It's been a fabulous year.  I retired from my career and began two new businesses.  I started back to work part time doing something that I said I would never ever ever with children and work for juvenile probation (Bonus--I LIKE it!).  Here I am again....stress and no windows (that is really ironic to me.).  I have been to doula school in Portland OR. I got notch above porcelain.  I have gone with Camille and the boys to Oklahoma City.  I zip lined off of a mountain with my three kids in New Mexico  (Bucket list PLUS I didn't die!).   I saw my oncologist and am doing great except for a few small things that we are watching. I have walked dogs a million miles. I celebrated my birthday outside at 1:00 am with a group of my new friends at an awesome retreat. I am working on a campaign for someone that I truly believe in.    I sat at the ocean, picked up sand dollars and regrouped.  I have seen  Cirque Du Soleil.  I have seen Garth.   I have seen seals.  I have sat with Mom in the same waiting room for around 4,000 hours. My life has been big, bold and happy. 

But, I cried all the way home from Clarendon after my mom's appointment the other night.  It was dark and I just rolled the window down and cried for no real reason.  I am sure that I terrified any deer that might have seen me along that route.  That is not anything new these days.  I cry at the Toyota Christmas commercials.  And when my brother post things about dogs.  And when it is too hot and feels like summer and I would wear my flip flops but my toe nails look like I am a homeless person. And when I wrote this blog entry and blogger ate it the first time.  And when I try to go back to facebook after running away from the negativity and realize I have lost my followers and my sense of humor. 

OMG, I sound like a teenage girl.  A very self absorbed unpopular teenaged girl.

I have rolled in around in my head and have sort of pinpointed a bit of the problem. I have no problem with getting older.  Sure, sometimes I look in the mirror and, for a minute, think *who IS that woman* and then realize it is me.  I actually think I look better now than I did when I was younger even thought I do not get the compliments anymore.  Except for my hair, I get LOTS of compliments on the color.  Maybe I am just more content with myself now than I was then. My birthday number does not bother me.   I love who Mindy is.

But, between the oncologist visit, my mom's appointments and my birthday,  I have come to believe that I am running out of time.  That fucking scares me.

A long time ago, I remember going through a grieving period when I came to realize that I would not have any other children.  That was hard.  This is even bigger to me and it is beginning to consume me.  It is totally irrational and I know it.  As Rachel would just is.  It does not make it bad or good.  It just IS.  But, for some reason, I cannot make peace with it yet. 

-I won't ever travel to all of the places I want to go to. 

-I will never be married for 75...50...or even 25 years.

-I will never be the doula I want to be.

-I will never get my house to the place I want it to be.

-I will never have everything together at one time.

-I will never be that muse I always thought that I would be.

-I am so afraid I missed my purpose.....that I have hopelessly messed this life all up.I am so afraid.

This grieving period has grown too big for me to carry alone but it is mine and I cannot seem to take my hands off of it and let someone else hold it for a minute.
Instead of using that fear to kick ass, I have panicked.  Know what I do when big things come at me and I am unprepared?  I hide.  I curl into a big ball and act like I am playing dead so some bear does not eat me up.  I stop doing things.  I stop picking up after myself.  I make piles. Sweet, cute organized piles.  I KNOW what I do but it is like I cannot stop myself.  I can recognize what is going on but it is hard to correct it. 

The other day I was talking with someone and told them a really dumb idea.  I told that person I knew it was dumb but I had to say it out loud in order to get it out of the 24 hour work out facility in my head. After it is out there, I can let it go and let something else in.  That is also the reason I would such at Wheel! Of! Fortune! cause I see what I think the missing letters might be and cannot entertain the thought that it might be something else. I read with intent not reality.   That's why I am telling you all of get it out of my head before it explodes into a million little pieces.

If that happens, the dyson is in the front closet.  Please lock the corgis in the kitchen when you use it or Prince Harry will try to eat the front of the vacuum off. 


  1. I think your crazy is pretty normal, all things considered. I'm so glad you are dragging it out into the light. Dark closets are for dysons. Fighting depression is not something anyone should have to do on their own. As soon as you're ready to come back to social media, your followers will find you again. And be thrilled to see you. You bring a lot of light to people even though it sometimes comes from a dark place. That's real.

  2. I'm so glad to hear from you. Love from another person who will never be a lot of the things she dreamed and hoped for. Who you are is very dear.

  3. Anonymous6:59 AM

    Someone cares for you more then you realize!

  4. I didn't know this was here! Mindy, Mindy, Mindy. I recognize a lot of your struggles. I finally decided my purpose is to BE me, whoever she is! On some days, I can remember that!

    Gah, I just noticed, this post is from December 2017! I do hope you're in a better place today. <3

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