My Thoughts

 Lost potential and opportunities that I wish would have presented themselves…..  There is just so much to say and not enough words. Where would my life be if things had just been different? What would it have taken to actually score the one boy in my class that could’ve altered my life path?? I started this July 2025 right after a funeral for a classmate and the devastating Kerrville flooding.  I was haunted for weeks by the lost potential.  The Tragedy of the "Almost" I believe the saddest tragedy in the world isn't always what we lose; it’s what we never had the chance to become. I grieve for the lost potential—in the world, in the people I love, and most acutely, in myself. It is a quiet, persistent ache for the opportunities that never knocked and the doors that were locked before I even reached for the handle. The Boy and the Altered Path I find myself thinking about a specific boy from my class years ago. It’s not just a crush; it’s a symbol. I wonder:  W...

 It has literally been "years" since I sat still enough to blog.  I miss it; it's hard to put into words the power of journaling and the effect of not journaling on my over restless brain.  Today is December 23, Christmas Eve Eve.  Ha "Eve Eve".  I am alone in my kitchen, nursing my Dirty Chai Tea Latte, listening to instrumental Christmas music and pondering deeply. Who am I? What does it all mean? What do I do with it all, anyway? Where do I go next? Is it ok to let go of a long-held dream? So, in. no particular order. In the last 27 months, I have lost 3 siblings, my dear uncle, my best friend / neighbor and 2 distant cousins.  I don't want to minimize the distant cousins, but I knew them, was close once to the parents (my cousins) and have childhood memories attached to them.  As for my siblings and uncle, those deaths have ranged from severely tragic to old age, and each has in some way affected me beyond comprehension.  Grief is funny that w...

The Currency of Survival Growing up in the shadow of addiction and narcissism, I wasn't taught that love or help was a free gift. I was taught that it was a trade. In my house, there was no such thing as a "favor." There was only "the debt." If you needed something—safety, time, a crumb of affection—you had to pay for it with your own autonomy. For a Gen X kid raised in that dysfunction, "I owe you" isn't just a phrase; it’s a shackle. The Granddaughter and the Conference Period Recently, I asked for an hour to attend an award ceremony for my granddaughter. A simple request. A human request. Later that day, I was asked to surrender my conference period to cover another class. When I tried to hold my boundary, I was told: “Well, I let you go to that ceremony, so you owe me this.” That sentence didn't just annoy me. It "wrangled" my spirit. It felt like a trap I’d been running from for fifty years. The Lie of the "Goodness Ba...