Sip in the Shadows…

February 7, 2026 by Leave a Comment

I can painfully still remember the exact moment I decided that four shots of 40% ABV Black Sambuca was a good idea, which was a fatal error but, it was at a summer gathering and I made the horrible choice to switch from my usual Jack Daniels (which I always drink in moderation) to this heinous swill. The sickeningly sweet, thick black anise liquor went down fast, but it came back up with violent vengeance. Within an hour, my head felt like a caged rat, and the world was spinning uncontrollably, I was panicked that I was unable to see… until I realized I was standing off to the side of the yard, in the dark.


Later, I found myself at home on the cold bathroom floor, unable to move without triggering intense nausea and dizziness. The sugar-laden licorice taste was absolute torture, turning my stomach into a battlefield. My husband had to pull over for a “puke-stop,” on the ride home and kept lecturing me on the pitfalls of reckless drinking, something he has never allowed me to forget, to this very day. I spent the next twelve hours in a state of purgatory, ignoring the husband’s criticism and regretting my life choices. It was, without a doubt, the most intense, bitter, and nauseating hangover I have ever experienced. I cannot even look at a bottle of black liqueur without feeling sick to my stomach to this day and even writing about this horrendous experience has my head pounding with a pulsating beat of “never again!”

From the Writer’s Workshop: Write a post in exactly (8) sentences. Tell us about a time you got really sick.


Signature
Filed Under: Writing Prompts Tagged With: , , , ,

Unapologetically difficult…

January 30, 2026 by Leave a Comment

Many of us are approaching that final door leading to the end of life while navigating the inevitable passage of getting older. On the opposite side, there are fewer and fewer opportunities surrounding our diminishing future. Relax, I am not being overly morbid, just realistic. The reality is that, what lies ahead, at least for me, will be an awful lot of “lasts” with material things and, sadly, people in my life. In addition, that list of things I’ve always wanted to do, especially places to go, like the Amalfi Coast, well, one by one, they’ve all been eliminated. Reality, wearing its painful Sunday best, has taken control.

How can we honestly say that we know ourselves? There’s been so much about what makes me…me, that I have not explored. Of course, I’ve definitely spent time navigating a great deal of useless bullcrap in the struggle to deal with the challenges of being me and, here I am, nearing the end of life’s ride, still dealing with external judgement, maintaining some element of authenticity beside outside pressure to conform.

Aging gracefully is big business, for some, a never-ending quest to ward off time by enduring a nip here, tuck there, injections that might work for some but not all; isn’t it a bit ludicrous to have a face that doesn’t match an aging body? Then again, this is not terribly different from people who comment on my determination to keep working at this late date. My personal choice is to appreciate where I’m at, physically, as I navigate my personal disconnect from obsessively focusing on youth and accept the normal reality of aging.

In this very moment of my life, I’m pretty much done with those in this world who demand some element of conformity to a given process, especially that of a political nature. I’m ready, willing, and damn able to risk all rejection to live my life authentically. My struggle to set boundaries and needs to make others comfortable has resulted in stress and resentment and I’ve come to accept the fact that I might not know who I am, most of my behaviors are conditioned responses to the environment in which I was raised and currently live.

Honestly, I’ve let go of so many things due to not being sure if I’ll make it to their finish, but, at least my ambitious nature hasn’t given up on me. In some ways, I still enjoy feeling the pressure which can surround a project or some idea that rolls through my head. There’s that familiar spark of lightness that happens often, a big part of me being me where I can simply be and do without attaching any personal significance to something and, in a way, enjoy being in control. This is one of those fleeting moments that makes you smile, become a child again and the world, for a brief moment, is my playground, where I can love people without needing any of them and bring real meaning to what I do without being anxious about what might happen next. Sounds great, doesn’t it? Unfortunately, much like Boston weather, if I wait a few minutes, that euphoric dose disappears and reality sets back in.

The most tragic part of it all is that, as this trip around the sun grows shorter, so do some relationships that will never heal, arguments that rear their ugly heads with no possibility of compromise, and the worst, total lack of contact and respect from family who glare arbitrarily from angry corners of my immediate universe. How sad that the doors of my life will close forever, leaving unresolved differences behind. Sad as well that all things holding precious memories will end up in some stranger’s hands or permanently discarded due to familial indifference and estrangement.

My days will continue to move along with the focus on work and staying with my attempts at creative and interesting writing. I enjoy the challenge to share words that people will read and enjoy, and sometimes dislike when I delve into controversial topics. I need the structure and self-pressure, especially when my writing attempts hit the dreaded “wall” where I have absolutely nothing meaningful to share because my aging brain refused to cooperate.

It’s doubtful that I’ll be remembered by anyone for my writing, except for a few people in my immediate circle but what I have is a gift, a desire to write and I am a hard-headed, determined, woman who continues to focus on a well orchestrated narrative worth sharing. My life’s ending will include periodic episodes of rejection, criticism, missed opportunities, jealousies, and plenty of bitterness, but I’ve had to find my own way of being and staying present in life’s moments, of growing older, possibly throwing in the towel, digging in, and I’ve done so, harder than ever.

I feel that, when you learn this, things change. John Steinbeck once said, “Now that you don’t have to be perfect, you can be good.” Given that, I will damn well continue to be myself, a work still in progress, very difficult and far from perfect. And that’s wonderful.

From the Writer’s Workshop:What’s the most difficult thing about being you? Elaborate.
Signature
Filed Under: Writing Prompts Tagged With: , , , , , , ,

Lost in the crowd…

January 1, 2026 by Leave a Comment

Each year at this time, as the clock strikes midnight and the door opens with a new year waiting on the other side, we often wonder how much life will change in the months ahead. One thing, at least for me, is the superficiality of various social and business related gatherings, the masks people wear, the lack of genuine listening, all which highlight a common truth in that true and honest connections can be difficult to find in settings such as these.

Let’s face it, we all have a desire for empathy, for someone to ask, “are you okay” or “do you need anything”, both which speaks to a fundamental human need for validation and support.

We have all been forced into environments which have drained us, most exhausting and yielding no real fulfillment; we need to prioritize such spaces where we can be our genuine self, being part of an organization, a community, where people accept us for who we are, rather than what we project. It makes all the difference when one opts not to follow a crowd to avoid getting lost in one.

Somewhere along the way, we often stop caring, we simply stop asking and that’s likely why it feels that we’re drifting apart from established connections, or groups, in our lives; likely a textbook defense mechanism. We still meet with those considered friends, we talk, but conversations skim the surface and we chat about the mundane things, the weather, headlines, about things that really don’t touch what we’re really about. We talk so that we don’t have to say the real things, a quiet kind of sadness, the kind that doesn’t shout but just lingers in our background like a dull hum.

And maybe that’s the quiet tragedy, so many of us carrying invisible baggage, passing each other in various situations, smiling in photos, laughing at jokes, while inside we’re hoping someone will notice without us having to say a word.

From The Writer’s Workshop: Write a post in exactly nine (9) sentences.

Signature
Filed Under: Writing Prompts Tagged With: , , , , ,
Next Page »