Feeling Fierce: Strength-o-metre is at 11 out of 10 today.

I outsmart the fear. I grow with every passing minute. I trust the growing strength inside of me.

I honour the growing strength inside of me.

I surrender my need to control through fear.

I honour my will. I honour my SELF. I honour my LIFE.





100 Followers, 100 Thank Yous!

Dearest YOU,  Blogger Community…. Thank You For Following! 

I never could have imagined that an anonymous blog could be so cathartic… and healing… and rewarding. It means so much to me! (Like, maybe too much? LOL)


Fellow bloggers – you are AWESOME!!!! 100 Followers strong and every single follow has brought me more strength and more courage. 

Through you I am able to feel confident, where all my confidence had been lost.

Through you I am connected, where before I was feeling so isolated.

Through you I remember who I am and see the beauty of being-true-to-oneself through reading about who you are.

Through you I believe that a ‘better life’ is possible, if I believe.

Because of you I feel even more able to stand on my own two feet for the first time in my whole entire life. As long as I can be me, and you can be you – nothing can really go wrong.

I started this blog because I was quitting drinking in an effort to save my marriage. I was also going through the process of publishing my book (still am). And to top it all off, I was adjusting to a new life in luxury travel marketing at a pretty swanky organization (still adjusting, it’s a pretty intimidating world! We have yacht sized conference room tables! ).

But a few weeks ago, my life changed massively and permanently, and don’t think I would have been able to escape my situation without this blog in the background, and all of you somehow rooting for me? I have felt secure somehow, in this nest of non-judgemental bloggers who all have their own human struggles!

I have not regretted. I have barely cried. I have barely stopped mind you!! But I know I am moving in the direction of becoming a healthier, saner, more balanced person – and mother – who will be better equipped to give something back to the world for having gone through it.

In honour of you all I am going to start sharing some of the strength I have been gathering… tonight I’ve decided that I’m going to start volunteering at a women’s shelter. Through all of this, I have been aware that having a great job is a MAJOR difference between what happens to me next and what happens to women without financial security. I pledge to share this strength with others…. and help empower more people to say no to suffering, say yes to life…. and become the beautiful people they were born be.


One step forward, eleventy steps back.

J and I used to joke a lot about eleventy. It was our mythical infinite.

I always felt like he didn’t have enough love in him for both me and our daughter. When she was born, it all transferred. She became ‘honey’; it was really weird. He’d tell her he loved her multiple times per day.

I became the person who cared for her, and in his eyes the job I did was somehow always turning up sub-par. House not clean enough, etc. He would make comments like “it’s too bad nobody cleans your shoes.”

I’m so sad. Grieving. Hurting for what I know can never be…

He’s deleted all my pictures from Facebook, erased any evidence of me, and it makes me feel like a disease.

I’m so alone… in part, yes, because of this relationship and the isolation I had to create around myself to endure my own lie. But as long as I had us, I had something.

I know that new things will come, friends, hobbies, a life…. the ability to enjoy the days again. The anxiety will subside. The uprooting will re-root, but my god… I feel like napalm.

I’m seriously heading for a mid-life crisis. So much is riding on these days, these weeks, these moments, and I just want to curl up into a ball…. move to a small town… work at Starbucks. I hate that my job is so visible and I have to perform all the time. Seriously just want to hide away.

I hope that someone or something is watching over me, because I’m listening and looking and waiting for the signs. Ok to be fair I am also obsessively stalking Facebook, Twitter, Linked In, and Instagram instead of soul searching. My bad.

Tomorrow…….. phone free, Just me.

Vulnerable. hate that very word.

I just read that narcissistic personality disorder fades over time and is diminishing by the 40’s and 50s. Maybe there is hope for him, for us…… (man, do I ever SUCK today, but I just don’t want to have to go through this.)


My own two feet? Never met ’em. Till now.

It doesn’t really matter who you choose to love and love you, what matters is what you believe love is and isn’t, because you will explore that boundary. Love pushes you there.

Life pushes you there.

Once J and I had set our sights on each other, it was a done deal. We were the most in love, the wildest and craziest truest romance.

We watched True Romance on the plane ride home from our wedding in Mexico. We’re like that, we thought. Meant to be. I had found my Clarence Worley; dangerous, brave and all.


The first line of my wedding vow? (Don’t barf). I never dreamed I’d meet my perfect prince. But here you are. Standing before me in all your kindness and brilliance and strength…… 

(Did you barf?)

It’s ironic how many people get married without talking to each other about what love means to them, where the boundaries are, and what nurtures them vs. destroys them.

It’s even more ironic how many people get married knowing full well that something feels wrong, smells wrong, or just plain is wrong – but they can’t run, because it’s like a drug.

For me it was, anyway. On our first vacation together I was so HIGH on HIM that I thought he was slipping roofies into my margaritas. I felt so strange that whole trip. He barely noticed. He sort of glossed over me………. when I wasn’t drinking with him or gallivanting with him, I was extraneous. It was always his world, but his world mattered with me in it. That’s how he made me feel anyway. He showed me things and told me things and made me feel things I’d never even dreamed of.

I couldn’t believe that this handsome, six-foot, blue eyed, beautiful man had chosen me. And yes, he was a little ‘off’ in some ways, not everybody’s cup of tea, but I had a shine for him. Ah yes, the soft spot of having met your perfect match… the person who brings just the right lessons to your life.. those really complex parables that childhood has branded you with.

For me, it was the desire for love and protection from an alpha male. (Let’s say it together now… DADDY ISSUES… har har har… yes I know….)

Before J, my ex boyfriend was a very sweet, very neurotic man, we’re still good friends…. he was not the least bit alpha, and not the least bit capable of offering me any sort of ‘protection.’ His approval was nice, his friendship and companionship was very nice, when he wasn’t depressed, but something in me wanted that brute of a man. Indomitable, a force, someone who made me feel whisked off my feet.

Boy did J ever whisk.

When I left my ex for him, it was such a joke of a scene, now that I think about it. I was an idiot. I packed up a suitcase from the house that I owned with my ex and took it on the subway to some random station, and texted J – “Where are you Superman?”

Can I go back and smack myself??? I learned NOTHING from that break up.

I remember praying so hard that he would come and pick me up and my feet would never touch the ground again. We were in love. He was a whirlwind of a good time. We would drink and talk and drink and talk for hours. This was love. This was drunk love.

He never responded to my text that day. I ended up going to my parents with my suitcase. But later that day, I moved in with him.


D’oh! Why’d you go and do something like that Georgey??

I have never been very good at standing on my own two feet. Always flailing from this to that, not really being strong enough to be alone. Until now. Right now it’s all I want. And when all of this blows over, stabilizes, is all said and done……. I am going to publish my book finally, and then a second and a third… until my own two feet are the best gig in town. Imagine that. I must. I must imagine that.


strong brave new Georgey.

Lost is better than Limping

Hope beyond hope.

The words amicable and reconciliation are falling away from me, replaced by words like court, protection, lawyers.

It is not surreal. It is realer than real. I have my gut instinct back. Not swallowing anymore.

I keep thinking about the early days. When we were in Cuba and one night, very drunk, he got very angry with me because a song had come on the iPod that he didn’t like. It was like it was possessing him. He couldn’t believe that I had liked that song or played that song – something trivial – and he went off the charts. Frothing and flailing and spitting brutal words at me.

I packed my bag, crying, and went downstairs to the lobby. That was it. It was the second time that he went nuts on me in our short life together (6 months at that time).

At some point, as I sat in that lobby, I went back upstairs, not knowing what to do or having the courage to actually leave the son of a bitch in the hotel room and fly home. For whatever reason, I needed him, wanted him… and wanted to prove to myself that I could handle it. I could take it on… I was strong enough to carry that load.

When I went back upstairs he had cut his foot and he was crying. He sputtered something strange like ‘see, you don’t even care…’ (a familiar line, I would learn, after the abuse….).

I put my arms around him and he folded into me. This was to be the nature of our love. Why did I accept it blindly? Was it because I did not know how I should be treated?

And so it was written. And so it was done.

I know that after the dark night of the soul is a sunrise so beautiful it will last a lifetime.


My husband was arrested tonight.


I am writing this from the land of shock, and relief, and more shock.

I am writing this with the understanding that there are so many kinds of domestic violence and abuse, and I am one of millions….. and so many have it worse. Mine has been fairly verbal in nature.

It’s what we do, isn’t it? We make our situation less bad. We normalize it, just like they do. Tonight my husband went downstairs and ate popcorn after holding his hand over my face and calling me a fucking failure.

Who have I been? Where have I gone? How did I come back all of the sudden???

To You – the woman reading this who still believes that if you change a little more or give a little more, things will be ok – I want you to know that it’s not your fault. You are fine. You are more than fine. You still have strength in you or he wouldn’t be interested. They only like the strong souls, and you know it.

To You – the woman who has told people little bits but nobody quite gets it, and although people care, they can’t save you – and deep inside you know that you need to be saved – rescued – helped in some way because you have been so brainwashed and torn apart that you can’t do it alone anymore. And what’s worse – you love him. Listen, it’s love but it’s also brainwashing and addiction, and you know that too, and it’s ok that you are obsessed with him and that you love him, it’s normal. And it’s normal that you want someone to care when you hurt and pick you up off the ground when you’ve been put down so low you feel utterly bewildered by life.

You still believe in him. Do you believe in you? You must believe in you.

To You – the woman who thought he was a handful but a handful that you knew how to love and care for. No one is your perfect match who makes you feel like dying. Yet you forgive, you go back, you keep hoping.

To You – the woman who is so ashamed of how weak and isolated you’ve become. Don’t be ashamed. Stop loving him. Don’t change a thing about your life, just stop believing, in your heart of hearts, that this is love.

To You – the woman who wants to make a change but feels barely strong enough to fight back anymore, let alone overhaul your whole life.

You can take small steps. The universe has a funny way of tuning into these changes. If you change on the inside, everything changes.

Tonight, he made his own bed…an unprovoked and unreacted-to attack, and I called the police.

I’m writing to you from the other side….. he’s gone, and I feel like my prayers have been answered.

He’s gone. And they believed me. And they could see I wasn’t the crazy, stupid one.

I’m here with my daughter. And we are fine.

I’m writing to you from the days and weeks of prayers and tears that were answered tonight.

I am not hurt. But enough happened that he could be arrested for assault, and the police woman who came in to talk to me got it — she knew. It was like she could smell the pattern of aggression and control.

The house is too clean she said.

YES – and he calls me a lazy slob.

What’s that movie? she says… the one with Julia Roberts.

Sleeping with the enemy…. about the obsessively clean abusive controlling husband she eventually escapes from.


From today, he will not be allowed near me. I am terrified. But I am safe from him. Holy Fuck.

You know I’ve been reading a lot about domestic violence and verbal abuse and things like that and the more I was able to believe that it wasn’t my fault…. the more I could see how FUCKED it is!!!!!

Tonight I saw them take him away in cuffs.

Am I free of it?

My mother can’t believe I’m still kind to him, still love him. But that’s what they prey off of…… people with loving hearts. Well guess what? I ain’t no one’s dinner anymore, you hear? I ain’t no one’s dinner anymore.


Survivor Georgey.