Why is my sleep all wonky?

Ever since I started on thyroid meds (which, according to recent bloodwork is still not quite right), my sleep has been a mess. It was a mess before, true, but it was a mess I was familiar and could work with. Now, I am awake at 3am (sometimes for a PJ pee break, sometimes not), then awake at 5:30, going back to sleep at 7 and sleeping mostly until 9.

sleeping-1353562_640When I get up at 9, I am all disoriented and by the time I’ve had coffee and done all my internetting for the hour, half the damn day has gone. I liked getting up at 6:30 or 7 and being ready to do work stuff (or whatever) at 8:30 or 9. I functioned that way for a long time.

And then, on top of that, add a Fitbit which calculates my sleep time. On average, I get maybe 6.5 hours.

So, I’m not sleeping enough, the sleep I do get is all jagged and at weird times and I feel like I’m starting my day at noon which bothers me.

Cousin O’Cool recommended a magnesium supplement and I tried it for a couple weeks but nothing much changed. (Maybe I didn’t give it long enough?)

I dunno.

In other news:

  • I am counting the minutes until I am done with Dude (the guy for whom I’m doing Virtual Assistance work). Jesus. I cannot with that man any more. I promised I’d stay through May and it will be a crawl.
  • I am working on an entirely new site for my business that is much more coherent with who I am now. I won’t be killing PI but I will be taking a lot of old stuff off there (podcasts and whatnot) and tightening it up. And may I say once again, I suck so damn hard at graphic design. I shall pray to Prince and see if he can send someone my way with minimal expense because I neither want to pay $2000 for a new site nor do I have the funds to do so.


Speaking of Prince, I had a WEIRD thing happen last week. (And you know if *I* think it’s weird, it’s REALLY weird!)

LONG story much shorter: I went over to Trader Joe’s to buy some roses for my altar that I’ve set up in my office and was looking for red roses. I saw some but none called to me. Instead, I saw these soft pink ones and knew that was what I wanted. They were lovely and I put some on my altar and some in the kitchen.

IMG_1629Cut to: that night when I had the interesting occasion to talk with another conscious channel (like I am with Spirit Guides). She also has a telepathic connection with the Purple One and as we were talking, she stopped and said “He has a message for you. The pink roses were from him.”  WHAT??

No one knew about the roses I bought (and I rarely buy flowers) and that they were pink instead of red.

Yes, my mouth dropped open.

Then I realized that the vase I chose to put them in (a gift from the sweet girl who does my nails) had a PURPLE ribbon around it! I didn’t even notice that when I was putting the flowers in them.

Clearly, he was letting me know he’s for sure my Wee Spirit Animal.

Y’all, this year has been so so so bizarre. I have no idea what shifted but the strangest things have been happening (stranger than usual!) and with every one, I stand there in amazement.

And the beat goes on ….


Thank you, dear shitheads

13221720_1242209225819038_8679602999792593136_nDear 19 year-old self, dear 22 year-old self, dear 28 year-old self, dear 32 year-old self, dear 35 year-old self,

Would that I could go back in time and tell you the #truthiness of this statement. However, you would not be the woman you are without the lessons learned from engaging with said shitheads.

The one who said ‘my weight was an issue’ when he was quite overweight himself.

The one who embarrassed me in front of friends when he stood me up before a big dance.

The one who knew only his needs and knew that I would make his needs a priority at the detriment of my own.

The one who tried to convince me that I was wrong, always wrong and stupid and not worth anything.

The one who would come in and out of my life, knowing that each time he disappeared, it wounded my soul and he still did it anyway because it’s what he does.

Battle scars, more tears than you can imagine and a beat up heart is what made you stronger and helped you love the right person more. You learned to appreciate the importance of allowing your heart to be held gently rather than tossed away and smashed.

I owe a debt of thanks to all the shitheads who ambled along my path and helped me see that my worth did not depend on their approval or acceptance or presence in my life.

So, while I’d have preferred not to tangle with shitheads in any form (male or female), they were necessary and instrumental in my personal growth.

And you stand stronger because of it.

Love always,
Your best and biggest self

For my Mom

My mom and I had a challenging relationship. She wanted to be best friends and I just wanted to not be around her at all because I was so tuned into her feelings and took them on as my own.

I had no idea that I was doing this and so turned a lot of anger and sadness projected onto me back onto her. There were times where we were both cruel and unloving to each other because the sad/bitter/deeply unhappy feelings kept recirculating between us.

Looking back, though, I don’t really hold that in my heart. What I do hold is how she loved me without question. Never, not one day in my life did I ever feel less than fully loved by her and my dad. She encouraged me to do whatever I wanted to and that there were no limits even as she herself felt shut down and limited by her lot in life.

My mom was one of the strongest women I have ever known and when she wanted something, she moved heaven and earth to get it. During the time of Lauren’s passing, I was in such a state that I knew I couldn’t take care of her and myself so I chose myself. (I don’t think I was very nice about it, either.) I told her that she had to find a way to the funeral (of someone she loved probably as much as she loved me) on her own and that I couldn’t do it.

Mom, me and Lauren Thanksgiving 2003

Mom, me and Lauren Thanksgiving 2003

Damn if that woman didn’t commandeer a bus from the nursing home she was in + a driver + a nurse to take her 90 minutes away for the funeral and the gathering afterwards. She did what it took to get there and only in hindsight did I see how amazing that was given her physical condition (she couldn’t walk at all) and general health (she died 8 months later).

The things she did for love (for me, for my dad, for all those to whom she gave her whole heart and soul) were amazing and that’s what I remember most about my mom. She gave everything she had within her to others because she loved that deeply.

Miss you, love you, mean it, Mom.

Ruminations on Grief and Bigness

13083124_10208993827059928_5616378354827714045_nI have been feeling really bad about “spamming” everyone’s FB wall with my sorrow and grief over Prince. I know that’s my smallness talking – it’s the part of me that is scared to take up space with my stuff.

(Interestingly, this is work I am doing in a life-changing program and the question he asks us to look at is “Are you willing to be seen? Are you willing to take up space?” Coincidence? Naw.)

My BIGNESS says that maybe my openly processing what’s going on with me helps someone else. I know I’ve been helped when others share their emotions, even if I don’t always understand it.

It’s a process. One step. It’s a process. One step.

Thank you, Mira Jacobs, for this. I needed to hear it.

I’ve been noticing a funny phenomenon of some of my friends being embarrassed by the intensity of their grief over Prince. I didn’t know him, they say. It’s not like we were friends. I’m sorry I’m so emotional. They act like they’ve co-opted their sadness, like they’re squatting in a feeling that isn’t theirs to inhabit. Which, I just want to say, as lovingly as possible, is total bullshit. Of course you knew him. Of course you are shattered. That’s the whole deal with art—it doesn’t give a shit about the boundaries of flesh. You never held Prince? So what. The way he spoke to you, the way he shaped you and transformed you into someone you couldn’t have imagined is just as real and vital as any relationship you will ever have. I mean listen, if we as a people need to apologize for something, I will gladly nominate global warming, or the Kardashians, or fat-free cream cheese. But loving and grieving a man we never touched? That is us at our very, very best. No apology necessary. – Mira Jacobs

From this article: Middle Aged White Lady Mourns Prince

“The power of joy in Prince’s music is almost as integral to it as its sexiness. When you sing along to “Baby, I’m a Star,” you believe it, you become a star, if only for a few minutes in your kitchen while cooking dinner. Prince made me connect with that sexy motherfucking star inside myself. And, better yet, he made that sexy, motherfucking star in me as accessible as the on/off switch to the stereo.”

Personal Reflection Part the thirty-seventh

I can tell I have come out of my grief haze as I’ve been singing and dancing around the house this morning, much to Duty’s chagrin. (He is not a fan of my “stellar” voice, let’s just say.)13096133_10156805111380092_8958272902742617105_n

Later today, I’m headed to the flotation tank for some grounding and a chat with Wee Spirit Animal. He’s been hanging around since Thursday afternoon when I sent him away because I could not deal with it at that point. Last night, I said “Alright, let’s do this” and we have been in communication.

Lest you think I am the only one who he came to, be disabused of that notion.

He told me on Thursday that he was with all of those who are grieving his transition so don’t be surprised if you hear about more of these kinds of things. Those on the other side can be everywhere at once which is pretty damn cool, if you ask me.

Maybe a new feature on my page: Journeys with my Wee Spirit Animal.

I live such a fascinating life, don’t I? Yes, I do.

This fangirl’s heart is in pieces

I know you’ve heard the news and if you know me at all, you know how devastated I am. I’ve loved this quirky dude since I was 19 and first saw him on Midnight Special.

There’s a lot of grief processing that has to happen before I can write more on this. But yeah, I’m in a puddle on the floor (yesterday, almost literally).

Deep Thoughts

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Special Apostrophe Unit

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My sekrit boyfriend

David Cook photo IMG_1093.jpg


  • So secret even HE doesn't know it!
  • Oh wait! Maybe he DOES know it!
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    For Lauren – Always

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