Please tell me I’m not alone, and that you understand too. I love this post because it is so relatable to me!
I don’t love my 100% cacao, but I can’t stand milk chocolate the way I used to crave it. It’s just sugar to me anymore. But give me a 70-80% cacao bar, no milk, and that is my perfect sweet spot!
Sugar in my morning coffee though. That is my indulgence that I just haven’t been able to kick. I know it’s bad for me. I know it’s my own personal drug addiction, but nothing quite does it the same for me.
Other than that, if I crave sweets, I go for 5 or 6 dates, or carob pods.
Those of you who are from or have worked in the UK will be familiar with the tradition of bringing sweets and chocolates into the office after returning from trips overseas. London after all is the global hub for travel.
To my not-so-surprise, my recent contribution of some Lindt ‘premium’ chocolates from Geneva airport were demolished in the blink of an eye. I remember looking at the empty tray saying, “what happened there? That was quick!” There were a few potential suspects sitting around the ‘chocolate contribution’ desk, but I thought nothing of it… until later.
Sugar. If it’s not plastic the world is obsessed with, it’s definitely sugar. Diabetes, heart disease, even cancer are all implicated with a diet high in sugar. I even read recently that sugar is more addictive than heroin or cocaine! It was only my local cafe Beanys in the City last Monday morning, where…
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The Narcissist Daughter has so eloquently written what could have been my own words. I have often found myself in shame as I have thought that maybe G!d took the wrong parent from us when my father died 17 years ago. I have found myself wishing her death. Not because I wish any harm on her, but because I just want to grieve for a final time and move on with my life. These are shameful thoughts, I know. However, there is closure in death. I want to honor my parents. It’s important to me. My mom makes it impossible to honor my father. And only through distance can I honor my mother. It’s still hard to be a child who loves a parent who doesn’t know how to love you back, and to wish they would die so you can be done with grieving them. I just want peace. In my life, but more so in my soul!
When you are the child of narcissistic parents you grieve many times. Most people grieve when their parent dies, but for those of us who have been black listed multiple times, treated as though we failed to exist, we have lost our parents many times over.
Most of all we grieve when we realise the parent we have is never going to be the parent we hoped for. They don’t exist. And generally as a narcissist ages they become more stuborn and set in their ways, any glimmer of home in a happily connection with them shatters and dies.
I have cried a lot for the death of my dreams and ideals.
Last week my husband and I reached out to my mother once again via text, as Christians we feel a large burden of responsibility to care for her. Because of that love and care, we keep trying to…
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I had to share!
A tourist in Vienna is going through a graveyard and all of a sudden he hears music. No one is around, so he starts searching for the source.
He finally locates the origin and finds it is coming from a grave with a headstone that reads: “Ludwig van Beethoven, 1770-1827.
Then he realises that the music is Beethoven’ s Ninth Symphony and it is being played backward!
Puzzled, he leaves the graveyard and persuades a friend to return with him.
By the time they arrive back at the grave, the music has changed. This time it is the Seventh Symphony, but like the previous piece, it is being played backwards.
Curious, the men agree to consult a music scholar. When they return with the expert, the Fifth Symphony is playing, again backwards.
The expert notices that the symphonie s are being played in the reverse order in which they were…
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This is one of my husband’s blogs. Now, we tend to be a little bit on the geeky side (okay, maybe a lot), but I just had to share this blog with villains you love to see spar with the hero. Go check him out as I shamelessly promote his site!!!
You know what I miss that you really don’t see too often? Villains you can respect and that you hate to see go away! It happens every once in a while: your watching your favorite show and some new guy shows up to cause trouble. Maybe they have a history with the protagonist, maybe the first meeting was that same episode, but you know instantly that this is a villain you are going to love.
Perfect example. MacGyver was a show for all ages about a guy who could do anything with anything. Imagine if James Bond had a geeky, less misogynistic younger brother and you’d be pretty on point. He was creative, kind, very human and hated guns. So what kind of villain suits a guy-next-door Jack-of-all-trades hero? How about a mostly insane master of disguise career criminal who somehow manages to survive every guaranteed death you can put…
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I am Jewish. It is no small thing. But neither is it a big deal. It just is. I am a Jew. My mother is a Jew. And my grandmother was a Jew. My mother didn’t practice. And my grandmother only returned to practice in her last few years.
I am married to a non-Jewish man and didn’t take on the Jewish responsibility until after I had had children of my own (interesting how these things become important to us once we have kids of our own). I had no formal Jewish education as a child, having grown up with a non-practicing mother, in a Christian household. Sure, we were sat down and our heritage was explained, and we celebrated a few Hanukkah stories over the years. I even remember a few Continue reading “G!d”
I have come to cherish blogs from the following site.
This blog was especially raw and I identified with it. As I work through my own struggle I have come to understand the angst and anger that dwells within me. A depth that i never fathomed existed before I faced the mosters I once loved.
As I learn to protect myself, I find that even deeper than my anger, is my deep sense of grief, and with grief comes understanding. And somehow understanding makes it harder to let go and walk away from the toxicity than anger.
So I fight the urge to hold onto the anger. But anger won’t help me heal. So I walk this tight-rope over a chasm of uncertainty, not knowing how to move forward, knowing I can’t go back. Sometimes stuck in a place of static.
There’s personal anger, but underneath there’s often universal rage; and when we are possessed, God help the man who’s on the end of that.
Deep rage is not about the man. Deep rage is this :
Nobody ever saw me. Nobody ever heard me. As long as I can remember, I’ve had to perform. When I tried to be myself, I was told. That’s not what you think. That’s not what you ought to do.
So, just like my mother and her mother, I put on a false face, My life became a lie. That’s deep rage. (And an even deeper loss.)