Self-Discovery – Page 2 – Pamela Klier-Weidner (PKW)

On Not Giving Two Fu*ks, or Even One.

Let me begin by wishing all readers and non-readers, a meaningful Christmas. While it may look different from person to person, and place to place, my prayer is that each human being, and our collective human community, give and receive healing, love and joy. May it wash over us and repair this world.

Plus, I think Jesus would totally dig it.

IMPORTANT DISCLAIMER: The word “Fu*k,” sans asterisk with the “c” inserted in said word, is utilized a great deal in the rest of this post. Read at your discretion. Continue reading “On Not Giving Two Fu*ks, or Even One.”

The Real Truth About Area 51

I am 51 years old today. Just a few short days ago, the Pentagon confirmed that Area 51 conspiracy theorists are not actually nutballs after all. Coincidence? I think not. Continue reading “The Real Truth About Area 51”

A Love Letter to Artificial Progress & Real Regression

Dear World,

Years ago, I believed I was unintelligent. As a child, I worked very hard to hide my perceived stupidity and the shame that accompanied it. I was convinced that anytime I appeared to be intelligent, it was artificial. Naturally, this internal messaging, along with other self-mutilating messaging, was totally false. Continue reading “A Love Letter to Artificial Progress & Real Regression”

Not Being in Love: A Love Story

When I find myself questioning my decision to open myself up on such an external level, (and I question it with great frequency), someone ALWAYS approaches me about how something I’ve shared helped them in some way. Sometimes, a reader simply feels less alone, and breathes a sigh of relief that the committee that lives in their head, (and has way too many meetings), isn’t much different from mine. Continue reading “Not Being in Love: A Love Story”

Boxing Gloves & Kid Gloves

Dukes up.

Boxing gloves on.

Ready for the big fight, flight, or, freeze. Continue reading “Boxing Gloves & Kid Gloves”

It’s Motherhood, NOT Mother-should

For the past several days, it’s been challenging to show up as an enthusiastic mother of my almost 14 and almost 11 year old daughters. I don’t feel this way very often, but when I do, I feel it and hard. Whenever I get like this, I try to remember them as my beautiful little babies before I became COE. (Chief of Embarrassment.)

Continue reading “It’s Motherhood, NOT Mother-should”

My Love Shack(les): Break Free.

Ever since my divorce and especially lately, I’ve been thinking about what being “in love,” actually looks and feels like. I’m pretty sure it’s a terrible idea to carry these thoughts on for too long in one’s head, especially with the committee that resides in my noggin. Still, for several weeks, I’ve been extra “think-y” about the qualities I’ve spotted in the men I tend to fancy the most. Continue reading “My Love Shack(les): Break Free.”

Feelings… wo wo wo… Feelings

I spend a great deal of time and energy thinking, writing about, examining, preaching, ripping apart and putting back together, all things about “FEELINGS.” I have no doubt that this is time and energy well spent. (This is your cue to roll your eyes.)

Time and time again, embracing feelings and the depth of feelings that I feel or have felt, almost immediately turns me to examining facts – I am an ardent supporter and believer in evaluating and trusting facts over feelings, but processing feelings is a MUST. Continue reading “Feelings… wo wo wo… Feelings”

Writing Right, Righting the Wrong

Once I am right, I will really write.

Maybe I am writing now.

I am ill with a lie told as truth

and a truth that I wish was a lie.

And me, a woman who rarely asks, “Why?”

is asking, “Why?” Continue reading “Writing Right, Righting the Wrong”

The Jew Who Wasn’t a Jew Until She Was

This is hard for me to write but less hard for me to make right.

I have recently gotten hooked on long bicycle rides. 20 miles may not be much for a cyclist who wears super cute Lycra clothes that say things like, “Shimano.” For me, 20 miles is as far as my Day-Glo white legs wish to take me. Like many cyclists, I work up a pretty good shvitz. Continue reading “The Jew Who Wasn’t a Jew Until She Was”