New Site Address – Although This Will Remain….

To all of you following me, I wanted to let you know that I do have my main site now on  There you will find all the blogs from this site, and new ones!!

Join me there!!




What is Love? I want my Peter Pan :)

Terry, My best Friend

The most part of releasing yourself of the whole psychotic love issue is to meet someone real.  Someone who is not going to judge you.  Someone you can find that fits proper in your life.  Now this is intesting.


Two years after leaving my ex I met a great man.  Toy man. Off Roading, camping, you name it.  Appeared to not care about money… in the “money  money grab way…” BUT… he liked money and I believe that when I left him with a plan to see if money wasn’t the issue ( I had quite a bit at the time) , even if I love his Peter Pan attitude, he left me when I lost my money for his rich ex-girfriend…. life was a perfect of me finding my true Peter Pan…. I thought… but he wasn’t my true Peter Pan.  Peter Pan doesn’t care about money that way…. and let me say… that way.  It’s not a true Peter Pan.  Peter Pan doesn’t care if you have money.

To make things clear.  I did marry my Knight in Shining Armour.  He made things right for my children with him…  but Not ever again my “Prince in Shining Armour”… Joke… Pewk… Doesn’t exist.  I will not elaborate… (but as said…did birth 3 perfect children for him… LOL)  Birth vessel commitment done… move on…

So to my two year man… he was my best friend… was not my Peter Pan… he was “Peter Peter Pumpkin Eater, Had a Girlfriend Couldn’t Keep Her, Kept her in Pumpkin Shell and There He Did Not Keep Her Well”.  Still best friend, but it was a crazy jealousy issue too.  Still care for him, always a best friend… but that psychotic love ended… and with him, my psychotic love ended and then I looked for my true Peter Pan.

Two years ago I found my perfect fit… I thought.  And was at the time.  He just wanted to be with me.  He would send me text messages that reminded me of when I was a kid when I had a guy friend.  It wasn’t sexual (well… not out of choice… not to be shared here).  It was just like “wanna play butter cup?”  I loved his texts asking me to come over…

I am an adult of 50 something and that was awesome.  I’m like a Peter Pan female version.  Truth be known, my TBear was the first time I felt comfortable in my “adulting NOT” life.  I know I have responsibilities to my children, and to my retirement funds not to have my children have to deal with that, and all the insurance that goes along with this. I pay into it. But TBear was awesome. I didn’t have to feel all that.  We just hung out. It was awesome…. and he reminded me of a memory… of…

I remember when… Best friend like the one across the street or two doors down that asked to come and play when you were 7 years old.  Made me forget I had to worry about anything.  Okay, that 7 year old best friend was the same friend that put me under the bus when he found a Playboy magazine and asked me to look at it with him.  Yes, we were 7 and I don’t know where he found it, but his mother found us!! And he said I found the magazine… I took the hit…

But.. back to my story of TBear. I lost him.  He kept telling me he was dying and I laughed and told him to stop saying that.  I taught him to dance, took him out to dinner (he was reclusive), he met my parents, my children, I met his daughters.  He was my best Peter Pan ever.  Never wanted to grow up, but life made him.  I guess more of the movie that Peter Pan grew up in “Hook”.

I relate to it.  He had 3 daughters.  I have 2 boys and a daughter.

And both of us were miffed by parenthood and adulting, although we did it. Not perfectly, but we tried our best.

TBear made my life real, in the fact that I realized that all parents question everything we do to our children, but then live this world, in a divorce scenario, that Disney is not real, so we go back to our Peter Pan world.  I’m so okay with that.

In Hook he did it….  God bless Robin Williams…. that movie is all about adults getting back to Peter Pan.   Love it…

I like my freedom to do what I want when I want.  I did my part of being a mother and taking care of all that and this.  But my children are self-sufficient now.  They can live with me, I am okay with that,  but MY life is now mine.

And so I met a new Peter Pan… and he is just awesomely great company.  And he was with lost boys the whole time!  Who knew that Peter Pan actually exists without the Hook version.  Just one thing… now that I found my exactly right Peter Pan…  honest… run away… come back… free… when he shows up he does… doesnt’… K cool 🙂

I’ll spend time with you when you want… I found him…  the REAL Peter Pan

So, I like my Peter Pan. 🙂


No Psychotic Love in this friendship… just understanding… and simple honesty and that simplicity could actually work in a relationship… but seriously?… the word “relationship” is too scary… friendship is nicer… and ever better …. Peter Panners…. no commitment…. but always friendship… love this this.

Hugs R… This is dedicated to you… and Tbear…. simple best across the street friends, like it used to be… 😉

Cricket….  my TBear called me that…No else knows this… but I think R will find out.

It’s about honesty, freedom, friendship, and simplicity and never FORGET… FUN!!! 🙂

.. Peter Pan.


What Is Love

I was asked today how do you know love. Somehow that answer came easy to me. It’s when you feel like you are choking and your heart is aching at the same time when… someone you love leaves you, someone you love is hurting, someone you leave that you love, someone you love is in the hospital, someone you love is dying. Someone you love….

This also hold true for animals you love.

It is simply felt by the choke in the throat and the pain in the heart.

That’s how you know…. love.

It may be painful… but worth it….


It was interesting.  I recently decided to go through my letter box and photo albums.  Strangely enough there were letters I wrote and never sent.  One I found intriguing that I want to share.  The letter was this:

Relfection – upon life, the future, the past.  Time passing.  Struggling to make time a friend, to alter my perception of it as a foe – as a theif.  I fear it, creating perpetual thoughts of what was, wishing I could embrace that which was and return.  I long to be in that place where mother’s hand was smooth, where not yet had developed the creases in Dad’s forehead.  Time then had not yet sucked the moisture out of life.

I want to be a child held and loved.  When mother kissed a bruise and softly swept a tear away.  But in knowing this impossibility, I give my son what I long for.  I hold him close and caress his soft plump skin.  Embracing him is embracing life.  So close – yet I feel so far.  As though I do not exist – or should not exist – or should not exist in his life.

I sit and watch my husband and son and feel so removed from them.  This creates a sense of non-being.  I ache at this.  My heart feels torn – irreparable – until the small child reaches and asks for a hug.

Emotionally I consider myself the equivalent of yo-yo.  I fall and rise just as quickly.  My ability to deal with stress is quite pitiful.  I somehow transform into a self-destructive monster filled with inner turmoil.  This inner turmoil – like a hungry creature – eats at my insides.  To satisfy this hunger, I eat.  I try to fill the void – to feed the creature.  Then I purge my soul.

Oh, it didn’t start that way.  I started swallowing food at a very young age – to avoid humilitation caused by sitting at the kitchen table hours after everyone else had left… because I had to finish everything on my plate, but didn’t want to.  Sometimes I just fell asleep.

I don’t know how this would have ended back over 25 years ago when I wrote it, but it was telling for me today.  I am so blessed that I don’t feel any of that anymore.  That I hugged that baby who is now 28 just two days ago and didn’t feel apart, or that I did not exist.  I exist, and I love my life, and I hope that this will help anyone going through what I went through to know, you exist.  To more people than you know.

Perfect Parent?

I’ve had insightful weekend.  Much of which was spent being lazy and stupid by speaking to my family.  My adult family, may I clearly say.  This adult family I refer to as my parents or sisters.  Not my children.  Definitely not my ex.

I’ve managed, for most of the past few years, to get along with my mother.  My father is easy to get along with for the most part.  He doesn’t like conflict, even more so these days since his third stroke.  He’s still the dad I always knew, but a bit more fragile.

Mom, on the other hand, has always been difficult for me, and I expected, as such, that I would perceived the same with my children.  But there is a difference.


I do not believe myself to have been a perfect mother, and I admit I was not and to my mistakes.


I could not be like my mother.  She called us hypocratical.  She is.  She still thinks she did the best she could and that we have nothing to complain about.  STOP… true.  But to be perfect means we would not have anything to complain about and every child, for the most part, has something to complain about … about their mother or their father…

What bothered me the most the other night while have a great conversation, but that went sour, was at the end of it my mother asked if I was drunk.  Question was because I called her on telling me I was a failure for not graduating from University with a career oriented degree.  I told I understood that.  She then denied she ever said it.  OK… I continued to say she did… and that DAD went upstairs to my room where I was crying and said she didn’t mean it in that way.  At that age “that way” doesn’t mean a thing.  I graduated.  With a BA.  In Art History and French Minor.  It wasn’t really where I wanted to be to begin with.  I wanted to go to a University to take Journalism.

I did end up with an Honours Journalism Diploma after my University, which I paid for with my own money.

All this was silly, but I just wish she would have admitted to remembering to say that.  Because it hurt.  So did mom and dad not showing up to my graduation.  But that then.

So I tried to explain this I understood why she said it because she wanted the best for me.  She would not listen to that… she only listened to the part that I told her she called me a failure.  SHE DID.  So just admit it.

But no.  She had to accuse me of being drunk.  I finally ended it with telling her I loved her and asked if she loved me?  She didn’t answer.  She hung up.  Nice.

I would never hang up on my children.. and if I did something they are hurting about, and I have, and they have told me… I apologize, and hope they will never duplicate my own failures as a mother… but they do know… biggest and far most… IF THEY ASK ME IF I LOVE THEM??? I would not hesitate to say YES… YES… I LOVE YOU TONS…

It ends a problem with a pillow that you can hold onto…. and know… parents and children will have their ins and outs… and that I likely said something to my children that hurt them… if they tell me?  I would say… I’m so sorry… and explain it if I can… or just be sorry if I can’t.  I like their honesty.  I like that they can talk to me.  Even if it hurts.  But we can’t learn to forgive ourselves for parental mistakes if we can listen to our children and say sorry, or as said explain… and resolve…. and let it go.

Perfect parent?… never… but we try… but we need to listen to our children when they become old enough to talk about their issues… listen, explain or apologize… it’s that simple.


7 Years!!! I made it!!! And I can’t see going back!

Wow, I can’t believe I’m posting this a day after my Sevenversary. Seven years clear of bulimia. That too is a WOW… a big one.  And I don’t even have any desire to go back.  I said this before im a blog that they are wrong.  And I know they are wrong.  You can fully recover from this.  And I will not even call it a disease. I call it a hanger.  Something I hung onto when I needed it to help me through my stupid.

Okay, you may think that is nasty to say, but seriously, for me to not be able to handle people in my life that were controlling and turning to this, what was my friend at the time, to eat and purge my weaknesses…. pause….. I think I just realized in these words just that!! I guess I never want to go back because I don’t feel that way anymore.   And it’s because I left the controlling people and ended up with me.  And my animals…. and the things I love to do on my time, when I want to and without judgements  or restrictions of time.

Having said that… I still fee some controls are in place.  I have to visit my parents.  This is a tough one.  I willingly send love to my children.  I happily respond when they respond to me, but I don’t force them or make them feel guilty if they don’t visit me.

I totally understand that parents are a pain in the ass to have to commit to. So I don’t expect it from my children.  I don’t even care if they hate me, but I’d like to know why.  One wont tell me.  LOL.  But I deal with that.  Again, it’s not going to control my emotions.  I have a life to live.  As scared as I am about life, I live it and I won’t ever again let anything or anyone control my guilt or my emotions… except….


Of their four daughters, I have been the most absent.  I know why.  Even visiting them at 55, I feel awkward.  I always felt awkward.  I never felt like I belonged.  I think I posted that before… but over 400 posts,  I don’t fully remember….

But I will see them tomorrow and tell them 7 years….

To my retarded sister who slept with my husband she would find this biblical… sorry… I had to add that… LOL… but to me… it’s good.  I made it… at 55 after 30 years of bulimia… I made it…


Love Equally Unconditionally 


I have had this fear of loving another in a relationship forever. I think it even stems back to my first love who became my husband then my ex. Then my next love and and again my ex.

Interesting when you take a life design coaching course and extras on the side for NLP practices advanced and drawing courses to extend that mental thought and creativity.

It brought me to a very real thought. Over the past 13 years I have been learning to love myself unconditionally. It’s weird I know but most of us don’t.  We can love our children that way or our parents that way. Siblings fall into a grey zone I learned.

But self. That unconditional love is the most important.

So back to fearing loving another in a relationship. I’ve changed my views. I am not afraid but I am definitely particular.

I will not engage anymore unless the person loves themselves as unconditionally as I do me and me them and them me. And I want equal love.

I will never love more anymore then someone loves me or allow someone to love me more than I love them.

It’s a big ticket to ask for. In the interim… I am happy single. 🤗🤗😋😉😊 and loving me. Unconditionally.

***And by the way a note to my followers.  I AM still posting here, but I do have my site up and running too.  Please feel free to join me there and let me know if you want me to post anything.  It gets added to my twitter and facebook page accounts.  Hugs to all!!