Sleep, sweet sleep. Ahhhh.


I can’t believe how well I’ve been sleeping.  Except for the night I went out dancing and drank a little too much.  But I’ve been getting 7 hours of good sleep every night, with no problem.

To me, the ability to sleep well is such an indicator of healing.  For months after and during all the drama with S, I was taking 10 mg of Ambien every night to get 5 or 6 hours of sleep, and it didn’t always work.  Now, I just go to sleep within minutes of turning my light out at night.  It shows me, more than anything, how much I have let go, forgiven, moved on.  It’s also helpful to know that I still have measures in place so that I can’t hear from, or get involved in any drama with, him or her.  The energy connection is still there, like the ringing in my ears (that I have because I am mostly deaf in one ear) but I am now able to just tune it out.  Never thought I could do that, but I can.

I messaged the Florida realtor last night, and told her I accepted the counter offer. The seller is going to hook up the gas to the stove/oven and to the hot water heater, which will cost her.  Plus she’s going to upgrade the electric at the same time.  So, I agreed that I’d meet her half way as she asked, between my original offer and my new offer.  I told the realtor, let’s get this done, I don’t want to fool around with it any more.

My house here won’t sell for what I’d hoped.  More than I bought it for but not enough to recoup all my money after I pay the realtor and state conveyance tax, which is 1% of the sale price.  But I’ll still be ok, there will still be enough there to do what I planned.

Moving on down the road.  And into the shower, gotta go to work.  🙂

Love and light.




Along For The Ride



Crazy day.  I went back to work for 4 hours after the emergency room visit.  Then I raced home to meet with my realtor at my house at 6 PM..  I won’t be listing it for what I’d hoped, the market it just swarmed with houses in this price range.  But not a lot less.  I’ll be fine.  She made a bunch of suggestions most of which I was doing anyway.

As soon as she left I heard from the Florida realtor.  All is progressing as I’d like it to there.

It’s coming together.  I can’t even say “slow but sure” because since I went to Florida it’s moving at light speed.  I feel like I am being pulled along some hyper drive pathway at the moment.  It’s kinda cool, actually.  I’m not expending a ton of effort, it seems it’s just falling into place.

When I came home to get my son, the guy was here looking at the lawn and flower and shrubs beds, and he said he’ll give me a call, to give me prices.  Happy about that!

So where am I?  Moving at light speed from the old stuff.  Stuff which kept me down, kept me insecure, kept me fearful, and unfulfilled. Every day those emotions seem more foreign to me, to who I am, to what I want to do with my life.  I feel armed now, with the knowledge of how intensely I am capable of loving someone, of the knowledge of how to let trust be built with another person, and the joy that comes when pain no longer exists.

Life is changing so fast, but it’s changing in the direction that I’m comfortable with.  It’s not freaking me out, it’s actually calming me.  Kinda cool.  I’m just along for the ride of a lifetime.

Love and light.

One of Those Days…

Those days…..where you find yourself in the emergency room with your 23 yr old son, waiting for someone to glue his finger together. I told him you really shouldn’t try to patch a hole in the wall with a Swiss Army knife. A real one, a gift from someone he knows in Switzerland. Sharp. Very sharp. 

Sigh…. After 45 minutes, glued and splinted. And I get to go back to work. 😳😏🙃🤕

Being Propelled Forward

lip of insanity

I have not been able to keep up with people’s blogs lately, I hope once the house is on the market I have a little more time.  I get the notices on my phone app, in my email, and I save them all to read, and pretty soon I have like 20 to read.  So, I’m apologizing for ignoring them.  I guess its one reason I want to retire, so I have the time to keep up with everyone.

The realtor is coming tonight.  We’ll probably sign a contract, settle on an asking price for my house.  She sold me the house, so knows it well, and she lives across the street from me.  It should be an easy meeting.

We had book club last night.  The other girls had to go early, so it was over by 8:30.  We are reading The Tapping Solution by Nick Ortner.  It’s about EFT tapping, tapping your self along the energy meridians also used in accupunture etc.  It’s apparently very effective for changing habits, undoing phobias, healing actual physical ailments.  I have always had my own way of dealing with trauma, which has involved going within, sitting with it, letting it bubble up and go.  Reiki and gong baths, and meditation.  But it would be good to have other modalities as well, because I have had nights where I tried all of that but could not get to sleep, and would have tried tapping instead of taking an Ambien, (which sometimes even didn’t work.)

Hopefully, I have left all that trauma in the past.  It feels like it.  I’m feeling very mellow this morning.  It’s so hard to let go of things, but I believe I have.  The psychic who told me to grieve if I need to grieve, and to nurture myself, followed by all those dreams, seem to have propelled me through the door that I couldn’t get open.  Maybe it’s like Rumi says, “I have lived on the lip of insanity, wanting to know reasons, knocking on a door.  It opens. I was knocking from the inside.”

Yes, pretty sure that was the problem.

Love and light.

House Update

The mold report on my Florida house came back all clear.  I am now officially getting excited!  This was the only deal killer there could have been.  Tomorrow the realtor goes back and tries to get the price reduced because of the inspection report on the electric needing upgrading.

So grateful.  So blessed.  And, feeling so graced….to watch this dream manifest.  I’ve had this dream for a few years now, and to watch it actually taking form is just amazing.  I felt the same when I moved into this house. I had so long dreamed of having a beautiful home.  The home I lived in with my ex for 30 years, should have been a show place.  A cute house with limitless possibilities on an acre on a lake.  We had the money at one time to make it a home out of Better Homes.  But when I left, most of the windows were ready to fall out of the house.  The plumbing was original in a 75 year old house, springing leaks all the time.  The walls were soot covered from a basement fire in the summer of 2006.  He refused to buy paint, or have it painted.  He got $50K from the insurance company for that fire.  I never saw a dime.  We had a fight over buying new window shades.  The yard was terraced with stone walls, down to the lake we lived on.  the walls were crumbling, he wouldn’t lift a finger. The living room carpet was 15 years old, and looked it.  All the furniture had come from his parents old Florida condo.  It was 30 years old.  And looked it.  The kitchen….OMG, the kitchen, could barely be called that.  The oven had been broken for years.  The stove had 2 burners which worked, and one of those did not work well.  The dishwasher was broken.  The freezer had long since died.  The only reason there was a refrigerator was because one of my friends gave me hers when she replaced it.

My ex lived by the creed that when something stopped working, you just lived without it. After I moved out, and he came into a considerable amount of money, he bought a meat smoker.  Not a new oven, or stove, or a dishwasher, or freezer.  A smoker.

So, when I moved in here I was in heaven.  I had new furniture, which I alone had picked out with a little input from my son.  This was my house, I picked out the furniture, the colors of the walls, the style of the house.  The thing I’ve loved the most were the skylights that let the sun pour into my living room from the vaulted ceiling, and allow the full moonlight to cast the moonglow across the floor.  The back of the house faces south, allowing the morning sun to pour through the kitchen windows.

I have been happy here.

And now I’ll be happy in Florida. I will be happy being a mile from the ocean.  I will be happy not working, or not working much.  I will be happy, living where it never gets cold.  Riding a bike around.  Wearing shorts almost every day.  Or maybe even a dress.

Actually, I am a pretty happy person.  If I get unhappy, I know I’ll find my way out.  I always have.  I always will.  Joy comes from within.

Life is good.  Love and light.

More Manipulation from My Son’s Father


My ex’s cousin called me last night as I was leaving work.  I haven’t talked to her as much lately, because she’s been spending a lot of time in Boston to be near her kids.

She told me that my ex-husband called her sister in Florida on Easter, and wanted to know how he could get closer to my son. Also, called his sister, asking the same thing.

This is interesting, because neither of these women EVER talks to my son. The cousin has never met my son. My ex’s sister, who lives 35 miles away, has not talked to my son in 10 years. Just a lack of interest. So why he would think either of these people could offer any useful advise I don’t know. But then, I know my ex. He is doing it to build sympathy for himself, with the few people who will talk to him. It is not a case of wanting to know, really. Because he knows. I told him.

I told him that my son said his father should write him a letter. I explained to him, clearly, that he has to remember and acknowledge that he was brutal to my son. He was extremely emotionally abusive, and became physically abusive as well, though it was kept secret from me until my son came to live with me. But it was one reason my son walked from his father and never went back.

I told my ex that his son needs to see him go out on a limb for him. To write him a letter, that he can read over and over, that he can hold on to. Address the issues. Become vulnerable, to take a chance. I told him it may not work, but it may. If he doesn’t try, there is no chance. If he tries there is some chance that they will reconcile. My ex wants to find some for sure way that my son will respond positively to him. He doesn’t understand that it will take a long time for my son, even if he writes the letter.

I don’t know why he refuses to write to my son. Well, that’s not true. Because when words are written, they are recorded. They make him accountable. Another reason is because I’m the one who told him that’s what to do, a message I was relaying from my son. As with most people who are abusive, he doesn’t trust the people who he most should. He trusts his alcoholic cousin or his very aloof sister, more than me, who would love nothing more than for the two of them to reconcile, at least to a level where they would talk.

If the situation were reversed, I would have written a letter every day. I would have filled the mailbox til the post office asked me to stop. I would have taken that doorway, and run through it toward my son.

But my ex, instead, is simply trying to manipulate the emotions of anyone he can into feeling sorry for him. “Oh the poor man, he’s all alone. His ex-wife must be influencing his son not to talk to him.” Because he still thinks we are competing for my son’s affection. Even though he himself used to complain that I was absolutely non-competitive (he was a nationally ranked swimmer at one time, and was raised on competition, not only in sports but among his two siblings, who competed for their parents love.) I know my son loves me, and I would love if my son could love his father, and have a real father in his life. But with my ex, it’s all about manipulation. It’s not about the real business of healing and rebuilding his relationship with my son.

I have told my son that I’d really be happy if we were all at least speaking to each other before we all moved. He has promised me that he is going to tell his father that he’s moving before he goes. That’s something. That’s my son, once again, going out on a limb for his father, and speaks to the fact that my son still loves his father, even though he can’t bring himself to talk to him right now. That the abuse, and the chaos his father brings to his life is still hurtful, is still there. My son lived for his father as a child. He did everything and far more than his father ever asked him to, but he could never please him. He could never meet a constantly moving bar that had to be met for his father to love him. His father has done nothing to alleviate that pain.

I couldn’t meet the bar either. At some point, I realized that that moving bar was just a tool of manipulation, to feed his ego. My son knows it too. My son has found his way. I believe that the last 8 years of living with unconditional love, and none of the chaos, have allowed him to find himself.

I have been wondering, since last night, if I should call my ex and talk to him again about writing his son. But….no. His ego would be boosted to know people have talked to me concerned for him. And would do nothing to resolve their relationship, because as long as his ego is being fed, there will be no movement toward reconciliation. As long as he is the center of attention of his cousins, his sister, and me, he will have enough ego boost, that just complaining that he is so sad that my son won’t talk to him is all he will do. He won’t make a move toward him.

I know the man well, after 40 years.

I used to think when my son was small, that a 2 parent family is infinitely better than a single parent. And of course, that’s true if both parents are normal loving people. But if one is dysfunctional, and abusive, and so damaged, it is far better for a child to have one parent that can love him unconditionally than stay in the middle of the chaos a sociopathic, narcissistic, abusive alcoholic can cause.

I hope my ex can see the light some day. But my hope for him is slight. He has lost everything, his marriage, his son, his house, his business, his yacht, and lives in a 500 sq foot rented cottage with no heat now. You’d think at some point he’d rethink the way he lives his life, and maybe do a little soul searching. If it hasn’t happened with all that loss…I can’t imagine what, if anything, could change him.

I’m so grateful that I got out when I did. And got my son out. Just so grateful.

Love and light.

Beth Hart and Joe Bonamassa

When I went to Florida I stayed for a couple of nights with a friend from high school who lives in the town I’m moving to.  Turns out she’s been singing the blues at local places around there for over a year.  One of her favorite female blues singers is Beth Hart.  I have to sheepishly admit I did not know her.  My friend put on a few youtube videos of her, one was with Jeff Beck at the Kennedy Center honoring Buddy Guy. I realized I had seen it, live, because it was way tooo fabulous not to burn a spot into your psyche.

Needless to say, I’m looking forward, really forward, to going with my friend to see her sing.

Anyway after she played the Hart-Beck Kennedy Center video,  she “introduced” me to Joe Bonamassa, except when I heard him, I remembered that Scott had already introduced me to him, and I loved him.  One of those moments where we weren’t having sex, lol.  Listening to and discussing music.  With our clothes on!  (Ok sometimes we were naked, but not having sex, lol. Just sayin’ it wasn’t what some people wanted to believe it was!) OMG, and we did that with books too!  Anyway, my friend played the video below, and all I can think when I hear it, is damn…that was me last fall.  October 3.  And damn, I want to love someone else like that.  Except, I don’t want to ever have to watch him walk away again.

Listen to it…I bet you’ll feel the same.