inspiredodyssey daily prompt

1996 – The Year I Danced with Brooklyn and Didn’t Look Back

I really lived it up when I was in high school. I rocked a pink beeper on my hip and started my first business selling fake IDs — yes, you read that right. 😂

There was this college guy I met at a party, and in true ’90s fashion, one thing led to another, and suddenly I had access to his college’s computer and a homemade laminator. Before long, I was printing driver’s licenses that could get anyone into a club. Ten bucks a pop, and business was booming. It went great until clubs started scanning IDs at the door — but by then, I’d already retired from my short-lived life of teenage crime.

Late ’90s New York wasn’t gentle. It was loud and electric — a thunderstorm of culture, danger, and dreams. I’d cut class and ride the MTA for hours, Aaliyah crooning through my Discman, Biggie’s flow shaping the beat of my walk. I knew every station like scripture: the B to the D to the F, connecting boroughs and destinies. I’d ride from Brooklyn to Harlem just to feel alive, to feel seen, to feel something.

The city was a living contradiction — bodegas glowing on every corner, incense curling from apartment windows, breakdancers spinning on cardboard outside Union Square. Girls in bamboo earrings licking Mister Softees in front of graffiti-covered stoops. The streets sang their own gospel — of hustlers and prophets, preachers and poets. I watched girls in Jordan jackets laugh in the face of fear. I learned to talk fast, walk faster, and read danger by the glint in a stranger’s eye.

And me? I was just this small girl with big dreams, trying to belong to it all.

I wore my hair straight and my jeans tight, my eyeliner thick and my hopes even thicker. Riding the trains, I imagined I was the heroine of some great unwritten story — half Hollywood, half hood, all heart. I dreamed of love so big it could stop time. I dreamed of careers, fame, escape, salvation. I dreamed of standing on a stage or behind a camera and finally being seen.

Brooklyn was my chaos and my cradle — bullets in the air, drug dealers on the corners, and my own heart beating too fast for a girl so young. I drank to bury it. I raged to survive it. I broke curfews, broke rules, broke hearts. I wore my rebellion like perfume.

At sixteen, I was one of the most popular girls in school — my grades hanging on by a thread, my nights filled with neon and noise. My friends and I were known as the “party girls,” and we earned the title. We’d drug my friend’s dad with Nyquil in his tea so he’d sleep through our 2 a.m. escapes to downtown clubs. We jumped into cars with men twice our age, chasing excitement, never thinking about danger, never thinking about tomorrow.

It was reckless. It was wild.
It was youth.

Those years were chaos wrapped in glitter, and if I could go back — I would. Not to relive the mistakes, but to reclaim the magic before the darkness crept in.

I’d dance again under those same strobe lights, laugh until sunrise, and let that fearless girl run wild one more time. But this time, I’d tell her to put down the drink before it swallows her whole. I’d tell her that the party isn’t worth losing herself for.

It was a time of my life that was the most fun, the most dangerous, and a time I felt the most alive.

I would go back in a second, just for the late night shenanigans alone.

Stay Tuned.

Daily writing prompt
Is there an age or year of your life you would re-live?
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inspiredodyssey daily prompt

Forever Young – Keeping the Kid Alive in Me

Cartoons, Scooby Snacks, and unapologetically oversized scoops of ice cream — that’s my vibe 😂 And honestly? Being a kid at heart is one of the greatest acts of rebellion in a world that wants us aging as fast as possible.

To stay young inside, you have to slow down.
You have to make room for wonder again.
You have to give the silly things a sacred place in your life.

Power down the phone. Turn off the news.
Grab a coloring book and let yourself get lost in purple skies and green dogs for an hour.

For those of you rushing from meeting to meeting — play that ‘90s R&B in the shower and let the water hit the back of your neck like you’re getting ready for the best house party of senior year. Relive the jams. Shake that nostalgia loose.

Simple joys are rare — and they deserve priority in your life too.

🍿 “Spooky Month” Adventures

Mr. California has reminded me how good it feels to be young again. Not just because he mailed me actual graham cracker Scooby Snacks (too adorable for words), but because he sent me hard drives filled — and I mean filled — with cartoons, silly movies, and the kind of shows that shaped my childhood and made me laugh before I ever knew what heartbreak was.

October has officially become our “Spooky Month.”
We dig through his very serious, very official folder titled:

HALLOWEEN AND SPOOKY THINGS 👻

(Yes, all caps — the commitment is real.)

I even bought myself a life-sized Scooby-Doo to watch with us, and I haven’t smiled that hard in ages. Last night we watched Spaced Invaders — absurd, ridiculous, and absolutely perfect.

And it made me think:
They just don’t make movies that fun anymore.

Now everything is gritty, hyperrealistic, and self-serious.
Where are the rubber costumes? The goofy villains? The heart?

🎮 Play Again

So I have a question for you:
What makes you feel like a kid again?

What’s something from your childhood you could resurrect?
A favorite board game?
A charm bracelet collection?
A Saturday morning ritual?

I’ve been diving headfirst into mine — I splurged on a PlayStation 2 as an early Christmas present to myself, and it has been pure JOY.

As a lifelong Tomb Raider fanatic, hearing that old menu music again?
Instant teleportation.

One minute I’m in my apartment in North Carolina —
the next, I’m 17 again, swearing at the TV as Lara Croft misses a jump for the 800th time and plummets dramatically into a pit of wolves 🤦‍♀️😂

A simpler time.
A freer time.
A time that deserves space in my life again.

✨ Why It Matters

Growing up happens automatically.
Growing old is optional.

The world will always find a reason to make you serious — bills, careers, heartbreaks, responsibilities — but holding onto that spark, that silliness, that imagination?

That’s what keeps the soul alive.

Every time I press play on a cheesy cartoon…
Every time I cuddle up with Scooby under a blanket fort of nostalgia…
Every time I laugh so hard my stomach hurts…

I’m reminding myself that wonder never expires.
Magic doesn’t have an age limit.
And joy is still a language I get to speak fluently.

So bring back the weird snacks.
Buy the game console.
Wear the pajamas with the stupid little ghosts on them.
Color outside the lines.

Let the kid in you come out to play.
You need them more than you know.

✨ Stay young. Stay silly. Stay magical. ✨

Stay tuned.

Daily writing prompt
What does it mean to be a kid at heart?
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inspiredodyssey daily prompt

Sobriety, My Own Place, My Own Life

I hung on to my ex-husband longer than I should have. We were both wrong for each other from the beginning. Leaving him was the best thing to ever happen to me, and something I am the proudest of.

I had been living a nightmare of my own making for most of my life. I had been drinking heavily, in and out of mental institutions, living in a room in my parents’ house with no hope of ever moving out or making anything of my life. I spent nearly a decade online, before OnlyFans was a thing, giving myself freely to men online, not having any kind of respect for myself. Did I really think I could find a husband this way? Did I really think a man could save me from all of this pain?

Then I met my husband. We went through NYC like Bonnie and Clyde, him introducing me to crack by giving me the pipe in my mouth, (I would never touch it), and me drowning more and more in alcohol. Even though we shared a special moment in my favorite church, where God told him to ask me to marry him, it was the last bit of romance that would ever go on in our toxic relationship. From emotional abuse, physical fights over money for drugs, me leaving him a bunch of times and him threatening me with suicide so I took him back, and us committing many crimes in NYC, we fled to North Carolina to start a new life.

But it didn’t end there, it just got worse. He found a new group of people to get drugs from, my alcoholism got worse, and I was so deep in sin, that only thing left for God to do was send us both to jail to stop all the madness. I spent 10 months on the floor of a jail cell, still dreaming of him and sending messages to the officers to give to him for me. I still hung on, even after I got out and became homeless, having to find shelter in a rehab. I was always building for our future, visiting him in the psych ward after jail, trying to make a life with a man that wanted nothing more than look for crack the moment he got out. He tormented me every single day in our new apartment, after I tried to do things the right way and live sober. It all crumbled. He refused medication. His addiction raged. And somehow, by grace alone, I didn’t relapse. The old crack spots were boarded up. The temptation wasn’t there. That was God.

He became incoherent. I watched him dissolve like I once had. My parents, now in North Carolina, put him on a bus back to New York. They saved my life. I owe them everything.

The last time I saw him, my parents drove us to the bus depot. I was quiet the whole ride, watching the North Carolina roads blur into memory. He looked exhausted — thin, worn, not quite tethered to this world anymore — but there was still something in his eyes, those big brown eyes I had fallen in love with in the ward. We stood outside the Greyhound station, under a gray sky that couldn’t make up its mind. He reached for me, and I melted into him, holding on like it could somehow undo the damage. And then came the final kiss — slow, trembling, soaked in goodbye. I closed my eyes and tried to memorize everything: the shape of his mouth, the scent of his skin, the sadness in his breath.

His last words to me were, “We can try and make this work, right?”

And part of me — the part still haunted by our first kiss and that candlelit church — wanted to say yes.

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t.

Even after he left, I kept in touch. I loved his mother — she made sure I had support even in jail, wrote me letters, and sent cards. She loved how much I loved her son. But it wasn’t enough.

He kept disappearing in New York, lost in the same cycles, same streets. And one day, I changed my number.

I grieved him like a death. Because I had buried so many parts of myself just to stay with him — my sobriety, my sanity, my dreams. And still, I would have stayed. That’s what heartbreak does to you. It confuses sacrifice with salvation. 

Because for all the chaos, for all the darkness — he loved me in a way no one else ever had. He made me feel beautiful when I had been discarded by so many. He gave me an adventure. He made me feel chosen.

All I ever wanted was to save him. But love is not salvation.

And sometimes, the kindest thing grace can do — is say goodbye.

I think of him still, when the nights are lonely — only because there were nights that he used to hold me when the mania or depression was just too much. He would stroke my forehead and lull me back to sleep. Mostly, it was the mornings when he kissed my forehead while I was still asleep.

If only he could have been what I hoped him to be. But you can’t change someone, you can’t even try. All you can do is pray for them, and hope God takes care of them. I pray for him to this day.

I moved on of course, and fell in love again, but it honestly hurts more than what I went through with my ex-husband. This time, this love showed me what it could be like to be loved completely and without addiction and toxicity – although I still got heartbroken in the end.

So what am I most proud of? Through all of that I’ve been through, I managed to keep my apartment, my sobriety, and most of all my piece of mind. I live my life alone and in peace, embracing my freedom and independence everytime.

To me that’s priceless.

Stay tuned.

Daily writing prompt
What are you most proud of in your life?
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inspiredodyssey daily prompt

The True Story of Success: Mom and Dad’s American Dream

I can’t think of more successful people than my mom and dad. It’s not that they’re rich or famous, it’s that they showed me the true story of immigrants living the American Dream.

Immigration is a controversial topic now, but honestly, wasn’t this country made on the backs of immigrants? Growing up in Brooklyn, I saw all sorts of people of different colors and cultures, all working hard to make a better life for their children in one of the most dangerous places to live in the 1980s. My mom and dad are of West Indian descent, and while my mom was working and going to school, my dad drove a taxi at night just to keep food on the table. This was an upgrade because when they first came to this country, they were working in factories.

We grew up in poverty, so I didn’t get a lot of the things I wanted as a kid – but then again, it was an entirely different generation then. No internet or cell phones existed for me for the first 18 years of my life. But I digress. Mom and dad worked very hard to make sure I finished school, and I at least got all the books I wanted. I was part of the Scholastic Book Club, and this is what I looked forward to every Friday, after placing my order:

Mom and dad always made sure I had my books no matter how expensive they were. That to me right there is a success for their kid.

They pinched every penny, and saved every dollar they had, and eventually my dad started doing the thing he was always meant to do – build houses. In Guyana, my dad was a successful carpenter at a young age, only when he came to the USA did he have to dumb down his skills to get a decent wage at a factory to provide for his family. But when things were finally good, and they had the money to invest, Dad bought his first house in Queens and started fixing it up. All the while, I was busy growing up and Mom was finishing up her degree at Court Reporting school. I am not sure if stenographers are even around anymore, but they used to be a vital part of the courtroom.

After several years of building and selling houses, we finally hit it big and moved out to Long Island, NYC – which is where the rich of the rich usually live if you’re a New Yorker. We had arrived. I was doing really well in college and at my payroll job, and mom and dad were building more houses than ever. They hit a big bump in the road during the 2008 housing crisis but were still able to put away good money. I always admired my parents, for their tenacity, intelligence and survival skills, and where most people fail, my parents always seem to find a way to persevere.

I hit many big bumps in the road too in my life. When I came to North Carolina and was in an extremely dangerous relationship, and ended up in jail, not only did my parents pick up everything they had and leave NYC to come save me here, but they brought all my belongings and everything I left behind in NY with them. While paying for storage and living in motels while I was in jail, my parents managed to find a small house, pay cash for it, and fix it up so it was actually livable to where it is worth well over $100K now. All this while I made a complete mess of my life.

My parents are heroes and are the forever success story in my eyes. They love their life here in North Carolina, my mom says she loves the people and the big open spaces a lot more than NYC. Dad still gets nostalgic for NYC, but I think he likes the fact that he has big open land now, and a great place to retire. The funny thing is at 73 and 65, my mom and dad still build and redid a house in a nearby town to flip and sell. Absolutely remarkable, considering they did all the building and renovating themselves, where most people are well into their retirement.

There is no greater success in this world than the rags to riches story of my mom and dad. Through all the years, and even all my craziness, they managed to keep everything they earned and bounced back time and time again. They are my blessing, my heroes.

Stay Tuned.

Daily writing prompt
When you think of the word “successful,” who’s the first person that comes to mind and why?
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inspiredodyssey daily prompt

How I Scared Everyone, Then Became the Quietest Neighbor

Man, bipolar is one sneaky son of a so and so. I was doing great in my new apartment, made friends, got neighbors’ numbers, but man when you have manic episodes, everything can fall apart really fast.

I won’t even get into the Ring camera footage my dad saw of me running outside in my parking lot naked at 4am, or the candles I left burning on my bed and windowsill that nearly burned down my apartment, but just the sheer amount of craziness that I put my neighbors through is just appalling. My one neighbor, who lives across from me and has a little girl, got scared the most. I was calling her, knocking on her door in my delusions, that her husband (who was the first one to welcome me there), threatened to call the cops on me. So embarrassing! The worst part is I have $100 worth of Moana stuff for their daughter that I never got to give to her for Christmas because I was so crazy. Apparently, they talked to my parents when I was in the hospital too, telling them that they really liked me, but they were just really scared of me.

Fast forward to today, I am now the quietest neighbor in the complex. That couple with the daughter stays far away from me, (they avoided me when they saw my car coming in the summer). My noisy neighbor next door moved out, (I had tormented them too at all hours of the night), but they apparently were picking fights with all my other neighbors, and the landlord had the sheriff come to evict them, (thank God I wasn’t the worst one),

I think the best way to be a good neighbor is trying to be helpful and to just stay quiet. I found a small piece of mail the mail lady dropped the other day by our mailboxes, and hand delivered it to one of my neighbors, (I think that’s pretty neighborly). But that’s as far as I’ll go. The best thing I can do is keep taking my medication, sleep well, and make 100% sure I don’t find myself in a manic episode ever again. Just way too much to lose. So today, I am a good neighbor, just a lonely one in the complex.

Daily writing prompt
What makes a good neighbor?
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inspiredodyssey daily prompt

Most of What We Postpone Isn’t Hard — It’s Emotional

I’ve been putting off an honest conversation with Mr. California, sitting my parents down to explain why I don’t want to move to Florida, and completing Step 9 of my AA amends with my two best friends in New York City. The list goes on and on.

And then there’s the usual stuff — cleaning out drawers, doing a deep clean through all my junk, exercising, eating better. That list could stretch to the moon.

So why am I putting so much off?

I’m starting to understand my procrastination more and more these days — and the truth is, about 90% of it is emotional. Facing feelings about people, or having hard conversations, is really hard for me. I catch myself thinking, maybe they’ll just forget, and I can pretend none of it ever happened. But that’s not how life works, and I know it.

If I keep avoiding the truth with Mr. California, I’m only setting myself up to get hurt — because I keep pouring in everything and getting almost nothing back. If I don’t have an honest conversation with my parents about not wanting to go to Florida, I could end up alone here in North Carolina during another manic episode, with no one to help me this time. And as for my friends in New York — they deserve a real amends from the bottom of my heart after all I put them through.

My sponsor and I have even hit a wall. I’ve been stuck on Step 9 for months now, circling the same emotional ground, and it’s keeping me from moving forward in my recovery. I’m nearing five years sober, but lately, that “dry drunk” mentality has been creeping in — all the old thinking, none of the bottles. And truthfully, it’s been far too long since I’ve been to a meeting.

These emotional barriers that keep me from doing what I need to do feel like heavy stones I keep tripping over. But I’m done just staring at them.

I have a plan.

🌹 The Courage Plan

(for the hard, emotional conversations that matter)

1. Recognize: It’s Not Fear of Conflict — It’s Fear of Loss

I’m not afraid of the words. I’m afraid of what those words might do.
I fear losing connection, approval, belonging — or the fantasy that things could stay comfortable.
But silence is never peace; it’s just an ache waiting for a voice.

“Telling the truth may cost me peace in the moment, but silence is costing me my soul.”

2. Name the Truth I’m Trying to Protect

Every difficult conversation guards something sacred.
Ask myself:

“What truth am I honoring by saying this?”

  • With Mr. California, it’s: “I need to feel emotionally safe, not uncertain.”
  • With my parents, it’s: “I need autonomy and to honor my boundaries.”
  • With my NYC friends, it’s: “I want to repair what I broke and meet love with humility.”

“When I finally figure out why I’m speaking, my courage will find its rhythm.“

3. Plan for Peace, Not Perfection

I won’t wait for flawless phrasing. That’s fear dressed as preparation.
I have to make notes, not a script. The heart never sounds polished — it sounds real.

“I’m not here to control how they react — only to speak what’s true, with love.”

4. Choose Timing and Setting with Care

Truth deserves a safe container, my sponsor stresses this a lot.
I can’t ambush anyone mid-stress and I can’t corner myself either.
I need to find the moment that breathes — not the one that breaks.
Maybe I can send a message like “Can I share something that’s been on my heart?” to open the door gently.

But when will I actually do this? NO TIME LIKE THE PRESENT. (First message will be sent at the conclusion of this blog post).

5. Practice with Compassion

I think rehearsing out loud will help greatly.
Once with all my tears, then again calmly, then again as if I were comforting my past self.
By the third time, it will feel less like breaking — and more like healing.

6. Hold Space for the Fallout

Even the gentlest truth can land clumsily, I have to be prepared for that.
I have to have my after-care ready: a walk, a prayer, a song, a friend who knows what this will cost me. (definitely texting the bestie).

“Courage shakes the body. I need to treat it like recovery, not failure.“

7. Anchor Back to Love

At their core, these conversations — the ninth-step amends, the “no” to family pressure, the truth I need to tell Mr. California — all rise from love.

“I’m doing this because I love you, and because I’m learning to love myself too.”

That single line can soften any storm.

We don’t postpone hard things — we postpone feeling things.

But when we finally face them, we reclaim power we didn’t know we’d lost.

Courage is rarely loud. Sometimes it’s a trembling voice saying,

“This is who I am now.”

And that, right there, is the beginning of peace.

Stay Tuned.

Daily writing prompt
What have you been putting off doing? Why?
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inspiredodyssey daily prompt

If it Were My Last Day

I don’t do enough of living my life to the fullest. Too much worry, stress, bills, relationship woes, drama, doom-scrolling — you name it.

But have you ever stopped to think: what if today was your last day on Earth?

That’s my #1 priority tomorrow.

I’ve spent far too long agonizing over Mr. California. He tries, he reaches out when he can. That’s that. Yesterday, my homeless friend reminded me of this. He said, “He may disappear, he may get quiet, but he always comes back. That’s just who he is.” My friend has so much wisdom, so much strength, and considering his situation, he’s surprisingly upbeat. He lives like every day might be his last — and there’s something holy in that.

Meanwhile, I’m a glutton for punishment. I let thoughts of Mr. California swirl around my brain like an addiction. Obsession. Codependency run amok. I need to stop. Starting tomorrow, I’m seeing this situation for what it is and living my life to the fullest.

When my ex-husband left, I was distraught. My world collapsed. It took everything in me just to change my phone number so he would finally leave me alone. When I found peace again, along came Mr. California. He showered me with love and affection like I’d never known. I fell so fast, so hard. Now things are different, and I’m holding on to the memory of that love — because I know that man is still in there, beneath all the guilt, burdens, and shame of his complicated life.

So where do I stand now? At the edge of something new. A precipice. Unfamiliar territory. A place where I finally have to deal with myself and rewrite my life’s language in terms of self-love, self-care, and living the way I’m meant to live.

I am excited about tomorrow.

No more drowning in sorrows.

If it were my last day, I wouldn’t want to spend it waiting for someone else to choose me. I’d want to live wide open.

And that’s where I’m going.

Stay tuned.

Daily writing prompt
What’s your #1 priority tomorrow?
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inspiredodyssey daily prompt

More Sleep and Definitely More Self-Care

Every day I deny myself something, more sleep, more time for myself, more love for myself. I admit I walk around with this self-hatred chip on my shoulder, one I have always had. I am not accepting of myself, and I definitely don’t love myself enough. I am working on that though, as the obsessions and the addictions I carry are slowly subsiding.

Mr. California hasn’t called me in two days. Tragic, life altering, earth-shattering to me a few months ago, but today, I am handling it in stride. I am spending more time with my best friend from NYC and just trying my best to not obsess and let my addiction get a hold of me. I am the first one to admit that I have traded my alcoholic mentality to a fixation on Mr. California: that transference is very real and prominent in my life. But as my best friend says, “if he calls, he calls, if he doesn’t, he doesn’t” – probably the wisest and simplest truth I have heard today.

I joined the NextDoor app again. Last time, I met a girl on there who was so crazy, I deleted the app and vowed not to go back, however, last night I opened it up again just to see what was new. They’ve changed the app, it looks much cleaner, and I actually found a cool Dell Wireless mouse for $5 that I am going to give my dad on Sunday. She wanted to meet at the library for the transaction, which felt kinda sketchy, but she turned out to be really nice. I wanted to ask her to coffee, but I decided against it, it felt too weird. She welcomed me to the neighborhood, and off I went with my new mouse, lol. I made a coffee date with another girl I met on there for Friday morning, so we will see how that turns out. All evidence of me trying to put myself out there, make more friends and not be so obsessed with Mr. California.

I am really sitting here worried I won’t get to talk to him for a third night in a row. I really hope this doesn’t become a habit. But I can’t let fear and doubt rule my life. My life has to go on because he’s 3,000 miles away and isn’t my boyfriend anymore – a hard truth that I really have to swallow. He loved me once, oh man, did he ever. He loved me so much, my heart used to burst with his love every night. But what I need to do more of is, I need to love myself more and stop pouring so much into him – into a dead relationship I keep trying to resurrect. He has a history of unhealthy relationships, so I should have known better. Did he get tired of me? Is he over me? Is he talking to someone else? So many spiraling questions swirling around in my head.

What I need to do is refocus. I need to enjoy tonight like I did last night. My life cannot be dependent on someone else’s actions, motives, or feelings for me. I learned that lesson with my husband, and Mr. California is teaching me, pushing me, and making me love myself and dedicate more time to myself as much as I am trying so hard to fight it.

Tonight is for me. And tomorrow. And the day after. And the day after that.

Stay Tuned.

Daily writing prompt
What could you do more of?
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inspiredodyssey Uncategorized

Here Come the Holidays ….

So, I always made a big deal of Christmas, but for most holidays I was always alone. My family never really celebrated, (other than Christmas morning), so there was never anything to really get excited about. HOWEVER, in a wonderful, blissful, turn of events, I will be spending the upcoming holidays with Mr. California watching so many amazing TV shows, cartoons, and movies.

We planned it last year when he selflessly sent me two hard drives filled to the max with tons and tons of tv shows, movies and cartoons, from nostalgic years to present blockbusters. I was floored – it was the best present anyone had ever given me, and it must have taken countless hours of ripping DVDs, (and even VHS), onto media files to fill these hard drives. He even sent me a Samsung DVD player that has a USB port, so I can play the media files on. SO THOUGHTFUL!! *Swoon* But alas, we never found time last year because we were busy camming on Skype, (RIP. I hate you Microsoft), or time on the phone just falling more and more in love.

Fast forward to this year, where circumstances have things really different now; Skype is gone, and we just have all this time on the phone to hang out and watch things together. The latest thing has been Stargate SG-1. I never watched the show, and Mr. California has every season on DVD. We started out with him Dropboxing me episodes as we watched them, but I found out that Amazon Prime had every season, along with every season of Stargate: Atlantis, (I want to tackle that next), so we started watching there, (hate the commercials though).

On a good note, I really got into the Christmas spirit today because I am a huge action figure and doll collector, and I thought it would be cool if I can get him an action figure from the series for Christmas. The problem is these action figures are extremely rare because SG-1 never made enough of them. So, I found myself buying a $130 action figure for him, which is WAY beyond what I had in my Christmas budget for him, but I honestly thought would be really cool. Also, I am going to get a nice clear display case to send too, because hey, he better keep it safe! Also, as a side Christmas present for myself, (I already overdid it by buying myself a retro PS2), I got the female lead in Stargate SG-1 – who his action figure is in love with. So, he has the boy, and I have the girl, how cute!

Okay, I realize all of that sounds completely crazy because things are so tight money wise right now, but you know, the memories I am making with him I can’t put a price tag on.

And I didn’t even tell you the best part! I am really looking forward to Halloween! Part of the stuff he gave me on the hard drive was a File Folder called “Halloween and SPOOKY things,” I love that! There is so much in there, like Scooby Doo stuff, Charlie Brown Stuff, Ghostbusters and Beetlejuice stuff, Evil Dead Stuff, and tons of fun stuff to watch this Halloween season! He said he was going to make a list, and I should make a list, so we can come together and figure out what we want to watch together in the month of October. I am so excited! And of course, when the spooky stuff is over, we will look forward to December and all the Christmas stuff. I can’t tell you the joy it would bring me to watch “It’s a Wonderful Life” with him – it’s my all-time favorite Christmas movie.

So yeah, things definitely look different after my manic episode last year, but at least I get to explore so many new things with Mr. California now, that I am so excited about. I have also learned more about his moodiness, his silence, his stress, all his worries, and all the things he says he hates about himself that ruin all his relationships. Little does he know, I am in it for the long haul, and he has my heart directly in his hands.

Here’s to a great holiday season!

Stay Tuned.

Daily writing prompt
How do you celebrate holidays?
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inspiredodyssey daily prompt

Two Weeks of Bliss

I am going to talk to this beautiful man again, like I have been for the last two weeks. Every evening has been filled with love, laughter, Stargate SG1, Batman or Justice League cartoons, Fraggle Rock, or some other cool show that is from the hard drive(s) he gave me for my birthday and updated a few months ago. I am falling more and more in love with Mr. California – and it looks like we have finally made a breakthrough.

Things were rough the past 9 months. When I came out of the psych ward in January, it had been months since I talked to or heard from him. His last words of “I don’t know you, I don’t know who you are, who are you??!!” echoed in my head for months as we communicated strictly through email because I was blocked, (I am still blocked, but I have made peace with that, it’s just his boundaries now). But during those months, I used to just wait and wait for an email, and my days and nights were so tormented. Anything the Italian Stallion, (my ex-husband), had done was nothing compared to the months of torment I endured just hanging on a thread, waiting around for an email that sometimes never came.

I will admit, sometimes I used to think of the Italian Stallion on the nights when Mr. California was silent, but then I quickly shook myself back to my senses. The Italian Stallion may have been the best sex I had up until Mr. California, but nothing would ever cause me to go backwards.

These days, things are really good. Last month, my heartstrings were being torn apart because the more me and Mr. California would talk, (and sometimes have sex), the more I wanted to be with him, and the more his walls were refusing to come down. But recently, when things were getting really bad, I just came out and asked him if he had someone else, which I think totally took him by surprise. Since then, he has called every night and been completely consistent and present, and my heart is soaring with joy. Also, the nights of passion have helped, which were initially fueled by the many sexy pictures I kept sending him – which is his greatest weakness. His latest picture had me soaring too, only because it’s been so long since I’ve seen him, our camming days are long over. I still remember the night he just plain out nixed that idea.

So, what am I doing this evening? Hopefully, it’s another night of bliss with my Mexican Riker, (Star Trek the Next Generation), he wears that beard so well – *swoon*

I also have to make more blog posts; my blog has been severely lacking lately. I need to keep more records of all of this other than my YouTube channel.

Stay Tuned.

Daily writing prompt
What are you doing this evening?
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