Witness protection

As the nerves slowly take over and I can no longer function

I concentrate to keep my body from revolting

It takes everything not to scream and run for the door

My mind begins to wander with a million what if disaster scenarios

And I am brought back to myself

my fears washed away when my eyes meet those familiar eyes

I am blessed with the all reassuring smile

that confirms everything will be okay

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I can’t stand me


I can’t me…..

when my ego runs wild, doing it’s best to convince me of all the ways I am broken, lost, damage, no good, not worthy.  Feeding my fears, insecurity by insecurity.  Unrelentless judgment (of everyone and everything) Ridicule.  Shame and guilt.  She’s can be cruel and heartless.  The constant reminders of all the reasons why I must do and be and on and on she goes…

That’s when I can’t stand me.

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Reason to believe



She exists.  Even if she is a faint memory.  She is always there.  Watching.  Waiting.  Wishing.  She is the angel you forget about.  The angel you cling to.  Because at the end of everyday, there are those who love unconditionally.  Those who make the world a better place.  And then there are those who eagerly await your return.  All because of love.  She is there.  She is always there.  Sometimes, you just have to look.

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Oh today’s daily prompt: Counting Voices. 

murder of crows

I often break the quiet solitude with my own voice.  Processing my thoughts and writings out loud.  Talking to dog or cat.  With that being said, I love a good, no wait an engaging conversation.  I find these best with two people.  The kind of conversation that could last forever, as you move back and forth, listening to each other and sharing thoughts, ideas and feelings.  And at times disagreements.  I have also had wonderful interactions in groups, working together towards a common goal.  Large groups, 6 or more, are not my thing, people talking over each other, people fighting to be heard.  Who can talk the loudest.  This bothers me.  The fakeness of people, pretending to listen, to care.  Waiting their turn to be heard.

I’ll take an intimate personal conversation, one on one, connecting and sharing any day, any time, any place.  Or my own voice, as I process and create.

Okay, I admit it!

Nick Swardson (link to his funny or die page, just to give you taste of his comedy) has a joke about a picky old lady pushing food away and saying, “I don’t like it.”  This is my family’s joke for me. Whenever we go out to eat, they push pretend plates of food away saying, in a little old lady voice, “I don’t like it.”   Even my co-workers don’t ask me to order out with them anymore, because “I don’t eat anything.”  I use to fight it.  But I give in.  Yes, I am a picky eater.  Even before I became vegan, I was still extremely picky.  I have never liked eggs, ew.  Milk, ew.  Meat, never really liked it, ate it because I was expected to, social norms and all.  The meat that I dislike the most, dare I say it?  The most beloved meat of all, bacon, ew! But wait it doesn’t stop there.  I don’t like broccoli, ew.  Cauliflower, ew.  Beets, ew.  Radishes, ew.  Now you are probably wondering what do I eat?  I love seitan.  Ever had it?  It is viral wheat gluten, sounds gross, but it’s good, trust me.  And you can trust me, because I am picky, I don’t eat gross foods. Buffalo seitan is the best.  If you haven’t had it find a local vegetarian/vegan restaurant and see if they have it.  If you read me blog post The Meal, you know I love sweets.  I am a sugar addict.  So there you go, a glimpse into the world of a picky eater.

I hope this post made you laugh, I intended for it to be funny, to poke fun at myself, because you have to be able to laugh at yourself!  You can find more picky eater stories on the Daily Post Mouths Wide Shut.