Hello World!

Hi there fellow human people. If you have stumbled into this debatably mad corner of the web let me just say welcome! My name as you may have guessed is Kathleen, but please call me Kathy. I am a woman who is embarking on this, the journey through life,  and I wish to share it with all of you.  To that end I believe a better introduction is in order!

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With dirty blonde hair, hazel eyes, and freckles I leave most unconvinced of my native heritage, however they quickly change their tune with a quick flash of my tribal card.  I am also an artist, a wife , and most recently a writer. Currently I’m a free writing contributor to the totally awesome Splice Magazine. Becoming a part of Splice has urged me to push my writing further and this Blog is a part of that. But in the mean time I help my husband support us with a small part time job in retail. I struggle with Bi Polar and Anxiety daily and expect to write a lot about that. Polyamory has also recently become a big part of my life and so there may also be some articles about that in the future. I am not sure what this is or will be only that I wish to share my writing with the world.

Posts will go up once a week along with some small blurbs about my articles on splice when they hit the site. I hope you will stick around my debatably mad blog. It promises to be an interesting ride!



And This is Depression Folks: A Look at the Realities Behind the Diagnosis.

Hello fellow human people. Today sitting here I have had three hours to write something but couldn’t manage to produce anything. I have had a whole week of brainstorming but I am left hands empty begging the universe for a speck of an idea, nothing. The void is all that is swimming between my ears. I have had a tiring last few days, my hormones are all over the place, and I am definitely on a depressive swing its no surprise I can’t find my mojo. But then a thought occurred to me; this is what I should write about.


Now, if I did my job right you just read all that mesmerized and got to the end  where you became a little confused. Let me explain. This blog quiet by an accident of my own current interest has become primarily about mental illness, specifically anxiety and depression. Over half of my issue today is caused by a massive depressive swing. When I get depressed I retreat inward and limit outside contact as much as possible. I don’t want to work. I don’t want to go out. Creativity hahaha ( mine is a sarcastic laugh). What is that, because I can’t remember. Motivation flies the coop and I am left clawing my way through getting out of bed and doing basic functions. This is the point of today’s post; what does depression really look like. Let me tell you about it.

It is never just a constant morose feeling. It comes with quiet a bit of baggage. For one a rather serious lack of motivation, not to be confused with a lack of ambition. It isn’t that we don’t want to work hard, we don’t want to want to work. NO, scratch that we don’t want to do, period. Many of us would languish in bed if we could. Generally we have been at this long enough that we have learned how to push through, crawl out of bed, and fabricate just enough gumption to get by. But that’s not anywhere near the end. Now we have to deal with a lack of concentration, getting irritable about everything, and either eating everything or going on the no-food-at-all diet.

These are just a few of the myriad of symptoms one may experience. A propensity for spontaneous crying, loosing interest or just not caring, anxiety, over sleeping or under sleeping, fatigue, restlessness, agitation, and obsessive thinking are all possible symptoms. No two people will present entirely the same, it can even be different from one episode to the next. It is a roller coaster that no one wants to ride but they buckle us in any way.


We often deal with multiple of these at varying degrees on any given day even when we are not having a big episode. Worst of all is that these symptoms often only perpetuate a feeling of uselessness that fuel our depression making it harder to come back. If it isn’t our own mind many face friends or family who, though well intentioned, will say things that only reinforce our negative feelings about ourselves. For instance telling your depressed friend to “turn that frown upside down.”  seems cheerful and is intended to help, but what it actually says is we are not OK the way we are, and you need/want us to be different. This is hurtful and drives us further in, we can’t give you what your asking for and it makes us feel broken.

If you really want to help those near to your heart who struggle with depression take a look at Winnie the Pooh. That’s right you just read that, Winnie the Pooh. Why you may ask, because Eeyore is a constantly morose character he has little motivation and though he loves the Hundred Acre Wood and his friends he can’t muster the enthusiasm of Pooh or Tigger. But his friends never ask him to change, they include him when ever they can, and when there is a tangible thing they can do to help (usually finding his tail) they are right there eager to assist. If you want to help someone don’t tell them it will get better, don’t push them to do things. Instead offer to include them, be there when ever you can even if its just to sit on the couch, and just understand they might not be able to do it today but don’t be deterred.


We miss our lives when we fall into a slump and often we get left behind. You see us hiding and when we continually turn down offers to go out or hang many just stop trying and move on without us. But if you wait for us to catch up and keep trying, when we finally become more ourselves we are the best friends. So the next time your friend or loved one just disappears, stop in to say hello maybe bring her some honey ;). Just knowing you care helps lift us up  a little bit, and those little steps out make a difference. Slowly we rise, back to surface and we start to feel better again.

I hope next week sees me with my mojo restored. I know this piece was shorter than most but I hope it was helpful, enjoyable, and informative non-the-less. Have a great rest of your week and enjoy the weekend. Until next time stay your wonderfully mad selves.

A Bird Without Her Wings: Life Without Driving.

Hello fellow human people, welcome back! If you where like me when your hormones flared in all the glory that is teenage-hood, your body and mind screamed to “fly free”; you saw this in learning how to drive. You wanted desperately to spread your wings and hit the open road, to have the freedom to go where you wanted without assistance. Some of you may have been a little stressed, but the prospect was far too tempting to resist. For me however my mind had other opinions, loud ones. Sadly those opinions won out, and I have never learned how to drive. Anxiety plays a big role in this. I know some measure of my dread comes from an accident I was in as a child. Still it doesn’t account for the nearly debilitating fear that influences me when ever my operation of a vehicle comes up. Every nerve ending fires with a flight response. “Run!”,  “Get away!” all my cells are screaming, and for the life of me I don’t know why.


What I have learned as I have gotten older is I am not alone. I personally know about 5 other people of varying ages who have never learned how to drive and many more who learned but choose not to.  It is not as uncommon as some people believe, there are lots of reasons to abstain from driving. One young lady I met chose this because pollution reduction is a cause she supports, and her choice not to drive is an effort to reduce her carbon footprint. Another man in his 30’s recently told me he chooses not to drive because it saves his family over $1500 annually. But the reason I hear most often is anxiety driven, people are afraid. To be fair I don’t blame them you are roughly 2.5x more likely to die in your car then by getting shot.


You may be thinking “OK, so you don’t drive, big deal.” and though your being sarcastic it actually is a “big deal”. I don’t think I could drive right now, I don’t think its healthy for me to try, however I am steadily working in hope that one day I can overcome my own fears. That being said it has had significant negative impact on my life and the lives of others in the same position. Unlike traditional disabilities this is actually viewed as a choice, though our minds might argue that point, and as such it is often looked down on.

I have been scoffed at, laughed off, and lost potential job opportunities because of this. Though it hurts I learned long ago that people can be hurtful so most of this I let flow over me. The jobs I could even overlook except at no point in the job description or interview process was it even hinted at that these jobs required you to drive, because they didn’t. Let that sink in, in this day and age where most businesses have a equal opportunity employer clause of some kind, a skill that has no bearing on the ability one has to function in the roles I and people like myself apply for, can dictate my hirability. I find this viewpoint ignorant, my lack of driving can actually make me a better employee. To transport yourself around without aid of a vehicle requires some resourcefulness a trait most positions could actually benefit from.


In a world full of people buzzing around in their cars we just don’t fit. Some of us rely on the kindness of friends, family, and partners to get around. Some of us support other local drivers using apps like Uber or Lyft and some of us are lucky enough to live in an area with comprehensive public transit to get us to and from. Often it actually requires a mix to live a relatively normal life: shopping, go to appointments, work, and socializing on the wages of the average middle class family.

Friends if you have someone in your life who struggles with this, be kind. The fear is real and the world regularly reminds us that we are not the norm. It isn’t easy to live a life chained to your ability to find transportation. One of you may even have someone who without you would be a shut in. Know that we are grateful and that when we don’t ask for assistance, its because we feel guilty.


If you are like me know your not alone. It may be an unpopular place that we find ourselves in and people may look down at our “choice”, but you have to do what is necessary for you to be happy and healthy. You should not feel bad about what you need. One day I hope we are looked at no differently but until then lift each other up when you meet, don’t be afraid to say “me too”. Each of us deserves to be validated and we can do that for each other. Thanks for the read my crazy people. Until next time stay your wonderfully mad selves.


Suicide and the Imprint it Leaves on Our Hearts

Hello fellow human people. Chances are you at least know of someone who has taken their own life. You are one of an exponential number of family and friends caught in the ripple effect that is suicide, for when someone chooses to end their own life it is a  rock that splashes down and creates a title wave. Unfortunately I cannot say that I have escaped its treacherous waters, it has touched me and my family more than once. It was even a path,  that I can admit I once very nearly walked. My story however went on, I found my strength to fight, not everyone can. Suicide has become a stigma in our world, a disease we think we can cure or a nasty detail we would rather not discuss, but it still kills thousands.


Of  all those I have lost none was felt more deeply than the lose of my nephew just before his 16th birthday in 2016. My husband and I  both feel the deep void of his absence and when we received the news we were fathomlessly sad, but also hurt and angry.  If any of you have been to that dark place you know what it feels like in the void of your loss, no words can do it justice. It breaks my heart, that sweet boy was so deeply depressed he felt his only option was to take his own life. 30 – 70% of all suicide victims in the USA suffer from depression or related illnesses. Yet despite all our strides in the treatment of these diseases that number hasn’t really gone down in recent years.

My sister in-law, Kristen Vaughan, was also deeply impacted by this loss, having fought her own battle for years against depression and suicidal thoughts. For her it was very hard to reconcile that someone so close had lost the very battle she herself struggled with. We both were struck by how little any of the family or even his friends had known of how he was suffering. Kristen however turned her pain into action and by the end of the year her push for suicide education was heard in the form of a series of articles in a local newspaper.

I admired her ability to push forward hoping to bring suicide education and awareness to families and in particular the children in local schools struck by losses like this one. Which made what I discovered in the writing of this article all the more startling. I have sought out a wealth of statistics to illustrate the reach of suicide for this article, what I found to be most curious is that the data doesn’t say what I had expected. I went looking expecting to see woman, minorities and youth at the top of this list, they are not. The majority of suicide victims are actually middle-aged white men. Men in general are 3.53x more likely to follow through with a suicide attempt despite the fact that women are more likely to attempt it.

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In the US alone 2015 saw an estimated 44,193 people who chose to take their own lives. That is over 8,00 more than the 35,485 people who died car related deaths in the same year and 30,000 more than the those who died in gun related deaths not deemed suicide. This number is truly staggering, more staggering still is the number of  people who are treated for self harm injuries every year which amounted to an estimated 505,507 in 2015. But the most staggering of all however, is a number that as far as I can tell no one has even calculated; the exponential number of family and friends caught in the ripple effect, those left standing alone in their grief when the tides recede.

I find it alarming that we rarely speak about suicide and its realities and when we do we focuses heavily on its effects in young people. But though to the general public it is more shocking when it is a young child, the pain is not any less when the man is grown. He was still someones son, brother, possibly a husband, and father. We direct our education and awareness campaigns, what little there are, at our youth in a hope that somehow we can prevent this from happening. However, perhaps we are just creating an illusion, that suicide is something only the young struggle with.

Chances are you have found yourself here hoping to find some solace, or perhaps to gain some understanding of something the seems so nonsensical.  I hope what I have to share with you will help you find  some measure of peace in the aftermath of your loss. I have lost acquaintances, friends, family, and loved ones. I still weep for the emptiness they left behind. But I have come to a place, an understanding, this was their choice. It is hard pill to swallow the idea that this was what they wanted, but sometimes we cant bear the weight of all that we are and all that we know. Sometimes we can’t bear the lack of control, or the pain and it is in those feelings that many find their path to suicide. Their is no magical answer to the pain you are feeling but from the understanding of a thing comes healing. Only in acknowledging the truth of their choice can we understand and be free to begin to heal.


Thank you for being here and hearing my words. Please take care of your loved ones be there for them and let them know how you feel about them often and loudly. We never know how much time we will have with them or what other battles they may be facing. The best we can do is to make the time we do have the best it can be. Be kind and love each other and as always; Until next time stay your wonderfully mad selves.


February: The Month of Opportunities

Hello fellow human people. This week I wanted to talk about opportunities. At the beginning of the year I started using a planner to help me manage my time in this new adventure of writing. Now, I am very strong believer in the power behind repetitive directed thought, expend enough energy directed toward one given thing and it will come to pass. This is what led me to title my months, to give each month a singular direction through 28-31 days of continuous directed thought. As the title of this article indicates February is the month of opportunities.

Everything on this journey started in the month of  January, and it has been a wondrous, educational whirlwind since then. As we have moved into February though things have slowed and started to change, presenting in new exciting ways. Earlier today I announced that I had left Splice, the publication that started all this. This may seem like an ending but it is actually a very special opportunity to find the best creative outlet for my words to take flight. It is scary to hang in limbo but I was never going to be able to make this a career with Splice and this is much more than a hobby to me now.

I feel the doors opening and I know that they are just out of sight. Not only do I have a couple possibilities in front of me job wise but as we are also in the process of finding a new home each place we visit presents new opportunities as well. I wake each morning with a hope that this day will be better than the last. It doesn’t always work out but I feel each day building toward something new. My world has bloomed in the short time since this year began and despite the state of the world around me I am filled with a sense of happiness and achievement.


But with all opportunities come change. That is where things take a difficult turn for me. Change makes my anxiety brain which thrives in structure and sameness flip its little lid. I have had to take a great deal of time to self care and constantly remind myself that these changes are good and will make my life a much happier place. The juxt-to-position between the overwhelming feelings of hope and the dread of change is nigh comical. But having to haul myself up by my boot straps and trudge on to that bright new day over the ridge; that I believe is my lesson this month. Just because you are presented with a glorious opportunity doesn’t mean you don’t have to work for it, even if it is just in the conquering of your own mind.

Opportunities are all around us everyday we are given the chance to remake ourselves with each sunrise. What we each must remember is to grab hold of our passions, find those open doors and run through them. Fear and lack of motivation are the downfall of greatness, don’t let that be you. If you see the chance to have everything you want, even if it is scary it is better to have tried!

In parting let us remember to go forth with our eyes wide open, the opportunity you seek may well be right in front of you, don’t be too distracted or self depreciating to see it. Grab the door knob, hold on tight, and pull with all you got. It is up to you to take what your given and make it gold. I believe we each have that capability. Even if no one else does, I believe in you. So let us rejoice in The Month of Opportunities. Lets go out and find our doors to our new, better selves together. Until next time stay your wonderfully mad selves.




Where Did All the Links Go?

Hello fellow human people, you may have noticed that all links to the Splice homepage have disappeared. This unfortunately is not a bug or a glitch. After my 2 latest articles for them it quickly became apparent that we have different goals. I had been considering other more freeing creative options for a while and after a discussion with management I decided it was best to leave. I wish them well in their endeavors. Since not all of my articles have received proper announcements and some of you may wish to read them below are the links to all of my articles. Looking forward I hope to start contributing elsewhere soon and of course I will release information as it comes available. Until next time stay your wonderfully mad selves.


Chris Isaak Article

The Jesus and Mary Chain Article

John Prine + Kasey Musgraves Collaborative Article

In This Moment + P.O.D. + Ded Article

Travis Tritt Article

Dorothy + Starbenders Article

Don McLean Article


Art: My Path to Freedom.

Hello fellow human people. Today I want to talk about my art, my history with it, and how it has helped me cope. This was a very emotional piece to write as it is about a very important part of myself, a part of myself intrinsically tied to the pains of my past and the freedom I now enjoy.

Art has been a part of my life since, well, as long as I can remember. My house, when it wasn’t a war zone, was filled with music from various genres and eras. My mother constantly had one project or another going on and regularly had commissions for everything from afghans to earrings. She had her hands dug into more mediums than me and that is saying something. I think she was the biggest reason I started into art but, she was not the reason I stayed;  frankly I don’t even think I fully understood till much later.

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Art really started to appeal to me at about age 7, it was also around that time I started realizing that my home life was not normal, and it was far from OK. I think that is a big part of why the art became so important, it made me feel good. I didn’t understand it then but each medium I tried was another way to take everything I wanted to say, every emotion I couldn’t deal with and translate it into something else, something beautiful. All my hurts, all my fears, the growing anxiety that permeated my life spilled out in color and I found a certain measure of peace. Art became intrinsic to my being and when I didn’t have it, it was like being without breath, it was my life line.

I began to see “the beauty and horror in ordinary things” and was awestruck. My mother taught me her crafts and I soaked most of it up, though high attention projects like most needle work continued to elude me. I drew and even began writing poetry. This outlet was the gateway to a place where good prevailed and if there was violence it had purpose. Their was evil but it was plain, easily discernible unlike the reality of my life.

A million time the servant, but never the Master
Always done wrong but presents only laughter
The pain in her heart can never be known
Despite the darkness that inside her has grown
Slow seeping corruption of a pure heart
One poisonous act, that was the start
No one will see it until it’s too late
But if we are honest none will ponder her fate
Have ever you seen such a lovely disaster,
As one who is always the servant but never the Master?
– Kathleen Harpe

As I grew and moved into adolescence art showed me something new it was my first root back to my native culture. I learned bead work, dolls, birch bark crafts, and dream catchers, each teaching me important pieces of information about my heritage I hadn’t known before. I had many teachers but none was as important as the woman who took me in during those last years of high school, Anny Hubbard. For a very long time, she was who I wanted to be and I suppose in an odd sort of way that is how things are working out. She may be a professional artist and I may be a freelance journalist and writer, but even though our mediums are different we both look to our art to power us forward in life.

Those last years in her house where possibly the hardest. A lot of dark images splashed across pages back then. I was lost in my own mind trying to come to terms with my life’s newest trauma. Thanks to her gentle encouraging hand I learned I could capture my darkest feelings on the page, it was a way to process through them. I learned the pain wasn’t my fault and I didn’t have to keep it. It would take me several more years to process it all out but slowly I gave those darkest parts of myself over to the page.


I still love and need my art it keeps me present when that walls of anxiety threaten to smother me. It lifts me up when the sadness bears down promising to slowly crush me. Each piece of my art every doodle, each earring, every word is a piece of my soul laid bare, made free. The peace that comes from even the simplest creation is incredibly hard to describe. It shows me I am not worthless, and even though I wasn’t always sure, it proves to me at least in some small way, I have left a mark. I will not disappear and be forgotten a very real fear that has followed me from childhood.

When life pulls you down even if you feel you have no talent pick a medium, roll with what you feel, etch it out however you can, transform your pain and leave your mark. We will not forget you and you are far from alone. Many a great artist has walked the same path of pain and hardship and today we revere their work. You have to start somewhere.

I thank you for tuning in please comment your thoughts and if you are so moved share you art with me. Let us remember each other and acknowledge our pains. I hope this article has helped at least one of you.  The photos are all of my artwork from various times in my life. If you want to see any of Anny Hubbard’s work you can find it here. And as always, until next time stay your wonderfully mad selves.



Hello fellow human people! So glad you have returned. Today we will be talking about my thoughts and feelings about time, how we as people experience time, and the circumstances that dictate that experience. I ask that if you don’t wish to read the article but you follow the blog to pop down to the the last paragraph, there are important announcements and updates.

Science tells us that time moves at a fixed pace at all times. It doesn’t speed up and it doesn’t slow down. But speak to just about anyone and their personal experience of time will most likely not line up with this deduction. Our perceptions of time show that in our individual realities time moves at a varied pace. Years sometimes pass in what feels like the blink of an eye, while a month can drag for what seems like years. This feeling is shared by most of humanity but also distinctly individual, time passes differently for me than for you.


Now to be clear we aren’t talking about this scientifically. I don’t have the certificates or brain training for that. We are simply discussing the human experience of time, for the way we view time is beautiful and defies what science tells us. Take a person lost deep in a memory, they can be so consumed it might be said that they are simultaneously experiencing two points in time; the past and the present. That paradox should not exist but tell that to the woman remembering the sound of her mothers voice, or the touch of her husbands hand, or the trauma survivor forced back to the place of their pain.

My experience with time is relatively short compared to the longevity of the average human lifespan. However I have experienced more than a few moments in which time and even space seemed to fold together taking me to another place in time. Some of these are pleasant, but more of them are dominated by the rampant abuse my siblings and I suffered at the hands of my father. In those instances the things I would see and feel are not of this time, and though they are conjured by my mind it doesn’t change the perception that it is real. Thankfully I experience these moments less and less the further back they fall but they still happen, over 10 years after the last instance of abuse.

The sting of the past,
the bliss of those missed.
our very first fight,
the first time we kissed.
Taken from me
now your already lost,
gone forever,
at immeasurable cost.
My greatest gift
is how much I’ve had,
I spent it with love,
It makes my heart glad.
Seeing all
but never to be seen,
you gift greatness
through the wisdom we glean.
Your ending is
the most tragic crime.
My old friend
and enemy; time.
                     – Kathleen Harpe


In my experience on my journey through time the ways we experience its passage are based mostly on how we feel at any given moment. Pain, sadness, and depression can cause time to crawl by, no end in sight, the agony of those feelings stretching on into eternity. Joy, happiness, and excitement cause it to whisk away quickly, gone and over in the blink of an eye, nothing but the memory left to remind us. Some emotions don’t always go one way or the other, anxiety for instance can be either. A deadline creeping up may seem to be speeding toward you with every deafening tick of the clock. Conversely a dreaded conversation may leave you an old, gray, shaky mess before it arrives freeing you from the insanity. Activity level can also help to tame the monster that is time keeping busy can speed it along though this seems far less reliable. Sometimes in an effort to pass the long hours I clean everything only to discover less than 2 hours has passed.

Not often in all the circumstances that dictate our perception of time do we feel its passage quiet so acutely as when a loved ones time comes to an end. No matter the length of the life lost rarely are we left without the feeling that time has slowed, almost as if to say ” take these long moments and say goodbye.” . When we lost my nephew in 2016 I felt every moment without him in it slide by like the slow grinding of sandpaper against my heart. But every step in this dance: new life, death, laughter and tears; it all builds up that which shapes us.


Think about this for a moment: you could not have a present with out a past. Don’t just think about this casually, think deep. If anything you have experienced in you life had not happened, would you be where you are right now. For me that is definitely a resounding “NO!” and I imagine that is the same for most of you. We may wish we could reach back through time and change it, mold it to be better, less painful. I know I am guilty of this, but I have come to realize I can’t have my cake and eat it too. In order to be who I am now I have to take the horrible backdrop that brought me to this place. To have lived a life with out my pains would likely mean a less kind, wise, and determined Kathleen would be running around, and likely not writing this blog.

Time teaches us so many things, how to let go, change, and even grow up. But for me the hardest lesson was that I must accept it as a whole. I can’t change it and even if I could to alter one instant would unravel a life that I have come to cherish. I am sure that I will have more hills on my road perhaps even a mountain, but the end is a place I want to see; but if I alter the course the finish line moves too. So I step forward everyday knowing no matter how bad it seems it is all leading somewhere and I find myself smiling.


If your here you made it to the end. YAY!!! Its a long very deep thinking article, I hope you loved it. It was inspired by a great movie, Arrival, that I have watched recently. I wanted to shout out to all of you who have liked posts or left comments I really appreciate it, exposure matters a lot and everyone of your comments and likes is infinitely more important than you know. That all said, there is a new way to support the blog and get updates when new posts are available, we have a Facebook page! Check it out and be sure to like and follow the page to help support the blog! Also I wanted to apologize to all of you about the lack of article announcements last week. Splice is revamping the site and it has slowed the posting of articles but I will have those announcements up as soon as they do become available. I am so gratefully that you have been apart of this crazy journey with me. Until next time stay your wonderfully mad selves!



What DnD Has Taught Me About Real Life

Hello fellow human people! Last week was a little heavy and I just want to say how much I appreciate each and everyone of you for your support. That being said I wanted to lighten things up a bit. DnD and other fantasy places have always been my refuge but despite what some may believe, they are far from removed from real life. In fact they intersect more than one might think.

In my DnD group we have come to refer fondly  to a song, “Never Split the Party” by Emerald Rose, as rule oneRule one states if you find people crazy enough to follow you around through all life’s insanity don’t ever let them go. If you stay with them they will take you on the most wonderful adventures. I learned this many times over it proves itself true again and again. The most recent proof is this crazy adventure of writing that has me sitting in a Starbucks, composing this for all of you. If I had made different choices at any of a hundred places I wouldn’t be. If I had decided not to live here, if I had not decided to make friends with the new funny women in my community, or if I had chosen to seek solitary spirituality in place of community; I would not have been at that desk when she asked for my help with an article, and things right now would be very different. Life is a wild ride made better by the people we share it with.


Sadly many of us, myself included, have people in our lives who are not the most savory of characters, but are non-the-less a part of our journey for better or worse. DnD has a title for such people,  Rouges. The above mentioned song also tells us exactly how to deal with them “Never let that damn thief out of sight.” If you have someone like this in your life never turn your back, don’t give them the chance to do you wrong. I have had many people at various points in my life play this role. It has been a hard lesson to learn that there is place where they can be a part of my life but not have the power to destroy it. I find that place in the balance of, allowing myself the freedom to see and acknowledge their place in my party and doing my part to see they don’t “rob us all blind”.

If we look around our lives through this lens of DnD we see each other a little differently and sometimes the simplicity of those labels makes things much clearer. My next bit of wisdom is about the healers in our parties. Remember they only have so many heals per day and without rest they can’t recharge them. Everyone but most especially those who tend the needs of others need rest, and they will forsake it because they want to be there for you. I speak from experience, more often than not by the time we realize we are burnt out it is bad and we have already committed to 12 other things. The people in our lives who fill this position look out for us, in exchange we need to do the same and remind them to rest and recharge so they can continue to heal tomorrow.

If it hasn’t become apparent I strongly believe in the power of the written word, but I also believe in the power of the spoken word. Where DnD is concerned spoken word is not only communication, it is also action, and assuming you speak the same language, and have a high enough charisma score you can talk your way out of almost anything. I think this is true more often than we would believe, well constructed conversation has the power to change minds and win hearts, or possibly get you out of that speeding ticket, you never know. Absorb language, use it like a tool, it can work wonderful changes in your life. I have to believe this, I am a writer!

27072279_2480207372204641_4106793715346675714_nA picture I drew of a character I played, cross class cleric ranger.

My finally revelation (at least this time 😜) is about knowing yourself. In the world of DnD we chose our race, religion, stats, alignment and class. These are all pieces of who our character will be. In real life we don’t have as much control but their is still a role we play in our party. It is important we know and understand who we are, what our class is and act accordingly. For many this takes a lot of time to figure out but for others like myself it has always been an inner knowing. I have always known what category I fit in, the specifics didn’t come till later but I have always been a healer. I now would specify that to say I am a cross class cleric bard. I am deeply spiritual and my artistic writing is part of my healing for myself and for others. Go out and discover yourselves it will make finding your party and doing your part for the party so much easier.

I am so glad you tuned in and stayed till the end. I hope you have found this entertaining and maybe a little helpful. I really liked it and think it may turn into a sequel *giggles madly* . There will be two article announcements coming to the page soon as my pieces get published. Look for updates on next week’s post there. Thank you again and until next time stay your wonderfully mad selves.


Travis Tritt Article Announcement

Hello fellow human people! My latest Splice installment is now ready for you! You can and should go check it out here. This show had the most intimate feel of any I had, as of yet, been privileged enough to see. Not because of the venue, it was large and beautiful; awe inspiring in it simple elegance. No, the intimacy of this show was that it was just him, his instruments, the music, and us.

For me the show was a special treat. I don’t posses a singular all consuming devotion to any one music, I love them all. But country, as it was in my teenage years is how I’ve always preferred my country. This is the only brand Mr. Tritt plays. Some of the songs he played that night where, in fact, the staples of my formative years. Nothing could have made me happier.

Now comes time for the updates! The weekly post will be DnD related and no more about that, it’ll spoil the fun. Also look forward to announcements for 2 all new pieces for Splice. Hope you enjoy my writings and until next time stay your wonderfully mad selves!


Body Image: My Struggles

Hello fellow human people, I am about to get real serious on you right now. I want to get a little personal and share with you all a little about me and my struggles with my body image. In no way do I qualify as a skinny chick, and though I have been called “cute” by many I am far from conventionally beautiful. In fact in my adult life I have only been called sexy by a handful  of people, several of which are people who see me as and object not a person.


When I was younger I was tiny, wearing toddler clothes into the 1st grade tiny. That is up till about the 4th grade when I started to put on weight. Its not like I wasn’t an active child. I played in the dirt, spent hours in the pool weekly, and rode bikes with my family every other weekend through out the Summers. But still I held on to that weight. It started negatively impacting my school life, I was getting teased more than usual ( I was a nerd). It was around this time I started experiencing my very first panic attacks. I know that my home life played a large role in that but that’s another story and it doesn’t negate the effects that my school life started to have on me.  I would get bullied and end up sick in the bathroom unable to breathe properly. That feeling of no control over, and even that my own body was working against me, is something no 9 year old should feel. Unfortunately this would be just the start of a struggle that even now is still on-going.

In my first years of high school things only got worse. I went to a school on my home reservation, a place I had never even seen till the year before. It was a very close knit community and I was the fresh meat, a perfect target; big girl, messed up family, nerd, special ED ( ADD and Anxiety), and I was an outsider. Those years where not kind and filled with body shaming daily, they called me a big white whale, a jab at my weight and my pale skin. When I moved to Rudyard, a school outside of the reservation, things improved a little. I found some friends who where just as out of place as me, nerds and geeks, many suffering from body image issues of their own; and we bonded over the outside torments of and unforgiving populace. During this time I would get my class assignments and hide in the library, my place of refuge. Sometimes my friends and I would meet there, but more often I was alone. However, it was better than the jeering faces of those who were cruel to me.


When I moved to Arizona things at home got worse but at school oddly better. I went to an accelerate high school, so we where a school full of misfits. For the first time I felt like I truly belonged. During that brief year of school I was free, I had friends who told me to be who I was without  compromise, I found myself a lot that year. Sadly my terrible home life ruined everything and sent me back to Michigan. There I went to another accelerated school and spent my last year much like I had at Rudyard, with a few friends and staying out of the public eye as much as possible.

At this point is when I started to realize it wasn’t just some mean kids who thought being curvy was hideous and wrong, but most of society. I think I had deluded myself into believing that if I could survive high school the hate would stop. When it finally sank in that this wasn’t the case it broke my walls that held that pain at bay, it all flooded in. Ugly, fat, and disgusting were words that I started to seriously associate with myself. I started dressing in baggy clothes that hid my body. I started avoiding mirrors and being naked hating the idea that I and God forbid anyone else would see me like that. Anxiety and Depression compounded this issue. My hygiene suffered and I started sleeping 10-12 hours most days. I spent most of my time buried in fantasy worlds, their great wars and villains seemed clearer and easier to deal with.


As cliche as it may sound it was my now husband that helped me out of that place. We met online and or first conversation lasted 11 and a half hours. I found myself giving him bits of me, waiting for him to use it against me – he didn’t. He loved and supported me through the self hate and the crazy that came with it. Through the pain of my traumas from my home life and everything else. I believe it was truly unconditional love that was the trigger for me to come back a little. Slowly it became easier to get out of bed in the morning, to take care of myself.

Today I still struggle, and yes, I still get hate. Some times I look in the mirror and its “Hey there good looking.” others its more like “You look gross.”. But it is a work in progress. I try to do what makes me happy and healthy and the weight will be as it should be. I am still a big girl, and that is OK. When I have really bad days I reach out to my support system and they remind me that sometimes my mind is a dangerous place to wander alone. They sit with me and help me remember all the things I love about myself. Its a one day at a time sorta shtick, but it works.


Thank you all for stopping in to read. I really hope this story gives hope to those of you struggling. I also hope it provides some insight into who I am and why I write some of the stuff I write. If you comment please remember to be kind. Until next time stay your wonderfully mad selves!