it’s been a while

“It’s time for me to speak again” – Girl in Pieces

Yes, it’s been a minute. I feel as though I’ve been losing myself a little the past few months. I can hardly recognize myself anymore (nothing new there, I suppose).

I need to start writing again. Perhaps I can remind myself who I am. Writing has always been my creative outlet, something I enjoy and am good at. It’s so satisfying seeing the words splay out in front of me, so easy to come by when the words that come out of my mouth are awkward and mangled. Just bad, bad, bad. I did grow up with a speech impediment. It’s mostly gone now, but my confidence is gone as well, only slowly building. Very slowly.

I still struggle with the same demons; I don’t think they’ll ever leave me. That’s comforting in a way, making recovery that much harder. They just warp themselves to fit into the new dynamic my life takes on. I have a different job now, a relationship, new interests…. I am always changing, expanding, sometimes contracting. But the demons are there, some days fiercer than ever.

New heights, new depths.

I’m a baker at a scratch bakery now. I start at 2am and usually only work 6 or 7 hours a day, but it’s hard, exhausting work. I’m learning a lot and making a lot of mistakes. I’m glad at least that I don’t have to deal with customers. I don’t like people looking at me. I’m afraid they’ll see what I see.

I’m trying to let go a little, be less hard on myself. I know I make things harder for myself than they need to be. I have to just let things be if I’m going to stay sane (enough). I recently learned about the Tao concept of Wu wei. I’m going to start reading up on that, but only if I want to ūüėČ



Hindsight is a bitch. Reading through old blog posts or journal entries is always… interesting. Did I really write that? Was I really so naive?Experience is indeed the greatest teacher. I have changed so much in the past few months even though I essentially feel the same. I’m sure I’ll be saying that again three months from now. Who knows where I’ll be in three months? I sure as hell don’t.

I wish I could still believe in some universal power that is looking out for our best interest, but I’m pretty sure we are alone and life is random. There is beauty in that also. Enjoy the day that is in front of you. Carpe diem and all that. Crash and burn.

I could list off a whole bunch of wishes for my life right now, but, on this day, I am alive. I will survive.

As for a summary of the factual details of my life this year: got fired from the office job (on St Patrick’s Day), did a couple odd jobs, got an office job that I quit a week later, and now I’m working “part time” in a bakery at a grocery store (“part time” because I worked 51.6 hours the other week but get no full time benefits). ¬†I feel like a failure, disappointment, uninsured drop-out, etc. Why the hell did I get a college degree? I’ve always been so hard on myself. Honestly this is the most challenging job I’ve ever had and I’m kicking ass. Most days. I think. At least I am trying to live life. This is just how it goes.

I guess jobs are the only thing I’m willing to discuss at the moment. More to come later?



i feel like i am drowning but maybe that is just life

in the deepest ocean and on the longest road

i am sinking, i am running, i am reeling


why don’t they love me like i love them

i need them to hold me but they are not here

they never were and that is so like me


there is a woman who lives inside me

she says she loves me and her name is rose

i don’t know how to find her most of the time

but she suggests that I should be a little more kind



i always thought i was kind

i thought i was so many things

but lately, i think of me and i think of nothing


when i am like this

i don’t look people in the eye

i am afraid of what they might see

i am afraid they will see what i see



there is a certain beauty in sadness

at least there is something there to look at

something to hide behind

when you can’t hide behind a lie


two poems


 ‚Äčlondon you got me thinkin

i already know ya

but you don't know me

and i don't know you

even though i see your people on the green

what does it really mean... anything?

 for all your parks

and all your roses

what do you have to show

but for your masses of gray

transporting, mowing through the jungle

concrete in the main



There are no words coming

No words to fill that hole

They are gone like a skeleton

Crashing to the floor

 A bone crawls

See it in the darkness

It is the littlest of bones

A finger perhaps

 It crawls across the floor, skriitch-skraatch


Trying to make purchase on the wood

Grasping for others, an answer, a word

 Skriiitch, it comes to a stop with one hollow tap

And then silence engulfs it, no words surround it

No words ever come, gone with the bones

A skeleton that just can't take form

Growth Is Essential

My life used to make sense.

I knew who I was. I knew where I came from. I knew where I was going. I knew what I was living for. I knew all this with a surety that was beyond questioning.

But then¬†life changed and suddenly the belief wasn’t there anymore. And neither were the answers.¬†What I have now is a “God-shaped hole”¬†and it makes me doubt the choices I have made.¬†Change isn’t easy. I start¬†obsessing over thoughts like “at least I was happy then. Was leaving a mistake? Am I destroying my life? Do I even deserve to be happy? What if they’re right and I am going to hell?”

But then I have to remember that I wasn’t happy. I remember the first day I didn’t want to be alive. I was in sixth grade. I proudly declared to my parents my brilliant realization, “you know, the more time I’m asleep the less time I have to be awake!”¬†I thought that was a¬†jolly good¬†thing. Maybe that simple declaration was innocent enough, but I remember the dread that¬†accompanied it. Just looking out the window¬†hating the fact that I had to do it all over again the next day, and the day after that,¬†and the day after that, for¬†the rest of my life. Life¬†stretches on forever when you’re young.¬†What’s up with all those people proclaiming how short life is??¬†Maybe every sixth-grader had those feelings, I d’unno. Like I said, I don’t have any answers.

Looking back now, I would say that overall I was happy. I had a great childhood and a very fortunate, blessed life.

There are a couple things about the past (in my own experience) that are worth noting:

  1. We tend to view the past with rose-tinted lenses.¬†Makes sense, right? Whoohoo, coping mechanisms! Go brain! I think we’re all glad we’ve forgotten some of the shit that went down. But that doesn’t mean your past was all safe, healthy, and happy, so even if you remember it as being better than where you’re at now, that doesn’t mean it¬†will be¬†good for you to go back. At least, for me. Speaking for myself here. I don’t know anything about you.
  2. Humans are creatures of habit, just like any other animal. We¬†like to fall back to the familiar. So while our past may not have been all teddy bears and rainbows (this may appear to contradict above point, but nah, I can¬†clearly view my past as totally great and totally sucky at the same time), at least it was familiar. When you’re lost in unfamiliar territory, you will give your right leg to get back to¬†what you’re familiar with, even if it sucked balls. At least you were adjusted to it and equipped with the tools to find your way. Now that you’re in new territory, you need new tools.¬†But why¬†buy new tools when you can just use the old ones you’ve had for years, even if they’re broken and¬†don’t work quite right? Right?

No, not right. Wrong. Life is all about getting out of your comfort zone and stretching the limits…. or busting them altogether.¬†Growth is a good thing; it is absolutely essential.

I am going through unbelievable emotional turmoil over leaving the church. I feel scarred, angry, guilty,¬†and not without a couple mental disorders and at least one personality disorder. In a way, I’m leaving behind my¬†old identity and forging a new one. But that old identity was a lie, a lifestyle taught to me before I could decide for myself, so I can’t go back.¬†I can’t go back to how I was before any more than I can be anything more than who I am right now. Does that make sense? No, probably not. The point is, I am me. I’m healing and moving on. I am living my life for myself and seeing where¬†it takes me.

I’m finding that life is hard, it’s just hard. I have¬†a belief system in flux, debilitating communication problems, no safety net, and a minimal knowledge of pop culture, hip¬†wine selections, or words like “hors d’oevre”. I feel totally unprepared for this new life in the city. I’m lost, incompetent, shy, foolish, awkward, ignorant, yadayadayada. Two-hour-long panic attacks at work aren’t fun. Most of the time I want to die. And I still can’t stop pulling my hair out.¬†But I am learning. I’m getting out of the basement, or closet, more apt, and experiencing life.¬†I am being brave enough to continue living, and showing up to work every day and trying. For now, that is enough. I am enough. Someday¬†I will be a badass. Someday I’ll find¬†something I love that I will make a career out¬†of.¬†Someday I’ll meet someone who can love me in return. Maybe these things happen gradually, over the course of a lifetime… ¬†I surely won’t learn all there is to know, “I know that I know nothing” (perhaps the only belief I do live by),¬†but I will come to¬†know my true self, not the version of myself that others believe I am. At least, I will live my life getting to know myself, as I don’t think the point where I can close the¬†book¬†titled “Andrea” and store it away¬†on the “finished” shelf actually exists. So, is it a learning experience, or a creation experience? Am I writing my story, or only reading to find out what happens next?

Yet another question I don’t know the answer to. That is quite exciting. No matter how long I live, I will never run out of things to learn. I am looking forward to my next endeavor – getting to know a few of the different religions of the world (I say a few because there’s nearly 10,000 different religions on this planet) – there is so much I don’t know!

I wish my family and friends could understand, but I know that they won’t. That’s okay. I can’t control anyone else’s experience but my own, and I’m learning to be okay with that. I have to find my own truth and go after it. It’s not my design to hurt or point fingers at anyone. Just know that I am doing the best I can and that¬†I am fully responsible for my own experience. I love you all and I am grateful for what you’ve¬†given me!


PS – on a lighter note! – I am going to London for a week at the end of April! I’m so excited I’ve bought no less than¬†five books¬†about England and I’m going to¬†rewatch all my favorite British TV shows and movies in preparation… It’s gonna be bloody brilliant!


One is nature

Listening to Untitled #8 by Sigur Ros,  I am overcome with a feeling of oneness. Unity.  This is Iceland – for me.  Icelandic music is inexplicably tied to the landscape, and modern artists take inspiration from traditional folk songs, creating a truly ethereal experience. Simply by closing my eyes and listening, I am transported to that expansive land of green moss, rock, icy blue water. One long straight asphalt road dissappearing into the flat horizon.  The streets of Reykjavik,  the murals, cats,  rainbow sweaters and rainbow pavements. Fresh fish and lamb. The Hidden People; a culture that hasn’t lost its connection to myth and nature . The Harpa, blue glass perfectly offseting the blue ocean and inspired by the basalt columns of Reynisfjara. A waterfall cascading down in it’s angry, behemoth froth. The sun making its first peeking appearance from an overcast sky. Standing on the edge of a cliff overlooking the endless,  endless sea. 

As the sea, so are we, endless. 

This is the beauty and the hope of life. 

I could get lost here for a lifetime. Let me wander that stark, beautiful world forever, ever connected to nature. 

(this song live is an experience beyond belief) 

So I’ll write

I see WordPress has changed “New Blog Post” to “Write”.

A simple command.

I pushed the button.


It’s January 3rd, 2017. I’ve been sick since before Christmas. I went to dinner on New Year’s Eve with my roommate (cheese plates, roasted duck, and “that one drink Skot made that one time”). After dinner we went to a quiet little house party. There were¬†two cats,¬†a dog, and a couple humans (Skot not among them).¬†It was nice to be somewhere other than my apartment or cubicle or car. It’s been ages since I’ve been at someone else’s. My life is boring and small; I’m working on it. It’s the start of a new year; a point at which we humans decide enough is enough. When the clock hits 12:00 AM on January 1st, procrastination is a thing of the past. A new year – a new beginning – so that’s what they say.

Outwardly, 2016 looks like a great year. It¬†found me graduating college, traveling overseas, and finding my first job out of college (a great job). I’ve made new friends.¬†I’ve¬†discovered myself in leaps and bounds.¬†I made amazing progress in 2016. But I wasn’t happy. I spent most of it lost in heartache, confusion, doubt, and crushing loneliness.

Well, guess what. Fuck that. 2017 is going to be different. Now that I have my financial situation stabilized and I’m on my own, I’m going to¬†concentrate on making my world as big and rich as I want it to be. I’m going to learn violin again, I’m going to study,¬†I’m going to go somewhere/do something¬†new every week.¬†Listen to more music, go to more concerts, read more books, write more, learn new things, meet new people.¬†Stop hating myself. Now is my time for exploration and expansion; I am finally ready for it. I am tearing down the walls I built myself and I am going to continue making amazing progress.

2017 is going to be my year. It’s not going to be perfect, but it’s a start.

I am going to listen to myself.

Pulling through

Something just happened. Something that’s never happened to me before and may have just changed my life, at a time that could not have been more perfect. This blog post is an attempt to not forget it.

It, along with other things that have happened in my life recently, has deepened my understanding that the universe is working very closely with us. The Universe/God/Source Energy/whatever-whomever-you-want-to-call-it is rooting for us, putting things in place, moving things around, making sure it all comes together alright in the end and we learn the right lessons.  Everything happens for a reason and there is no such thing as coincidence!

When¬†it comes right down to it, humans are so good. I will not let this idea go. I refuse to give into the idea that humans are inherently bad or wicked or dangerous. What happened tonight could not have happened if that were the case. We are all a mixture of good and bad. Life isn’t pretty all the time; it isn’t ugly all the time. We are just tiny imperfect human beings bumbling along the best we know how, making choices and decisions when all the information hasn’t been presented to us.

So, the story of today:

It had been a rough day. Around 10AM I’m sitting at my desk wondering if I’m going to be sick and if I need to go home. I feel as though I’m in a constant panic attack. I sit at lunch and can barely eat my food, but start to feel better after I do.¬†I go to a meeting and listen to one of our ambassadors tell her story – she is amazing – so many words of wisdom that correlate so well with what my coworker and I have been discussing. ¬†I get home from work, I’m tired like I am every day when I get home from work. I decide to¬†forego dinner and take a walk. It’s dark; I like walking when it’s dark; it makes me feel alone; I like feeling alone; I’m a miserable human being; look at me go, so utterly singular in my loneliness. What else makes me special?

I keep walking, I get into my music, I’m feeling okay.¬†I see an old lady on the ground in front of her door, behind her wheelchair. What is she doing… I almost don’t stop I’m so focused on what I’m doing… “Do you need help?… Did you fall? What can I do? Can I call someone? What do I do? You’re welcome, it’s okay. I can’t lift you. Should I get a neighbor? Is there a neighbor who can help?” – all words coming out of my mouth as I’m trying to help this poor lady back into her chair, which¬†weighs¬†about 100 pounds and which I’ve finagled in front of her. She is incessantly apologizing and thanking me, but I just feel helpless, and a little impatient too. I can’t lift this old lady. She can’t lift herself. She keeps falling. She’s not making any sense. There’s no one around – it’s dark and it’s deserted. I don’t want to call 911. I ring the neighbor’s door bell, no answer. I ring another. While I’m waiting the old lady tries to get in her chair and falls again; I tell her to just stay there; I’m panicking; I hear noise from inside the apartment I rang at; a woman calls out “who is it?” and I say, “your neighbor fell, we need help.” She says hang on a second, she has to get some clothes on, she’s in her pajamas. I tell the old lady, “she’s coming, hang on, she has to put some clothes on.” The lady comes out a few seconds later, still in her pajamas. She’s old. The first thought in my head is, “oh great, she’s old too; we’re going to have to get more help; I’m never going to get home.”

Humans aren’t always pretty, remember.

But then the woman (her name is Isabel) rushes right over to the old lady, hugs her,¬†holds her head in her hands, asks if she’s okay, asks what she can do, asks what happened.¬†She asks if I’ll help her, I nod. Together we lift the old lady into her chair and get her into her apartment.

We can’t leave her alone, not yet. Isabel is so good with her, asking all these questions to try to get¬†something coherent out of her. Meanwhile I’m just standing there like a deer in the headlights, wanting to help, but not knowing how. Isabel is trying to get her to call someone. She can’t remember the number. The phone rings; it’s her boyfriend; thank god. Her boyfriend calls her daughter; her daughter calls; her daughter is in the middle of cooking and won’t come.

Her daughter is in the middle of cooking and won’t come.

We go to leave, Isabel sees something on the floor that ends of being dog shit. She cleans it up, assuring the old lady that it’s just poo-poo and it’s totally fine; she cleans her grandbaby’s poo-poo all the time. We close and lock the doors and leave; the door opens again, she calls us back; we go back in; she wants my number; Isabel finds a pen, I write it down. She keeps saying water, water, water, so we get her some water. Someone’s at the back door, but it’s just the dog. Isabel lets the dog in; the dog is running and jumping all over the place. We get the lady¬†situated in front of the TV. We leave again. She opens the door. We go back in. She asks for my number again. She has Isabel write her number down too even though she has it already. The dog gets out. Shit! Isabel gets¬†some meat; she’s walking everywhere, trying to find this dog. The dog is lost. I stay with the old lady. I see the dog running back, I yell at it, “Get back in here!”¬†It bolts into the apartment. I close the door and try to find Isabel. She’s out looking for the dog. Oh great. I can’t leave the old lady, but I can’t leave Isabel out searching for this dog who knows where. Then I hear her, thank god, and yell out¬†that we found it, it’s back. We leave after that and the door stays closed.

Thank God.

Isabel and I are just exhausted, hugging each other, flabbergasted. She asks if I want to come in, I say sure. Her house is impossibly perfect. We wash our hands then sit down and talk.

That talk is one of the best ones I have ever had. There is no way for me to express to you how I felt, but it was just what I needed. She showed me a picture of her great-grandbaby that she watches every day; I showed her pictures of my nieces and nephews. I told her about Daniel. She told me about her children who have passed away. She told me to tell my sister that she’ll be okay,”you push through it; you stay strong; it’s life.” I was looking at a picture of my sister’s family, telling her how my sister is pulling through, doing so good for her kids. She has to be okay for her kids. I never cry. If you know me you know I never cry.¬†But I cried then, looking at that picture. Madie and Jonah are so beautiful and perfect.

Everything happens for a reason.

That week Daniel had with Jonah happened for a reason.

Life is no mistake.

Isabel told me something and she told me to listen to her. She told me that life is full of choices and the consequences of those choices. She said,”you could have seen her and just kept going. You didn’t have to stop. But you did, and you went and knocked on my door.” She said these kind acts are the reason we are here. She said I’ll go to bed tonight feeling at peace. She said I’m on the right path, like she knew me and what I was going through. How did she know I’ve been told I’m on the wrong path?

I always want to choose to be kind, to learn, to keep an open mind and listen with a ready ear.

Now, I did something almost any other human would do, and didn’t do it super well at that. This whole experience has been so humbling. But I do have to wonder what would have happened if I wasn’t there. Isabel said she would have just stayed there because all the neighbors are¬†old, no one is outside at that time of night.¬†She may be right. If the universe hadn’t brought me out walking tonight, past that lady’s door, she very well could have stayed there all night in the cold. And what would have happened if Isabel hadn’t opened the door? I couldn’t lift the old lady without her and she handled the situation so much better than I ever could. So who knows what could have happened? I don’t. The Universe, God, whatever-whomever-you-call-it, does. It put me in a position to find the old lady and then it gave us someone who could really help, a complete stranger who I formed a deep connection with.

Life is made up of these connections; I am so grateful to be making them every now and then.

More than one person has been helped tonight, and I would call that quite a successful day!