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I feel muddy, but I am completely clean.
It’s inside and it’s bothersome.
I am alone with just my thoughts,
but they are nonsensical and garbage;
protection I suppose.
For if I allow my thoughts to fall into place.
If I reach out my hand and ask for help….
I’m left muddy still.

The truth is only I can answer these questions,
only I can silence these voices…
if I leave it alone, if I leave them alone…
will it all just be muddy forever?
I think I will just be muddy forever.

Tears lay just on the tip of my lids, and I feel them.
They sear a pain that’s gnawing and simply want to break free.
They think the mud is on the outside.
But these tears they don’t know a thing.
It’s pressure, it’s fear, it’s heartache, it’s loss, it’s….
I’m muddy.

BMI: Eating Disorders



About a year ago I wrote a blog post with this title, though it had very little to do with Eating Disorders in a helpful way and the fact that I get hits on the title almost daily I feel really bad about that.

 I am not sure who is looking, or what they are looking for, but you are welcome to ask questions… maybe I can put my psychology degree to good use. 


There are three types of eating disorders;

Bulimia: Is characterized by binge eating and purging.  Often those with bulimia have a BMI that is average making it very difficult to recognize there is a problem.  Hiding food is extremely common. 

Anorexia nervosa: Is characterized by extreme weight loss, distorted self image, obsession with food, in females amenorrhea can occur (lack of menstruation), those suffering from anorexia nervosa also purge. The risk of death is much higher with Anorexia nervosa.

Binge eating disorder: (which is a new classification) characterized by episodes of excessive calorie intake as a means to suppress emotions. 



If you suspect someone has an eating disorder I would suggest reaching out to a professional might be a great place to start.


There are many beliefs as to why eating disorders occur, but typically all types are attempting to gain control of something in their lives. 

It is highly unlikely, if not impossible that the disorders will change on their own.  Professional help is the best (only) option.  Even then it will be a lifelong battle, because it is a mental illness.  Stay calm, stay positive, this can be overcome… it just takes work.


Please feel free to share your stories. 



The Story of How I Got This Lovely Sticker on My Door


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Tuesday night I came home to two rowdy dogs, as is my typical work week.  Dax (the well behaved one) went out and sniffed his favorite bush just as two people I had never seen before turned to walk down our cul-de-sac .  I called Dax back into the house because while he is the well behaved one he isn’t an angel. 

After I got settled into the house and began preparing dinner I saw the two people again, on the other side of the street going door to door talking to people.   I hoped beyond hope that I would not be summoned and of course that was too much to ask. 

Over an hour had passed since I saw the people and I really thought they had gone home, alas they were burning the midnight oil.  When my doorbell rang the dogs began barking like two tiny Cujo’s, so scary.   I went to a block party meeting a few months ago and this cop told us the importance of answering our door so robbers don’t think no one is home… it just escalates the situation.  So against my better judgment I answered the door.

The dogs continued barking over the girl’s speech about kids, and helping kids, and trying to win a prize to go to Alaska (or something), the guy she was with didn’t say a word.  He was tall with a tummy like Santa Claus, but he couldn’t have been more than 17 years old.  “If you want to help out today we would really appreciate it.” She said cheerily.  

“Fine, what do I have to do?”  I said without emotion.

“Well you sign up for a magazine you might want and then we get points from that.” 

For some unknown reason I thought they could get points just for talking to me.  I was wrong.  So they convince me to come outside to get away from the Cujo’s and talk about nonsense while I pretended to look at magazines, all the while trying to outsmart them and get away without paying a cent. 

“You can also sponsor kids; we will send magazines to them instead.”  She said excitedly.

That made much more sense to me “How much will that cost?”

“Well, it depends on the magazines you get so just pick four and you can pick how many, if any, you want to do.”

So I pick four, she writes down the price after informing me that I would be sponsoring over thirty kids. $62, $65, $70, and $66 for a grand total of $263 … I … don’t …. think… so!!!!!!!!

“I cannot afford this.”

Then the guy started talking nonsense about words I said.  He would just latch onto words and tell me stories pertaining to those words.  Oh are we bonding or are you crazy? 

“You can give us cash.”  She suggested as she pulled out her wallet over flowing with money.  “Any amount you want… $20, $25, $30… whatever you want to give us AND if you pay us we will give you a bug off sticker to tell all the other kids that are in this contest to leave you alone.”

“I will give you $20.”  I turned to walk away when my nostrils inundated with the smell of weed.  I rushed upstairs, dogs still barking, grabbed a twenty then back outside. 

“Make her the bug off sticker!”  The girl said stuffing my $20 into her wallet. 

He wrote on the sticker and began to pull it off, but it wouldn’t come off.

“What are you doing?”  She asked, then looked down at his work “Dude, you wrote that on the wrong side!” 


A horrible thought rushed over me: my God I have funded two children’s drug habit, and so have all the people that gave them money before me. 

She rewrote it and I put the sticker up on my door, not to tell the other people that clearly don’t exist in this “competition” to go away, but to remind myself of what happens when I answer the door for strangers.   I really hope I am wrong about them; hope it was just the smell that comes from my neighbors house every once in a while, but I really don’t think it was. 

They Need a Patch for That


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In real life, not hidden behind the glowing computer screen as I am when I blog… I am pretty much the same person.  Maybe a bit more outgoing, okay definitely more outgoing, because hello this is a one sided conversation until you reply back… but that is much more time consuming.  Anyway I am friendly and outgoing to a fault. 

Two years ago I started working with a guy named Jim, he was built like a tank and his face was chiseled, unfriendly, but intriguing.  When he came to eat lunch with me so I wouldn’t be alone, we talked the entire time about nonsense.  At some point he informed that he was a personal trainer on the side, which is something Mike might one day want to do before his career really takes off, so I told him that we should all go out sometime… he could share his insights with Mike and I could meet Jim’s fiancé. We exchanged numbers and that night I told Mike all about it, and he was game for whatever whenever we decided to hangout.

One night really late I got a text from Jim asking me if I wanted to grab a drink somewhere.  I turned it down saying that Mike wasn’t home and Jim informed me that that was better.  Naturally I went into hyper shutdown mode.  Anytime Jim would talk to me at work I would be short with him, I didn’t respond to any more of his texts, including one that talked about us going out on a boat together just the two of us that weekend, (that night I had a nightmare that Jim drown Mike and I was powerless to stop him).  Jim was fired from our establishment not too soon after and I figured that was all behind me.

For six months straight Jim would randomly text me, ask me how I was, tell me I was pretty, or complain about his “fiancé.”  Then one day the texts stopped, like he finally got the point since I never once responded. 

Two or three days ago I got a message from him saying “hey sonya. Just wondered how things are going with you, got way hard for me right after we talked last.  My brother killed himself and shortly after my Mom passed.  I was pretty messed up for a while. I’m ok now. how have you been? been thinking about you. my phone is ……………………, my email is ……………….”

I have no idea why I am on his radar or even on his mind, what a guilt trip though.   Since we last spoke my life went to shit so you wanna talk to me now?!  OH and he added me on Linkedin the same day.  You sir are crazypants.



Another time I met a guy at a bar, Nicc and I were vying for his attention, for no other reason than to prove that one of us was hotter than the other.  He got my number and text me every single time he went to the bar that we met at for three years; even after Mike and I started dating and I told the guy (whose name I literally do not know), that I had a boyfriend that didn’t find his constant texts appropriate.  Let it go…


I don’t really get it, how can people that don’t know me at all be so hard up on letting me out of their lives?  It’s not like a shit rainbow. There should be a patch for that and it should be called “opposite sex repellant.”  For those times when someone you hardly know won’t leave you the eff alone.   


You might have forgotten to zip up…


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Slowly I have come to realize that weddings are all about family (and maybe a few lucky lucky friends), unless you’re rich or have a HUGE venue and no food… anyway for my upcoming nuptials there will be Aunts, Uncles, Cousins, Parents, Siblings, Children (of Mike), from both sides of our family and very very few friends.  So tell me why would a woman (assuming that we are not the minority in this situation) would wear this dress? 





It looks like it’s unzipping; everyone will soon see the bride’s butt.  The back is completely exposed which for whatever reason girls KNOW is sexual but don’t think it would be too much for a majorly huge family gathering?

Am I crazy?  Being too judgmental?  It’s very pretty, but it looks more like a destination wedding gown, where one hopes no one but the groom comes. 

No Good Deed Goes Unpunished, but I Seem to Have Forgotten


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Last month while Mike and I studied away, a woman knocked on our door.  I ran to answer it while Mike “helped” me wrangle the dogs, and by help I mean he didn’t do shit; I had to pick up Dax (as he tried to rip apart the front door) and put him in the spare bedroom, while Dingo stayed at my feet and made weird squeaking noises unsure of what to do; we hardly get visitors. 

“Hello…. I saw you had a truck!  I was wondering, I have been looking for a while, because I have a house up the street, with a bed… the bed has to go.”  She didn’t seem frantic just scattered and unsure how to ask for help.  “If you want to help, I can pay you $20.  Here’s my card, call me in twenty.”

“No need, we can help you.”

“Perfect, perfect.  Call me in twenty,” she repeated “I will tell you where to go; the mattress/box spring is outside.”  She turned to walk away then added “OH, cats… there were cats.” 

Whatever the hell that means, I thought as I closed the door.



Mike’s truck was a P.O.S. stick shift that was held together with sticks, gum, and hope.  It started up fine as we traveled down the street in search of a house with a mattress lying outside.  Unfortunately for us, we found it.

The woman was nowhere to be found, the mattress had been draped with a tarp, and when we removed it, the smell and sight of urine and fecal matter wafted over us.  We stared at it with every desire to run, this job wasn’t worth $20, it wasn’t worth $100, but it was too late the woman came out of her house in a make shift hazmat suit.  She explained that she had rented her place out to a cat-lady.  She asked if we wanted gloves (made for handling sandwiches) and I literally felt like an idiot for having not brought our own. 

We threw the mattress in the back, it flopped around like no mattress I have ever handled before, probably because I never pissed my bed, let alone shit.  The box spring was not so bad. 

“Alright,” She said handing me the money “I saw a dumpster outside the movie theater on 40th and Stein.  There wasn’t much in it so you should be fine to dump it there.”


Holy shit balls, Mike went from disgusted and perturbed to irate in a matter of seconds. When we got in the truck he was seething, saying things about the woman who just basically left us to illegally dispose of this property that had become ours somehow.  I always wanted piss and shit stains on my bed, I just wasn’t sure how to get them.

The dumpster she had us go to was in the middle of a mall parking lot, a cop car sat idle next to it undoubtedly waiting for speeders to wiz by on the street ahead.   That took Mike’s mood from awful to horrendous. He parked his truck in the lot and we went to Petsmart (which is where we had intended on going that day anyway).


After wasting time inside the establishment, and hearing Mike say over and over it was a stupid idea to help the woman (blaming me without BLAMING me), we once again committed to ridding ourselves of the mattress set.  Coming upon his truck it was quite a sight, the truck itself was run down, covered in hail damage, paint missing, and it tilted noticeably to the right without anything in it, then we added the mattress which could be smelled at least 15 feet away, it was pretty mortifying climbing into the automobile.

Mike turned the key and the truck screamed.  Oh shit, all the hope is gone… dedicating too much of it to the hope of ridding ourselves of the mattress.  Mike huffed and I laughed, it was a nightmare situation and all I could imagine was us pushing this piece of shit all the way home with the smell of cat piss invading our nostrils; hysterical without hyperbole.  Thankfully for us both Mike is MacGyver reincarnate (or whatever one is when the person wasn’t actually real), the P.O.S. started, Mike drove up to a dumpster and yelled “GET OUT OF THE CAR, SONYA LET’S DO THIS FAST!” 

So there we were tossing mattresses that were not our own into the dumpster in the middle of a mall parking lot, that we frequent, praying no one would catch us. 


The smell of pee took a long time to get out of our noses, we ended up trading in the P.O.S. truck a week later (not because of the mattresses, but because it was a hunk of garbage).  Maybe we should have just chucked the truck with the mattresses, it would have saved us some scrapes and bruises while trying to quickly toss them out.  



A week later Dingo had to go to the vet because he ate tile grout that stuck in his system and he couldn’t pass… I think that lady made it happen somehow. 

The Graduate

I am officially a college graduate.  Sorry to those of you who follow me and haven’t heard from me in months, it was a shitty thing to do I know, but my grades could not have been happier about it.  Correction, they could have, I could have gotten a 4.0 however I did not, I am going to blame coming on in October to say hello.  :p anyway I am back again.  Soon I shall post a story… I am just trying to figure out where to start and which one to tell.

I hope all of you have been well.




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A trend I am noticing now as I begin looking into wedding stuff is this “investment” B.S. brought to the masses by photographers. Yes it is an art form, and yes you spent tons of money on a camera, but changing the word charge – billing – or fees to “investment” feels like a stab at one’s intelligence.

I will be able to sell my wonderful wedding photos in the future to random people that for some reason decide they want photos of Mike and I all over their walls instead of their own?

Investment. Like a car? We will be able to pay our children’s college tuition if we invest in these photos today?

One “investment” starts at $3795 (kind of random numbering there… let’s just call it what it is $3,800) I didn’t even have a chance to fall in love with the photos. It’s not that I believe these people should be paid less for a job they are qualified for, but at the same time, don’t pretend like you are charging nearly $4,000 for my benefit.

I should call and ask, “Are you printing our photos on gold? You aren’t? Well then we will not be using you, good day sir.”


Sadly, I Found What I was Looking For


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Didn’t think it would all come rushing back
Burn like I laid my bare skin on train tracks
Maybe if I hadn’t continued my search
Never finding the information I sought
Until today.
Until today.
I was there when it happened,
But to see it recounted for all the world to know my pain
Or how happy that made you both.
You might not have even considered the me part of the equation in your story retelling;
“How romantic.”
“How romantic.”
Were I a cat, I would have died long ago…
For your movements call my name and you don’t even intend for them to.
You’re happy, I’m happy, but I didn’t want you to be.
I wanted my absence to crush your soul, as you crushed mine
Hoped she would see you for who you were and decide it wasn’t worth it.
I stood outside our home helping someone you damaged,
While you inside “bent down and kissed her hand.”
Unveiling your first meeting, and the day I lost you forever…
So I let you go now
God I hope I let you go now.


Camera phones did not do it justice.