It's not about words, it's about actions

PREFACE: Current events have my head spinning right now. I have so many things I want to say, but I can't keep them straight in my brain. I want to reply to individual posts on Facebook, but I would just make myself crazy trying to do that. And to be honest, it would fall on deaf ears in many cases. By making this post public, I am putting myself out there to be scrutinized in a way I never have before. Some of you will look at me in a completely different light-for better and for worse. I hope this doesn't color the opinion of the people that matter most to me, but if it does, I guess they weren't the people I thought they were. But if my words, this post, can touch just one person deep down in their soul and help them to realize the flaw in their mentality, then it will be worth it.  

I suffer from a mental illness called borderline personality disorder. I'm not sure when exactly it manifested itself in me, but looking back, I exhibited traits as early as my high school years. It may go back even earlier, I am not sure. It is not a diagnosis to be taken lightly. For some it leads to shame, self doubt, depression-the worsening of symptoms present in so many that suffer from it. For me, it was an epiphany. Finally, I had a name for the demon that dwells inside of me. Instead of hiding my illness in shame, I embrace it as best as I can. I am very upfront and outspoken about my diagnosis, trying to shed a light on something that many see as shameful. I try and use it as a tool, teaching others about my disease and hoping to open their eyes and show them that all is not always as it seems.

For those who know nothing of this mental illness, borderline personality disorder is defined as a long term pattern of abnormal behavior characterized by unstable relationships with other people, unstable sense of self and unstable emotions. Sufferers often have a fear of abandonment, frequent dangerous behaviors, a feeling of emptiness and self harm. Drug and alcohol abuse are prevalent in sufferers, as are eating disorders and depression. Impulse control is another sign of borderline personality disorder. It is believed that 25% of those who suffer from BPD engage in sexually impulsive behaviors. I am but one of that 25%. Those of us who struggle with BPD and sexual impulsivity have a higher likelihood of becoming a victim of sexual coercion, date rape and being raped by a stranger. Why I am I revealing all of this now? Well, the media explosion about Donald Trump, his "locker room talk" and purported instances of sexual assault have my head absolutely spinning right now. I have seen so many deeply offensive, ignorant and ridiculous posts on Facebook these last few days that I felt that I had to respond in some fashion. Replying to each and every post would be entirely too time-consuming and I am sure the personal attacks would be immediate and harsh. I feel that responding in this way is the better-and longer lasting-alternative. This post is not meant to be a commentary about this year's presidential election nor is it meant to be a character assassination of Donald Trump. It also does not mean that I support Hillary Clinton. For the record, I am appalled at both of our major candidates and less than enthused about the two minor ones. This is simply my story of illness, sexual assault and why we as a nation need to re-evaluate our attitudes and behaviors about "boys being boys".

Trump: “I’ve gotta use some Tic Tacs, just in case I start kissing her. You know I’m automatically attracted to beautiful — I just start kissing them. It’s like a magnet. Just kiss. I don’t even wait. And when you’re a star they let you do it. You can do anything.” 
Bush: “Whatever you want.” 
Trump: “Grab them by the pussy. You can do anything.”

Last Friday, a "hot mic" conversation that took place 11 years ago between Republican presidential candidate Donald Trump and newsman Billy Bush was released to the public. Some are up in arms over the terminology Trump used. Personally, I could care less that he used the word "pussy" during the conversation. I have said worse for years and will continue to do so. I am a chef. I work in an industry dominated by men. I learned to have a thick skin and words rarely set me off. The words pussy, twat and cunt come out of my mouth on a regular basis. Crude? Yes. Rude? Yes. Disgusting? To most, yes. But my vocabulary is what is it. I will not apologize for being what I am. What does bother me is that Trump basically admitted to getting away with sexual assault because of who he is. "I don't even wait". Read those words carefully: I DON'T EVEN WAIT. The United States Department of Justice describes sexual assault as any type of sexual contact or behavior that occurs without the explicit consent of the recipient. I DON'T EVEN WAIT. When you pair Trump's words with the definition of sexual assault, you have a clear cut admission of him sexually assaulting women.

A lot of men-women, too-are guilty of sexual assault. Hell, following the letter of the law, I have assaulted a number of men because I didn't have their specific consent before touching them. But there is a world of difference between a flirtatious butt grab and using your wealth and status to kiss and grope someone. I have also apologized when my behavior has made someone uncomfortable and refrained from doing the same in the future. Some cases are obvious assaults while I believe some are misunderstandings. What really pisses me off is that Trump's behavior is deliberate and people are standing up for him! For all I care, it could be Joe Schmo who admitted his sexual assault and I would be just as pissed. Did you read that last sentence? I WOULD BE JUST AS PISSED. The only reason I am using Trump's name specifically is that this interview has put our society's bullshit attitudes about sexual assault in the national spotlight. You may be asking yourself what does all of this have to do with borderline personality disorder, sexual promiscuity and sexual assault? I'm getting there. Be patient.

As I stated before, I suffer from BPD. I am one of the 25% where it manifests itself in sexually promiscuous behavior. My illness has on more than one occasion led me into very dangerous situations. Situations where I am at a higher likelihood of becoming a victim of sexual coercion, date rape and being raped by a stranger. SITUATIONS WHERE I HAVE BEEN SEXUALLY COERCED AND HAVE ALLOWED MYSELF TO BECOME A VICTIM OF DATE RAPE. While my scars are mental and not physical, I carry the scars of this assault with me all the same. I know that I am exceedingly lucky to have walked away with my life. So many women before me have not, and many more after me will not.

So many women are the victims of sexual assault in so many different ways. My assault took place in 1994. I was working as a stripper at the time and went out with a number of co-workers after our bar closed. Included in this group was one of the bouncers. One of the men whose job it was to keep us safe. Well, that cold winter night, I was anything but safe with him. The alcohol was flowing freely and inhibitions were lowered. What was intended to be nothing more than a hot and heavy makeout session quickly went south as my repeated utterances of "no", "I don't want to" and "stop, please" went ignored as he pushed his way into my body. At the time, I weighed all of 120 pounds to his 200+ pounds of mostly muscle. My feeble attempts to physically make him stop were easily thwarted and I became a victim of date rape. I had been sexually assaulted. Some of you may blame me for what happened, and in some way you are partially right. I allowed myself to get into a situation that spun out of control. However, no means no. NO MOTHER FUCKING MEANS NO! Some of you may blame me for going out with him in the first place. Some of you may say I never should have gotten drunk. Some of you will say it was ok to treat me this way since I worked as a stripper. Some of you will say it is ok because I engaged in sexual activity in the first place. NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! Those attitudes are just one of the many things wrong with this country. And why so many people are upset about the support being show to Donald Trump even after he admitted to sexually assaulting women. And why so many people are pissed off that Brock Turner got off with a sentence so light it fails to register as a slap on the wrist.

It is not Donald Trump's words that have so many people upset. It is his actions. His inability to see what he has done as wrong. It is the acceptance of such behavior by so any in this nation and the defense of it as "boys will be boys". Every time someone trivializes this kind of behavior, it trivializes what so any women have had to endure. What I have had to endure. It stops our healing, it cuts open old wounds, it makes fresh wounds bleed even longer.

• I see people posting memes that compare Trump's words to 50 Shades of Grey. I can't believe that some of my friends are so ignorant as to fall for that whitewash bullshit. Like I have repeatedly stated, it is not the words but the actions that have sparked the outrage in me and in so many others. 50 Shades of Grey is poorly written Twilight fan fiction. It is a guilty pleasure, an indulgence for many. It is not the real world people. It is fucking fantasy. Some people find BDSM titillating, myself included. I fail to see how anyone could find outright sexual assault as such. In this case, WORDS DON'T HURT PEOPLE, ACTIONS DO! 
• Some people are trying to shift the blame to over the top, sexually suggestive female performers such as Miley Cyrus, Rihanna, Amy Schumer and Sarah Silverman. This, too is a load of bullshit. I don't care how a woman dresses, how provocatively she performs on stage or how vulgar her comedic routine is. These are never excuses for sexual assault. Women are not the cause of the rape culture that is so blatant in our society. Allowing men to use bullshit excuses and handing out bullshit punishments are. 
• Others are using Bill Clinton's behavior while in office as an attempt to deflect the negative press from Trump. Clinton is no better than Trump, and trying to shift the blame from one to the other once again defeats the purpose of our moral outrage. This is not specifically ABOUT Trump, it is about the rape culture that permeates our society. Once again, you are trivializing sexual assault. 
• Some are trying to minimize the impact by shifting the blame away from men to women by making comments about how women talk when they get together. I must repeat myself-it is NOT THE WORDS BUT THE ACTIONS. Yeah, I cuss like a sailor and probably one of the most vulgar people I know. In a way, I wear that as a badge of my honor. But you know what, my foul mouth does not mean I engage in foul behavior. And I have never once used my position of power to sexually take advantage of a man. 

Does any of this make sense to you? I was sexually assaulted-a victim of date rape. Every time our society minimizes a woman's legitimate sexual assault, it minimizes the worth of the women within our society. It deeply disturbs me that so many men-and especially women-I know are ok with this behavior for the sole reason that it is the candidate they adore who just so happened to get thrust into this controversy. You have not realized until the moment you began reading this blog post that your words supporting this kind of behavior have cut your friend so deeply to the bone. Instead of hopping on the political bandwagon, try taking a small step back and looking at the entire picture. This is NOT about Donald Trump. This is NOT about this election cycle. This is NOT about Brock Turner. This is NOT about Bill Clinton. THIS IS ABOUT HOW FUCKING VILE OUR NATION HAS BECOME WHEN OUR MEMBERS OF SOCIETY ARE SUBJECTED TO BEING VIOLATED AND PEOPLE ARE OK WITH IT, THEY FUCKING DEFEND IT, THEY BRAG ABOUT IT AND SO MANY TURN A BLIND EYE TO IT!

I have never once spoken to anyone about the events that took place on that cold winter night in 1994. In part, I am somewhat responsible for what happened and I have always felt that that was my cross to carry. I never intended it to be a secret, but it remained one for a long time, up until now. I am not ashamed of it as so any are, it has just never been a conversational topic I felt the need to bring up. All of the events of the last few days ignited a fire in my soul that I could no longer contain. I am furious that so many people I know and associate are so willfully ignorant and easily casting aside a topic that so badly needs to be addressed by our society. Sexual assault is never ok. Period. End of story. This is not about politics. This is about stealing another's dignity, self worth, a part of their soul. And fuck you if you can't understand that!

A reason, a season, a lifetime

The old saying a reason, a season or a lifetime is resonating through my brain for some reason this morning. If you are unfamiliar with it, please read the photo I added to this post for a bit of clarity. It states that "People come into our life for a reason, a season, or a lifetime." By and large, I do believe this to be true. Some people are meant to be in your life for a brief moment, a quick blip of the radar screen of life while others are meant to be there for the long haul. Some blow in like a summer storm and breeze back out just as quickly. A reason. A season. A lifetime. Up until today, it has just been saying, having no real substance in the grand scheme of my life. I believe it is the re-emergence of some people from my past that has the saying suddenly at the front and center of my mind.

A REASON
Some people have crossed my path for the sole purpose of teaching me a lesson. Sometimes good, sometimes bad, but always a learning experience. Last night I received a message from the ghost of boyfriends past. Someone I had a fling with years and years ago that I tried reconciling with over the summer. His reason? I believe the reason he entered my life again was to teach me the value of honesty and being truthful, especially with myself. I have always valued honesty in all of my relationships, but for my closest loved ones, it is vital. However, I have always struggled to maintain complete honesty with myself. I tell myself that I am ok being single. And I am. But deep down, I want that someone special to come into my life and share the up's and down's and everything in between's.

The short time we were together this summer was packed with lies. Little white ones and huge grand daddy whopper ones. Fortunately, I caught on quickly and ended things as fast as they started. The last couple months have been filled with silence until he suddenly sent me a message last night. Not wanting to hear any more lies or excuses I hit the delete button and asked a mutual friend to tell him that I wanted no contact with him. It seems that he is now suffering from brain cancer. Maybe he wants to right his wrongs. But I doubt it. Two of the three pictures he posted of his "tumor" were lifted from the internet. Yeah, so much for atonement.

Honesty...

Honesty is such a lonely word. Everyone is so untrue. Honesty is hardly ever heard, and mostly what I need from you

Aahhh, Good old Billy Joel. Singer, piano player and lyricist extraordinaire. Honesty is what I need most from myself and from others. It may be cold and brutal at times, but I would rather hurt for a moment than suffer a lifetime of scars.

A SEASON
Longer than a reason but shorter than a lifetime. Therein lies "the season". Seasonal people may literally be a part of your life for just a season, but some stick around for a longer span of time. I believe they also enter one's life to teach a lesson, but their teachings are a lot less in your face or blunt as the "reasons" are. These lessons require more time and detail to learn and fully appreciate. Seasons are the mentors, the tutors, the teachers. I am a chef by trade and have learned so many wonderful lessons from so many knowledgeable people in my vocation. These people make up the bulk of my seasons. I have worked side by side with many seasons, learning the craft and soaking up their knowledge. Just last weekend, I found myself being another cook's season. It was a wonderful moment when I realized that the lessons I have learned in the kitchen were being passed on to the next generation.

I have worn the title of "manager" or "chef" for a number of years now and it has always felt a little uncomfortable to me. I have no formal degree in either, instead learning directly from others and through trial and error on my own. And let me tell you, there have been some momentous errors along the way, both in my approach to managing others and in cooking technique. While I rarely seek out the manager title, it often gets bestowed upon me and I am learning to accept it. Will I ever truly be comfortable with it? Probably not, but que sera, sera. The only true part of being the leader that I truly embrace is the sharing of the knowledge I have collected along the way. For me, the 29 years I have spent in the kitchen has been worth every drop of blood, sweat and tear shed since it means I get to be someone else's season and teach them the lessons I have learned. If only one person I have helped moves on to a leadership position and continues the cycle of learning, my time will have been well spent. To all my seasons, I thank you and hope our paths will cross again one day!

A LIFETIME
This one may seem obvious to most of you. A lifetime is a person who has been there from the start, yes? Not always. My lifetimes have run the gamut of time spent in my life. They need not necessarily be a physical presence from beginning to end to be a "lifetime". It is how deeply they touch the heart that makes someone a lifetime in my eyes. Some of my lifetimes are actually fairly recent additions to my life, while others made an early exit from my existence.

I lost my mother at the age of 15 and my father at age 24. They are hands down the greatest influences on my life, as parents usually are, but for vastly different reasons. My mother was a harsh, cruel woman with narcissistic tendencies and a propensity for abuse. Harsh words were routinely spoken and punishments swift and severe. It has not been easy, but I am one of the lucky few who have been able to overcome the cycle of abuse and I use her words and actions daily to be a better parent to my children. Not every lesson learned from my mother was bad, though. She did teach me the love of cooking and reading. Those two skills have carried me further in my life than anything else ever could have. For everything bad my mother said or did, my father desperately tried to compensate for. He was not an emotional or affectionate man, so the smallest gesture from him was a huge deal to me. He taught me the value of hard work and what it means to go above and beyond what is expected. He nurtured my creative side and urged me to pursue my passions, however fleeting they were. While my parents couldn't have been any more opposite of each other, the lessons they taught me will most certainly last my lifetime and I hope some of those will linger through future generations of my family.

A more recent addition to my lifetimers is a friend and former roommate of mine. We met at work and hit it off from the start, but I kept her at arm's length, as I usually do with people. Even while we lived together, I tried to maintain a certain amount of space between us. She saw me at my best and at my worst, but she never saw all of me. She still hasn't, but I am working on that. I was recently a bridesmaid in her wedding and that was such an eye-opening experience for me. I have been a member in other wedding parties, but hers was different. I have never played well with other females, preferring the company of men, but she has taught me the value of a strong female focused friendship. I have started letting my down and letting more women into my inner circle and I am finding myself a better person for it. She may have entered my life later than most, but her influence has most certainly been far reaching.

At any given time in our lives, we are somebody's reason, season or lifetime. I have learned that this is how we grow and become better people. Some of us learn the lessons we need in order to live a happier, more enriched life. Some will keep their eyes closed to the very lessons they need to learn. My request to all of you is to please open your eyes and hearts to the lessons surrounding you every day and try to make the most of them. We will all be better people for it. If you find yourself in the position of being the teacher, try to teach gently and kindly, with patience and compassion. Life is hard and it teaches us some very harsh truths. Try to buffer these harsh realities with strength in your convictions, truth in your words and love in your hearts.

A book I love and one I didn't

Aahhhh reading. One of my favorite hobbies that I don't indulge

in nearly enough anymore. It used to be that I would make biweekly trips to the library and never come home with less than a dozen books. As a child, I always read at least 4 grade levels above where I was and it was nothing for me to devour a novel in a matter of a day. My teachers loved me and I drove my mother insane with my choices. The day I brought home Helter Skelter in fifth grade is the day I think I almost caused her to have a stroke. My library privileges were nearly stripped away that evening. I had to promise not to bring home any more books on murderers and my father had to promise to keep a closer eye on my reading selections. Neither of us kept our promise, I just became sneaky about bringing my books into the house and my dad knowingly turned a blind eye.

Years upon years and books upon books have created a list of perennial favorites as well as a list of utter bombs. Books that I love and books that I hate. Ask me my favorite movie or song and I would tell you it depends on my mood, but I could easily give you my preferred genre. Ask me my favorite book and I will immediately blurt out "The Great Gatsby", yet I wouldn't be able to pick a favorite genre of book. Weird, right? What's really odd, is that I didn't used tonlike this book.

I originally read The Great Gatsby in high school and I wasn't a fan. Most likely because I had to read it to soak up every last detail in case of quizzes and not for my own personal reading pleasure. These days, I pick up my battered copy and read it cover to cover at least once a year. In fact, my love for Gatsby led me to read all of Fitzgerald's novels and short stories. To me, none of them compare to his magnum opus, but they are pretty good reads, as well.

For those of you not familiar with the book, The Great Gatsby is a tale of friendship, romance and tragedy. Since this isn't a book report, I won't go into all of the details. However, I will explain why I enjoy this book so much. First of all, I feel that the characters are intelligently written. They all have good and bad residing within them, which brings a true sense of humanity to the book. Fitzgerald also does a beautiful job writing in the background details for all other major players. The setting for the book is described in good detail and really sucked me into the story. Jazz age America was a selfish, hedonistic time and Fitzgerald does a brilliant job of letting the reader see that. The symbolism is subtle and most readers will be sure to pick up on it. All in all, I find The Great Gatsby to be a well written book about a bygone era.

Now, for a book that I didn't love... Immediately Bram Stoker's "Dracula" comes to mind. I read this book the summer after I graduated from high school and I really wanted to enjoy it. Instead, I walked away from it on numerous occasions before I finally took several days and forced myself to read it cover to cover.

I was truly surprised by how much I disliked this book. I love the horror genre, I immensely enjoy classic literature and the early 90's movie based off of this book is one of my favorites. So what was it about Dracula that I found so dreadful? Simply put, it moved way too slow for me. The characters are well written, the story itself is a great one, the setting and attention to detail are superb. I just found this to be a slow and ponderous read. It may be one of the greatest horror novels of all time, but it just wasn't meant for me. If you have ever wanted to read Stoker's classic vampire tale, please do not let my assessment stop you. It may very well become one of your favorites.

So what books do you guys love and what ones do you hate? I am getting ready to set up a new blog, a book blog, and would love to hear your opinions! There's a very good chance that I will be using your suggestions for upcoming book reviews.

What tattoos I have and what special meaning they have

Tattoos have always fascinated me. They speak to my rebellious, artistic side. Loudly!!! I don't remember when I first decided to adorn myself with ink, but it had to have been fairly early in my life. It seems that I was always in trouble for writing and drawing on myself and my clothes.

I remember talking with my father about getting my first tattoo done. I had gone with a friend and watched while she got her first one done. I was entranced and I wanted one, too. I had no clue what I wanted and we discussed the options. It was decided that when the time came, dear old dad would accompany me to get it done. Unfortunately, that day never came. He passed away before I could get my first tattoo done. It wasn't until after the insurance company had settled out his life insurance policy did I get my first tattoo done.

The day I received my check was the day I decided I was finally getting my tattoo done and it was to be in memory of him. His favorite color was blue, so I chose a blue rose surrounded by Celtic vinework and leaves. It was excruciating for me to sit still and wait as the needle rhythmically placed colored ink beneath my skin. Not because it hurt, because the pain was almost nonexistent, but because it was torture for me to still while it was being done. Afterwards, as I inspected my new artwork in the mirror, I felt a tinge of sadness as I remembered who was supposed to be with me at that moment. It hurt me deeply that my father wasn't there, but at the same time, I felt there was no higher honor than choosing my first tat in his memory.

My second tattoo also holds a very special meaning for me. As I mentioned in an earlier post, I suffer from BPD (borderline personality disorder). One of the symptoms, for a lack of a better word for it, is cutting. I have been a cutter since junior high school and my arms bear numerous scars from my turbulent past. I haven't cut into my flesh in nearly 3 1/2 years, but there have been a handful of times that I wanted to. As a way of reminding myself to be stronger than my illness, I got the word "fighter" tattooed amongst the scars on my left wrist. It is my way of telling myself that I am able to fight through the pain in my head and my heart and inflict more pain on my body. So far, it has served its purpose perfectly. It has the added bonus of being a conversation starter. Numerous people have asked me its significance and I am not shy about admitting my illness to anyone. It is a part of who I am, and if my tattoo can help someone else come to terms with themselves, it is worth it.

In addition to the blue rose honoring my father, I plan on getting a similar rose in honor of each of my children in their favorite colors. Pink for Emily, purple for Abby, orange for Chris and yellow for Michael. And to honor myself, I am planning on getting a chef sleeve done. Yes, I know it pretty much seals my fate as being a cook for the rest of my life. But I'm OK with that. Its what I do and its what I'm passionate about.

Someone who fascinates me and why

There are so many people who fascinate me for so many

reasons, but today's post is about my children. So it's not just about one person in particular, but the four most important people in my life. Ever.

Michael
My older son Michael turns 16 in less than a month. It is so very hard for me to fathom he is a teenager, let alone 16!!! already. When he came out for spring break, the inevitable happened. He is finally taller than me. *sigh* Anyway... Michael fascinates me on so many levels, but particularly how emotional he is. He is not your typical macho, rough, tough I gotta show the world I'm a man now kind of teenager. He feels the world differently than most, I can hear it in his voice when he talks. He questions me about a lot of things, and while I applaud his curiosity, sometimes it drives me to the point where I snap. After a long day of work in a hot kitchen, the last thing a mother wants to come home to is a round of 20 questions. I see his emotional side as both a blessing and a curse, as I am the same way. When I'm "on", I tend to over feel and over think and I see that starting to emerge in him. When I'm " off", I will shut you out in half a heartbeat. I am seeing that emerge innhim as well. I'm hoping I can teach him how to cope with his emotions instead of letting them get the better of him, as mine often do.

Emily
Emily, or as I usually call her Emmy, is the older of my twin daughters. Older by 19 minutes, but she lauds those 19 short minutes over her sister's head like a trophy! Emily fascinates me for the beauty that is beginning to emerge from her. Physically, she isn't built like her father or I, but if you had to choose a parent that she favors, it would be me. If she continues to grow as she is, my daughter is going to be tall and willowy. I am tall, but I'm solidly built. Miss Em is long and lean and all flowing arms and legs. She also has beautiful long, straight sandy blonde hair, grey eyes and her facial features are taking on a delicate doll like appearance. I love watching her when she plays or when she's dancing because she is just breath taking to behold. I sit back in wonder and ask how I made something so delicate and graceful looking when I am anything but delicate or graceful!

Abigail
Also known as Abby, she is my younger daughter. She absolutely hates being the younger sister and rebels against Emily whenever possible and often complains that she never has any privacy or space to herself. What fascinates me about Abby is the force behind her personality. There is no halfway with my babybgirl-she is 100% all other time. If she's angry, everyone knows it. If she's happy, everyone knows it. If she is feeling particularly proud of an accomplishment, everyone knows it. She has a fire that burns in her that I'm going to have to teach her how to control before it causes problems. When she feels she has been wronged, she will not back down. That includes her arguments with me! I am a strong willed woman, Abby sometimes makes me look weak.

Christopher
Aaahhhh, my baby. My "baby" is going to be ten this year and I simply don't feel that that is possible.  I always felt that Chris was going to be the class clown when he stated school. There isn't much this boy won't do to get a laugh out of me and his siblings. Sing silly songs? Check! Tell knock knock jokes? Check! Play practical jokes? Check! But what he truly excels at is his ability with physical comedy. He can control his falls and trips like no one I have ever seen outside of Hollywood. This hold is either going to be a comedian or a stunt person! But what truly fascinates me about my youngest is his impeccable timing. He seems to intuitively know when a perfectly timed burp will get the most laughs or when to loudly proclaim "whoever smelt it dealt it". When he erupts in a fit of giggles, know that no one is saferom his shenanigans. And those shenanigans are nearly always infectious!

A place I would live but have never visited

I have never been much of a traveler. I prefer my adventures to be within a day's drive from home. I am perfectly content to allow my sister be the world traveler. This post is about a place where I would live yet have never visited. For me, this was a very easy topic to tackle. I have always said that if I had the means, I would pack up my children and move to Sweden.

Why Sweden, you ask? Well, for starters, it is one of the countries that my family comes from. My mother's parents were Swedish and Norwegian, so it makes sense to me that I would want to go to my "motherland". The pictures that I have seen of the country show a stunning landscape of snow, mountains, agriculture, forest and lakes. While most people automatically assume that Sweden is covered in snow most of the time and quite cold, the opposite is true. Southern areas, where the bulk of the population resides, has a climate similar to what I currently experience here in Ohio, with four distinct seasons.

Another advantage, in my opinion, of living in Sweden is their standard of living. The country provides universal healthcare and tertiary education for its citizens. Two things I find sorely lacking here. It has the world's eighth highest per capita income and and ranks highly in quality of life, health, education, civil liberties and other metrics of national performance. The country also maintains a stance of neutrality when it comes to foreign affairs.

Sweden also appeals to me on a much more personal level as there is a relatively low number of people who believe in god residing there, the country was one of the first to embrace gender equality and they have a relatively high number of single people living in the country. Sweden has a culture that is deeply rooted in its history and revolves around the changing of the seasons.

Ever since I first heard tales of trolls and elves and gnomes and fairies, Sweden has always held a special place in my soul. I hope one day to visit so I can behold the beauty and richness the court has to offer. Who knows, if I do, I may never come back!

Ten Interesting Things About Myself

To be honest, I don't consider myself to be an interesting person. I want the simple things in life: a happy and healthy family, a job I love, a home of my own and to share my life with people who deserve to have me in their lives. I think I am actually pretty boring. I am a single mom precariously walking the fine line between sanity and having a total mental breakdown. I work too much. I am always stressed out over something. And I cry entirely too much about the things that I have no control over. However, I have had some very interesting experiences over the last 42 years, 51 weeks and 1 day (for those of you trying to do the math, I turn 43 this coming Sunday LOL). Here are ten interesting things about me:

1. I'm not the crazy cat lady, even though I do own two of Satan's furry minions. Instead, I am the crazy recipe lady. I have two book shelves dedicated to cookbooks, cooking and food magazines, recipes I have printed from the internet or cut out from magazines and collected from product packages. I also literally have several hundred bookmarked on my laptop and even more spread out through the internet. Need a recipe? I am your go-to girl!
2. When choosing my children's names, I was sure to include names from other family members. My sons share names with their grandfathers and uncles. My daughters share names with a grandmother, an aunt and a cousin. 
3. I suffer from borderline personality disorder. 
4. My cats are named after my two favorite styles of beer: Stout and Porter.
5. I am extraordinarily clumsy. If there is a silly way to hurt myself, I have probably done it. Cut myself on granola? Check! Tripped on the bottom stair and broken three toes? Check! Burnt off an acrylic nail lighting a cigarette? Check!
6. Three of my all-time favorite movies are animated ones from Disney: Fantasia, Beauty and the Beast and The Little Mermaid. In fact, Fantasia is the main reason I have such an affinity for classical music. 
7. My eyes are grey, but depending on the makeup and clothes I wear and my mood, they will change color ranging from sapphire blue to gun metal to almost black. If they are close to black, you better run!
8. Once upon a time, in a lifetime far, far away, I worked as a stripper. For nearly 8 years of my life I was known as Aimee by day and Katt by night.
9. I am a beer geek through and through. I am writing a cookbook where every recipe includes a craft beer and I am working to become a cicerone.
10. I suffer from what I call creative ADD. I write, I paint, I draw, I craft, I love taking photographs, and I work as a chef. My mind is always in a creative jumble, which often results in insomnia. 

My First Love and First Kiss: Part Two

Who could ever forget their first love? Not just their first crush, but their first TRUE love? The first person they ever uttered those panic inducing, terrifying words to? I know I couldn't. My first love was everything I had thought love could be in my young, naive mind. Everything and so much more. It was reckless, it was passionate, it was heady, it was crushing. All in all, it was absolutely, wonderfully, horribly perfect.

His name was Larry and he was a junior when I met him, I was a freshman whose life was in utter disarray. My mom had gone into the hospital right before the school year started and the news was far from good-terminal brain cancer. Even though my mother and I never saw eye-to-eye, I was losing her right when I needed her most. That's when he entered my life. I remember the first day that I met him was New Year's Day 1988. I had spent the night with my best friends and a group of us got together to hang out. To me, he was larger than life and something about his presence immediately drew me to him. He was seeing someone at the time, but that didn't stop a friendship from being forged between the two of us. When she moved out of state, we began seeing each and I tumbled down a path into young, crazy love. When she unexpectedly moved back, everything between us came to a screeching halt. I was left hurt, confused and felt like every heartbeat would be my last.

Luckily for me, she had a strict father who placed restrictions on when the two of them could see each other, so after the initial hurt wore off, he and I started spending time together again. Deep down in my heart, I knew I was just a fill-in, but at that point in time, I would do whatever it took to be with the boy who so captivated my heart. They eventually split up and we got back together. I was over the moon happy and felt like nothing would ever tear us apart again. Ah, young love! I only had eyes for him and I was confident he only had eyes for me. That was until I found out that he had sex with one of my best friends behind my back. Several people had approached me about the situation and my friend even admitted it to me. However, he denied it ever happened. I was crushed. Nothing could stop the river of tears that streamed from my eyes. My days were a blur of anger and hurt and resentment and betrayal. Ever love song that I heard made my heart crumple inside, and a few times my knees even buckled out of the grief of the situation. To make matters worse, my mother's health was failing fast, which left me reeling in another way. I felt like my entire world was falling apart and there was nothing I could do to stop it. It all came to a head over Memorial Day weekend when my sister and I got into a huge fight and I left home. Frantically, I tried calling my boyfriend to come get me away, but he had plans with friends. I called one of his best friends, who came and picked me up. We spent the entire day out with his family, going to a softball game then out to eat. After, we went to one of my favorite places in the world-Caesar's Creek Gorge and walked around and talked under the moonlight. I don't know when during that night the plan took form in my head, but that night it would be tit for tat and I lost my virginity to one of my boyfriend's best friends. I'm not proud of what I did, but I do not regret it, either. It was what I needed at that moment in my life when everything was falling apart. A few days later, my mom died. Looking back, that whole summer is a blur. I don't remember when we actually broke up, but sometime during that summer or the beginning of my sophomore year, the relationship came to an end for good, or so I thought.

He went on to date one of my best friends and as we vied for her time and attention, became enemies of sorts. Part of me still hated what he had put me through and I am sure he felt the same towards me. They dated for all of my sophomore year and well into my junior year then one fateful night brought us back together. A group of our mutual friends got together over Thanksgiving weekend and we were both invited over. I didn't want to be anywhere near him, but at the same time I wanted to be with my friends, so I relented and I went. Somehow through the course of the night, it was evident that all of our animosity masked the feelings we refused to admit to each other. We still cared for one another. When dawn broke and everyone began to part ways, the question of who would be taking me home came up. One of my best friends saw what was unfolding and insisted that he take me home, he didn't want to see me hurt again. My ex was just as adamant that he would be taking me home, reassuring my friend that everything would be fine. I left with my ex and we spent much of the weekend together, thoroughly enjoying each other's company. His brown eyes had never melted my heart like they did that weekend. His deep voice never sounded richer to my eager ears. And his hands on mine never felt more perfect. Yup, we were well on our way to getting back together.

Needless to say, the two of us getting back together caused some big problems. I lost my best friend when I chose to be with him. And the rancor amongst some of our mutual friends was obvious. It didn't matter to us, we were back together and so in love with each other. We continued to date through my senior year, my graduation and most of the following summer. The good times were amazing, the bad times were downright awful. We both did each other wrong, but we also lifted each other up. The dichotomy of our relationship was dizzying for us both and the whirlwind finally came to an end as summer was coming to a close. No matter how badly we treated each, nothing had prepared me for the onslaught that our breakup rained on me. In my mind, I kept telling myself that we had always overcome the obstacles in our path, that we would overcome this, too. I was never so wrong in my life. This wasn't an ordinary breakup, this was love turned into seething, blinding hatred. Not long after, he moved to Florida and I was left to nurse my wounds through winter.

The last time we saw each other was in 1991 and I often thought of him over the years. There was never any illusion of us randomly meeting and a grand romance rekindling. It was more of a mild curiosity. You can't spend 4 years of your life in someone's life and not look back on them fondly from time to time. Several years ago our paths crossed on MySpace and we began chatting. We exchanged a few sad emails as we updated each other on the losses we have both had (my father, his brother). When I joined Facebook, I sought him out and added him as a friend. I find myself browsing his pictures from time to time when my heart wanders back to our high school days. If I come across a picture that I know he will like or laugh at, I will post it to his wall and from time to time I will comment on a thread where appropriate. Our lives have taken us in such opposite directions that we really don't have much in common anymore other than those 4 shared years, but he will always be my first true love and he will always own a piece of my heart. Part of me envies anyone who goes on to marry their high school sweetheart, but I know that even though we talked about it, we were never meant to be forever. What we had was so over the top, there was no way we could sustain it for any true length of time. And you know what, that's perfectly fine. There's an old saying that people enter our lives for a reason, a season or a lifetime. His season was 4 years, but those memories will last a lifetime. Do I regret the wrongs I did him? No, I truly don't. I don't believe in regrets. I firmly believe that every action and reaction shapes us into the people we are today and I think we are both better people as we learned so much from each other. Am I sorry for some of the things I put him through? Fuck yes I am. I am not proud of the wrongs I did him and I hope that after all this time he realizes that. I tried to love him in the best possible way I knew how, and there were numerous times that love went astray. Things were bound to go insane when two personalities as forceful as ours collided that fateful New Year's Day. I am just glad that after all was said and done, we are both able to be friends of sorts and share an occasional humorous memory.

This post is a part of a 30 Day Writing Challenge that I am participating in for the month of April. 

My first love and first kiss: Part One

Aaahhhh, young love. It makes us do-and say-crazy things! It is so over the top that after experiencing it, a life is never the same. While thinking about today's writing prompt, I couldn't decide if I should write about my first crush (it certainly felt like love to me) or my first boyfriend (the first man that I ever uttered those frightening words to), so I decided to tackle both topics before moving on to the topic of my first kiss.

My first crush felt like so much more than a mere crush. I felt my feelings for him from the tip of my nose to the tips of my toes and every where in between! His name was Heath and we were in the same grade together at Springboro Junior High School. He was a little bit taller than me with brown hair, the most amazing brown eyes and the best butt I think I have ever personally seen to this day on a man. He played basketball and ran track and we shared some of the same classes. He lived close enough to me that he would come over in the evenings and we would shoot hoops and talk together until the street lights came on. He was every thing I ever wanted in a boy-smart, cute, athletic and nice. God, he was so nice! Different from most of the other guys I went to school with who were always so full of themselves or so awkward that the mere thought of talking to a girl spun them into a panic. He was beautiful and confident and oh, so perfect in my young eyes!

I remember being on the newspaper and yearbook staff and going to the home basketball under the guise of photographing the events, but in reality I went so I could watch and fawn over him. I would say 75% of the pictures I took had him as the star. We had quite a few of the same friends, so we hung out together at parties from time to time, but the evenings spent playing basketball were what mattered most to me. He was the one person I always felt I could be myself with. No drama, no bullshit, just a boy and a girl sharing time together and enjoying each other's company. The summer before we started high school changed all that. He went to Egypt to spend the summer with his mom and my mother was in the hospital with brain cancer. He came home just before the start of our freshman year and we talked briefly about my mom and that was the last time we ever hung out together. I'm not sure what caused our friendship to drift apart, but that late summer day was the beginning of the end. School started and we went our separate ways. When I think of high school, he is always the one person I remember most fondly. And I always wonder whatever happened to him. Where does he live, is he married, does he have children? He was such a prominent force in my life that he will always hold a special place in my heart-my first love.

This post is a part of a 30 Day Writing Challenge that I am participating in for the month of April. 

My Earliest Memory

Memories...

Fragments from our past that resurface from time to time to remind us of what once was. What will never again be.

Yeah, I know. I sound like a real downer. That happens when your childhood experience feels like a giant rip-off. Bitter? Hell yes I am. But before I go off on a rant that is better saved for Day 24, I am going to focus on the day's prompt that lies before me. This post is supposed to be about my earliest memory. Can I even pick on single, solitary moment? They all kind of run together into one big blur. Was that an actual memory? Was it a dream? Do I actually remember that moment or is it only because someone has talked about it so much that it feels like a memory. I knew this one was going to be difficult, I just didn't realize how much so...

Looking back at my childhood, the earliest memory that comes to mind was when my mother had her appendix out, and the memory itself is very foggy and fragmented. I may have been 2 or 3 at the time, the very oldest 4 and I feel that is stretching it. I had the mumps when I was 4 and I have a fairly good recollection of that. Anyway, back to the topic at hand.

My mother had appendicitis sometime within the first 4 years of my life. I have no memory of visiting her at the hospital, and I seriously doubt that I did. I don't even remember her not being at home, I just remember being told that she had surgery and was really sore and that I had to be gentle with her so I didn't hurt her. For a child of my age, I found it all very confusing, but I did as I was told. I remember her wearing her long sleeping gowns and her green fuzzy zip-up robe for several days and taking a lot of naps with her on our ugly green couch. The smell of sweat was an ever present scent, not over powering, but simply there. Which makes sense seeing as how she was always  bundled up and under a blanket, plus the heat from two bodies being curled up together. We both seemed to always have a fine band of perspiration along our hair lines as well, from the shared heat of the confined space.

My first memory is neither a bad memory nor a good one, it just simply is. Some people's first recollection may be of a life changing event, but mine is rather mundane. Part of me feels like I am cheating myself and my readers by not writing about a more momentous occasion, but it is what it is. This is my first memory.

This post is a part of a 30 Day Writing Challenge that I am participating in for the month of April. 

Five Problems with Social Media

Don't get me wrong, social media is a wonderful tool that I use every day of my life. It has helped me forge new friendships and business connections that I never would have if it wasn't for the internet. It has also helped me reconnect with friends and loved ones from my past. Hell, it has even helped me find my voice and given me an outlet for sharing my opinions. All good things in my opinion. Unfortunately, social media is not always a good thing. Here are five things that I consider to be problems with social media:

1. The world is seen in either black or white. Everything online is so polarized these days. People see things exclusively in white (their opinion) or black (any opinion that is contrary to theirs). It has never been more obvious than during this election cycle. Every day I see people viciously attack one on another because of a difference of opinion. An opinion is a view or judgement formed about something, not necessarily based on fact or knowledge. Opinions people, we are all entitled to them. They are not right or wrong, they just simply are. Let me repeat that--They are not right or wrong, they just simply are. We all have' em. 
2. The fakeness of it all. Every day I see people makes posts about how wonderful their life is, how perfect their spouse is, how angelic their children are, etc, etc, etc. I call bullshit! Nobody's life is wine and roses day in and day out. There are those refreshing people who don't try to bs their way through social media and I love them for it. I try valiantly to be one of those people myself. No illusions with me. If I'm happy, you know it. If I am pissed off, you know it. Sometimes to the point that I embarrass myself. But I would rather be a fool than a liar. 
3. The disconnect it can sometimes create. While I have been fortunate to make some amazing friends through social media, it can also create a disconnect from society. It is easier for many people to sit behind a keyboard all day (and night) and communicate with the world around them. Unfortunately, I have noticed that many of these people lack the critical skills need to effectively communicate with others face to face. A perfect example of this from my personal life goes back three years ago when I was dumped via Facebook messenger. Instead of doing the right thing and ending the relationship face to face, or even voice to voice over the telephone, I was told over chat that it was over. I have friends that have similar stories to tell, including one who was recently fired over Facebook. Social media gives many the courage to do and say things that they would never do in real life, the courage to do amazingly cowardly things.
4. The competition it creates. For many, social media is a popularity contest-no more, no less. It used to be said that he with the most toys wins, but a lot of people carry that attitude online these days. If you don't have enough friends, you are viewed inferior in some way. You don't have 1,000+ friends? There is obviously something wrong with you... People, life is not a competition. Social media shouldn't be either. 
5. Bullying. I was an abused child, I have never hidden this fact from people. I was also bullied in high school, once again, I have never hidden this fact. As an adult, people still try to bully me online. But guess what? Zero fucks given. I don't really give a damn if you don't like my religious outlook (or lack of) or that I am pro-choice, or my opinion on any other number of topics. I am who I am and I believe what I believe. Nothing anyone says or does is going to change that. But that doesn't stop the bullies. The bullies that call me names, the bullies that tell me I am weak, the bullies that try to play my friends off of me for their own sick, twisted pleasure. I don't know why it doesn't bother me as an adult when it hurt so deeply as a kid, but it's water off this old duck's back. Unfortunately, not everyone is as strong as I am when it comes to social media bullying. Words hurt. Actions hurt. The wound may not always be physical, but the pain is every bit as painful. I don't know what it is about the internet that brings out the worst in people, but lives are ruined because people feel entitled to be assholes in a public forum without pausing for a moment to consider the consequences of their actions. 

This post is a part of a 30 Day Writing Challenge that I am participating in for the month of April. 

Thirty Day Writing Challenge

One of the things I enjoy most in this world is writing. I currently write on a number of various topics on the internet and am working on a cookbook. Right now, everything I post is non-fiction in one form or another, how to's, guides, recipes, reviews, etc. As a child, I was quite a prolific creative writer and published the very first time when I was in fifth grade in a young authors program. Throughout school, I wrote a variety of fiction stories, myths and copious amounts of poetry. As I grew older, I distanced myself further and further from the realm of fiction, tackling more non-fiction topics as my creativity became stifled by the demands of work and parenting. When 2015 morphed into 2016, I made a promise to myself that I would start writing creatively again. A couple of weeks ago, a meme popped up on my Facebook feed titled the "30 Day Writing Challenge" and I decided to embark on this challenge beginning this month. Each day for the entire month of April, I will be tackling the corresponding challenge. I'm sure the results will be an eclectic mix of funny, sad, eye opening, enlightening and more. For those of you that are interested in following along, here are the 30 prompts with links to the individual blog post.

1. Five problems with social media
2. My earliest memory
3. My first love and first kiss (First crush, first true love, first kiss)
4. Ten interesting things about myself
5. A place I would live but have never visited
6. Someone who fascinates me and why
7. What tattoos I have and what special meaning they have
8. A book I love and one I didn't
9. My feelings on ageism
10. A fruit I did not like and why
11. My current relationship status
12. Two words or phrases that make me laugh
13. My commute to and from work
14. My life in 7 years
15. Three pet peeves
16. Bullet list my entire day
17. A quote I try to live by
18. My favorite color and why
19. Five fears I have
20. Put my music player on shuffle. Write down the first 3 songs that play and my initial thoughts of them
21. My zodiac sign and whether I think it fits me
22. My morning routine
23. A family member I dislike
24. Something I miss
25. Four weird traits I have
26. Things I'd say to an ex
27. What I wore today
28. The word or phrase I use constantly
29. The night of my 21st birthday
30. One thing I am excited for

It is my hope that these prompts will help to energize my creative spirit and help me forge ahead in my writing career. I love writing non-fiction, but the time has come to awaken the sleeping creative spirit that lurks inside of me and begin publishing more and more fiction as well. 

Something to think about

I follow a blog named "Marc and Angel Hack Life". It's filled with all kinds of thought-provoking, inspiring posts that sometimes really help me find the center of what is (or should be) important in life. More than once I have uttered "a-ha!" to myself as I read their insightful posts. This one came through my email today and I felt compelled to share it with you guys. It made me stop and think, I hope it does you, as well! I highly recommend signing up to follow their blog, it really does help put this life into perspective.

When you’ve been running a successful personal development blog and life coaching business for the better part of a decade, one thing becomes crystal clear: Everyone has the same basic wants and needs. No kidding, over the years Marc and I have gotten to know thousands of people of different ethnic backgrounds, from different cities and countries, who live at various socioeconomic levels, and trust me, every one of us basically wants the same things. We want validation, love, happiness, fulfillment, money, and hopes for a better future. The way we pursue these needs is where things branch off, but the fundamentals are the same. Think about it. If I ask you, “Quickly, in one sentence, what do you want most out of life?” I bet your rushed response is going to be something like, “I want to be happy, and have a healthy family, and a career I like that pays well, etc." Your response is going to be so common and ubiquitous that it basically doesn’t even mean anything. Which is precisely why senseless, happy-go-lucky questions like this aren’t very helpful. And yet, this is precisely the kind of questions we often ask ourselves. So what kind of questions might you ask instead? Questions that force you into a corner. Questions that help you embrace the sacrifices it takes to get where you want to go. Questions that motivate you to focus on the next step forward. In other words, questions like...

1. What is worth suffering for? 
If you want the benefits of something in life, you have to also want the costs. If you want the six-pack abs, you have to want the sweat, the sore muscles, the early mornings at the gym, and the low carb meals. If you want the successful business, you have to also want the late nights, the risky business deals and decisions, and the possibility of failing fifty times to learn what you need to know to succeed. If you find yourself wanting something month after month, year after year, yet nothing happens and you never come any closer to it, then maybe what you actually want is just an idealization, a fantasy, and a false promise. Maybe you don't actually want it at all, because you’re not willing to suffer though the work it’s going to take to achieve it. 

2. Based on my daily routines and actions, where can I expect to be in five years?
This question just backs up the first one. If you have an idea about what you want the next chapter of your life to look like, you have to DO things that support this idea every day. An idea, after all, isn’t going to do anything for you until you do something productive with it. In fact, as long as that great idea is just sitting around in your head it’s doing far more harm than good. Your subconscious mind knows you’re procrastinating on something that’s important to you. The necessary work that you keep postponing causes stress, anxiety, fear, and usually more procrastination – a vicious cycle that continues to worsen until you interrupt it with ACTION. 

3. What old rejections (or failures) are still holding me back?
All too often we let the rejections of our past dictate every move we make. We literally do not know ourselves to be any better than what some opinionated person or narrow circumstance once told us was true. Of course, an old rejection doesn’t mean we aren’t good enough; it just means some person or circumstance from our past failed to align with what we had to offer at the time. It means we were graced with more time to improve our thing – to build upon our ideas, to perfect our craft, and indulge deeper in to the work that moves us. Don’t let old rejections take up permanent residence in your head. Kick them out on the street. 

4. What is worth smiling about right now?
A recent scientific study at Duke University showed that doctors who are put in a positive mood before making a diagnosis consistently experience significant boosts to their intellectual abilities than doctors in a neutral state, which allows them to make accurate diagnoses almost 20% faster. The same study then shifted to other vocations and found that optimistic salespeople outsell their pessimistic counterparts by over 50%. Students primed to feel happy before taking math tests substantially outperform their neutral peers. So it turns out that our minds are literally hardwired to perform at their best not when they are negative, or even neutral, but when they are positive. 

5. Are the people around me helping me or hurting me?
A big part of who you become in life has to do with who you choose to surround yourself with. And as you know, it is better to be alone than in bad company. You simply cannot expect to live a positive, fulfilling life if you surround yourself with negative people. Distancing yourself from these people is never easy, but it’s a lot harder when they happen to be close friends or family members. As hard as it may be, it’s something you need to address. To a certain degree, luck controls who walks into your life, especially as it relates to your family and childhood friends, but you decide who you spend the majority of your time with.

What I need to love again

Relationships come and relationships go. I envy that small handful of people who somehow manage to get it right the first time. Hell, I envy those who struggle through years of failed relationships only to find the love of their life when they need them the most. There have been a handful of times that I felt I had finally found the person I was meant to spend my life with, only to find out somewhere down the road that I was wrong. Again. Yeah, sometimes it has been my own fault, falling for someone so completely wrong for me that everyone could see disaster coming miles away, all the while, I was blinded by something I perceived to be so much more than it was. I fully admit that my fatal flaw is falling for those who can't, or won't, fall for me. Sometimes, the demise of the relationship was through no fault of my own. And then there were those times when a relationship fell apart simply because. No rhyme or reason, it just did. The beauty of love is that you can learn from it and grow, not just as a partner in future relationships, but as a whole person. I have taken every one of my past relationships and learned from them. Sometimes the lessons learned have been excruciatingly painful while others serve as a gentle reminder.

I recently found myself single again after being in a relationship for nearly a year. 50 weeks. 351 days. I'm not going to do the math to break down hours, minutes or seconds, it really isn't that important to me. What is important is the lesson I learned-that I allow myself to settle far too often for less than what I deserve. Yes, I said deserve. I allow myself to go without many of the things I so desperately need from a romantic partner. We all have those things that we want in a partner/relationship, but we also have needs. These needs are the things that we should never allow ourselves to waver from, but all too often we do because we are afraid of being alone. After much thoughtful introspection, I have finally figured out exactly what it is that I need before I will allow myself to fall in love again.

I need to have complete and total trust in you. My walls are built high. Probably higher than any man
should have to try and scale to win my heart, but they are what they are. I need to know that you can accept all of me-the good and the bad-and that you won't turn tail and run when things get tough. Because they will get tough. That's a part of life that won't ever change. I have been betrayed before and I find it difficult to trust (myself as well as others), but if you can show me that you are worthy of my trust, I promise you a partner whose trust in you will never bend. Trust is a two way street-believe in me and I will believe in you.

To quote Cheap Trick, "I need you to need me". When the time comes that I enter another relationship, I don't want it to be something casual. I want it to go somewhere. Where, I'm not sure. But I am sure of where I don't want it to go-nowhere. I need to know that you need me in your life as much as I need you. I want to be the one thing that is constant-the person you call when the news is good and bad. The person who will help celebrate your triumphs and stand by your side through your failures. I don't want to be your part time distraction, a mere afterthought after a busy day. I want to be the person you think of in the morning when you wake up and in the evening before you retire to bed.

I need you to show me who you really are. In this digital age, so many people hide behind their keyboards and cell phones. What we "see" isn't necessarily what we get. I want you to strip away all of the illusions and allow me to see the good and the bad. Your strengths as well as your weaknesses. I won't water myself down for you and I don't expect the same from you. I want to know you, completely unmasked and naked in all your personal glory. I need to know your most passionate desires and your deepest fears.

I need you to accept my children. Yes, I am a single mother, and with that comes school plays, sporting events, birthday parties, runny noses, fevers and a whole host of other distractions. Along with those distractions comes a plethora of hugs and kisses, funny stories, nights playing games and genuine love and affection. My children have a father, I don't expect you to step into that role. I would much rather you be their friend and mentor when the time is appropriate. I promise, the rewards are more than worth it.

I need you to be affectionate. I want to walk, proudly, by your side holding hands. Exchanging meaningful glances. Sharing inside jokes. Expressing our feelings for one another with kisses, some chaste, others passionate. I need you to be strong enough to take control yet soft enough to yield that control to me from time to time.

I need chemistry to be there. I need to be able to connect with you physically as well as emotionally and intellectually. I need companionship, but I also need to know that your desire for me is as deep as my desire for you.

I need you to be strong for me when I am at my weakest. I am human, I have bouts of crippling self doubt. I need you to be there while I cry it out. I need you to be my rock when I am a mere piece of paper twisting in a storm. I promise to be the same for you when you need me to be.

And most importantly, I need you to need these things from me. I will never ask of you what I won't willingly give to you.

2016 Reading Challenge

Reading is one of my all-time favorite hobbies and over the course of the last year, I have denied myself this simple pleasure far too many times. I stumbled across this graphic at the turn of the New Year and have finally decide the time to accept the challenge is NOW. In addition to these 12 items, I am challenging myself to read 52 additional books this year. If I had started on time, that would be a book a week. But always the procrastinator, I am starting late. That's ok, once I get back in the habit of more books and less Facebook, balance will be restored to my world =) To keep myself honest throughout the year, I will be writing reviews of each book I read so I (and you guys) can keep up with my progress. 

Be true to yourself

I am a huuuuge advocate for sticking up for one's self. Anyone who ever asks me for relationship advice will hear the same thing "Don't ever settle". Well, I really need to start practicing what I preach. Sometimes it is easier to tell someone how to do something than it is to actually do it yourself. Relationships are a particularly tricky subject when it comes to this. In my defense, I have gotten much better about not tolerating crappy behavior in a relationship, but I do still have a long way to go, too.

I literally just got out of a nearly year long relationship with an amazing man. Unfortunately, he was emotionally distant. At first, I thought I could live with this. It was made very clear from the start that neither of us wanted our relationship to follow the traditional track towards marriage or even moving in together. Speaking for myself, I have been burned enough and didn't want to set myself for it again. He never spoke as to why he felt that way, but I have a very strong feeling it was for similar reasons. Whenever the topic of past relationships came up between, there was very little positive to talk about and I tried to respect his wish for privacy and not pry. Me, on the other hand, would mini rant. It's what us gals do. I tried not to go on and on, but on those days when one particular ex would piss me off, I'm sure I bitched too much. It happens.

Anyway...

I can honestly say this was hands down the MOST mature relationship I have ever had. Pretty sad to say this when I am on the brink of turning 43. We may not always have communicated with each other face to face on big topics, but talking via text seemed to flow fairly easy. My only real gripe was the fact that he never truly let me know where I stood with him. On more than one occasion, I told him I loved him (always via text because I didn't want him to feel pressured to respond in kind if I said it to his face). Sometimes it was in a joking tone, sometimes it was quite blunt. I told myself that I could live with his distance, but as time passed, it became more and more frustrating to me. We continued to spend time together, but I was always second guessing myself and us as a couple. There was also a huge physical disconnect that, for me, was a bigger source of frustration. The mere act of holding hands was almost unheard of as were even the most chaste of kisses. There were events I so badly wanted to attend, but if he didn't want to go, 99% of the time I wouldn't go either. Our time was mostly spent dining out, at home or with his friends. Don't get me wrong, his friends are a great group of people and I truly hope they remain my friends as well once news of our split gets out there, but we never did anything with anyone from outside of his social circle.

Last week, I was finally at my wits' end. I was ready to call it quits. Then came our Saturday afternoon lunch date, when things seemed to be going okay. "Seemed" being the operative word. After I returned home, he texted me and finally let me know where our relationship stood. He cared deeply for me and enjoyed our time together, but he wasn't in love with me and wouldn't be after the amount of time we had been together. He surprised me by saying he was willing to continue the relationship as it stood. Stunned, I didn't really have a reply to that. I spent that night at work talking with a friend between intermittent bouts of crying. The hardest part for me was trying to grasp the concept of not being in love with me but being willing to continue on. It didn't compute with my rational side and made even less sense to my emotional side. I went out after work and got rip-roaring drunk as I continued to try and figure things out. The next morning, I had a moment of true clarity. The point of being a relationship is to love and support one another. With no love, I could not--would not--continue on with him. I texted him and said what I had to say, crying as I did so. Letting go is never easy, especially after a significant period of time has passed, but it is what I had to do for myself. I told him that I couldn't do it, that I deserved to find the love and affection I deserved. Yes-I DESERVED! Finally, I was being true to myself.

I let my closest friends know of my decision to end things and all three expressed their support, telling me that my happiness was most important and that they were proud of me for finally allowing myself to move on. When asked if I was okay, I assured them that I needed a couple of days to grieve and that I would be fine. The bombshell was dropped on me Saturday, I made my decision to call it quits on Sunday and here it is Tuesday-48 hours tear free. I have to say, it feels good. Do I hate him? Not at all. In fact, I hope he one day finds the happiness he keeps denying himself. Do I still love him? Yes. You can't spend that much time with someone and instantly stop having feelings for them. Am I going to be okay? Yup. Getting stronger every day =) It is healthier for us both this way.

I spent nearly a year once again trying to put my partner's wants and needs ahead of my own and I am disappointed that I let it go on as long as I did. I talk a good game about never settling, but I turned around and did the one thing I advocate so strongly against. Does that make me a hypocrite? Fuck yes it does. But I promised myself when this relationship ended that I will not let it happen again. The day will come when I put myself out there and try to date again and I will sure as hell speak up when something bothers me. It isn't fair when one half of a relationship is unhappy with how they are being treated. It shouldn't work that way, whether it is intentional or not. In my case, I know it wasn't being done on purpose, but it WAS happening. And I let it continue.

Right now, I am sitting here contemplating if I am going to publish this immediately or if I am going

to let it sit for a period of time before hitting the publish button. Only a handful of my friends and co-workers know that we called it quits. I have no idea if he has told anyone yet or not. I suppose I could text him and ask, but I told him I wanted time and distance before we tried to take that step backward and become friends. I honestly want no contact with him at all for now.

Well, the whole point behind writing this is catharsis for myself, so publish immediately it is. I'm not going to promote the link for my friends to read, but if anyone stumbles across this post, so be it. For once, I am putting myself and my feelings first. Damn the consequences,

Welcome to Perfectly Plesa

I am going to be honest straight out of the gate, Perfectly Plesa was my second choice name for this blog. I really wanted Absolutely Aimee, but that blog address was already taken. Most likely by some blog squatter who registered the name then never did a damn thing with the blog. That happens more often than not in the blogosphere and its the main reason why I loathe creating new blogs so much. Finding a name that isn't already taken can quickly become a lesson in futility. The only thing I hate more than naming a blog is choosing the proper background, but I will save that bitch session for another day...

Anyway, welcome to my newest blog. Yes, I said newest blog. If you don't already know, I am a fairly prolific writer and have active blogs set up on a number of totally eclectic topics such as food, green living and sexual health. I created this blog more as more personal sounding board-to write about the things that don't fit into my other blogs as well as more personal topics. Sometimes controversial topics. Before you proceed, I feel the need to make this disclaimer: topics on this blog may cause you to pee your pants in laughter, blush in embarrassment, cause moments of deep introspection and probably cause you to sputter in anger. I tend to approach life with a no-holds barred attitude and this blog certainly will highlight that. Few things will be considered sacred and some will be heavily ridiculed or criticized. That's just how I am-take it or leave it. The choice is up to you.

Now, for a little about what makes me uniquely me. I am a single mother of 4, chef, writer and shit pot stirrer. I fight tirelessly for the underdog and am a firm believer in freewill so long as your decisions do not harm others. I am a huge fan of classic rock, heavy metal, 80's and classical music, I think horror movies are the simply the best and I will read virtually anything I can get my hands on. I am a small business owner and volunteer my time and talents whenever I can. I currently work in a local bar and love what I do. I have a small and eclectic group of friends that I will fight tooth and nail for if needed. I am the minion of two of the devil's advocates that I named Stout and Porter (they are rescued barn kittens that I am 98% sure are part Bengal based on their sometimes annoying mental and vocal abilities). I am a self-proclaimed craft beer snob and am embarking on the journey to become a certified cicerone. I am also writing my first cookbook, which is dedicated to the Ohio craft beer industry. I love snowy days and one day hope to live in a lake side cabin in the mountains. I prefer Coke to Pepsi, toilet paper under the roll not over and night over day. Anything else? Just ask. My life is virtually an open book!

Disclaimer: Some of the things I will be writing about will include the occasional product review. Many of these review items are provided to me free of charge in exchange for my honest critique. There are very rare occasions where I may receive a cash payment in exchange for a post. Neither free items nor cash will EVER color my opinion about a product. The reviews I write are 100% me and mine, your mileage and opinion may vary. I will also sometimes post affiliate links, in the body of an article or as a list after the fact. If a link interests, please click thru. I may or may not make a few pennies for your effort. For me, writing is cathartic, but if I can make a little pocket change in the process, I am certainly NOT going to turn it down!