Re-Blog of One Year Ago

Here is a post I wrote in February 2012. I am reblogging it to give some context to my last post. I expressed all this to him at the time and in the months following. Yes, I should have left him then, but I thought if I just tried harder and my back got better we could be okay. Live and learn, right? This is a really good reflection of a lot of the issues eroding our relationship and my self confidence, but sadly not nearly all of them.
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I am lucky enough to have one of those ‘daddy men’ in my life. I know how lucky I am and thank the stars everyday for bringing us into each others lives. We are so much more together than we ever could be apart.

What are your thoughts on being a father vs a daddy? Is it enough to throw money at children? Is paying child support on time the hallmark of a good father, or daddy?

Oh Jenni!

My delusions of happily ever after have been replaced by a solid grip on reality and an even deeper disgust for deadbeat dads and men who lie.

Everyone has a father. My eldest two children have a Daddy. There’s a HUGE difference in the two.

You are not a daddy, until you act like one. You may be a father because of your genetic donation of sperm, but make NO mistake, you are NO Daddy.

Daddies pay child support. Daddies put their darling babies, first. Daddies read books and make decisions for their children based on fact, not on their delusional ego or maniacal jealous spite. They buy diapers before cigarettes, snowsuits before a coat for themselves and appreciate the mommies who carry the weight of it all when they aren’t willing or able. Rent isn’t optional, and even if they don’t live in the house where their children lay…

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the not enough place

I love that this blogger has the wisdom and understanding to be able to write these words. Recently I have discovered that I have never really had self esteem. There have been times when I am wholly confident in myself, but in that dark corner of my psyche I believe that I am not worthy of the same amount of attention and affection i give to others.
I am unsure if this realization will cause any dramatic shift in the way I treat myself, but I do hope that I can at least identify when I am entering that not enough place that is way too spacious for me.
I hope to be able to dissect this more in a blog post soon, but who knows?
All the best,
xo – S.

that precarious gait

There is a very dark place inside some of us.  I think of it as the “not enough” place.  It is a space in our psyche in which we are consistently less than adequate, always falling short of expectations, never quite good enough for the task or person we are striving toward.   This place has no light.  It is heavy, pregnant with expectations never met, people never pleased and ideals fallen away.

For some people, this place was constructed early, as part of some childhood experience — an emotionally distant or highly-critical parent, physical abandonment, or unstable family dynamics.  For others, it appeared suddenly, maybe even overnight, the result of an intensely traumatic experience that shattered their sense of personal safety and value.  Whatever the cause of its appearance, once present it is a difficult place to dismantle.

The not enough place is where all our worst personal demons are…

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Raising Girls

A wonderful and thought provoking piece on what it meant to be raised a girl and that gray area of wanting to be nice and being there for yourself.
– S.

My Life Untangled

I’ve given a lot of thought to how and why I spent so many years trying to please a man that was unpleaseable.  I’ve determined that some of the reason is a feeling of unworthiness.  I felt like I didn’t deserve better.  I felt like whatever anyone else wanted was more important than what I may want.  I felt like things were my fault because I didn’t help him get better, I wasn’t smart enough or pretty enough.  So I squashed my feelings and did things to please others rather than please myself.  This included people that treated me like I was less than human.

I realize now that this sense of unworthiness did not start with him.  It started long before I met him.  It comes from being raised to be a proper, nice girl.  Some parents tell their girls to put others first, be respectful of everyone, be

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While reading this post from a new author I had the pleasure of discovering after she commented on my posts, I felt that feeling like what I am reading and feeling is more than the words on the screen. It felt like she was speaking to me. It was one of those transendent moments we don’t get enough of. I hope you find the value I have in this post.
xoxo – S.

My Life Untangled

I started writing this with the intention of submitting it to a magazine for publication.  I toned things down a bit but still I was afraid to go public and put my name on this for fear of retaliation and also I admit a bit of shame still lingers.  Here in the semi-anonymous blogger world I feel safe sharing this, finally.

I knew it was all wrong when I was 20. We broke up briefly and I took him back after begging and pleading from him and his mom. That was my first opportunity to walk away for good and I didn’t. I let loneliness, the fear of being alone and a sense of unworthiness control my life. Then again when I was 28 I had another opportunity and realization that I was making a mistake. We had been living together officially for 4 years and he decided we should buy…

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“… if I have shared too much here… if I have alienated or disappointed some of you with this revelation, I am sorry that you have experienced this post in that manner, but I am not sorry for having shared. Because I sincerely suspect that for every person who doesn’t understand, there is another who does and finds solace in being understood and acknowledged here.” This is a wonderful post that discusses the aspects of depression that are rarely brought to light. How many of you feel shamed when you find yourself in a depression? How many of us keep our suffering and anguish inside for fear of upsetting others?

that precarious gait

I began this post multiple times over the last couple of months.  The most progress I made on it prior to this weekend was a late night writing session following three vodka tonics, which sufficiently braced me to put letters to screen about a subject I find particularly painful and shameful.  I know this post is lengthy, but I believe this issue is deserving of the time and space, so I hope you’ll bear with me.

Much of this year has found me facing a daily struggle within myself.  I was unable to write.  Unable to play my guitar.  Unable to enjoy many of the things that I used to enjoy.

Because I was severely depressed.

Those of you who have experienced depression are already nodding along sympathetically.  You know the heaviness of it, the hopelessness of it, the monotony of it.  You know how it robs you of any…

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Blossoming – I am woman

What kind of flower are you? Do you feel as though you have “Bloomed”, regardless of your sex, or is blooming something that only happens to women?
I think it is a really interesting way to look at cycles in life. Our environment is affected by the seasons (especially up here in the chilly north where it goes from -30’C in the winter to +30’C in the summer!) so why wouldn’t our lives also flow according to this natural principle? I think it makes a great deal of sense to view experiences as cycles… You start something new, you grow according to the conditions of your environment, which leads us to bloom and eventually begin to wilt and die. I’m not talking about the larger life cycle, rather the experiences of everyday.
For example getting a new job is often a growing experience, after you have learned your position and are feeling confident you bloom, then when your skills or expectations surpass the limits of the job you look for a new job and start the proccess over.
What do you think? Does a woman/man bloom once, more than once or, for some, not at all?
I would love to hear your thoughts.
xo – S.

a bourbon for silvia

Some months ago my mom was attempting to do what my mom does best. I always appreciate the woman immensely, therefore I always let her do what she does best, to me, even if is over the phone.

Women, are like flowers: they are meant to blossom, one way or another, with help or on their own. You just have to find out how. 

It took some time to understand what she meant, and why that was supposed to be important to me. I am people, and last I checked, last night, actually, I am woman, and following my mom´s prediction, I did/will blossom.

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This is a wonderful post reminding us all how big our biggest problems really are. Back surgery and the like have brought me pretty low, I even question the worthiness of my life if I have to live with all this pain. But that is ridiculous.
I, too, am more than humbled by Hope.

ox – S.


I’m always carrying on over something as you well know. I get annoyed easily, pissed off regularly and the littlest thing can wreck my day.

I’ve often asked myself, Susannah, all this minutia you concern yourself with, what would you do if something truly catastrophic happened in your life?

Like what?

Illness, for instance.

I recently worked with a woman who has stage 4 breast cancer. It was obvious she was unwell by her elaborate headdress and what looked like a harness strapped across her chest that I believe led to a catheter pumping painkillers into her body.

If she hadn’t displayed these 2 giveaways, by her smile and stamina, you never would have known she was sick; she absolutely dazzled with good cheer.

Mind you, I was more rattled than she was. I asked her if there was anything I could do for her – get her breakfast, help…

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Re-Blog Funny-ness!

Umm… I really didn’t see what the fuss was about until my mind rolled into the gutter! And then I was in a state of disbelief then I laughed our loud at the sheer oneness of nature. Thanks DYSHIS!! (Interesting, her acronym spells ‘dishes’ phonetically, which can mean both items that hold food or gushing about something or ‘giving the lowdown’. I think the latter is kinda a great way to describe blogging!) <– I can be such a nerd!
– S.

Do You See How I See


“Do you think at night, when it’s dark and no one’s watching, that trees do things?”

(This was the question my daughter asked me innocently on the way to school one morning. Not a few hours later, I receive this picture via text!)




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