In this dream

In this dream
I know you
And you know me

In this dream
I love you
And you love me

In this dream
I’m with you
And you’re with me

In this dream
You see what’s real
And stop judging me

In this dream
I am innocent
And you are free

In this dream
In this dream
In this dream


That free-lance job offer? It really wasn’t

The free-lance job offer? It wasn’t really. Just a lonely guy separated from his wife by distance and disinterest.

He just used the job as a pretense to strike up a conversation. He may or may not even get the exhibition off the ground.

We chatted a bit over a few days time. He’s a fascinating person.

But then he segued into flirting and then, to my horror, he out of the blue asked me what color bra I was wearing!

I’m still in shock. Who does that to someone you know professionally?

Have things changed that much since I got married?

Is that now a courtship ritual?

It didn’t offend me (but grossed me out.) In someways I feel sorry for him. He must be very lonely and desperate.

It did however make me feel sad for two or three days. I don’t want conflict and it made him feel very rejected and embarrassed when I asked him not to say things like that.

I did want to work with him. He’s very connected and extremely talented.

And I actually did want to be his friend.

But nah, not on those terms.

I can’t be the lesson

I can’t be the lesson
You discard and unlearn
That bridge has been trod
Those tables have turned

I can’t be the light
Afraid of flickering out
Your fire always burning
Faith consumed with doubt

I can’t be the wall
Protecting you from harm
The savage rage of dreams
The heartbeats of alarm

I can’t be your valley
A peaceful place of shade
Storms hid the sun
Destroying what we made

I can’t be your mountain
Refuge of strength and peace
For I am broken down
Every time you leave

I am though this:
As your weathered sand
A crystal grain of hope
Clasped tightly in your hand

And I can be forever
Sweet memory of care
Me for you, you for me
Knowing I was there

Knowing I was there …

September 9, 2018

Has anyone ever given anything to you?
In your darkest hours
Did you ever give it back?
Well, I have
I have given that to you
If it’s all I ever do
This is your song

And the rain comes down
There’s no pain and there’s no doubt
It was easy to say
I believed in you everyday

I believed in you everyday

~Stevie Nicks

A Girl Who Writes, who’s blog I really enjoy, nominated me for the three day lyric challenge and I’m so thrilled! Just sorry it took me so long to get to it!

Since I started writing again, I’ve also started listening to music again, so the lyrics challenge is right up my alley. (It seems strange today, to think that for several years I didn’t do either. Depression, ugh.)

I also wrote a poem today, and one of Stevie Nicks songs seemed to fit the mood of the poem, so “Has Anyone Every Written Anything for You” is featured.

I know I can’t get to all three days of the challenge, but I am going to nominate the very musical blogger ArtisanX  at Proscenium.Me.

Here’s how to participate:

Thank you A Girl Who Writes!

And also a plug here to say, depression lies and steals. It always does and it always will.

This feels a little like I’m looking to blame someone else, but I truly I wish someone in my life had even once looked at me and said, “Hey, you’ve changed. Is everything ok?”

It sure wouldn’t have fixed me, but it might have helped me start thinking.

I know that during that time I never thought anything could change or get better. I was wrong. There is hope.

“If not for me, then do it for the world.”


Ed, I’m thinking of you, praying for your family, and you.

I emailed you, it bounced. I don’t have to know what’s going on. Sometimes change is just for the sake of change. 🙂

But I wanted you to know you are greatly appreciated.

I started listening to Romans on the way to work every day. Some of the things you said in our correspondence have become so real to me now.

Hearing Paul’s words spoken, it makes the several great treatises so understandable, and applicable.

Thank you for giving. I am a life that was changed.

In which I fall very behind on life and get a job offer

Someone I’ve admired professionally (and) from afar since 2015 has pitched me a job, and I’m very torn.

We don’t know each other well, personally or professionally, but we’ve exchanged a few messages over the past three years in regards to a company I represented in my former career.

He reviewed that company and tagged us in the review so I dropped him a thank you note. Then a year or so later he ever so gently dropped me a note about a typo I made in a social media post.

Before we exchanged those 2-3 extremely brief messages, I was cognizant of his name, some of his work and his most well known book.

He is a published author and well-known photographer, well-known in his particular field anyway.

I kept up with him on Instagram, in the sense of looking at his feed because his pics are beautiful and his life is interesting. But have never reached out to him personally. It never crossed my mind to do so.

Until about two weeks ago. And I didn’t reach out privately, I just tagged him to a post by someone I know, a post I thought would interest him. I also thought it would be helpful for both people to meet, so to speak.

He quickly sent a private message and he hasn’t stopped talking since then.

This has thrown me off guard. I don’t know what to make of it.

The project he wants me to handle is marketing, PR, and media for an upcoming exhibit he is planning.

I don’t really have time to handle the entire project, but I’d like to work with him.

I guess we’ll see what happens there.

My job life at the new career is a little overwhelming right now. It seems so comforting to think of going back to former career.

But one client for one temp job wouldn’t pay the bills.

“I lay down next to your boots and I prayed for your anger to end…”

I know he thinks of me at times, my ex-friend Doug. Or he has in the past few weeks anyway.

He’s messaged me a lot, starting the day his Book Groupie went back to Vermont.

(God Himself must have intervened in that situation for not only did the Book Groupie never show up at my facility, her ability to get to Doug was severely limited by his emergency hospitalizations. I’m sorry he’s not feeling better, but I am so glad she stayed away from me. That is an answered prayer and one I am so very grateful for.)

When I saw the first new message from Doug, there was this narrow sense of surprise and a feeling of, “that’s nice of him.”

But as quick as it bubbles up, it swirls away. And I fight with myself after every single message from him, over what I really want to say.

Not sure which part of me wins, but I have yet to say what I’m thinking.

I wonder, at this point, what purpose would my speaking up serve though? All I originally wanted to do is defend myself. I wanted him to stop acting crazy and go back to Good Doug.

I’m definitely not trying to make him feel better about anything he did to hurt me. But now, it’s all so far in the rear-view mirror. Besides his messages and calls, there isn’t even any evidence in my life that I ever even knew Doug, except for my friendship with Asa. And that friendship has evolved so very far from it’s beginning that I bear no resemblance to the person I was.

Doug sent me several photos, but I’ve not seen him since December. I don’t suppose I will see him again, except in his coffin.

I suspect that it doesn’t really matter now. I think I’ve slowly come to terms with the fact that nothing will ever be resolved. And maybe “not resolved” is how it is resolved. At one point I desperately wanted to say goodbye, but now?

I knew this about him, how mean he could be, how he never ever apologizes for anything.

But it’s still extremely weird to have walked through being one of the people he was mean to. I was like his child, his pet, his project. I saw him erupt at others but we just had this very solid friendship for so long. So that all still feels so strange.

Almost like it was in a parallel universe.

So, the first message from him, in quite a while:

He asked me if I was in the loop with our Mutual Friend about his health.

Which no. HTTN.

I told him, “Doug, first of all, I’m never going to ask Mutual Friend about you out of respect for your privacy and second, I’m never going to put either one of us in the bizarre position of explaining why in the world I would need a health update on you, from her.” Because that is the absolute truth.

I’m never in a million years going to ask her anything about him. She might mention something in passing, very rarely, but as long as all three of us still live, he’ll never hear her say, “I saw Angel yesterday, she asked about you.”

So he proceeds with a horrible horrible health update. Things are about in the end of the second stage of “worst,” if “worst” was divided into three categories.

The update made me cry, but I didn’t tell him. I just said, “I’m going to need a moment to absorb all this.”

He instantly and snarkishly replied, “I wish I had the leisure of time that you have, for absorbing this, that must be nice.”

Which, what?

YOU HAD PLENTY OF TIME TO ABSORB THIS. You choose the experimental treatment instead of having the tumor removed so you could get away from your wife and go spend three months with the Book Groupie.

And he did have three months to absorb all of this. He gave me about 30 seconds! At the time he informed me, I was driving down the interstate and sorry, but I just couldn’t reply how he obviously wanted me to.

I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.

I also wondered if he’d now say keeping that tumor and watching it grow for three months was the wisest course of action. ( I tried to get him to have it removed within a few days of  finding it. I could barely feel it through his shirt, it was so small. Like a hard pea.) But he kept the tumor in, so he could get into a three month drug trial near the Book Groupie. Within just a month or two of the decision to let it grow until the trial opened, it had gotten about 10 times bigger.

That ran through my mind, but I didn’t say it.

When I arrived at my destination I wrote, “Sorry I couldn’t drive down the interstate doing 80 and properly respond to your message.” And I proceeded to write this really long and what I thought was sweet and sympathetic message. When really, I had no idea at all what to say to him.

Part of me is thinking, “Doug, you hurt me, you hated me, you manipulated me. WHY are you reaching out to me, of all people?”

He treated my unfairly, cruelly and beyond harsh. He manipulated me into providing him with $3000 worth of professional services. He tried to frighten me by coming by my house dropping location pings. That’s the short list.

I mean, I could go on and on about the hateful things he did, including saying I was insane, (when I asked him why he was mad at me,) and his backhanded slams at me when I asked his advice on going for the new job.

Why is he looking to me now? Why does he want to talk to me? Why is he messaging me so often? Now, after everything? I’m not equal to the task, even if we didn’t have the history we have.

Yes, we were friends. I do actually miss him as a friend. I just do not know how to walk back down the path of him.

I do, in some respects, I do want to be his friend, and be there for him, if he needs me. I pray for him. I know he’s suffering. I wish I could do something to help.

But why does he think treating me like hell for more than a few months means he can drop bad news on me at any time and expect something meaningful in return, in 30 seconds? He is mad that I can’t instantly comfort him?

I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.

Since that first longer conversation, he’ll tell me updates every few days. He’s called a few times, but I’ve missed his calls.

I don’t know why I don’t call him back.

So he messages me: His hair is finally falling out. He’s out of the hospital. He might have 6 months if the chemo works. He’s sick from it most of the time. His right arm is twice as big as the left due to lymph nodes being damaged.

I  reply that I’m praying for him, because I am.

Then he’s sent an ongoing series of notices of events or articles he thinks I might be interested in.

Just like anything you’d drop a note to a friend about. Not even anything that requires an answer or follow up from me.

So I plant one of those big thumbs-up thingies on it and go about my life. I don’t know what else to do.

Maybe someday
When I look back I’ll be able to say
You didn’t mean to be cruel
Somebody hurt you too”