Invalidation and the Whole Self

Last night it was another showdown. And it's funny how the mind works at times because in the background was that childhood rhyme, "I am rubber you are glue, what you say bounces off me and sticks to you". 

The back story is that my step daughter and husband had a conversation, which I don't have to the details about, where he expressed the unrecoverable status of our relationship in some sad way. The outcome was she sent him a "cheer him up" gift. We had seen this at our most recent trip to Great America and my husband still mourns the death of David Bowie. The gift card said, "oh no love, you are not alone ~B". BTW, love is his pet name for me. Clearly he was feeling alone and sad. 

I found out that our relations was unrecoverable because I went to use his computer and "found" an email from a friend of ours with a list of divorce attorney recommendations. Honestly, I didn't acquire this information hunting in a devious way, I was using his computer to look up some information for my Grandson, saw a purchase he had made and out of curiosity wanted to know what it was. Saw the receipt in his email and went to look at the description. There in the subject heading in an email was the word divorce, she isn't married so my heart sunk and I clicked the email. The quickest of clicks led to the discovery of the truth, yes it was a violation of privacy which I acknowledge openly. 

So here I stand in my kitchen, the landscape has changed and I am devastated with the recent news that my husband thinks our relationship is unrecoverable, has told more than a few people this and he receives a gift. Obviously there is years of story here but my feelings are deeply hurt. My step daughter clearly is not understanding that this situation is effecting us all in the house and that my feeling are raw and sad, that I might also need some support. 

So later after careful thought and even more carefully chosen words I decided to write her an email. I think it's important in a relationship to let people know when they have hurt you, truly hurt you. My step daughter also cancelled her attendance to my oldest daughter's baby shower giving out right lies as excuses until my daughter presses to the truth. 

My step daughter never responded to the email. My husband however told me that I had no right to write the email. It was none of my business and I had no right to feel hurt. 

He then told my 15 year old step son that I sent the email and that I didn't want him to have any joy in his life. Which upset my step son so much that he made the choice not to come to our house. The hits just kept coming. After two weeks of hearing him say that I had no rights I had had enough. 

Last night he told me that I was responsible for driving a wedge between my step daughter and I. That my email had done irreparable damage. 

Enough was enough. It is simple. For 7 years I have treated him, his Son, Daughter and Mother with kindness, respect, and love. I have given them my patience and dealt with all the situations and problems with fairness. I can't say they have been even ben all that nice to me, and sometimes out right cruel. I have forgiven because I choose forgiveness. I don't wedge, but live a dog's life-today is the day I have. I've made few mistakes and hurt them few times never out of malice or intention. 

Last night my husband called my email dumb. A mistake. And I am being burned at the stake. 

Absolutely NOT. I told him that he and his daughter might want to consider treating me with a shred of the compassion and kindness that I have shown them. That my feelings are just as valid as theirs and that their opinion of my email is theirs but in no way makes my hurt feeling any less valid. That in no way should they have ever said any of this in front of a 15 year old boy, that I had no right to feel the way I do. Teaching him people's feelings are invalid, bringing him into this is an outright manipulation and a despicable emotional ploy. Their inability to show compassion for my feeling is a reflection of their immaturity of character and testament to if I should or should not have sent an email in the first place. I valued my friendship with my step Daughter and thought that after all this time that her and I could openly share our feelings. I misjudged the stability of that relationship. I did make a mistake, one I will not make again.

Internally, I feel unaffected by his comments. I felt a bit like Wonder Woman or at least the archetype in some way. I made a stand. At the end of the day I am a whole person. I did a lot of years doing personal work and sitting in meditation and I still do. I have an amazing acupuncturist that is working with me now to continue my personal efforts and deal with all this and heighten my experience of meditation. It doesn't mean I don't make mistakes, I certainly do but low level emotional abuse is not going to happen here. 

Marriage counseling is tomorrow. Should be interesting. My step Son is coming home today and I'm looking forward to seeing him. We spoke last night in spite of his new step Dad making him get off the phone with me for no reason. Yes, they too are shooting arrows. 

Maybe it's time to summons the coven.

a Footnote about Elisabeth Vigee Le Brun

I am using a portrait of Elisabeth Vigee Le Brun as my portrait for now. Clearly this will be obsolete at some point but I wanted to add a link for informational purposes. I find her fascinating for many reasons. Bringing female artists into focus now is so important, to celebrate them and how amazing their triumphs were at a time when women were not celebrated is valuable. More about Elisabeth

A Woman of Letters

“One must, in one’s life, make a choice between boredom and suffering.”
~Germaine de Staël


Are we not again in the age where we are of need of Women of Letters? Where we have a need to gather in a salon and discuss the next age of reason and enlightenment?

This conversation can't happen in social media or in the ethers. It needs to happen again where we can see the dilation of someone's pupils and the hear the excitement in their voice.

I got here after following a very obscure trail of breadcrumbs. Doing some research about Marie Antoinette and her portrait artist Elisabeth Louise Vigee Le Brun; I bumped into Germaine de Staël. That is the thing about the late 1700's, you run into everyone.

Stick with me on this one because it gets a bit hair pin turn like here. My children and I have an acronym, CAKE, the letters of our first names which we came up with ages ago. When I went to log into to my iTunes account the other day after an update it begged me for a username which was something new. So after repeated attempts of all my old standards which were taken, I typed in "eat cake", in a semi-annoyed fashioned as a play off of, "let them eat cake". It accepted my off handed offer to my shocked surprised.

I called my oldest daughter telling her I was going to run with it and do a personal brand. Having some fun with it seemed natural since I have a "not in the closet" love for Rococo era everything and would take a job as a professional duster for Versailles, painting conservation and restoration profession aside. So tonight I went down the lovely rabbit hole to do up a little profile photo-ohhh rabbit in Alice's voice-here we go...

-Marie Antoinette's portrait artist's name is Elisabeth (born April)-my first name is Elisa (born April)
-Marie Antoinette was executed on 10/16/1793 on 10/16/2017 I found out my husband was looking into divorce attorneys
-CAKE-see above

Which brings me back to how I bumped into Germaine de Staël. As I moved chronologically through French History and the influence of women, I wondered about the telling of women in history as I often do. Clearly it is told by men, the stories from their male perspective. Like Marie's alleged comment of, "let them eat cake". And in my own life, this very moment, I see how I am so miswritten like the bullshit propaganda handed out by French factions. My own husband is doing the same thing right now to drum up sympathy for himself, maybe not nicely illustrated leaflets but you get the picture. Props to anyone who takes the time to do a nice leaflet these days.

So yes, one must make a choice between boredom and suffering. I hope Marie wasn't telling the peasants to eat cake but the aristocracy that spent so much time criticizing her to fuck off. That is the story I tell myself. That is the Marie I wish her to be.So yes, let them eat cake. I have not had a whole lot of encouragement from the people in my husband's family, or from my husband in the last 7 years. He informed me that he didn't think he could continue to do his personal work while living under the same roof as me and that he has felt this way for the entire year. Napoleon exiled Germaine de Staël from France and Marie Antoinette got her head cut off. At the end of the day I would rather be either of them then spend one day being Napoleon, the men that told lies to slander Marie or my husband.

So gather together women of letters to write a history for yourselves that inspires creativity, compassion and a future that makes men want to be a better version of themselves.



"Scientific progress makes moral progress a necessity; for if man’s power is increased, the checks that restrain him from abusing it must be strengthened."


Disclaimer from the author:It isn't that punctuation isn't important to the author. Grammar and punctuation are one of the backbones of civilized society, but it is always late and I don't often proof my work. I am literally overjoyed to get anything posted at all. If you would like to volunteer to edit my work please send me a message.

I moved Mountains

As the vacancy sign turned on and off
with the paint barely dry and the constant sound of moving furniture
I moved Mountains

While images and prose hurled like fire and brimstone from your computer screen
destroying temple and alter, a cat called Judas purring, lust and with a crush heart
I moved Mountains

Surrounded by outdated volumes of habit, dusty excuses and looped playlists for a different couples dance and tumble in the sheets
I moved Mountains

Pig in a poke, smoke and mirrors perfected to an elevated art form
Unsuspecting honesty lay bear transforming into a clash like Beenie Man and Bounty Killer. Salvation and liberation rejected
I moved Mountains

As grief swirled without comfort and words formed without flight, despair took form-it's ugly shape chosen
A cancer, a gun took our laughter and security- it left us shocked and bear
I moved Mountains

Raised by Narcissus and loved by Peter Pan left little food for the boyish man and even less to learn how to feed another
Twisted by lack and greed, out of need and respite-the walls went up for boy needed to hid and stay hidden he still is for the heart forgot the warmth of love and when love appeared out came fear
I moved Mountains

As she laid in the grass with her little wings being poked thru with holes and no haven, she waited-she just needed one person to say no for her to help her repair so she could fly
The seamstress was invisible so she never saw Her face as she walked away without a thank you and still
I moved Mountains

Undiagnosed. Unseen the little boy fights the demons, hungry and unable to sleep he waited too. As the tribe descended in unity, they claimed him and accepted him and his demons, calling them by name and never to live in the shadows again. The boy sits at the feast with the tribe with his new presence of acceptance growing and he is seen. She will always be his Mother now, the Mother of his shadows that brought the light
I moved Mountains

The My collective silently watched with reservation, respectfully hopeful. Compassionate forgiveness of sins with their quick laughter and joy their ever constant companion as they welcomed our newest ray of sunshine. Our little gift left at our door step, the easy smile with sticky handfuls of dandelions. His undeniable commitment slowly eroded by crippling personal unhappiness and still
I moved Mountains

The journey felt long and full. She had arrived at a place of strength and surrendered to service. She had been delivered, to the boy dressed as a husband, and the girl with the torn wings and the child a shade of grey. She went to work and used all she had, emptied her heart, shone her light, remembered who she was and her gifts. She thought she spent her last dime although she was forgotten by them along the way. Then she remembered.

She is wealthy. She has all the love she needs because she has been granted all the Universe has. She was meant to be here for her as well. She learned all those lessons for all the moments to fix those wings and feed the boy and try to touch and warm the man.

She holds the little sticky hand that has dropped the dandelions and holds a paper airplane now as she walks past the Mountain

and smiles

Thank you

November is writing month

Officially it is about writing a novel. Well that isn't going to happen. I did start one, and I have notes but no where is there time to write 1,667 words per day in the month of November. Are they fucking joking me?

So I thought it would just be a month of writing, a sort of cathartic and creative and maybe just amusing. It might get a bit sad or punch him in the face but I make no apologies because it's my blog. And I am counting this entry, writing about writing which is a bit dollar store but I love shopping at the dollar store so there it is.  

It's my bright idea to get things moving. 

I guess I need to add that many of these photos are taken by me so don't use them without written permission. Don't be an ass.

It's always the next chapter

I abandoned this blog for a variety of reasons. The brightest was being burned at the stake. My partner, who became my husband did nothing to save my name which in hindsight might have been a warning sign. I don't actually need anyone to fight for me, but allies are always a good thing in battle and it has been a battle for 7 years now. 
Out of the ashes I rise like a Phoenix, screech towards the sky and take flight again. 

A new day, the same fight and I ask myself very similar questions about humanity. As the context or faces change in my life and I see the kindness and the smiles drain away, I wonder when people will wake up. 

When will they see each other, the sameness? When will they allow the divide to melt away and begin to understand that the separateness that they feel is an illusion?

I was going to start in a new and fresh place to write and post. A new beginning of sorts but the changed my mind. I'll just dip back into the past 7 years like a dream sequence in a movie instead, maybe disjointed and a little out of sync with time but then again isn't all memory like that at some point? 

Seven years later, I might not have chosen my throne wisely.