Not So Wispy

With exposure comes risk.
I am not so wispy as to blow over with the wind.
Strength is beautiful.
Pink is washed-out blood.
And flesh is meant to be used. Not decorated.


Girl Bye

You think I’m quiet
Powerless and weak
There is technically a difference
Between shy and meek

Meek is power
Under control
I choose to be this way
Restraint is my goal

Don’t mistake my silence
As consent to your little show
I’m also choosing to love you
Having patience before I go

And go I will.


i am thrown on the fire
i am the crackle in the night
i am the spark that pops
with firecracker light

i am scattered to the wind
start from scratch again

fall through cracks
down to seed and root
spread my desire
until you see my shoots

i will rise to the sky
stretched high and wide

you pause in my shadow
you linger in my shade
i offer you protection
shelter where you’ve laid

i was born in this ground
cut down where i’m found

i am thrown on the fire
i am the crackle in the night
i will always burn
but not without a fight


When I think as Ma

Photo credit: Sean Priest

Any scene that I do lately, when I’m playing Ma Joad, I think of the long line of strong women in my family before me.

The way I stand. The way I stare. The way I clench my jaw in contemplation. Tired, somewhat relaxed, but chewing on tomorrow.

These two women saw the 20th century in color.

Both of my grandmothers at my mother’s wedding in 1954.

They saw the blood. And the babies. And the dust.
They saw the first car in their town.
The first TV.
The first washing machine.
They watched tears roll down their children’s faces.
Wiped those tears.
Watched rivers rise and fall.
Husbands come and go.

I think of them as I play Ma. How they would hold themselves? Carry themselves? Present themselves to the world? What did they have to do for their families during the Depression?

I know that deep down, they were both scared for their families, wanted the best for their kids. Loved God. Wanted all the things good people want for their descendants. And they just went on. Did what they needed. Hoped they made the right decisions. Cried their own tears.

They are Ma.
I am Ma.
All women are Ma.


I’ve got many demons.

Food addiction. PTSD. Depression. Self-esteem issues. Trust issues. Pride. Over-blown sense of fairness. Fear of people. Fear of intimacy.

These are all residuals from abuse, triggers or coping mechanisms. Haunting ghosts. My demons were born of circumstance and pain. Called upon before the age of 5. Schooled in my weakness. Summoned as experts of how to tempt, specifically, me. These are the things that will cause me to stumble and hold me back from fulfilling my purpose and destiny.

I imagine each demon:
black, faceless, with their name written across their chest, written across my existence, swirling, whispering, flowing around my body.

Floating me down some river of negativity. Holding me under from God’s intention for my life. Drowning me in doubt.

Or will they drive me to my purpose? Will I kick and spit and fight until I fly?

To my demons: Yes. I will overcome you. And in doing so, fulfill prophecy and promise. You have no idea who you’re dealing with–God.


blunderbuss (blun·der·buss)-noun
1. historical, a short-barreled large-bored gun with a flared muzzle, used at short range.
2. an action or way of doing something regarded as lacking in subtlety and precision.
Yeah, the second. That is me on a diet.

This morning I was in a heap of sobs.

After I fixed breakfast for my daughter, I went back to bed. Couldn’t stand up any more or even sit down. I had a gripping headache, all-over muscle soreness and I felt really weak. Plus, I wanted to get as far away from the smell of Pop-Tarts as possible.

As I was laying down, my husband came in at some point and started rubbing my back. As soon as he touched my back I just broke. Idk why. It was either his kindness or the proximity of a human being who loves me. I just shook and whined and gushed. I started speaking all the things I was feeling so that he could understand.

I’m tired.
I’m so hungry.
I don’t wanna feel this way any more.

As I said the last one, my mind shifted.

I don’t wanna feel this way any more.

I immediately thought–
You’re right! You don’t wanna feel this way any more. You don’t wanna be fat. You don’t wanna have heart disease. You don’t want arthritis. You don’t want chronic stomach pain. You don’t want sleep apnea. You don’t want to be out of breath after walking down the hall. And that’s why you are suffering this tiny amount before you can get better. I am, basically, detoxing.

I didn’t say these things out loud though. Just thoughts.

Then my husband shared a story he had heard on NPR. It was about marathon runners hitting “the wall”. I’d heard this before. Somewhere after Mile 20, a runner can hit the proverbial wall. They reach the limit. They can’t go on. Or don’t want to. They’ve pushed their body past the limit of human endurance and the body just wants to stop. But they go past that feeling. He said, “You’re so close! Almost there.”

He’s right. This has been a marathon. After 2012-heart failure and after 2014-heart failure and after 2015-thyroidectomy, I was really trying to exercise and eat right. Before, during and after each bout. Really. Truly. I had started going to the gym before I was diagnosed with heart failure. That probably highlighted my condition, actually. My husband and I would go the YMCA at least 3 nights a week, usually 5 times a week, and never missed a week unless we were sick. 2 years of working out, eating right and really watching sodium.

Lost 100 lbs. in total before thyroid surgery. Then with cancer, my health plunged down into a hole that I just couldn’t dig myself out of. Again.

Marathon. Right. And I’m so close. I am stronger than deprivation. I am stronger than headaches and soreness. I am stronger than cancer, heart failure, arthritis, hypothyroidism and sleep apnea. My will is stronger than illness. I can push past. I can finish this race.

So. After my family left for the day. I launched myself off the bed. Broke out the new blender. (Toastmaster Personal Blender, no I’m not being paid. $15) Buzzed up a footy protein shake and started over. I gotta say, I felt alot like that shake in the blender. Chopped up and a mix of emotions. A blenderbuss. But as imprecise about dieting and as loud about feelings and struggles as I am, I come out just like that shake. Ready to drink! lol


I come out feeling like I can put all the parts together, good and bad, rough and fine, and have something that I don’t mind feeding myself with.

UPDATE: weight this morning is 432. 😀

Dear brothers and sisters, when troubles of any kind come your way,
consider it an opportunity for great joy.
For you know that when your faith is tested, your endurance has a chance to grow.
James 1:2-3, NLT