I am Lost

I am lost. I walk down the snow covered streets in the darkness. My dog tugs on his leash as I gaze up at the crescent moon. The stars are hidden behind clouds. It seems to be a metaphor for my mood. Tears are running down my face as I watch wisps of snow move across the concrete like sand across deserts.

I am lonely. I have no friends. It is my husband, myself, and now my rescue dog who whines at 3 in the morning to go to the bathroom, disturbing my sleep and making me grumpy. The trees and the stars are my friends. I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve such loneliness in my life. I moved to a new place and thought I’d meet new people. I took a job at a college that touts itself as a close-knit community. I should know – I write the marketing copy. I have no one. I trust no one here. A bizarre backwards world where no one sees things the way I see them and people who are creepy and blatant liars are believed to be saints and saviors.

A women I thought was my best friend back home doesn’t answer the phone when I call. She’s never picked it up and when I chat her on Facebook she can’t really explain why – but she never calls me back. The people who say they want to hang out and give me hope that perhaps they will befriend me – never actually reach out and when I try to meet up with them the texts go silent. Empty words and broken promises.

I am alone. Millions of women marched in the streets for reasons I don’t fully understand. Privileged white women in pink hats begging for rights they claim not to have. Meanwhile women in other countries are being brutally raped. Their genitals mutilated. They can’t leave the house without a man by their side. They are married off and treated like property. But on this day – those are not the things women are talking about. They are upset about a fouled mouthed man who they think is out to steal their rights. They want control over their bodies and they want the rape culture to end.

I was raped. I was 14 and too drunk to know how to escape the crawlspace I was placed in. The man who raped me is a counselor now. He writes on Facebook about how disgusted he is with rape culture. He got his degree at the most liberal college in one of the most liberal cities in the US. He brought supplies to the people protesting the North Dakota Access Pipeline. He is a kind and generous man. My most politically correct and liberal “friend” is friends with him. That’s why I know these things.

I have had my rights taken away from me. I was not allowed to decide what was done to my own body. What drugs entered my blood stream. I was injected with medication against my will – by people who no doubt believe themselves to be good and righteous people.

I imagine that most of those kind women with their pussy hats have had a great life. Maybe they grew up in a nice house with a nice family. Maybe they weren’t raped for their first sexual experience. Maybe they weren’t locked up in a mental hospital for a month and drugged against their will. How lovely indeed.

I did not march. I fear judgement because I did not march. I am a hypocrite. I am wearing a mask. It must be replaced periodically when the cracks start to show. It gets worn by the sun and I must replace it with a new mask. One that hides my secrets and my voice. I’m afraid what will happen if they know who I am. What I believe.

I’m not with her. I never was. I went to work the day after the election and the mood was somber. One coworker was distraught. She told me her sister-in-law voted for Trump.
“She didn’t care about anything except her anti-abortion stance. That’s the only thing she cares about so she voted for him.” I nod. I say everyone votes for different reasons. A meeting is called. We sit in a room together. The mood is somber. People are crying. They talk about “them” and how hateful “they” are and that “we” must fight for what is right and not let “them” win. “They” are uneducated and misguided. “We” are the light and we are right. I sit there listening as “they” are demonized for voting for the next Hitler. I can not speak.

My Facebook feed is filled with friends talking about how Trump voters are bigots and racists. They are the problem. I can not speak. I am afraid.

I am confused. I am in a backwards world where nothing makes sense. I remember when I went to an Obama rally and how I cried tears of joy on election night, wearing my iconic HOPE shirt. I was so proud how far we had come in such a short time. No more Bush-era bullshit. My hope faded quickly. 8 years of war. Continued monitoring of citizens. The Patriot Act remained and I felt less and less safe. We were promised a better healthcare system. I quickly realized nothing was better. Health insurance rates skyrocketed and you were now forced to purchase it. If you didn’t – you were fined when the tax man came calling.

So, no. I didn’t vote for her. I wanted real change. No more war. No more policing the world and no more policing our own citizens – what they can say, what they can think. I’m a libertarian. I wish I could say that proudly, but I am afraid. I could lose my job for my political beliefs. I could lose any hope of ever making friends in my new community. Welcome to American. Land of hypocrites.

I am sad. I am lost. I am lonely and hopeless.

Pine Trees

Howling through the trees

Like a disease

Taking over

Every part of me

Reminding me I’m not alone

This is my home



Crossed lines


Death and decay

Free to play

Here I lay

Now, today

I feel you

In the trees

The whispering pines

You are here

The sound – so clear

Never erased

This is your place

Howling through the trees

As you please




Words feel forced, but I need to get them out. I have so many emotions, so many feelings. I can’t described them all, I might fall. Fall from grace, fall flat on my face. So hard not to judge, not to feel the rub. I am uncomfortable in my skin. That’s why I drink…I think. It helps me feel numb, to ignore the pain. I feel like I can’t pick the skin, I just sit and let it in. Without a drink it’s hard not to think. I have to occupy my hands and my mind. I pick the skin, I search for bumps. I feel restless and angry. Angry that this has been life for so long. Drink after drink, my soul is gone. Numb and dumb. Use it for excuses and reasons. It controls my life more than I’d ever like to admit. I’ve been so angry and yet I’m lazy. Hard to change a habit I’ve had for so long. I can’t make the feelings go away, they’ll never be gone. It’s a built in excuse. Something I use to hide from my laziness. Reasons I need to not succeed. It’s easier to sit back and drink. Ignore my greatness. Ignore my feelings. Obsessions we all have. They hide the truth. Focus on work. Eat. Drink. Watch TV. Try not to think. You’ll realize how fucked up the world is. How angry you are. How far you’ve fallen. How lost you are. Best to just go to a bar. I think I’m content, maybe I’m just spent. Too tired and exhausted for no good reason. Too lazy to step out into the light, too scared to reach out to people. Too scared to be free. Too scared to be me. What would happen if I let it all out into the world. Said fuck it to convention, step away from this fucked up society. Work. No play. Blah blah blah. Eat good. Do the dishes. Pay the bills. Go to work. Enjoy your vacation. Check your email. Keep in touch. Play nice with others. I feel myself tense up because because I’m afraid to let it out. Don’t dance in front of others. They might look at you. They might think you’re a fool. Stand out, but not too much. Don’t blush. Hide your skin, hide your body. Don’t attract too much attention they might rob me. Be polite and stand up right. Watch your words and hide opinions. Keep quiet when you should speak. But don’t appear too meek. Anger is still down below, but it’s not worth the pain of yelling. There is no telling. You seem to have it together, but secretly may be under the weather. Hard to tell what’s real. How I really feel. I bore myself. So I drink. That’s why… I think. Now I’m taking a break to see what’s fake. Try to regain control over the fool. No drinking for me until I can find the right tool. Moderation. Ha! If only I could be so lucky. Just one drink, sure – sounds nice. But it never works for me, one becomes two and back to the daily drinking I go. One by one…it starts slow. Deep breath. Make it last. Enjoy your life without making it go by too fast.



The feeling is thick

Home is you

You’re the one thing that’s true



Hand in your hair

The feeling in the air

I feel bare

Exposed and naked

Like I’m meant to be

Comfort I’ve never felt

A hand I’ve never been dealt

So lucky to have found you

My heart has always ached for you

My missing piece

All pain shall cease

Love and warmth

Like it’s been this way since birth

The Unknown World

I have been quiet, but my mind has not. I’ve separated myself from my past and I can only hope that it will last. Less focus on mental health, more focus on life as it is now.

One year ago I made a huge change in my life. I moved out of my home, ending a relationship with a man I had called my husband for nearly 8 years. I spent my entire adult life with him. I took a risk and it has been a blessing.

I have made many changes in the last year. I started a new life with a man who sets my heart ablaze. We are married now. We celebrated our love in Sedona with a private ceremony, just the two of us. It was magical. Rainbows, kisses and laughter abound.

Now we are leaving this place I have called home for my entire life – almost 30 years now. We’re leaving Colorado and heading south to a new home in the high desert. I’m excited to start over, try something new. It’s a chance to clear the plate and end a huge chapter in my life. I’ve lost many relationships over the last year or so and what remains is a shell – a few relationships that I cherish and greatly appreciate, but the rest are damaged. Family is not what it should be. Old friends I once called close are gone. My life as I knew it for so many years – gone.

I’ve been sad the last few weeks, reflecting on all of the relationships that have ended or seem too damaged to revive. People I trusted who betrayed me. People who turned their backs on me. I cherish friends, but they don’t seem to care. I try so hard for other people and in return they ignore me. It makes me angry that someone who cares as much as I do can live 30 years and feel so few connections to people. If they only knew the hole in my soul where friends and family should be…but instead it is just me. Me and my husband taking on the world. It seems so cold and lonely at times, but when I am in his arms it all makes sense. His chest is my home. His heartbeat is mine. Our minds are intertwined. There is no rewind. Forward we go. Into the unknown.


An update is in order. It seems like such a challenge to write lately. I have no good excuse, just a lack of divine inspiration. At different times I have felt compelled to write – I had no choice. Now – it seems difficult to type the words on the keys. Good things have been happening though. My biggest complaint for the last few months has been my soulless job. That is over. I have been given an unbelievable opportunity to do work that matters. When you ask the universe, it always delivers. No more bullshit marketing. I will be the communications director for a nonprofit. Not a lame one either. Helping women in Uganda, making a real difference. That’s my new gig. I start on Thursday. I cry just thinking that this is where life has taken me. I will get the opportunity to go to Uganda at some point and see the impact of our work. It’s a life changing event for me. A chance to do work that makes a difference – use my skills for good. Help people. It matters.

I’ve decided to stop volunteering at the mental health facility. It was no longer bringing me a sense of joy and I think my work there was done. I feel like I helped some people over the last year, but things seem different lately and I didn’t feel like I was needed anymore. It feels good to be done for now and I’m happy with the experiences I had there.

I have been feeling more joyful lately. Really feeling the music in the car, singing and feeling it in my soul. I laugh a great deal too. My love makes me smile. We are so silly together and I love it. I have never felt so at home. Laying in his arms, limbs intertwined, head on his chest. It is home. I never feel alone.

I’m excited to see what the next few months hold for me. Work will be challenging, but rewarding. My body continues to evolve and my capacity to exercise is improving. Spring will bring travel and a declaration of love and commitment. Summer will be filled with adventures and new experiences. Life will be a beautiful patchwork. I’m ready. I’m alive. I’m in love.


Fear. Is there anything more debilitating? I have let fear have far too much control of my life. It has caused me great pain. Lost opportunities. Potential untapped. It makes me yell. It makes me cry. It makes me shut down and not want to say a word. It makes me act like a control freak. It makes me appear to be a flake. Confused. Unsure. Sending mixed messages. It’s ruled much of my life. Right now I’m afraid I’ll never make a decent living doing anything worth a damn. I don’t like my career. It pays the bills, but I yearn for something more. Something far greater. I can get all manic sounding with it. I want to leave my mark on this world. Do something great. Be something great. Buddha? Just a man. Jesus? Just a man. Einstein. A man. Shayna. A man (well, a woman). I have never given up on my dreams of being absolutely memorable. Immortal. Leaving a legacy. Making an impact far greater than anyone could imagine. I still believe. When people poo poo me, or tell me I’m being unrealistic, I feel sorry for them. For letting dreams die, it’s a sad fate indeed. I’m not ready for my dreams to die. Last week I started down this road with my fiancé, and he suggested that perhaps I needed to see a psychiatrist. Maybe I need medication again. Fear. My god, the fear. Oh no – is he one of them??? I felt a tinge of insanity creep in. I remembered feeling like people were “the enemy” because they were part of this group of people trying to suppress my dreams, the beautiful mania, the endless possibilities of my life. They told me to give it up. To live in their world of sadness and despair. Be a victim of the world. Why? Why on earth would I want to be like everyone else? There are great people in this world, living impossible dreams. I want to be one of them. My fear is that if I express my desire for greatness I will be taken away, locked up, drugged and told I’m delusional. I’m scared. I’m afraid of voicing my truth and being told I’m insane. Is it crazy to believe in the beauty of the world? Is it crazy to think I could be one of the few that actually live their dreams and love their life? I think I’d rather not exist than exist in a world where dreams are dead, where paychecks are all that matter. Where fear thrives and it hurts to be alive. I want to live the life I’ve always dreamed of. Explore the world. Make a difference. Feel joy and love. Feed the creative energy. Make an impact. My mission is to help others awaken, but how can I wake them up if I’m asleep? I need to find a way to follow my dreams and speak my truth without being told I’m crazy and need medication. That is my biggest fear, my freedom being taken away from me because I have dreams. I’m not ready to give up on my dreams.