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Hey Guys and Dolls,

If you suffer from Anxiety, Depression, PTSD, or any mental illness, my podcast may be of value to you. Find it on iTunes, Google Play and wherever you listen to podcasts.

Click here to listen, subscribe and donate

Also, if you’re in that group of humans who continues to human every day and every night while fighting your fight, I salute you.

You motherfucking WARRIOR, you.

Love. xo

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Fear Itself

Thanks to everyone who has supported the book! If you haven’t already please get your copy here and keep my enterprise going!

In other AWESOME news, I have a new podcast! It’s called the Fear Itself podcast and it’s available on iTunes, Google Play and everywhere you listen to your favorite podcasts.

Please have a listen and please subscribe and support! We are already reaching a good amount of people with the truth about healing anxiety!

Story of My Life

I wrote a book.

Not just any book…I wrote THE book.

The one that’s been on my heart for years.  The one I was put here on Earth to write.

The Story of My Life

I published it myself on Amazon.

Please check it out.

If you or someone you love suffers from Anxiety or any other Mental Illness, it may help.  Even if it doesn’t, I hope you find your own path to healing.

Love and Light. xo

Quiet Desperation

Most men lead lives of quiet desperation.

Although well known and oft-repeated, that’s actually a misquote.  Thoreau wrote, in Walden, that “The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation.” Here is the full quote, in context:

The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation. What is called resignation is confirmed desperation. From the desperate city you go into the desperate country, and have to console yourself with the bravery of minks and muskrats. A stereotyped but unconscious despair is concealed even under what are called the games and amusements of mankind. There is no play in them, for this comes after work. But it is a characteristic of wisdom not to do desperate things.

Thoreau was talking about the void we all feel and the common impulse most humans feel to try and fill it with material things.  Walden is a journal of sorts, detailing his time in the woods and away from modern society, searching for inner peace and finding himself and new perspective there.

walden

A friend and I were discussing this “quiet desperation” quote last night, as we discussed our respective marriages and marriage in general.  Our conversation focused on the complacency that occurs after years of seeing the ins and outs and annoying habits of another human being’s existence.  I think it’s so common for husbands and wives to leave the runway together, aimed for the stars and the experience of a lifetime, only to land early on a makeshift dirt runway in a place just outside Settle Town, USA.

Was that too obnoxious an analogy? Maybe so, but you get what I’m saying.  If most new brides and grooms begin the marriage with the best of intentions – which I believe is the case – how do so many of us end up in a ditch somewhere, disoriented and disheartened and what our lives have become?

I’m not even talking about 10 years in, guys.  I myself have been married for 9 years, but the trouble started brewing quite a while ago and I don’t think we’re unique in that.  I talk to so many men and women – friends, colleagues, acquaintances – who are at most, content in their marriages and at worse, extremely unhappy and in some cases, depressed.  Most of them are not seeking divorce.  They just want to live their best lives and they want to do it with a willing partner who shares their interests and passions.

[Side note: For some reason, whenever I hear the term “quiet desperation” in my head the Queensryche song “Silent Lucidity” starts playing.  Interestingly, the song is about lucid dreaming, which is being able to consciously control what happens in your dreams.  So in a way, it’s related. ]

The “quiet desperation” quote came up discussing marriage because my friend and I were connecting on some shared issues.  The others I’ve spoken with relate to the same issues and experiences, too.  Even though all these people are having this same experience, none of them (none of us) are really talking about it.  It’s a secret struggle.  There is so much irony in something so commonplace and universal being something we hold inside and keep to ourselves and work to camouflage on social media.

Let’s don’t lead lives of quiet desperation any longer.  Let’s start talking to each other, and communicating with our spouses, and stepping outside the confines of the rules of marriage if that’s what it takes.  The only time that exists is the present, and it’s crap to waste it wondering if we are loved, wondering if we had married someone else, would we be vacationing in Mykonos right now instead of stuck at home washing dishes for an ungrateful partner.  That’s not life.  That’s not what life is for!

So how to we get back in the air?  How to do get out of Settle Town and back en route to our dreams and wildest fantasies (hopefully together with our chosen partners)?  Honesty!  Speaking our truth!  I think we all have to learn to be uncomfortable for a moment in order to be blissfully happy for a lifetime.

Believing we are alone is what fosters our desperation.  In truth, nothing is singular and everything is shared.  We are all connected.  We are all pieces of the same consciousness having several different (but oddly similar) human experiences.  As Thoreau said, we would be wise not to do desperate things.  We would be wise to realize that we are not alone, and the future is what we make it.

I’m rambling, so I’ll leave it there.  Namaste and happy Monday!  XOXO

 

Purging

As “Baby” Francis Houseman memorably pleaded to her father, that detective from Law and Order, “If you love me you have to love all the things about me…” So, for those of you who love me, hold on. Shit’s about to get real.

I am bulimic.

Not currently and not consistently (anymore), but I consider saying “I am bulimic” to be the same sort of declaration as “I am an addict” or “I am an alcoholic”. It is something that I will likely fight forever and something that occupies a lot of headspace on particularly trying days.

I’m writing this tonight because I had a mini-epiphany while journaling for the new moon and eclipse. It’s a time of letting go, a time of releasing things that no longer serve us. You know what doesn’t serve me? What has nothing to do with my highest good? Fucking bulimia.

It’s a habit. It’s a coping mechanism. It’s a remnant from days gone by, when I was struggling to stay afloat in an awful relationship, to find myself, and to meet some pretty outrageous demands that I had stacked on my own shoulders.

Bulimia calmed my anxiety. It helped me grieve. It gave me focus. Enabled my depression and apathy and – quite incredibly – created a kind-of force field around my heart. The people closest to me didn’t know what I was doing because the disease that was destroying me was sneakily camouflaging itself. How outrageous is that?

Bulimia is a bitch. Sometimes,due to the force of the vomiting, blood vessels in my eye would burst. I had a seizure. Then another, and another. I went blind temporarily. I thought I died and went to heaven once. My heart skips and sometimes I’m terrified to think what I may have damaged internally. Why do I keep coming back to her?

At least a million times I vowed to stop. A million times I broke the vow. When my son was born I promised to do better. I broke that promise. Even now, when I feel I am more or less in control of my urges, I can hear bulimia whisper to me. “You’re fat”, she says. “Don’t take care of yourself, you’ll feel deprived.” And my favorite – “Eating this whole box of Cheerios and then purging will make you forget all about (Problem XYZ).”

I’ve struggled so long, I figured I always would. Like an addict. An alcoholic. I didn’t like my disordered eating habits, but I figured they were just a part of me.

Recently, all of that began to change. I experienced a shift inside. My heart, my soul, my mind are all transforming. I’ve learned a lot about myself and about how powerful I am, how this abundant universe really works and how to speak things into existence. I’ve learned that I am (and can be) whatever I decide, and that I can change course at any time by simply deciding to turn and go another way. I have found freedom lies in this sort of awakening.

Simply put, there’s no room in my new life for my old habits, hurts, of regrets. I am grateful for the lessons, and let them go.

Tonight, with this magical new moon in the sky representing new dreams and releasing past wounds, I intend to release this disease along with the negative and controlling thoughts, and the shame that accompany it. Tonight’s the night I will step into a new identity. Tonight I am finally ready to say I love myself – and all the things about me.

An Open Letter to Shitty Husbands, Vol. 14

Must Be This Tall To Ride

(Image/hellopretty.co.za)

Because I failed to create any type of plan or structure to ensure preparation and acknowledgment of special occasions like Valentine’s Day, our wedding anniversary, my wife’s birthday, etc., my epic ADD-ness, procrastination and sometimes lack of money created a bunch of negative or lackluster moments in my marriage.

When two people are in a romantic partnership together, there’s always a little bit of give-and-take as it’s impossible and impractical for each partner to satisfy exactly half of all shared responsibilities.

But when someone doesn’t get anything back when they give, give, give, they eventually run out of energy. They eventually stop giving.

Until the final couple of years of our marriage that I should have (but didn’t) recognize as the End Times, my wife was always incredibly thoughtful and an organized planner about almost everything, including things specifically for me.

It wasn’t a courtesy that I returned. I’m…

View original post 964 more words

Hitchhikers

There was a meteor shower last night.

Did you see it?  Did you notice them?  Were you, like my family, standing outside, looking up, ignoring the icy cold in order *hopefully* catch a glimpse of something magical?

We stood in the parking lot, the four of us, looking up.  We laughed and talked and danced.  Yes, we danced to stay warm.  We counted twinkles, identified constellations, and hugged each other while giggling about the possibility that if we kept our gaze up long enough, our necks might get stuck this way.

We connected and played and enjoyed each other, imagining dragons as we exhaled smoky white clouds of breath.  We talked about distant planets and galaxies and the undiscovered life that might be staring up at us at the same time.  There were jokes about aliens, stories of great Roman warriors who now live among the stars, and scientific questions about just what those stars are made of and why they appear to twinkle.

I saw one!  I was looking in the right  place at the right time, and I saw a star go from here to there, ever so quickly and quietly.  Before I could point it out to anyone, it was gone.  I mumbled a belated wish to the heavens, but the truth is that in that moment, with my tribe, I was already living my best life. What else could I ask for?

The Gemenid meteor shower came and went, and we lugged our chilly bodies up the stairs to our front door and into the warm, welcoming space we currently call home. Each of us tiptoed like baby birds to our respective nests, and without any more mention of stars, prepared for bedtime.

As I lie in bed waiting for sleep to come, I realized the depth and importance of what felt in the moment like goofiness…

Moments like this are what make childhoods worth reminiscing on.  Moments like this become memories that will amuse us, comfort us, remind us for the rest of our lives of the happy, silly time we had “that night”, looking up at the sky, cracking up at what the neighbors must be thinking about us, musing that we might be waiting for our mother-ship to come and whisk us away to the next universe. (Did we bring towels?)

Yes, the stars showed up and twinkled brightly for us, but it was we who brought magic to the night.

Shooting-Stars

 

 

Happy Day!

I’m vegan, and part Native American so tomorrow is a different day for me.  I’ll still be gathering with my lovely family and eating LOTS of things, as well as concentrating on being thankful and in the moment.

No animal products, and a prayer for those who lost their lives in the “civilization” of our nation.

Here are some links on gratitude, veganism, how you can support the remaining tribesmen and women, and blessing loved ones with love and light, if you’re into that sort of thing.  If you’re reading this, I love you and I hope your day, however you choose to spend it, is full of joy, fellowship, and delicious food.

Ball of Light Blessing (Audio Only)

30 Vegan Thanksgiving Recipes

Native American Rights Fund (NARF)

Wild Spirit Wolf Sanctuary

One last thought: In the hustle and bustle of the holidays, please remember two important days that come AFTER Black Friday.  The 25th is Small Business Saturday, a day to support small businesses, shop local and purchase thoughtful, sustainable gifts for loved ones.  The 28th is Giving Tuesday, a day designated for supporting whatever causes you believe in, so please choose a charity near and dear to your heart and rain down love and affection (and generosity!) on them.  It will come back to you tenfold.

You are light

You are love

You are MAGIC.

 

Thankful and Hungry,

Jenee

Jumper

I leapt off a bridge today.  I let some people know I was going to do it.

“Sorry to hear that,” they said.

I held my breath, close my eyes, and thrust myself forward, into the cool air.

I felt myself falling.  It felt good.  Refreshing.  Right.

My toes hit the water and quickly after, my whole body was submerged.

This is right. This is right. This is right. – I told myself.

Now, looking up at the bridge from the water, the thrill subsiding, the moment has passed and I feel something like regret.  I wish someone had asked me not to jump.

They’ll be talking about it today, telling each other of my decision and sharing the details and the gossip.  Life will go on, with one minor adjustment.

“Sorry to hear that,” they’ll say.

resentment

i don’t know

what to do || how to move || when to breathe

and i’m angry

that you don’t see

the truth of me

 

anymore