Barbed Wire | Day 13 of 120

I think December makes me acutely aware of that from which I feel trapped. It’s place in the evolution of the calendar year nudges us to look back and forward. Both directions bear weight.

My Daisy | Day 9 of 120

I am grateful for significant moments memorialized thanks to a picture. The featured picture was taken by my ex-husband.  Our daughter, Bridget, and I were chewing ice cubes and talking…

Stink bugs | Day 6 of 120

“Momma, momma, I think something bit me,” my daughter yelled.  My inquiry was shushed as she pulled the sleeve of her sweatshirt back from her wrist, and exposed a large…

Interview Question | Day 5 of 120

An exchange yesterday triggered a comical memory.  It happened when my colleague and I interviewed a candidate for a new member of our team and she asked the candidate an interesting…

Clarity on a Crummy Day | Day 1 of 120

Life isn’t pretty all the time with contextual footnotes making each experiences’ meaning crystal clear. It’s an evolution of iterations that make us who we are, and it’s our choice to listen, learn, and love.

The Other Woman

First I noticed the color where there should not have been any. I picked it up and the evidence was littered inside its belly. Flecks of dark red. Sulfites. They landed at its bottom. It was placed inside the box, hidden from my view, yet frozen in time. 

Futilely Abandoned Anniversaries

The truth is, February is a game changer. I felt good that a marriage, a friend’s birthday, moving to Springfield, and so many positive events offset what happened in 1990. That was when I went to my resident adviser at Marquette University and told her that I sexually was assaulted by another student.

Taking on Step 11 Today

Note: I published my first draft last week. This is the version I will use today, Tuesday, January 30, when I lead my first Al-Anon class. The topic is Step…

Blue flowers and a red kitchen

WHEN A MARRIAGE FAILS

Out of the mud the bluest flowers

open in the sun

unashamed, 

without anger or regret; neither more or less than what it is, 

alive again and free.

MARIAN OLSON

No pity parties on Christmas

Yesterday morning I spoke with my sister and shared my blues about being alone Christmas Day. Bridget will be with her father today, and I am not making Christmas dinner, which we’ve always shared with my parents. I was dreading being alone. In spite of my little pep talk, about subtracting “no” and “can’t” from my vocabulary, I was falling right into the trap I desperately wanted to avoid: Self-pity.

Liminal Space

The threshold is God’s waiting room: Have you ever read something so lovely? I see the world through God’s eyes on walks with the dogs when I hear every bird, when I stop to appreciate the Hawk – in sheer awe of its wingspan –  hunting for prey, when I awake and stand at the window counting the different colors of the morning sunrise, when I take the dogs out for their last visit before bedtime and bask in the moonlight, when I kiss my daughter goodnight and tell her that I love her, and when I place my head on my pillow each night and thank God for every moment when he made his presence that day. This is the best waiting room ever. 

90 days

I welcome you to join me as I continue to get comfortable in my own skin, accepting who I am for my own strengths and weaknesses, embracing my current place in this universe and how I can pay it forward, and celebrating this gift of life with my daughter, friends, family, and community.

July: A truthful midpoint

July is a month of metamorphosis. We move to our next best iteration. I find that transition occurs best when we are present; living a life that revels in the here and now, is open to what’s next, and avoids the rabbit holes of what if’s that force us to sacrifice our authentic selves for the fakers, cheaters, and liars.

Chicago: A feast for the senses


The city’s sounds, smells, and sights are intoxicating. In the morning people are quiet. Falling in like cattle, some step up to step down the stairs. Their shoe clicks vary, soft rubber, fine leather, hard plastic, tapping against weathered stone floors, metal escalators, concrete streets, and metal bridges.