18 May 2017

A superhero demonstrates powers beyond human. Not everyone can have superpowers.  In my mind, these are the following qualities:

  • Overcome immense adversity (my Wasband doesn’t count. Nor does the whore)
  • Find a way to rise above (see parentheses above)
  • Portray a human characteristic
  • Use powers for the betterment of humanity (can’t do this if you don’t possess any powers. Again, see parentheses above)
  • Thinking you’re a king and queen. Imposters don’t belong.  This does not fit into the super hero dynamic.  Wasbands and whores who address each other as a king and queen need a reality check and get out of Fantasyland. They don’t belong there either.

I belong with the superheroes.  I am Wonder Woman.  No, really.  She was my idol growing up. I even had WW Underoos, but they stayed hidden because superheroes only transform during cries for help; then they’re true selves are shown.  Plus, Underoos were glorified underwear.  Today, I don’t even think they could pass for a costume; they were that skimpy.

Wonder Woman’s background is interesting.  She is part Amazon with a Greek history in her lineage.  She is smart and beautiful.  She has an aura about her.  She could deflect anything with her gold bracelets.

I have managed to survive a cruise ship, nine days in Chile, 2 ½ months living under the same roof, getting through 2 ¾ terms of school, work, and a pending divorce.  If I was still sharing a residence, I know I would not be where I am today…at all.  I sat still, furiously fidgeting, for four months, cleaned up some clutter, made the house my own, and still trying to make the perfect lemonade drink.   I created boundaries (deflecting things that could bring harm) and have said ‘no more.’

I have always embraced my independence.  It’s who I am.  I am a strong woman and welcoming the liberation a life that was tossed away (not my choice).  I still stumble, but I also stopped trying once I recognized I wasn’t wanted.  I bargained for a brief, dark moment at the onset of the Wasband’s confession, but I quickly dropped it once I saw his true colors floating in front of my eyes.  There was no fix to this.  At least not on my end.  The damage from the battlefield added to more things irreparable.

Wonder Woman is a warrior.  I am a warrior.  There is an acute degree of strength within myself, and it really comes out after dark moments and even a few bad days.  I possess power and grace.  I belong to an elite group.  I am confident.  I am a role model.  I am paving my own path to become my own special super heroine.  I am.


Damage and Control

Damage and Control

17 May 2017



Today I dressed up to attend a wedding and funeral.  There was no celebration in a (re)birth.  In a classic black and white outfit, wearing nice jewelry; tresses lightly curled (using a brush and hairdryer), free flowing with my white streak standing out against the sun-kissed blonde.  I donned some comfy sandals, with my pedicured toes peeking out.  SNHU colors, the graduation cap prominently showing on my big toe.  I felt good, and I looked good─tan, rocking my outfit, showing my 45 pound-lighter frame. Bold green eyes.

I was ready to face the day.  Focused, I went in not to seek revenge, but to demand responsibility and what is right.  Responsibility for me (the taking care of myself plan), and making someone accountable for their actions. The funny thing with a narcissist is that they believe everything they’re doing is the right thing.  They don’t care about the damage, pain and scars they’ve caused.

Instead, I walked into a battlefield.

There are such things as compromises.  What I saw was another attempt to maintain control over me.  Another take, take, take scenario.  Another narrative where my inheritance benefits someone who took all my money, never let me have any money ($160 cash/month, that’s it), and felt insecure if I had a few hundred dollars.  Someone who lied and took away an agreement, a vacation (three), and so much more.

I am the disposable one.  I am the one who gets an expiration date.  I am the one being forced and chased away.  I am the one everyone wants to keep, but nobody’s fighting for me.  There are some battles one person cannot fight alone.  I may be strong, but I somehow got knocked back again.  My “little rock” is a bit concerned about me and watches me from the lawn tonight as I sit outside, with a glass of bourbon trying to make sense of what played out in the field today.

I am on this battlefield alone.  I am not one to give up.  I am a fighter.  I am the one who stood up at the beginning, shouting out to the world that I was not going to be controlled, manipulated, dragged through the muddy trenches, disrespected, and undeserving of everything someone wanted to put me through.  Did put me through.  Continues to put me through.

Somehow, I have to pound out the last 5,000 words of my thesis, and do some major revisions this week/early next week.  I cancelled my wine tasting trip to California because life is too much to handle and my school work is insurmountable.

Natalie has to learn from trial and error.  Nick is cocky, believes he’s untouchable, thinks everything should be his way; he leaves Natalie to take care of everything, including leaving her to a train wreck that runs through their home.  He thinks he’s God’s gift to the world as he tries to juggle an engagement and an affair.  My readers do not like him.  Hell, I don’t even like him!  There is no justice served to him; only pain and regret.  Seems like life mimics all that is happening, but nobody admonishes his behavior.

I wonder if I have some special powers (Wonder Woman post coming soon!) because I sense things before they happen.  Or maybe it’s just women’s intuition.  I know my gut instinct is pretty darn strong and rarely steers me in the opposite direction.

Guns were fired.  The battle began.  Bullets grazed the skin, the mind, the heart.  Scars began to form.  An anger fueling the battle was more subdued than it should have been, but wouldn’t have done any good.  The opposing party seemed impermeable.  Take, take, take.  The OP wanted me to pay, pay, pay.  For what?  For an affair that I was not involved with?  For all the money spent from the community?  Because it was the “right thing to do”?  This is still unacceptable behavior.  I need to be the voice of abuse.  I need to be vocal about being disrespected, and how I respect myself too much to let disrespect continue.

I sustained a bullet wound that is too painful to speak about.  The wound is going to produce yet another scar to the many appearing in a short amount of time.  It’s so unfair that I get zero in return.  That an inheritance can be taken away so fast and never returned─more broken promises.  The OP made it very easy to return to a life recently left, at a future date, and being able to move back in, as I am driven out and away.  I will not waste another ounce of energy or time on something that I was told was mine “until sold.”  Sold, my ass.  It’s being taken back.

I have to muddle through the negative to reach the positive.  Nobody walked away unscathed.  Nobody was happy with the outcome.  Battlefield injuries were sustained; the magnitude of those are amplified by OP actions.  I’m sure the OP thinks there was another successful win.  I approached the battlefield thinking there wasn’t going to be a winner and loser.  I was right, but the approach is just wrong, wrong, wrong.

How does a wrong get righted?  How is punishment avoided?  Live in New Mexico and you will learn all about this bullshit.

I am not done on the battlefield. I have retreated to the tent to think of the next tactic.  I will not give up.  I will approach the front line with the intention to be feared.  Again, not revenge, but a super strength to say enough is enough.  I sense the violent crimson rage running through my veins.  I will harness that energy to make bolder statements.  Somehow, I am going to rise above this whole fucking mess.

Pictured below: Duke looks concerned, don’t you think…






Taking a Leap and Enduring

Taking a Leap and Enduring

14 May 2017


Happy Mother’s Day to any mothers reading this.  Happy Mother’s-to be Day!  My sister is a MTB, and they are equally important because they are still caring for a child.

I was at graduation on Saturday.  It was a day to me, for me, and all about me.  Prior to leaving for the ceremony, I was unwrapping my stole, cords, and charms to add to my cap and gown ensemble.  I was thinking about these next four weeks.  What I told myself was that I am finishing as a Hellinger.  This lead to taking another leap on Saturday.  It was time.  I took my last ring off.  A rush of liberation overwhelmed me.  I felt a little bit of freedom; a little because I’m not completely free yet, but it’s coming.  This was a giant leap because it meant that I am ready.  Ready for: new things, changes (big and small); and a new life.  However, I still feel a little disjointed.  There are scattered thoughts.   I am not my normal self.  In fact, normal doesn’t exist.  Eventually, there will be a new normal, but I’m not there yet.  These were thoughts running amok yesterday as I sat in my seat feeling the ridges on my left ring finger.  I hid my hand under my program to avoid thinking about things that were not the focus of me and my day.

I was sitting on the arena floor with peers in the MA Liberal Arts program at SNHU.  There were some dynamic speakers.  The keynote speaker for our school (COCE and CFA) spoke about where she’s been, how she got there and what she went through during her time as a student, a single mother, and working full-time.  The University President said he loved speaking to this particular school because students are from all over the world (one student was from Tuscany, Italy).  We are the ones who are studying late hours, after work, after families; we are the students sacrificing “small and big moments” to better ourselves.  Importantly, we arrived at this point because we have family and friends to support us.  I’ve been saying this all along.  My family and friends have supported me in various aspects of my life and my education.  I have sacrificed evening gatherings, and more to stay at home and get my assignments turned in.  I have sacrificed weekends on the golf course.  I have sacrificed dinners, lunches, and more because I needed to read a novel in 24 hours, write 5,000 words within a week; or had to do some research that kept me in the virtual library hours after work.  This sacrifice is priceless.  Family, friends, activities, events, and the golf course will still be there once I am done.

The speaker understands what it means for all of us to endure; she spoke about this.  We are functioning beyond.  I have no choice but to endure this chaos while finishing my education.  I can smile and laugh through the deep pain, tremendous hurt and invisible scars (already forming), and many would not even know how out of control (literally and figuratively) my life is currently.

Natalie has to endure trial and error to realize why she can’t wake up from her coma.  How does she do it?  You’ll have to read the book.   I have to finish the last 5,000 words week 7!  That’s it!  The last 5,000 words.  Then it will be time to edit once again, and prepare for my thesis completion.

Thinking ahead, I am determined to endure numerous rejections when I begin to submit my manuscript to agents/editors/publishers.  Empowerment and enduring are just two themes in my thesis.  I have endured some of the worst storms and darkest of days and nights.  I have grown more resilient through this mess.  I will be okay once I move beyond a few more obstacles.  I know I am not done taking small and giant leaps.  This is the power of positive thinking.

Both the University President and the speaker told us, as graduates, to take time to “soak it all in.”  I have been, and even reminded myself today to soak it all in.  Those smiles, laughs and memories I spoke about in my post the other day?  They happened because I let them. I embraced the moments.  I can’t seem to get enough, but it’s good enough for now.  Leaping, soaking, enduring, and embracing.


it's not about you anymore

Aunt Jude puts rose wreath on me18519065_1657516264276853_718103114_o

The Journey-Not Over Yet

The Journey-Not Over Yet

11 May 2017


Back to traveling again.  Seems like my May and June calendar has filled up, without being fully aware it happened.  I’m embracing it.  I have to.  It’s the freedom to move around, not being chained to anything or anyone; but I still have Duke-puppy in my care, so he’s my only other priority.  If the end is near, it’s so far away.  Plus, I still have to continue moving forward.  I am, literally, one month away from finishing this third degree.  I am on a plane, headed east for graduation.  My third degree and I have decorated my cap…there’s a first time for everything.

I think about dates.  My dad’s birthday is tomorrow.  We both were born on the 12th.  He would have been 66, and I can’t help but think what he, and my mom, would think of this ridiculous mess I’m in.  Would they have asked me to go home?  Questions.  So many questions, and I have to stop asking them because they won’t do me any good.

This fucking mess.  I’ve been in hell since January?  No.  December?  No.  November.  That sounds about right.  This fucked up mess has sapped my energy, motivation, appetite, and ability to sleep.  My clothing continues to fall off my frame, getting leaner with each passing week.  I recently saw photos of myself; someone had hijacked my phone at a committee dinner and I stared at the image on the screen.  That’s me?  Wow.  Catching up with friends after and I know everyone notices.  It’s hard not to.

So…I’m smack-dab in the middle of week 6.  I’m waiting for a chardonnay on this bird.  I’m letting the Wasband buy me a drink or two…or three… Running on another standard 3 hours 20 minutes of sleep and the adrenaline keeps pushing me.  I dread the day it stops pumping through my veins and mind; it’s going to be a hard crash, or I can head it off by doing something epic.

Graduation.  Usually signifies the end, but I am able to walk even though I’m a month away from being done.  I’ll take it.  Family is arriving from NY and IN to help me celebrate.  I fear what my Aunt Fabulous is doing at the ceremony.  Last year, for my niece and nephew’s high school graduation, she had their faces blown up and put on large sticks.  Think Big Head meets a popsicle stick.  From photographs, it looks like the heads are floating!  Whatever happens is sure to bring a smile to my face and a large, guttural laugh.  If you hear about a family that makes New Hampshire news, or even the news at Southern New Hampshire University, chances are it’s mine.  Haha

Natalie’s journey has begun.  She’s floating out in some familiar, yet unfamiliar place.  It’s all about the journey, and I am a firm believer in this. Heck, I look at where I am in this moment, this time, and in my life.  Never in a million years did I ever think I would have three degrees; would be married and now in the middle of a divorce.  Whore.  Adulterer.  Let me reign my anger back in.  I’ve lost the one outlet I could really shout at.  Bastard.  Bitch.

I will not let any of this define me.  It can mold, shape, soften me into self-discovery, but I am not the victim.  It took several months to bring myself to say this, and not because I am broken, but because I was torn down slowly.  It took space, a vast amount of space, distance and boundaries to shift my feet through the numbing waters to begin to see more clearly.  I began to see true colors.  I began to sort of find me, randomly wandering.  What I found was an old me, who wasn’t afraid to be her true self.  She busted out of that shell, and I’m still not convinced the world is ready for the phoenix emerging.

This journey is far from over.  Four weeks still remain.  A small period of taking a break is to follow (once I’m done) where I will enjoy my own company and get lost in a world I can’t wait to escape into.  Then I will begin to think about the shift in this blog.  Post-education.  Post-divorce.  Into the depths of healing.

In the meantime, I am going to accept all of the hugs, smiles, laughter and memories that will be created this weekend.  #SNHU2017.  It’s here!




9 May 2017


Since this whole mess started, I have been disrespected.  I was disrespected during a phone call to Japan, by someone who loved me…or so I thought.  Immediately upon his return to the United States, he continued to disrespect me and our marriage.  It hasn’t stopped.

After being stripped down and thrown into a numbing coma, I remained still during a temporary order.  It angered, and hurt me, knowing the opposing party (OP) was off spending time and our money on a fantasy that is bound to crash and burn at some point.  Don’t worry-this is not the post where an expected bout of Tourette’s (Whore. Adulterer.) appears.

I trudged through the broken pieces of something we constructed together, crumbled and scattered all over the ground.  The only thing I wanted to do was to escape.  Escape.  Get away for three days.  That’s all I wanted.  Take off to Disneyland, get away from this mess, and have the freedom to be myself and enjoy my company.  Escape for three days.  It didn’t seem like it was that hard to fulfill.  On the contrary, it was extremely complicated and didn’t happen.

I began the process back in January because it was my proclamation to say, “You can’t do this to me.  This is not okay, and I told you this was not okay.”  I have too much respect for myself to be dragged around, even though the OP’s behavior imitates this, I control it by setting up boundaries and walls. I am the primary concern, and I have more self-respect because I was strong to take a stand.

Over the weekend I had the opportunity to spend time near a beach.  It was exhilarating!  I called it my self-care weekend. I didn’t realize how badly I needed it.  I only had to make decisions for myself.  I didn’t need to consult anyone’s caIendar.  It was me, time, the world, the sun, and the sand.  I wasn’t scoffed at for having too many glasses of wine.  I wasn’t ridiculed for enjoying mimosas with friends at 9:30 on a Saturday morning.  Having the freedom to answer only to myself was exactly what the doctor ordered.  It was liberating.  I had spent five days surrounded by more friends─people who genuinely care for me and respect me─and it was the perfect ending before I headed back home.

I officially ended the five weeks of my education with a deeper tan, and a little more blonde.  I arrived home to be greeted by my lovable, four-legged furry dog, “my little rock.”  A friend had picked him up earlier in the day, and I was so thankful she did this for me. It was great to return home, my first real trip away since this mess began, being greeted at the front door with his tail wagging furiously.  He has been my shadow ever since.

This is another big thesis writing week.   I began writing this next segment in some of the best environments I’ve been accustomed to for years: writing in airports and hotels; writing in the sun; writing outside.  This is the big chapter, and you all know Natalie goes into a coma.  I am not going to give any spoilers at this point because it ruins the fun of reading the entire story.  This is where the story is going to grab the reader, make them hang on the edge of their seat, as the story plunges to the denouement.

This is also graduation week.  Because I finish in June, I can walk for graduation!  I have my cap and gown, my stole, charm and cords from the National Society for Leadership and Success; my cord from Sigma Tau Delta (International English Honor Society); I was given honorary cords from the NMT Society of Petroleum Engineers Student Chapter that I will also proudly wear.  For the first time, I am going to decorate my cap!  I have ideas, just need to buy the supplies now.

Another week is planned for self-care, respecting myself, and doing things for myself.  I am also thrilled that I will be spending this weekend with my family.  The anchor keeping me grounded as I floated.  My self-care program requires that I make time for myself, do the things I love (and missed) doing.  Family and friends are huge components.  Without them, some of my days and nights would have been a lot darker.  The best part-we are kind human beings and respect each other; how it’s intended to be.

Time to return to my thesis.  Natalie needs to become a stronger character, so I need to spend some time with her.  The world is waiting for this one, and the next novel to follow, post-degree.



Broken Promises

Broken Promises

Broken Promises

2 May 2017

Photo credit: Copyright: <a href=’′>chr1 / 123RF Stock Photo</a>

I am staring at the messes surrounding me.  Fences tipped over.  Boards fallen off the fence.  A sprinkler system on one setting.  Windows with no coverings.  A china cabinet with a broken door.  Holes in the walls.  A satellite radio cord that came loose.  An old sink rotting on the side of the house.  Tools left everywhere.  An old grill.  Tires.  Cupboards taking up space in a garage, that I’m attempting to clean (the clutter, at least).  A garden full of weeds.  An unfinished patio.  Weeds everywhere.  Boxes left behind.  Everything left behind.  All of this, and more, are broken promises that linger, hovering like a ghost sweeping through the walls of each room.  In my family, we call it unfinished projects.  In this instance, I am surrounded by promises with no intention to fulfill them.

I am left to clean everything up; something very common in a past relationship.  “Just leave it.  Karen will take care of it.  Karen will clean up.  Karen will…”

Karen won’t.

I will not take care of “things” any longer.  I will leave it in a pile for someone else to deal with.  I will not go through boxes, bags and totes, sifting to set the important things aside.  I am sick of it.  I am tired of it. I no longer have to put up with this mentality.  Yet, I recognize that I also fed into this mentality, this behavior, and now need to set up boundaries to begin breaking this behavior.

This is week five and I begin to write from airports and hotels.  I’ve been pinching every penny, staying put while someone else spends money, flitting from country to country; city to city, and not alone, enjoying a gazillion (unoriginal) vacations.  Things seem extremely unfair while the OP gets away with everything; appears to be untouchable, yet wavers hoping that I will immediately jump on every reply.  The phone calls are long gone. The texts are long gone. It’s just Google hangouts-nothing more, nothing less; the bare existence of a voice.

I am traveling for work.  Friends have reached out, offering brief moments of solitude in different places, and I have gladly accepted their kindness.

Week five also means I am smack-dab in the middle of my last term, and have begun my journey into the heart of my education, thesis, and research paper writing.  I am taking a break from fixing broken promises to fix myself.  To take care of me.

I have moved beyond the inciting incident in my novel.  There is the progressive climb into the rising action.  The climax is not far off now-another 5,000 words.  Chapters 8 and 9 were submitted on Sunday, and they were emotionally-charged.  Nick has, once again, left Natalie to clean up and deal with things.  She has just realized how often this happens.  Does Nick leave a trail of broken promises?  I sense Natalie is going to learn far more than she ever imagined as I begin my descent into the completion of my novel.  At this time in my thesis, the characters are now breathing lives of their own and begun taking over the story.

I am looking forward to the short break away from all that engrosses my current situation, atmosphere, and life.  I am looking forward to letting the ambiance of new places, familiar faces, and exciting scenery soak into my soul.  I have only just begun this next journey of travel.  There is more to come.




The Other Woman

The Other Woman

29 April 2017

I want to say I’m going to survive this week.  We’ll see.  I am swimming under a sea of books that has to be read, more thesis writing and a rough draft of my literature research paper.  Social life?  Yeah, no.

So, let’s be real and get down to business…or discussion, I will say instead.  It’s time to talk about “the other woman” because she exists in some type of an ephemeral fantasy.  She is the face of betrayal.  He is the face of distrust and the ultimate betrayal.

She has many names: mistress, girlfriend, homewrecker, bitch, whore.  She is clever in enticing married men; sometimes away from their wives.  What is their objective?  To be involved without the ring?  To achieve some kind of status?  Honey, let me tell you something-you can have it all!  I know there’s a special place for you, for both of you, and it’s not pretty.

He believes he has money.  He believes he has power.  He believes he has wealth.  He shows this to her.  She sees these illusions and the harpy swoops in for her next victim.  Gold digger! That’s another name we know her by.  When the money runs out, she’s gone. She’s done this all before.  She knows exactly what she’s doing.  She has no respect for herself.  She has no respect for others.

She creates a story about being stalked by someone in the same room.  He wants to rescue and protect her-playing the part of the hero.  She now has him in her clutches. She showers him with attention.  He has “new” eyes and it’s not for his wife, because there is a woman who will dote on his every whim, every waking, and sleeping, hour.  She fills a need in his heart he wasn’t aware was missing.  She steals him, making him spends thousands of dollars on her; money he should be spending on his wife; money he doesn’t really have.  It’s the thrill of the pursuit-for both parties.

There’s two sides to every story, but only one side in this matter.  In this instance, it’s the narrator (that’s me) telling you what I want you to know, what I want you to read, and what I want you to see.  It’s the unreliable narrator.  In this case, all signs point to the truth, and it’s extremely hard to take in; it’s more of a shock than anything else.  The succubus and the adulterer create their own little world together.  The duration is undetermined, but the signs are all there.  She knew he was married.  He probably began his lies as he spent hours speaking to her, meeting her for coffee, and going out drinking.  He does not take responsibility, nor does he want to take the blame or the fall.  He creates lies about having problems in their marriage.  Or he finds other tall tales to tell about his wife, who left him for grad school, or couldn’t spend her entire working day talking to him on the phone while he was in another country.  Lies, lies, lies.  The lies have compounded and is now what I refer to as a shit pile of lies.

What does she tell her friends and family?  Is she honest?  Are they hiding their relationship?  She gives him a challenge on Valentine’s Day.  What could it be?  To leave his wife as fast as possible?  He’s hiding the relationship.  Well, he’s trying to.  It’s hard to hide as an adulterer when you take your wedding band off as fast as you can; create vacation calendars together; plan out the two weeks (or more) spent together every month well into the future, spend hours and hours, nearly all day, chatting, texting and messaging with the harlot, and God knows what else.  The other woman really doesn’t pay attention to what she’s doing.  Has she met the wraths of other wives?  If she’s not careful, she’s going to end up with what she hoped she wanted, but doesn’t turn out to be what she truly desired.  The fantasy ends and she runs as fast as she can, leaving him as fast as he left his wife.  The pair are fools.

It’s a major assignment week!  This is when we learn more about Nick than we ever wanted to learn.  We learn about his desires.  His needs. We discover his true colors in his personality and the tension builds into the following chapter when Natalie finds out the truth.  Why is Nick cheating on Natalie?  I am baffled to know why the bastard lets the tramp control the marriage, and perhaps have some type of backstage pass in the dissolution of a marriage.  When there’s a big age difference, there can’t be much in common, and what is the hussy going to do with a 70 year old man when she’s nearing her 50’s?  He’ll be bald and have even more performance issues, and most likely with a never-ending supply of Viagra.  Nick fits into this mold, although he’s younger and doesn’t let the doxy control too much; he still likes to maintain control.

There has to be some type of spite involved, a certain time of thinking where men and women become so detached from their significant others that they simply don’t care what they do to hurt the other party.  The man is a coward; he ran away from his own issues that he didn’t want to face, or let the one solid rock in his life help him with his issues, keeping him grounded. That rock felt the effects of the weather, slowly eroded, and easily moves in the wind now.  Nick is a coward.  Natalie is blindsided and the scars will run deep, even in a coma.  The remaining pages of my novel will be supercharged with emotions, and the reader will begin to understand the roller coaster ride.  Natalie will be able to make something with her lemons in the next 20,000 words.  What happens to Nick and his little whore?  Well, we don’t really know.  The remainder of the story is all about Natalie.