It’s not a hot flash. I’m hot. I am having a power surge. ~ me
Spring has me in a whirlwind—new job vibes, a hair transformation journey (blond/grey/white, anyone?), and cozying up with my significant other. I had grand plans of chronicling my weekly escapades, but let’s be real, time vanishes faster than socks in a dryer, thanks to laundry, dinner duties, and playing mom at my youngest’s sports showdowns. Oh, and let’s not forget my (3) four-legged troublemakers—the dogs.
Then, enter the cosmic disruptor—cue the solar storm. Suddenly, I’m feeling like a hot mess, and it’s not just because of the dogs’ antics. My energy is serpentine, tangled up and twisted by the universe’s shenanigans. Doubt, insecurity, and a sprinkle of unexplained rage (definitely not the ‘pause) are on the menu, all courtesy of this rogue solar serpent.
And guess what? I’m not alone in this serpentine saga. My fellow empaths are all in a tizzy, knocked off our zen game by the cosmic chaos. The usual routine of guiding lost souls through their storms… Now it’s my turn to seek shelter and maybe a bit of cosmic TLC.
Picture this—a routine drive to see a patient, and boom! There’s a guy sprawled in a ditch, midday, bike on top of him, groceries everywhere. I couldn’t just cruise by. Cue 911, but the local bystander’s reaction? Classic! “He’s just drunk,” she says, “you’re not from here are you?” eyes rolling. Well, excuse me for caring, lady!
The solar serpent keeps slithering, even into Mother’s Day weekend, throwing shade on my usual zen vibes. And those Northern Lights in South Carolina? Is this a sign or just more cosmic clownery? I mean, maybe we should be a little bit weary about this unnatural event!
But hold up! There’s a glimmer of hope amidst the chaos. My universe starts to find its groove again. Life’s journey? It’s a wild ride—full of twists, turns, and the occasional ditch encounter. But each curve is a chance to grow, a reminder of our own cosmic resilience.
In the end, I’ll take life’s crazy rollercoaster, solar serpents and all. It’s what makes the ride worth it—raw, unpredictable, and uniquely mine. So, bring it on, universe. I’m ready to ride out the next wave of cosmic chaos with a wink and a smile.
Tag: coping
-
-
Nada. That’s how many fucks the expression zero fucks gives.
If you don’t like me, that’s fine—my feelings aren’t hurt. Chances are, I don’t like you either. However, that doesn’t give you the right to treat me with disrespect or disdain, especially when I’ve done nothing to warrant it. That’s why I choose to give zero fucks about you and your opinion. I’ll give zero fucks if you stumble and fall. I’ll give zero fucks if things don’t go your way because you’re an entitled human and who has no idea how the world really works. I’ll give zero fucks if karma catches up with you for trying to screw me over. And let me tell you, you’re not the first in line for that. I’ve been to that boot camp before.
Let me be crystal clear—I’m not rooting for your failure. Why? Because I truly don’t care about you or your life. One day, you might need my support, but let me make this loud and clear: you’ve burned that bridge. I will never give a damn, no matter the circumstance. Good luck in life. You’ll need it all.
Maybe if you stopped being so uptight, and got out of your way, you would be a happy person.
Peace the fuck out!
-
Blue is known as the ‘sad’ color. But when I see the ocean, all of my sorrow is washed away.
Pop, Pennies, and Blue Feathers… It’s been that kind of day. If you’ve been following my journey through my previous essays, you’ll know the significance I attach to finding pennies and the profound meanings they hold for me.
Today is Friday, finally, and I have about 8 patients to see as part of my work with a traveling doctor’s office. Among them is a woman who has been through the unimaginable pain of losing her son to gun violence. He was just 19 years old, and the trauma of his loss is palpable as soon as I meet her.
Grief, especially the loss of a child, cuts through one’s being like a jagged knife, leaving a chasm of agony. As I speak with her, her pain becomes almost tangible. Yet, amid her anguish, there’s something else: a sense of connection, of longing. She tells me of experiences that feel inexplicable — scents, sights, and sounds that remind her of her son’s presence, despite his physical absence.
In that moment, I feel a surge of joy because I recognize these experiences. I know the comfort they bring, the reassurance they offer. So, I share with her my own encounters with the mystical — the magic of finding pennies and feathers, the serendipitous events that have shaped my belief in the unseen.
Despite the demands of my schedule, I linger a little longer with her, offering words of understanding and a comforting embrace. They say a hug lasting just 20 seconds can transmit love and positive energy; I double dose her with it.
The remainder of my day unfolds without incident, until I return to Beaufort. As I pull into the Walmart parking lot, a peculiar sensation washes over me — a feeling, almost like a whisper in my mind. And then, with startling clarity, I know: I’m about to encounter Lorick’s father, whom I affectionately call Pop.
Sure enough, as I step out of my car, a penny glints up at me from the ground, a silent confirmation of what I already sensed. And there he is, disoriented and masked, searching for his parked car. In that moment, I’m filled with gratitude — for this serendipitous encounter orchestrated, it seems, by Lorick himself.
We chat for a while, and as I bid Pop farewell, I can’t help but marvel at the intricacies of the universe’s design.
Finally home, I release my dogs into the yard, only to be greeted by a sight that takes my breath away: a single blue feather, resting at my feet. It’s a stunning reminder of the spiritual truths that govern our lives, of the connections that transcend the physical realm.
In many cultures, blue feathers hold deep significance. In biblical contexts, blue symbolizes divinity and divine revelation, while in Native American traditions, it represents intuition and wisdom.
Today, I not only helped a grieving mother open her mind to the spiritual presence of her beloved son but also received three poignant signs of my own.
Indeed, it’s been that kind of day — one filled with sorrow, yes, but also with moments of connection, of magic, and of profound spiritual truth. And as I reflect on it all, I’m reminded once again of the beauty and mystery that lie just beyond the veil of our everyday existence.
-
Well, this feels a little tight.
Back in that sterile room, inside the MRI tube, my mind couldn’t help but stray to darker places. Thoughts of mortality, of bodies being consumed by fire – they haunted me, uninvited but persistent. I tried to shake them off, to focus on the task at hand, but they lingered like shadows in the corners of my mind.
Lorick’s body, going through cremation – it was a macabre image that I couldn’t seem to shake. I know it’s terrible, but in those moments of vulnerability, my mind seemed determined to dwell on the morbid. “Pull your shit together, girl,” I chided myself, trying to regain control over my thoughts.
As I lay in that MRI tube, the cacophony of noises reverberating around me. I forced myself to a place of introspection rather than the current morbid, dark, mind trap. Each clank and hum seemed to punctuate the silence, amplifying the whirlwind of thoughts swirling through my mind.
Leaving my job at the local YMCA, where I had dedicated 17 years as a director of health and wellness, had been a pivotal moment in my life. It was a decision born out of necessity, a chance to reclaim my sense of self after years of feeling like a piece of my soul had been chipped away. But amidst the chaos of new beginnings, there was solace to be found in the simple act of lying still, cocooned within the confines of that MRI machine.
For two hours, I surrendered to the discomfort, the uncertainty, and the relentless noise. It was a test of endurance, both physically and mentally, as I grappled with the urge to move, to escape the confines of my own body. But in that moment of vulnerability, I confronted the darkest corners of my mind – the morbid thoughts, the nagging sense of victimhood that threatened to consume me.
Here’s something you need to know about me: I refuse to be a victim. Sure, one could argue that I qualify, given my struggles with chronic pain. But I simply cannot abide by that “poor me” victim mentality. I’ve seen too many people succumb to it, drowning in self-pity and complaints while simple solutions sit within reach.
I refuse to be one of those individuals who just bitch and moan about their problems without taking action. Yes, life throws curveballs, and yes, sometimes the pain feels insurmountable. But I’ve always been a fighter, a believer in finding solutions rather than wallowing in despair.
“Pull your shit together!” I whispered to myself, a mantra born out of necessity. How could I help those who relied on my strength if I succumbed to self-pity? The answer became clear as I focused on the task at hand – to remain still, to endure, and to emerge on the other side with a newfound sense of clarity and purpose.
Inside the tube, amidst the chaos and the clamor, I confronted my own darkness and emerged stronger for it. With a renewed appreciation for the fragility of life and the resilience of the human spirit. No matter what the next chapters of my health journey held, I knew I would be okay. I belonged to something greater than myself – a force that would carry me through even the darkest of days. And for that, I am endlessly grateful.
-
BOO! I’m not a ghost.. You’re crazy.
As I sit down to write about ghosting and gaslighting, I can’t help but reflect on my own experiences with these toxic relationship dynamics. What began as hopeful connections quickly turned into painful lessons in manipulation and deceit. In sharing my story, I hope to shed light on the realities of ghosting and gaslighting and offer support to others who may be grappling with similar challenges.
Ghosting isn’t just about unanswered texts or missed calls; it’s about the sudden and inexplicable disappearance of someone you thought you knew. I remember the sinking feeling in my stomach when I realized that the person I had invested time and emotions in had vanished without a trace. The silence was deafening, leaving me with a whirlwind of unanswered questions and self-doubt.
The aftermath of being ghosted left me grappling with feelings of rejection and abandonment. I questioned my worth and replayed our interactions in my mind, searching for clues or signs that I had missed. It took time and self-reflection to recognize that ghosting says more about the other person’s inability to communicate than it does about my value as an individual.
Gaslighting crept into my life more insidiously, disguised as concern and care. It began with subtle contradictions and denials, making me second-guess my own perceptions and reality. Over time, the gaslighting intensified, eroding my confidence and leaving me feeling like I was losing my grip on sanity.
Gaslighting left me feeling powerless and trapped in a web of deceit. I doubted my instincts and constantly sought validation from the very person who was undermining my sense of self. It wasn’t until I sought outside perspective and support that I began to unravel the gaslighting tactics and reclaim my truth.
Being in recovery from the wounds of ghosting and gaslighting hasn’t been easy, but it’s been essential for my healing journey. I am learning to set boundaries, trust my intuition, and prioritize my well-being in all my relationships. While the scars may still linger, they serve as reminders of my resilience and strength.
To anyone who has experienced ghosting or gaslighting, know that you are not alone. Reach out to trusted friends, family members, or professionals who can offer support and validation. Remember that you deserve love, respect, and honesty in all your relationships, and don’t settle for anything less.
Ghosting and gaslighting are painful. But they do not define our worth or dictate our future. By sharing our stories and supporting one another, we can navigate the complexities of love and connection with greater awareness and resilience. May we all find healing, empowerment, and authentic connections on our journey forward.
-
I am a cage, in search of a bird. — Franz Kafka
My Dance of Composed Chaos: A Journey to Authenticity
Y’all know I love some self-reflection. The journey to find the core of one’s self… The ticker… Today, let’s cut the pretense and dive deep into the raw truth of my existence. If you’ve been following along with my blog, you’ve probably sensed the underlying theme: honesty and authenticity. Today, I had a revelation – my life is a delicate balance of what I like to call ‘composed chaos’. Sounds like an oxymoron, right? It’s like trying to smash two magnets together, only to have them repel each other with a force that’s both frustrating and fascinating.
But here’s the thing: I’ve come to terms with this chaotic dance. It’s not about forcing harmony where none exists; it’s about embracing the beautiful messiness of life.
So, why do I find solace in chaos? And why do I crave moments of composure and calm amidst the storm? It’s time to ask the tough questions and uncover the truths lurking beneath the surface.
First off, let’s tackle the chaos. For me, chaos isn’t just random disorder – it’s the whirlwind of emotions, experiences, and ideas that shape who I am. It’s the messy canvas upon which I paint my story, with each stroke adding depth and complexity to the masterpiece of my life.
But why do I seek chaos? Perhaps it’s because chaos is where growth thrives. It’s in the midst of uncertainty and unpredictability that I discover new perspectives, challenge my beliefs, and push the boundaries of what I thought possible. Chaos is the catalyst for change, the spark that ignites my creativity and fuels my passion for life.
Yet, amidst the chaos, there are moments of calm – fleeting respites that offer clarity and perspective. These moments of composure are essential for grounding myself, for finding balance in the midst of the storm. They remind me to breathe, to pause, to reflect on the journey I’ve traveled and the path that lies ahead.
So, how do I reconcile these seemingly contradictory forces – chaos and composure, disorder and harmony? The answer lies in embracing the duality of existence. Life isn’t linear or predictable; it’s a messy, beautiful mosaic of highs and lows, triumphs and tribulations.
By accepting both the chaos and the calm, I can find peace within myself. I can navigate the twists and turns of life with grace and resilience, knowing that each moment – whether chaotic or composed – is an opportunity for growth and self-discovery.
So here’s to embracing the dance of composed chaos – to living authentically, boldly, and unapologetically. Because in the end, it’s the messy, imperfect moments that make life worth living.
Join me on this journey of self-discovery, as we navigate the beautiful chaos of existence together. Who knows what we’ll find amidst the tumultuous waves of life? One thing’s for sure – it’s bound to be one hell of a ride.
Stay tuned for more musings, revelations, and adventures. And remember, it’s okay to embrace the chaos – just don’t forget to find moments of composure along the way.
Until next time…… The Bird
[
-
Hey, are you still enjoying that?
Today was like any other day at work—filled with unexpected twists and turns that keep me on my toes. But today’s journey took me on a quest to find one of my favorite patients who was en route to the hospital in an ambulance.
Instead of opting for a simple phone call, I found myself driving to not one, but two different hospitals in search of her. As luck would have it, I happened to be near the first hospital her granddaughter thought she might have gone to. Needless to say, she wasn’t there, so I embarked on a one-hour journey to reach her.
Call it intuition or divine guidance, but I felt compelled to find her, and my gut led me straight to her side. Along the way, a serendipitous encounter with a penny reaffirmed that I was on the right track.
Upon arriving at the ER, I found my sweet 86-year-old friend in a less than ideal condition. Despite her struggles, she’s a giver through and through. A widow who has endured the unimaginable loss of burying two children, she continues to give tirelessly to her surviving child, even in the face of theft and threats to her well-being.
This imbalance between giver and taker struck a chord with me. Life is often portrayed as a delicate balance between light and dark, good and bad. Yet, witnessing the selfless care of a young giver juxtaposed with the selfishness of a taker’s actions made me question my own role in this dynamic.
As I pondered on this throughout the evening, a simple act at the grocery store served as a poignant reminder. Watching someone abandon their shopping cart in the parking lot, despite the designated return area being mere steps away, highlighted the stark contrast between giving and taking.
It made me wonder—what kind of person am I? Am I a giver or a taker? And more importantly, who do I aspire to be?
In a world where the lines between right and wrong can blur, these questions linger in my mind. But one thing is clear: the choice is ours to make. Will we choose to give, to uplift and support those around us? Or will we take, prioritizing our own needs at the expense of others?
As I reflect on today’s events, I’m reminded of the profound impact of our choices. So I ask you, dear reader: Who do you want to be? The giver or the taker?
The answer lies within each of us, waiting to be discovered and embraced. And in that choice, we shape not only our own destiny but also the world around us.
Let’s strive to be givers in a world that sometimes takes too much. After all, it’s the giving that truly enriches our lives and those of others.
-
Why limit all of your fun to happy hour?
So, I fell, so what? Oh, how I wish it were that simple. My visit to see my boy, a senior at Winthrop, and his new girl had been nothing short of splendid. Friday night was a blast, filled with laughter and joy. But then came Saturday, dinner time, and just when I was feeling on top of the world, fate decided to play a rather cruel joke on me.
As I made my way to the restroom, little did I know that a slippery surprise awaited me. With the grace of a newborn giraffe trying to navigate a skating rink, I found myself crashing to the floor in the most undignified manner imaginable. Head meeting hard flooring, tailbone screaming in agony, pants filled with pee. My pee. – it was a recipe for disaster.
So, what does this tell me?
Well, amidst the pain and embarrassment, there’s a lesson to be learned. Life has a funny way of keeping us humble, reminding us that no matter how high we soar, there’s always the possibility of a sudden fall. But it’s not the fall itself that defines us; it’s how we choose to rise from it.
And in the midst of this slapstick calamity, I couldn’t help but see a metaphor for the turmoil of my current relationship. Much like that unexpected slip, my relationship with uncertainty and doubt has left me feeling unsteady and vulnerable. The suddenness of the fall mirrored the abruptness of the challenges we face, while the pain resonated with the emotional toll it takes.
Yet, just as I picked myself up from that bathroom floor, bruised but not broken, so too do I find the strength to confront the challenges in my relationship. Through laughter and tears, slips and stumbles, I am reminded that resilience is not just about weathering the storm but about finding the courage to navigate it, wet pants and all.
So, yes, I fell. But I also got back up, dusted myself off, and carried on – because in the end, it’s not the fall that defines us, but the way we rise from it. And if that’s not a metaphor for love and resilience, I don’t know what is.
A new memory and lesson has been made. This one will never be forgotten. .
-
No rain, no flowers, no pain, no power.
As I embark on this new week, I embrace the mantra of “New Week – New You,” recognizing it as an opportunity to cultivate the art of being positive in every aspect of my life.
First and foremost, I acknowledge that feeling stuck is a temporary state, not a permanent condition. I understand that I have the power within myself to change my circumstances and shape my reality. I embrace the belief that I am capable of overcoming any obstacles that stand in my way. I am bossing up.
To change the flow of my thinking, I start by reframing my perspective. I focus on gratitude and positivity, seeking out the silver linings in every situation. I cultivate a growth mindset, viewing challenges as opportunities for learning and growth rather than insurmountable barriers.
I practice self-compassion and self-love, letting go of any shame or guilt imposed upon me by others who may also be stuck in their own journey. I recognize that I am worthy of love, respect, and happiness, and I refuse to internalize negative judgments or expectations from others.
I commit to prioritizing my own well-being and happiness above all else. This means setting boundaries, saying no when necessary, and making self-care a non-negotiable part of my routine. I deserve to prioritize myself and my needs without guilt or apology.
Goodbye to the pity parties or dwelling on past mistakes. New focus will be my energy, bossing up, taking positive action towards creating the life I desire. Celebrating my victories, no matter how small, and acknowledging my progress along the way.
This new week comes the opportunity for a new me—a chance to embrace the art of being positive, bossing up, and living authentically and unapologetically as myself. It’s time for me to do me, and do it perfectly.
The Dish by Deni 