Texts From My Dad

Throughout this blog’s history, I haven’t always talked about texts in the most positive light. Let’s just say I (in the past) have called them annoying, invasive, and let’s just say (overall) mood ruiners (gossipboi knows what I’m talkin’ ’bout…). They can be real bitches.

This is a post about some texts that didn’t do any of that.

My relationship with my dad is one I don’t even quite understand. I’ve accepted that over the years. And I know he loves me, but sometimes I forget. Our interactions are so few and far between that it’s easy to forget I even have a dad. I’ve mentioned him a handful of times on this here blawg.

That is, until Valentine’s Day and he sends me a floral bouquet of tulip love to my work. Upon receiving the floral love, I texted a “thank you” to my step-mom, half-bro. FYI, I have NEVER texted my dad before, but it felt right.

He texted back, and the conversation that ensued MADE MY DAY (it actually did more than that). We didn’t chat about much, just made stupid jokes. But it was fun! Later that afternoon he called me and we caught up a little bit. I asked if he can get pictures on his phone, and he can. Now my plan is to send him a picture a week! Something random, that is kind of like a slice of my life, because he really has no idea what it’s like. And vice versa.

It’s amazing what technologies can do. Like make you feel loved. Really, really loved. Thanks texts!

Yours texting her dad (ps. wordpress says texting is not a word…however, it also says wordpress is not a word. wtf)



Your texting and wordpressing,



Happy Heart

My trip to a small town named Big Spring is officially over. My grandma is officially 85 and I am officially reflecting.

I got back yesterday afternoon and poured myself out of the car after the 7 hour trek. The drive flew by. It’s kind of exactly what I needed. It gave me some perspective time.

Something beautiful happened this weekend. But I’m not exactly sure what it was.

All of the awful things that have happened to me in the past year are things that are not unique to me. Breakups, bad days, weird people, insane car problems, mouth surgery (the list goes on). And I know that. But sometimes perspective helps with processing all of it. Sometimes my perspective gets lost, and I don’t even know it.

Saturday morning I ran 12 miles (oh, I know). I ran along a highway straight outside of Big Spring, pass multiple anti-Obama signs, under a highway and then into…nowhere. Or, rather, it felt like nowhere. A peaceful nowhere with lots of dirt and cacti and sapphire blue sky.

Saturday and Sunday I caught up with all of the family. We all just picked up where we left off from four years ago. My uncle started an envelope for donations for the film I am working on. I had to hold back the tears of appreciation. My cousin (who is about 7 months younger than me) and I swapped music– she had me listen to Patti Smith and I told her about PJ Harvey. We bonded over bands such as MIA, Sleighbells, and Toro y Moi. My aunt told me the story of how she fell in love with her hubby who she recently married. And my half-bro gave me rando hit n’ run backrubs. We played games…game after game. Things, Bananagrams, and Xbox Kinect (which is still blowing my mind and burning my thighs). On Monday my step-mom took me out thrift shopping and bought me a ton-o-plates. Yes, plates. I need plates–like to eat from. I sold all of those back from Breakup Bonanza 2010. I also found other fun finds, including an old library catalog for $25…**BIG EYES** I know. And if all this wasn’t full of enough love, I filled myself with TONS of food. Meats were everywhere. Sausage, rib, pig butt (which is the shoulder, not butt!), chicken…ugh. I’m FULL of meat…and it hurts.

And my dad, I never said anything dramatic like I mentioned in my last post. It wasn’t necessary. Or maybe I copped out. But I feel like whatever I decided, was right.

What I know…and perspective helps…is that my dad loves me. He really does. I needed him to show it to me through actions, and he did. He washed my car, randomly. He made me breakfast after I ran that delicious 12 miles mentioned above. He even went for a drive to tried to find me and make sure I was doing ok. He fixed my silver platter my step-mom gave me and sanded down my thrift store cutting board, making it look brand new! I know that sounds petty. Looking for love in actions. But I do, especially when it comes to men.

When he went off to work Tuesday morning, right before I left for Oklahoma, he hugged me and said, “Thank you so much for coming down. It really made my heart happy.” I replied, “It made my heart happy too.”

And it did. One big happy heart over here. A heart that knows I’m loved. I already knew this, but now I truly see that no one was doing things because they felt obligated to.  We all make mistakes. We regret things. They really do love me. My dad really does love me. What was I thinking? I think I figured out what that beautiful thing that happened this weekend was–I got some perspective.

And I took these for you, of course…so enjoy the beauty and beastliness that are the twins separated at birth, Oklahoma and Texas (OK is the beauty, of course) Yee-haw!

**click for biggerness**

Yours perspectively,


Dr. Therapy and the Heart in My Vagina

I had never been to therapy in my life. I never needed it, right? I mean, I really never had any real reason to go. I had my own biases towards therapy, that it was there for people who had been traumatized, OCD/anxiety disorders, and the general attention seekers. Despite my common biases, I always recommended it to people who were thinking about going. I was a cheerleader of therapy, but I had never played the sport.

Boy did I have a lot of misconceptions.

Going to therapy has probably been the best thing I have done for myself. I started going in October…I’ve been about 8 or so times. You would think it would be super expensive. Well, before you completely count it out because the extra cash isn’t handy…look into it. You never know. It costs me $35 and my first two appointments (each year it resets) are FREE. Holy guacamole, free? Yes.

Why do I love Dr. Therapy? Well mainly because I don’t want to talk about my relationship crap with my friends…the things I write on this blog are not really things I want to have entire conversations with my friends about. I would rather ask them what they’ve been up to, tell each other funny stories, and enjoy each other. Every time I do talk about this stuff with them, I don’t feel very good afterward. When I write about it here, I feel…fantastic. When I tell Dr. Therapy, I feel…rewarded.

We talk about whatever I want to talk about. And today…I had a mini-epiphany. We talked mainly about my meeting of the ex, my overal general happiness (as of lately), and then it came out…I started talking about my father. Who I have written a bit about on here, but I’ve barely scratched the surface.

I talked about how we have no relationship ever since he got angry at me for getting my wisdom teeth taken out and he didn’t want to pay for it. “Do you know how much money I send your mother every month?,” he said coldly. Dr. Therapy said that my relationships with men may not be so far removed from my relationship with my father. Oh, I didn’t want to hear that, but I knew it was true.

I want my dad to reach out to me. To make it up to me. To pay, in a way. I know that’s “not right.” But that’s how I feel. Especially after he said that to me and when I started crying (because I had no idea how to react), and he just responded with, “I don’t know why you are crying.”

Well. Let’s just see here. The mini-epiphany: When it comes to men, if I feel hurt by them, I shut down. I still have never forgiven him for that. His apology was weak. But I know I have to get over it.

I bet you are wondering, ok lady…why is the title of this post “Dr. Therapy and the Heart in My Vagina.”

While chatting it up with Dr. Therapy today, spilling the beans about my dad and my man issues, I remembered something.

A dream I had that I wrote down.

October 20, 2009

She told me in a dream that I had father issues. That my vagina has a heart. That I yearn for human contact, connection, unconditional love.

It was so vivid that I wrote it down. I laughed at it. I thought having a heart in my vagina was really funny metaphor. Why was she telling me this? And who was telling me this? Myself.

The father issues, check. The heart in my vagina is what I’m trying to protect with The Vow, so yup got that! And human contact, connection and unconditional love is why I love this blog and appreciate my friends and family even more every day.

And now here I am telling myself, again. Talk to your father. And I’ll have my chance on February 25. That side of my family is heading to the land of the longhorns for my grandma’s 85th birthday. We’ll see if I confront my father issues then…but the time has to be right. I will let you know how that goes.

Yours therapeutically,