Here’s The Thing:

Published June 6, 2018 by Tammy

Today’s post is a rant. A rant of my 30 plus years of experience, fragmented thoughts and frayed emotions. I’ve searched for spots and forums regarding relationships with workaholics to no avail. They’re out there but all say pretty much the same thing, regurgitating  ridiculous action plans like “stop nagging” or touting the ever popular “it’s not your fault” psycho babble bullshit.

Here’s the thing, I know it’s not my fault he’s addicted to work just like it’s not his fault I still smoke. Still I feel as if I contribute to the addiction by not earning more money than I do. I feel lazy because i don’t work enough to earn his respect. I live a life of waiting which creates a feeling of floating with no direction. I feel like I use his addiction as a safety shield to protect me from living my life to the fullest. The view from my point of vision looks like I am his perfect martyr.

The rudimentary action plans devised by the alleged professionals seem so silly to me. The advise goes pretty much like this:

Don’t nag him to be home. What a plan. if nagging worked I wouldn’t be sitting here thirty some odd years later wondering if there is even life out there. I would be writing the coolest blog about how much fun our lives have been.

Encourage him to take care of his health. Honestly? He is grown and fully aware of his aches and pains. If he needs a mommy he already has one. I do cook healthy meals daily and offer a never ending supply of fresh vegetables and fruit lovingly prepped and ready to eat. I offer OTC pain remedies on the daily and frequently offer massage or soaking bathes which he finds a waste of time. Every now and again, I gently offer to make appointments with doctors, dentists, acupuncturists, chiropractors and so on. Keep in mind he is never home before ten at night and more often than not it’s closer to midnight, consequently he is too tired to accept any comfort.

Let him know you appreciate his provision. Are you kidding? That’s like offering an alcoholic a shot as he gets in his car. The fact is we, myself and our children, feel guilty when we need any financial support. We all wince at the very mention of needing a little money to get us through till the next payday. Some of us have even gone as far as selling off personal belongings or taking odd jobs just to keep from looking like parasitic charity cases in his eyes.  When we do muster up the courage, because we are down to our last three cents, to ask for a bit of money, he assumes the role of victim. “Why don’t you feel like you can come to me for money? I promised I would always take care of you” he whines. Imagine going to your local heroin clinic and asking  the lurking dealer for a hit. Or maybe asking a recovering alcoholic to supply you with Jack Daniels. Then there is the ever popular “after all I do for you and this is the thanks I get”. Punctuated with ” this is why I work so hard”. Sounds very much like ” if you were a better person I would be better too”.

Develop your own life. So you’re suggesting that I don’t already have one. I do. A committed relationship in every other world means union except this type? If you’re committed to a workaholic you must develop an entirely separate life in order to survive. Seems contradictory to me but hey I’m just a lonely half of a broken whole.

Let’s discuss what this disease is and what it is not from my seat of experience, his admissions and my relentless study of the few available statistics.

He openly admits he “can’t stop”. Not even long enough to shower, eat, or sleep sufficiently. This leads me to realize it is a compulsive/impulsive situation. He says he “wishes” he could stop as he leaves before seven a.m. only to return sometime before midnight every single day except select holidays such as  Thanksgiving and Christmas day on which he only works half a day. Work controls him. The rewards are more money and undying reverence from those outside the family unit leading to no incentive to gain control. Think about it, if every time a junkie hit his veins he received large amounts of money and adulation why on earth would he even contemplate giving it up.

The experts report that the divorce rate of this type of union is double that of regular, garden variety bad marriages. Double an already fifty percent failure rate. So why do we stay? Same as others I suppose. We hope it will change with no faith that it can. We feel that if we leave he will certainly die a lonely death early in life. We reason that at least his is an acceptable addiction. We don’t want to appear ungrateful for all he provides. We are afraid to walk away and develop our own worlds. All of this is codependence at it’s finest.

They also like to remind us that this type of disorder is a form of depression onset by feelings of inadequacy. I actually find this to be reasonable. Of course he is depressed, life is passing him by, the kids are grown and while they love him they find any meaningful conversation impossible. They carve out time for him only to have it snatched away due to the latest task. they feel as if they are after thoughts for him. And me, well I feel so incredibly inadequate, utterly undesirable and profoundly lazy. How’s that for using adjectives? The truth is I’m none of those things. I”m a pretty cool old broad who happens to remain linked to a great man with a terribly unfair disease.

I often enjoy fantasies about what life would be like if he and I walked through a nice park or spent an evening in our back yard watching the sun set over the hill. I wonder how I would handle spending the evening playing a board game with our kids and their friends. I see other couples our age driving in cars together and I wonder if they are together because they want to be or if they have been forced together by some tragic event requiring him to sacrifice a bit of time for the family.

Here’s the thing:


Hope and Faith

Published July 26, 2015 by Tammy

Hope and Faith
Two Sisters.
One Lie
One Truth.

Hope for more. Hope for less. Hope for change.
Hope for better. Keep hope alive. Hope
The sexy, popular lie.

Hope is the spoiled, martyred whore of nothing for sure. Empty promises and teases of maybe someday.
Her needs are fear and insecurity. She demands attention through deceitful seeds of doubt.

Hope keeps a tidy house of limbo built of uncertainty, powered by the vapor of tomorrow.
Her door always drawn keeping any chance of dawn at bay

Hope hijacks your prayers, your dreams, wants, and needs.
She invites you to lean on her while she shifts in the sands of perpetual waiting.

Hope loves you. You complete her and hold her in high regard.
She adores the songs, poems and greeting card wisdom bestowed upon her.

Faith in choices. Faith in yourself. Faith in others.
Faith in the now. Faith in your future. Faith
The sweet, simple truth.

Faith is the confident mistress of absolutely! Why not? Every moment is your someday.
She needs only your trust. Fair exchange is her breath. Knowing is her pulse.

Faith opens her door every day to welcome the pleasures of each experience.
She feels the blessing of your awakening as her very own.

Faith knows your desires, your soul’s worth and your unique place in this life.
She stands behind you on the solid rock of motivation and determination.

Faith loves you. She needs only the beautiful blossom of your existence.
She holds you in high regard and reveres the honor of your life.

Father God and His only begotten Son

Published March 8, 2015 by Tammy

It is with a patina-ed memory and an overwhelming sense of enormous changes in my air that I offer you a more realistic tale of how it may actually happen up there in the clouds of righteousness.

Let me set a stage:

On a rickety old front porch,  Our heavenly Father sitting ever so regally upon his throne, which in my mind is an old beat up grapevine rocker,  after all it is reported that wine making is a favorite pass time. Why not put the vines to use. Wait, where was I .. Oh yes, the stage..  The “boy”, long haired and restless, kicking his sandals around in the lily of the valley around the porch, and trying hard not to pout.

“Hey Dad, what are we gonna do today? The world’s feeling a little boring to me right now.”

“Well let’s see we could cover over half of the US with snow and ice again.”

“Na we’ve done that for months now, come on let’s have a little fun. We could create a new sea creature, the octopus was a big hit.”

Dad, AKA Heavenly Father, tosses his long white hair and strokes the beard of wisdom while staring… where does one stare when they reside in heaven… anyway his gaze wanders and then it hits him. Like a bolt of thunder or lightening.

“I know Son, let’s fuck with Tammy.”

A grin snakes across both their faces. Jesus lights up with delight. causing  the aurora borealis to cause some  poor burned out hippies, in an old dodge astro van complete with purple flames,  to drive off the road just outside Area 51 to report sighting of UFO’s again.

“Oh Man can we?” Jesus asked pensively. HE LOVES TAMMY’S LIFE, he thought with excitement.”.

“Sure get me a beer and I’ll come up with something original. She never learns from the jokes we’ve repeated. We need something new.”

Jesus scurries inside and soon emerges with a frosty mug of Ben Franklin’s finest. God lights a Marlboro, still pondering what would bring he and his only begotten son the laughs they so enjoy.

Jesus say’s “we could give her a debilitating migraine again. It’s so funny watching her try to swat away hallucinations and walk and talk when she has a migraine.” Giggling and sweeping away a wild strand of his flowing locks he sits on the steps of the porch.

God let’s out a little chuckle of memory, “Yea it was fun but damn if she didn’t find one of those stupid natural cures we worked so hard at hiding. I’m so proud of that girl”

“Yes, yes and then there’s her stupid meditation  practice.  Fudge! That won’t work anymore” he whines, “who woulda thought she would be one of the few who actually listened when you answered her prayer?”

” I know right, it’s never who you think it’s going to be, I mean look at you, folks thought you were a weirdo too. Hell, they nailed your happy ass up and then when they took you off that cross they took the nails from you hands first. HA HA HA that was some funny shit watching you smash your face while those stupid do-gooders scrambled to free your feet.”

“Back to Tammy Dad, I  still have a splinter in my lip, it wasn’t funny then and it’s not funny now.” Jesus is back to whining.

” HA HA HA..” God’s laughter then sparks a tsunami in the Eastern hemisphere.

“Dad, come on.”

“Okay, okay boy settle down.. what’s she doing right now?”

“Right now she’s cleaning her kitchen.”

“She’s such a chicken shit. Spending her time scrubbing up that broke down old house. She should be working on her art  or her other talents. Let’s put a mouse in the cupboards.”

“HA HA HA great idea. She hates mice.”

And so it was done. Poof! Mouse in the swifter duster box, setting up housekeeping himself.

You know she’s trying to go to school again.

HA HA HA! they both cackle with anticipation.

God, after draining his mug and pulling himself together says:

“Oh this is good we can work with this. Does she have an income?”

“Some of her art sells once in a while, Hey she just got hired as a substitute at the local school.”

“Get me another beer boy” God was forming a plan and Mount Vesuviuos was beginning to boil again. He drained the next beer and began to pace. An earthquake shook Napa Valley CA.

Jesus was waiting, he had seen this look on his Father’s  face many times. It was going to be epic.

Ok, you say she is trying to go back to school, well let’s require her to take 7th grade  math again”, he grinned at his awesomeness.

Great idea, she’s failed it for  decades. that should derail her right nice.

And so it was done and a few weeks later:

What do you mean she got a A.  She never gives up that girl.

We need a little more spice. How about we send her to get a check up she just got cleared for Medicaid.

” Oh yea boy that’s good. Let’s throw a twirl on her tests.”

“Yea like a heart attack?” Jesus was beaming at the very idea.

“Naw, let’s just give her the chest pains with no explanation.  HA HA HA.  She’ll freak out. Let’s do it when she’s wearing shitty old sweat pants and her hair is a bird nest. HA HA HA, Get me another beer boy this is fun.”

And so it was done

Great idea, Jesus squealed, let’s give her another pet too.

No she won’t fall for that again after the pot-bellied pig incident. Let’s just make the ones she already has throw up every time she sits down to write.

And so it was done. vomit on the couch , pillow and all over the floor.

“HA HA HA that’s perfect. You know she is fifty one now, we could screw with her hormones too.”

“OH yea boy good thinking, lets give her ALL the menopause symptoms  BUT make her still have the periods. HA HA HA. All the guts none of the glory.”

“OH can we Dad?” you know she sees that doctor who believes in her, can we do something about him?”

“Dammit, you’re right he respects her and  listens to her, doesn’t try and push drugs on her. Shit,  how can we handle him?”

“Well it is flu season we could just let nature takes it’s course.” Said Jesus.

“HA HA HA” they both laughed at Jesus’s little funny, meanwhile in Boston, roofs collapsed under the 112 inches of snow piled high.

Just then Mother Nature sprang forth and took the beer from God. She swigged the last of the beer and frowned as she announced, “she got a flu shot this year you idiots, I can’t take my course  in that direction.”

SHE GOT A FLU SHOT?!?” they couldn’t believe it.

“She has never prepared for disaster.” They both said at once looking dumbfounded.

Mother Nature pranced around in the lily of the valley, tossing her long luxurious hair and, in her best sultry voice said, “I have an idea.”

” Get me another beer Jessie.”

Tornadoes struck the plains as Mother Nature took a seat on the swing hanging for an old oak tree.

Out with it Mama, you’re killin’ us with suspense.

“Let’s give her a mustache to go with her menopause, not too big but just enough to drive her crazy.”  She said with a smoky sly smile.

The men loved the idea and so it was done.


Stay tuned;

Hi Mom, How are you?

Published March 6, 2015 by Tammy

I ask my mother this almost every day.  The answers vary from time to time and mostly I just wait for my turn to talk and launch into the newest “guess what happened this time”. One day not long ago, I heard what I’ve had the chance to hear for years, but i guess I wasn’t ready.

“Hi Mom how are you?”

” I haven’t decided yet.”

This particular day I heard it.  The message was undeniable now that i was ready.  Once heard you can never unring a bell.

We get to decide every single day how we are. Not the bothersome negative emotional vampires of our lives. Not the worries of the day’s events, or the ghosts of our past. Us. We get to decide how we are. We don’t have to leave it to chance or happenstance. We decide.

I’ve pondered this for a while and have come to the conclusion that I may not have had the sense to listen to my mother about everything  but this one I heard.

Publishers don’t get to decide if I am a writer or not. I am a writer. They only get to decide if they will be my business partners or not. Still, I decide I am a writer.

Doctors don’t get to decide if I am well or not. They can read charts, X-rays and reports. I decide I am well and healthy. I feel great.

Buyers decide whether or not to buy my work, they don’t decide if I am an artist of not.  The only decision I have is if I will honor the artist I am.  I am an artist.

My birth certificate doesn’t decide how I should feel inside or out. If I had no idea how old my birth certificate is, how old would I feel?  I am young at heart  with an old soul.  I don’t want to rewind or move ahead. My age? I am right now.

My acquisitions don’t decide my worth nor does my income or my bank balance. I am of undeterminable value.

You don’t get to decide if I am worth your time. You only get to choose whether to spend the one and only thing you can never replace, time. with me or not. I am worth your time.

So the next time I am asked, How are you, I will continue to speak my truth. I am perfect.  And you are too.


Published November 19, 2014 by Tammy

Standing in the crowded gymnasium watching guys go boldly forth and pluck a girl from the group and proceed to dance the light fan dangle in the semi darkness of this cave. Never did he do as his buddies and venture forth into that wilderness of teen hood. For he knew they always looked at him as one of the kids with no father ; just a mother and less than those with both. So just stood with his back to the wall and watched at they did their ritualistic parts of boy ; girl testing the so called waters of chance and maybe future mate fo school hierarchy status.

Though he saw a few who he thought maybe he could ask ; The not too silent whispers always crept into the corridors of his mind and reminded him in no uncertain terms as to who he was and his status among them. So he always used the same old excuse to his best friend that he just couldn’t seem to find one that caught his eye.

Thankfully for him the Army called and he left school behind and very quickly grew and matured ; though the whispers from that time never ceased .
Then a young lady appeared in his life and put her brand on him without him ever making a move. He had been content with his life as it was but thought why not give it a try. Time passed and they decided to marry and they did just as orders came down sending most of his platoon and company to Vietnam.
3 months into the tour he got a Dear John letter stating she only married him out of pity. So he was back to being single again and swore off all women so as to avoid any further distractions or pain. And the whispers became voices saying we told you that you weren’t of a good caliber stock.
But as fate ; karma or whatever it’s called look upon him and said he’s going to the dark side of life called isolation and needs a woman who has the missing parts to his soul.

And thus on that fateful night in August 1971 he meet she who would nurse his nightmares ; love his good side and teach understanding to his dark side which he learned and developed into a survival manifesto accorded his time running the jungle in The Nam.
Unbeknownst to him the forces put not just a woman into his life but a partner of strict mind and rules sometimes foriegn to him. Yet she wasn’t just any woman they sent to him.
For they sent a wife; partner; mind nurse ; And above all they combined this with Goddess status to ensure she had all the strength ;and wisdom needed to ensure success.

So in the end he’s still a wallflower but he has a gardener to replenish his soil ; roots ; water him when needed and always raining sunshine into his soul.
No amount of repayment to the Goddess will ever be enough for her labor nor her love . Many a man has a wife or lover ; but how many can stand atop the mountain as he and proclaim that they have an actual Goddess as a soul partner ?

As for those whispers ; She put them in a back mind corridor and forbade them from the light of day eternal. Such is her way.

Conversations with The Chosen Father; Goals through his vision

Published November 19, 2014 by Tammy

Goals in my world are thoughts written on paper or in one’s mind. They aren’t set in concrete . They are fluid like water and their ebb and flow will change accordingly to the way in which everyday of your life opens up. To set goals to be achieved in concrete or non flexibility only leaves one open to failure in the long run. For you’re guided by rigid standards and rules. Paper can be discarded or re-written. The mind can change it’s direction. One must be as the wind and able to change direction as needed to achieve moving forward. Or as the water’s tide ; Incoming to new ways to get to where you desire ; Or the out going tide to change course so that you may yet still endeavor to get to a point that you say to yourself I’ve gotten the majority of that which I sought for the moment and now I’ll lay course to see if I may achieve even more. 99.9% of humans never achieve 100% of their goals and believe themselves failures. If only they understood that what simple things that brought them happiness was when they were at 100% . Not when they chased goals set forth by mankind or others.
August 31 at 8:06pm ·

Depression through an Eagle’s Lens

Published November 2, 2014 by Tammy

Before Mr. Williams crossing I believed that depression could possibly stem from not using our creative gifts. Mr. Williams was wildly creative causing pause in my theory. After his departure I asked  Father Eagle  to discus the issue. Here is his contribution to yet another of our many conversations. I found particular interest in his sentence i have highlighted.  As usual, talks with Father Eagle don’t illicit agreement as much as they do require contemplation. I feel depression in it’s truest form is the most unfair of diseases.  Like the proverbial thief in the night, stealing what is in us and leaving behind an enormous wake of wreckage. The biggest and most charming of time thieves, depression instills a false hope of tomorrow. Tomorrow is left standing at the alter in the mist of despair, while hope looks on quietly, patronizingly shaking her head. Hope knows we should’ve chosen Faith and gotten along with the business of today.  Hope is happy to know she’ll have visitor again tomorrow. Faith quietly waits to be called to the alter, eager to cast away the mist and reveal our inner strength and show us that we all have the power if we could just believe in ourselves.

What are your thoughts on the matter of depression?

Depression is a battle between the forces of light and darkness on this plane or realm. Many acclaim it’s a medical condition. In reality it’s the battle between the forces of the inner mind. ( LIGHT & DARK ) We all deal with them in one extent or the other. If early on one lets the voices of the dark side gain control they will under mind you ability too see the light.They promote how unworthy ; useless ; uncaring you are and how those with you or those gone on to the next level are better than you and you’re not worthy of being here on this plane any longer. I battled the force and gained control of it and only use my dark side when needed. Now this is a narrow path of control and one must learn to harness the power or it will consume you. If the dark inner mind can convince one of it’s power it will consume your energy and your ability to fight back will be for naught. Many times it uses the loss of others; childhood memories and world events to eat away at you and weaken your resolve.Many strive yet few survive because we have forgotten that though we are many. We are yet individuals fighting for our very existence. Depression is just that ; being depressed. one must find the cold courage to reach into the darkness and pull out the madness that hides with-in. Only then is survival a possibility. I know this is long winded ; but I hope it helps in some minor way.

8-12- 2014