I want to wish you and your family a happy, HEALTHY, and joyous Hanukkah, Christmas, Kwanzaa and Festivus, or, “Chanamaskwanzivus.” Say it. It’s fun. Continue reading “Happy Chanumaskwanzivus!”
Tag: Gratitude
Amor Fati, Mi Amor
FUN FACT: Sometimes, I wear pants that on the inside, give me positive affirmations –
Hi Beautiful!
I have one pair of pants that in metallic silver writing, says,
You are Gorgeous!
Turkey/Carb Overload & #GivingTuesday
I have had a few days to overindulge and reflect on a whole bunch of things I’m grateful for. I try to practice reflecting on the good stuff each day, even when I’m not eating turkey or 18,000 net carbs. (per bite.)
And speaking of 18,000, my “CHAI to PAM at 50” fundraising campaign is hovering at 31% to our $18,000 goal, which is really excellent. There are still several weeks until my 50th birthday, so I’m confident we’ll get to $18,000. Making this goal, or even better, exceeding it, would be the absolute best 50th birthday gift, EVER! Continue reading “Turkey/Carb Overload & #GivingTuesday”
13
I don’t believe I’ve ever been officially diagnosed as obsessive compulsive, or maybe I’ve been diagnosed, but I don’t remember. Wouldn’t someone with OCD, remember a diagnosis like that?
I have always preferred even numbers over odd. I can’t explain why, but in 2006, (a nice, even year), I was scheduled to deliver my second daughter via cesarean section on December 13th. I decided it was time for me to stop worrying about odd numbers, let alone the “unlucky” number 13. Now, thanks to Charlotte, my second born, I have mostly embraced the number 13. Just don’t ask me to live on a 13th floor. Continue reading “13”
Life Outside of ONE Bubble. U2?
I am always doing something and all of the time, I am wired to do what I can to make things better in this world. My daughters know this, and have never known anything besides dedication to helping others for the greater good. * See definition of Philanthropy below.
Doing nothing is unfathomable to me. I hope you will read this in its entirety, to hear a plea that feels like the plea of my life thus far. Then, I hope you do something.
I’m going to straight up tell you that I’m about to turn 50 years old, and only wish for one gift. Also, I never ask for gifts. Ask my Parents or my kids. They’ll tell you.
Will you help me make a positive impact in this world the minute you stop reading this post? Lives depend upon it.
Loving the Petty Moments, Truly.
DISCLAIMER: I have been on a writing strike. Bear with me. Thanks.
When I was a child, I couldn’t fathom the idea that anyone was a Tom Petty fan. I disliked his singing style so much, I balked at listening to the meaningful music. Of course, I felt the same way about Bob Dylan and Janis Joplin. Now that I’m older, (and CLEARLY wiser,) I’ve grown to fall in love with and appreciate extraordinary talents that transcend a “purdy” or lyrical vocal quality. All of these artists’ songs strike deep chords inside of me and are among my very favorites.
Beginning on April 4th of this year, I celebrated spring, by springing free from a job that resulted in deep pain and angst in me. Once I left that position, I couldn’t help but notice that I was hearing a ton of Tom Petty songs. Perhaps I was just listening for them. It seemed that almost daily, I’d hear, I Won’t Back Down, The Waiting, Free Falling, and Learning to Fly.
I didn’t understand the meaning, or if there was any meaning for me. I just knew that feeling trapped and waiting to leave that job was the hardest part. I had to learn to fly again and while I was free falling, I was not going to back down or retreat.
Continue reading “Loving the Petty Moments, Truly.”
This Day and National Recovery Month.
I almost hate to put the anniversary of 9/11/01 beside National Recovery Month, but everything seems to connect somehow to that fateful day, getting real and honest about the impact of it, and getting real and honest about how we cope or can’t cope is what connects us to recovery.
Today, in the year 2001, everything changed. I can only speak for me, but as inherently fearful and geared toward sadness as I was before 9/11, the volume of my fear and sadness resounded at a higher decibel and with more frequency.
It still does, but I work very hard to locate a peaceful and serene volume and that happens almost solely by working with and helping others.
I am currently in my 19th year of sobriety, but up until this year, I had absolutely no idea there was a, National Recovery Month. Continue reading “This Day and National Recovery Month.”
A Bout of Doubt is not the Death of Breath
Every so often, I don’t want to post or go public with the truth about myself. Right now, I’d prefer to post a comparative analysis of my body measurements, weight and BMI from age 18 to present day, or even post a daily food intake journal that demonstrates my consumption of three pieces of cake, more than I want to publish a post that states that I had, over the past several days, been feeling pretty down. I was stricken with fear, self-doubt and partial paralysis of my left brain, which in Pam-speak, translates to, “Quit now because you’ll never do or be anything you can actually feel good about. You’ve already failed, and when push comes to shove, you are wholly unlovable.”
Now, where’s the rest of that cake? Continue reading “A Bout of Doubt is not the Death of Breath”
I am Chosen and so is She: My Free Sister, “Ibby!”
I was given up for adoption at birth. When I was five-years old, my parents informed me that I was chosen by them because that’s how much they wanted me to be their child. I still recall the lovingly perfect way they told me about their reasons for adopting me. I have vivid and wonderful memories of the experience. What I specifically remember is that the kitchen counter was around my height and that I felt completely loved and wanted.
As I got older and entered into my teens, I began to feel totally abandoned by and resentful at my birth family. Like so many children who are given up for adoption, I felt an enormous void inside of me. (Later, I would realize my void had nothing to do with me being given up for adoption and everything to do with me being a teenager with baggage.) Continue reading “I am Chosen and so is She: My Free Sister, “Ibby!””
Love’s Litmus Test: As Lust Passes, it Fails the Test.
As I’ve been attempting to have a really good cry that never seems to come, I have started thinking about love, which almost immediately brought me to thinking about lust and the confusion (and periodic pain) lust, (if one or more individual expects love), almost invariably causes.
Let me be clear. Lust is a lot of fun and I enjoy it as much as anyone possibly can. It has its place, but I believe it’s best performed under a very short term contract that both (or all) participants understand and agree upon. As long as little or no return on investment is expected, I highly recommend going with lust for a gig or two. Continue reading “Love’s Litmus Test: As Lust Passes, it Fails the Test.”
Pamela Klier-Weidner (PKW) 