I don’t date much…
I don’t like to date…

I used to have a boyfriend for almost three years….
Then I burnt out on that relationship type of stuff.

Don’t get me wrong I like a free dinner here and there…
but I don’t date much.

Part of it is because I feel like a burden…the other part is I get defensive if I like someone because they now have a greater capacity to hurt me more intimately than when they were thousands of feet out of my heart radar.

I went on a first date…after an event in which I met a person I felt slightly interested in and slightly like I could use up my time with someone who really likes me.

Not cool to use people by the way.

We hung out three separate random times..texted here and there and random calls. Two week thing.

It got kind of deep kind of fast for me.

I found out how vulnerable I am right much I miss having close relationships in anyway..both of us were and are dealing with a lot.

Young..young young…we are still young in our mid-twenties with a lot of do’s and dont’s to learn.

He will never know what this year has done to my spirit.
I cut him off last night…ended it, said thank you not right now…

I went to Bible Study instead of hung with him.

SO glad..great community people who care.

That man who took me on a date he said some things…some plain rude guy things and then he said some sweet dating..girls usually want to hear things…..I hated both.

I don’t want to hear that everything I do is cute….please don’t tell me for the hundredth time I am beautiful it makes me want to sock you in the face.

I just need you to respect that and not ask why.

I don’t mind talking about your tractor I love hearing your family comes over every week for dinner. It is beautiful that you have a nice farm and a good job and pay your bills.

I am sorry you can’t do that…no you can’t be that for me….don’t ask that question…..that is more of a fifteenth date kind of thing…..oh you had to bring her up…she gave me birth.,….

Then evening can slide into this

why do I owe you these answers. Maybe I will kiss you and get you to shut up if you are any good at kissing.

Okay you are kind. But I am the better kisser. Your hands are fine……………..

Now it is time to leave….

You keep saying I am so great and you want to take me out again. I keep thinking the attention is flattering and I really hate to be alone these days.

But you keep asking these questions and you keep telling me these truths. You have too much on your plate…a life I can’t mingle with mine right now. You don’t earn the right to hear my story. You may think it is cute that I snort when I laugh….but you may not like that I drip slobber and snot when I sob.

You are just some boy…. a mistake….not all of it regretted.

You know I deserve better then what you have to offer me…. at the beginning I was not looking for that answer, but it is the one I needed to move into some way of respecting myself.

This is why I don’t date a lot.

what is your list of what you are looking for.

But out of these experiences I find good and bad from parts that will help a next time.

Living with PTSD

I hate measurements.

How severe is your pain?

How many milligrams of that medicine do you take?

How long have you noticed this happening?

What is working for you?

What makes it worse?

If you have ever seen a doctor of any kind you have been asked these questions.
In matters of PTSD sometimes clients give answers just to make their doctor feel better or because they are tired of saying it is still the same.

If they could tell the truth it would be this:

Most days feel the same, I am amazed I am still alive. The pain is killing me slowly, not fast enough for relief but enough that I already feel dead. Sometimes I don’t take my medicine because I want to be normal and don’t want people to see me take it when the timer goes off. I don’t want them asking what it is for because it is not just a blood pressure pill and if I say it is for my anxiety I might get a flashback.

I try not to think sometimes because you told me my mind is my worst enemy but I was also told that I have to face the truth and then I was also told I have to rewire my brain so I try to do all those things but then I get overstimulated and have to dissociate again.

There are days that though I am in pain and empty I am amazewd because I acted completely normal and no one even knew how much I was hurting when I was laughing. I am glad I can still make that noise sometimes. I don’t give myself enough credit for what do because deep down I think there is something wrong with me and no matter how much I reach out for help I feel more pressure to be better…..people are scared of my pain.

But if I am walking around like this but I physically appear fine it makes me wonder what I am missing about someone else… many of us are pretending.

Most days I can’t feel my feet on the ground and although I honestly want to…..I also don’t want to. It is hard to be alone. And my head often feels like it is on backwards. I don’t know if I am taking a nap because I don’t want to deal with life anymore or because I actually need the sleep to help me heal. Someone ran into me at the grocery store yesterday and I smiled because it reminded me I am not a ghost.

When I say I am going to be myself for Halloween no one thinks I am funny. My sarcasm is a morbid defense, but I don’t want to call people crying anymore, and I truly want to be happy but I don’t know what steps to take to get there when I am doing everything you tell me to do. I have a job, pay my bills, eat three meals a day and talk to people so I am not isolated. I even journal.

I don’t want to be a victim anymore, I want to be a victor, I don’t want to be that client you talk about at seminars who wears their pain as a badge because it is their identity, but I also don’t want to hide it because sometimes it feels worse and like a monster, I want to validate it and integrate it, but somehow I keep rejecting myself and you keep saying it is a process but it has been over a year and I am starting to fade.

I think I am dissociated all the time and you keep telling me it is a good sign I am aware of it, but all the exercises you gave me to do just make it worse. Some days I take extra of my medicine and then I stop myself because something inside is still fighting to thrive not just survive and if I die I kill that chance.

I am tired of feeling pain or feeling empty I question God because I feel like he has the power to make me feel love and I keep begging for that. But then I am convinced there is a God because I am so confused and feel so awful yet I wake up and eat and work and have conversations. It is all so terribly draining.

I am always tired and when you say to take it one day at a time I really really want to punch you because today I am planning for tomorrow so I can survive and then make it to the next appointment to make you feel better and somehow because I know I want to, and I know the war in the past is over but the one I am fighting with myself is so much worse.

You keep saying this didn’t happen overnight so I won’t get better overnight. But really this did happen overnight it has just been trying to live after.

I hate measurements, I say this again because a lot of people understand this feeling with PTSD whether they suffer with it due to childhood trauma or being in the military. Some people may have experienced both, but to each is their own pain and I don’t think we can look at a vet and say…hey at least you weren’t raped by your sibling and I don’t think we can look at a child abuse survivor and say well at least you weren’t in the military.

People are under the impression one is worse than the other and usually whomever belongs to one of those groups they downplay their own PTSD at least I wasn’t …etc.

We all have hyper-vigilant vision and hearing…and trust no one including ourselves.

The measurement I hate the worst is take it one day at a time. WE rush away days to say we made it and because it hurts or because we don’t want to get so spaced out we can’t get home. We also want it to be over. We talk about it a lot and that makes it better and worse and worse and better and worse again. Sometimes people don’t heal in a linear fashion or circular…sometimes it is chaos after chaos. I think most of us truly do try to deal with it and heal from it but it is a hard battle to fight every moment.

With PTSD it is proof that life is a war,

and sometimes the biggest battle we win is that…

We choose over and over everyday….to wake up.


When trying to heal…how can you make a difference for yourself when your mind is so fully and beautifully designed to protect….dissociation….depersonalization….to some people those are words…some they are overcome obstacles…to some it is all they know and may not overcome….

I don’t believe we choose defeat…
In a way I think we can….

but in another way I think we all do the very best we know how and sometimes that just is all we can do….
and sometimes it is not as well as others and I mean sometimes we have things that may defeat us no matter how hard we try.


It happened after the war.
Post war.
hypervigilence, nightmares, fear, sounds, smells, crawling on the ground.

It happened after a part of me died, almost all of me could have died.
They call it trauma.
Childhood robbed, betrayal, shame, unworthiness.

It happened when my bones were smooshed under a weight I could not carry.
They call it a stress fracture…stress is all a heavy weight.
Carrying your secrets, lies, venom

It happened after many other moments became full of disarray.
Calling is disorder is the only way
to put a box around something that spins you around, hurls you to the ground, taps you on the shoulder to slap you in the face.


Veterans, Childhood abuse survivors, victims of car crashes or witnesses of terror attacks
It is is prevalent and running rampant.

We all have our own wars to live through.

Post Traumatic Stress Disorder is what we process through.

Maybe as we learn to live with it. Separate it out from the normalizes of life.

What goes into battle is a warrior. And no matter what exits the battle……happens during the battle…a warrior still exists.

And as we warrior our way through these corridors of unknown physical and mental and psychological fears may we understand PTSD can become a teacher bringing us deeper to who we are perhaps it was change. We may find a new name.

Something like Permanent Transformation Standing Devoted.

The Hard Knocks

“It’s a hard knock life.” Annie

Above is the link if you want to hear the song haha.

I admire Annie for the courage to sing about a hard knock life…most people don’t even have the energy to sing about it they basically grumble it. I don’t think school prepares you for the hard knocks of life…at least not the school work all the time…sometimes the people. But I am not sure we are ever really prepared for the hard knocks. It is hard…to try and be prepared for things that pop up or situations we don’t know how to deal with.

I believe this is why it is called the hard knocks…because they are uninvited knocks that open the door themselves without invitation and literally can knock the wind out of us.

How do we get up? And if we can do we get up?


This is a new look for my blog and name because everyday…I wake up and I consider that a start to healing. To choose to wake up everyday….no matter how bad life feels, how physically awful you are doing…how entirely frustrated you are…..I choose to wake up and I feel that is simply the first step. I have a lot of expectations in life…Things I want to see get done…accomplished….but mostly I have a lot of need for healing and love.

I have been afraid of the quiet moments.

I have relished in being busy and kept a hold on my anger.

I have hated so much about myself and life that it makes me feel apologetic to those around me.

I am hoping to carve new indents.

It starts for me every day by choosing to wake up.

Everyday. Just open my eyes.

My Desire

I desire practicality and simplicity right now.

I yearn for low stress days and a moment of love to seep in and cause warmth to grow deep through me.

I am slowing down, I think. Confusion is such a common moment with me. A protection.

I want what anyone want. Sustainability, stability, comfort, grace, and safety.

I desire self-acceptance, intimacy with moments and nature and belief.

I desire…desire.
Yes I desire to have the ability to desire more….to trust in desires, to allow desires to live in me.

I desire relationship with others.

I desire everyday…a little more gain.

Horse Love


My life.

Falling in love with a horse is such a blessing.

They wrap their heads around you as your arms wrap around their necks. They have spots they like pet or scratched like a puppy.

They run wild with their flowing manes in the golden sunrise of a pasture.

Hay bales are perfect places to hide and cry with a soft horse muzzle nearby.

Horses keep your secrets.
They test your limits.
They teach you trust, they teach you to protect yourself.
They teach you how to be vulnerable.
They know things we don’t…feel things we feel….want things we want….

respect, honor, understanding, grace, love, kindness, power, success, relaxation, trust, equality, understanding, attention, to be accepted,

but most of all relationship.

This is why horse love is such a constant, consuming, heartbreaking, joyous journey.

This is why it has its own language.


I work at a breeding farm right now and one of the Guatemalan boys is what my boss would say, “smitten” with me. Well, I believe that is easily done considering his circumstances of working on a farm with only two young girls and the rest horses and men…he does not have much exposure as he also works 7 days a week.

I find it funny, he is not creepy about it he is a chunk of years younger and inches smaller so it is almost like a friends younger brother could be.

I have learned a lot from all the Guatemalan boys who work there the past two weeks. And here is my speculation in story form on myself, beauty, and how humans respond.

Sometimes I hear or see them when I am walking through a perpendicular aisle and I know they don’t know I am around. They laugh together and work side by side helping each other. I saw two of them kind of wrestling each other around the dog while they were walking out to bring in the mares. They caught me laughing at them that time. But I was appreciating their camaraderie. All day it is mainly me and the horses which I love don’t get me wrong but it is hard when I need people around as well. Only one of the boys is fluent in English and the one who is smitten is learning. We do a lot of gesturing and guessing and sometimes waving each other off, and I initiate high fives when we understand each other.

I think all this is somehow a definition of beauty. Trying to understand each other. Appreciating differences.

But here is what got me thinking what beauty do we appreciate more? Or most? Because today..Hulio is his name…he said Raechel (in a heavy accent hard to understand R), you are beautiful.” We were walking back from feeding grain to the stallions.

I had been sent home earlier by my boss who is out of town and he called to see how everything is going. When I answered I sounded very manly and he told me I sounded awful and needed to go home and come back to feed.

Basically beauty isn’t my priority right now, I went back to the barn in my shorts hoodie and boots to feed. I don’t like people telling me I am beautiful, I have even written poems about how uncomfortable it makes me feel or how much it ticks me off. I told Hulio to stop it. He asked, No, you no think you are beautiful.” I don’t know how to tell I just don’t want to hear it. That we work together and to be appropriate. SO I shook my head no and just walked fast to put stuff away.

Later I stopped to think because I just lectured a friend to enjoy that someone liked her.

SO I am sitting here thinking….shouldn’t I just enjoy the compliment that was given. And maybe its not just that he saw my legs today (laughter inserted-hahah) but maybe it is more than just looks that makes us beautiful even to people who don’t really know us. Maybe I could think I am beautiful even for one moment. TO observe myself as someone else might through the day.

What really solidified this thought is another person this week told me I must work with horses because I am all the things I love about them…powerful, strong, untamed, sensitive, feisty, strong willed…and yes beautiful.

So for a moment today I saw myself hugging the yearlings and kissing on them…teaching them how not to shy away from things. Talking to them and grooming them. I stepped aside for a moment and saw my eagerness to learn Spanish and understand the culture of the new job…taking pictures of the horses and landscapes sitting on hay at lunch feeling the wind….singing to myself in the feed room and working alongside these boys when I am done working horses. And I thought if I did not know me…know my story know where I had been. I would think I am beautiful.

And if I did know everything I would still think I am beautiful and I wonder how it is that while I write this post I can still be such a rude stranger to myself.

It makes me uncomfortable to post this…feels meaningless…yet it is important because aren’t we all beautiful in some way? In every way? I think people I barely know are beautiful inside and out sometimes immediately. Some people just have a way about them.