your whole previous life was about renting or crashing with your parents, you only get white walls you aren’t allowed to paint a different color. Most normal people like neutral wall colors. But if you say I can’t do something, it makes me unhinged. I go to extremes to express and appreciate my freedom.

Below the chair rail in my kitchen dining area I painted black. I did some version of ecru above the chair rail to break it up. I like it because that room gets bright colored accessories. I have a black bar top table. So, lots of reds, yellows, blues, greens depending on where you look. My upstairs bedroom is a gray/purple theme and my mom made the quilt to match. I have no official headboard for the bed so I bought this huge mirror bordered in green and candles above it. I never light the candles. They are just for show. It’s pretty cool.

My guest bedroom/office is all about the very light purple and black. I designed that room around throw pillows I found at TJMaxx. Those were my first house purchase. Then the paint and on signing day, toilet seats because I can’t use “used” seats in my house. That room has a bunch of books and cds in it. A couple shell type things too.

But I’d say my favorite room is my living room. I put the most updates in here and it’s where I spend the most time. The walls are red below the chair rail and ecru above like the kitchen. One wall is covered in all black and white photos I have taken mostly of travels. They are all black framed. Over the years, I have picked up a few trinkets I hang between them. One tile says “love” and one says “beach.” I have a couple heart shaped items bought in Austin, TX and PTown, MA. I also hung my skeleton Van Gogh from the museum in Amsterdam.

You will see a lot of hearts, crosses, anchors and skulls in here. I am heavily influenced by living in New Mexico and Depeche Mode videos done by Anton Corbin. One coffee table has pictures of me with my parents, me with my whole family, a picture of my dad when he was little, a picture of Charlie and a framed sketch of my anchor tattoo. That’s also where my salt lamp is.

The couch and chair are brown. Blankets and pillows are either red or fluffy off white. I barely ever sit in the chair and really need to switch the couch cushions because of the 9 year butt imprint on the one side I always sit on. The chair has recently become part of a reading nook I sometimes go to on Sunday afternoons. I bought a small stool and book table piled up with all the books I haven’t read yet.

Other randoms. I have a small cabinet where I keep my nail polish. There’s a lot of it. I have a Heineken bottle with my nickname on it “Doles.” Always a couple fresh pee pads near any legged furniture because Fergus’ renal issues mean he sometimes pees there. I have a couple throw rugs because I hate the carpet which came with the place and could never afford to replace it so I just pretend it’s not there and it’s not light blue which matches nothing in my house. Fergus has a toy box. There’s a book case full of stuff I have finished reading and some other Knick knacks there. That’s where the dog leash sits.

I have a very cool antler shaped coat hanger where I actually hang all my winter scarves and hats. It’s a collection. The wall heading up the stairs has some cool photos. I have a photo of a Sheila Divine set list from 9 or 10 years ago. There was a very talented photographer at that show I tracked down to get that picture. It was the night before Thanksgiving at Great Scot with my sister. It was my last outing before weight loss surgery. So, the last concert I went to super fat. I also framed the front page of Boston magazine when the Marathon bombing issue came out. It’s a photo of a bunch of running shoes shaped around a heart. I have a cute pug painting I picked up at SOWA with my sister and sister-in- law right about the time they bought their house in Arlington. I have my undergrad degree framed there as well as a photo Beth took of Monument Valley when we visited there during the time I lived out West.

I have a vision board. Yes you depression naysayers who say I don’t choose happiness. Do you have a vision board? Well, I do. I look at it every morning to infuse positive thoughts about my dreams because you people try to convince me that’s all it takes to get what you want in life. Funny because absolutely NONE of it has happened in the 2 years it’s been there! Next to that is my fireplace which I can’t get enough of. I use that for date nights with Fergus. Tons of red candles on the mantle. My BU degree is over there and yes, I have a couple rosary beads. You’ll never figure me out.

The dog crate is down here too because we still use it on house cleaner day. It’s also a convenient location for the pet camera so I can spy on the little nugget sleeping throughout the day. Once in awhile I catch him mid-pee and then I mute to yell at him. The archway to my kitchen is a neat shape and my view lets me see my colorful paintings and the black and white floor length kitchen curtains my sister donated to me. And, when the table is cleared, there is usually a red or green vase in the middle….whichever one isn’t on the salt lamp coffee table.

All in all, it’s a very happy, creative, artsy room. It’s where I do most of my writing despite the fact I have a whole desk setup for that upstairs. I use the desk when I sit down to write part of a “book” I last started last year and haven’t gone back to. The living room is where the blogs happen with Fergus at my feet chewing on his favorite bone which is always home to me.