When Trash Talk = Love

Have you ever loved someone enough to stand in front of a crowd of family, friends, and coworkers and bash that person? Have you shared stories of their failures, personal problems, and, most likely, their greatest insecurities?

Well, I have.

Did it feel good?

It absolutely did.

What is wrong with me?

Nothing.

What’s wrong with my little sister?

Apparently, a lot of things.

To celebrate my sister reaching a monumental age, my brother-in-law planned a Toast and Roast.

He invited guests to gift my sister with sarcasm, trash talk, and general degradation of her character.

It was phenomenal!

Who knew that slander and verbal abuse could bring people together in such a glorious light?!?

After the roasters had laid out their lines of laughable insult, the birthday girl was given a turn to bash them back.

As my sister took the stage, I was slightly fearful that the roasts had burned a little too deep. She walked up and said, “This was the weirdest birthday party I’ve ever had, so, uh, I guess, thanks?”

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Wishing for Sasquatch & Upright Trees

In this world, there are all kinds of people, but it recently occurred to me that there seem to be two types of wishers among the throngs of earthly inhabitants. Some wish for the unknown, while others wish for what they know to be comfortable. On the trip of a lifetime, Hubby and I had the opportunity to hike in Juneau, Alaska, with friends. It was AMAZING!

As we trekked 5 miles into the Alaskan forest, one of the natural occurrences that our guide pointed out was that many trees had fallen along the path, completely revealing their roots because the soil is so shallow.

The fragility of the trees’ stability was fascinating because the tree roots where we live rarely come out of their deeply embedded homes without the help of a tornado or bulldozer.

Despite their seemingly easy downfall, the Alaskan trees managed to keep their roots together.

I don’t think I would be able to hold all my facets from flailing in every direction if I toppled in such a massive fashion.

As we made our descent, my gal pal and I marveled at how lucky we were to witness the Alaskan beauty and how hard it was to wrap our brains around just how massive the wilderness is. Walking arm-in-arm, we were in rapture.

My sweet friend, being the magical wish-maker that she is, said, “The only thing that would make this hike more perfect is if Sasquatch walked across the trail in front of us.”

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White, Puffy Turbulence

In June of 2024, our friends Barb and Eric invited us to join them for their 25th Anniversary trip on an Alaskan cruise. Hubby has always wanted to visit Alaska, and I was excited about the potential for a vacation. Without a second thought, we were Alaska-bound!

The cruise, however, required us to fly from St. Louis, MO to Seattle, WA. Flying is not Hubby’s favorite means of transportation, but he was willing to forgo his fears for the sake of Alaska. Casting his concern aside was well worth it, as our cruise was wonderful and Alaska was GORGEOUS!

On our flight back, the pilot announced overhead: “The seatbelt signs are now on, and everyone should remain securely buckled in their seats. We are flying through some rainstorms, and turbulence is to be expected.”

Looking out our window, there was nothing but blue skies and white, puffy clouds. There were no signs of turbulence ahead.

When the plane did its whole rocking and shaking thing (a.k.a. turbulence), the view remained unchanged. Fortunately, the disruption in our airborne peace did not last long.

After the flight, we were discussing the rocky portion of our ride. Hubby said he had been on planes with much more severe turbulence, and those pilots never made any kind of warning announcement. Our pilot’s heads-up made him feel better about the upcoming instability and helped him remain calm despite the storm.

Wouldn’t it be nice if we always had this kind of white, puffy turbulence?

I think this is a question I’ve needed to ask for a while now.

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8,092,034,510* Other Possibilities

As I’ve ventured through the process of seeking healthy boundaries, there is a situation that has been nagging at my heart. (See my recent post “All Full Up – New Perspectives on Boundaries” )

It took me over a year to realize a former friend was just that. Former.

After 12 months of unreturned cards, calls, texts, and messages without a hint as to why for me to say, “It’s not me.”

After 2 years and 5 months, it shouldn’t hurt that someone severed ties bound by 18 years of friendship, but, dang, it hurts.

Here’s the good news. I am not alone. There are roughly 8,092,034,510* other humans roaming this planet, who could be my friend.

Your odds are just as good (if not better based on your geographic location). This statistic is formulated from the Census.gov projection that on January 1, 2025 there were 8,092,034,511 people on Earth.

So, even if one person has moved on or you have chosen to go a separate way from someone else, the world is full of other possibilities. Possibilities for you to find friendship, support, and love.

If you are in a lonely situation or a place of being put aside, I hope you find solace in the fact that you have options. The odds are favorable that others have felt the same way. Even better there is someone out there to help you heal because, hey, they’ve been there too!

The Intenergy message here is that we are not alone. Ending a relationship or losing a connection with someone hurts. We can’t avoid those kinds of suffering, but we can give ourselves some grace as we move, grow, or heal when a relationship falls apart. We can embrace the potential for new friendships or greater development of old ones. With 8,092,034,510* other folks making their way through this world, we are bound to find someone to build a connection with and fulfill our lives in healthy, loving, and productive ways. You are not alone (verified by Census.gov).

By: Melanie A. Peters

P.S. The * is due to the fact that 8,092,034,511 is an estimate. People are always being born and passing away, and I wasn’t sure I should count you or myself in the estimate because I am the one experiencing a loss and maybe you are the exception because you are looking for a new friend. ANYWAY, the * means there are still lots of possibilities for friendships, love, and bonds out there.

P.P.S. I love ALL my friends, even if we haven’t spoken for a while OR they didn’t choose Kentucky to win on their March Madness bracket.

Trapped by Uncertainty?

Fear of the unknown has to be one of the scariest things I can think of, but sometimes my inquisitive nature gets the better of me and I JUST HAVE TO KNOW. One such adventure presented itself on a visit to the Missouri Botanical Gardens. In one of the garden’s centers, there was a hexagon-shaped glass case, illuminated with red lights, and labeled “Vivian’s Burrow.” (I named it the “Hexagon of Uncertainty.”)

To discover Vivian’s identity, guests have to climb into the stand and view the burrow from inside the glass. There is no way to escape quickly if what’s inside that burrow is too scary. Its inhabitant will be right there, in your face, until you can wiggle your way back out. You could be temporarily trapped at eye-to-eye with uncertainty and your greatest fear.

I JUST HAD to see who Vivian was.

(Rachel was not as “curious” and did NOT venture into the “Hexagon of Uncertainty.”)

Me inside the “Hexagon of Uncertainty” looking for Vivian’s Burrow

I am not particularly fond of any rodent, to be honest, so I was slightly afraid that I was going to find myself nose to nose with some sort of mousey creature.

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A Trained Release Recipient

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The topic of this post popped up frequently in some pretty impactful places for me in the last few weeks. It all started when I shared my feelings in the post, “I am Not Okay – Stuck on Repeat.” Seeking out help from nutritionist and trainer, Denise Coots, spoke volumes about how lost I was feeling. I had allowed myself to get to the point where I lost touch with my self-value and was exhausted by the disconnect. I can honestly say that meeting with Denise and the kind support of others who read my post has bolstered me significantly and life has been much easier to keep up with ever since.

My friend Sheila told me that she really appreciated my post and related because she sees a therapist to help make sense of her emotions sometimes. Sheila and I agreed that the negative stigma of seeing a counselor is so unfair. She beautifully stated that sometimes we need someone separate from our everyday lives to help us release everything we are holding in. We need a “trained release recipient.” I told her I LOVED that idea and needed to share it!

The following evening, I had dinner with my friend Tricia, who happens to be a licensed therapist. She and I always have a terrific time talking about our families, but after every visit, we agree that our times together are good for our souls because we discuss whatever we are struggling with emotionally and professionally. I mentioned to Tricia the stereotypes that people have about seeing a professional counselor and the fact that many believe friends and family are enough. She told me that very stigma is a constant challenge in her career and stands in the way of her attempts to help others find the healing that they need. And sometimes the family or friends that people open up to are like Lucy, from The Peanuts cartoons. They are willing to listen for a price or their prescription for getting better is to get over it. Clearly, those are not “trained release recipients.”

Two days later, I said hello to a fellow parent watching his child at gymnastics. I could tell he was new and nervous. He wasn’t sure where to sit and kept a vigilant eye on his daughter. I asked how his day was going. He told me, in an agitated voice, that all the people watching those little girls made him nervous, but he had promised his daughter he would let her try gymnastics on the day that he had custody. It was a statement that shared A LOT of information about his situation.

He had several tattoos on his arms, including two from the Army. I thanked him for his service to our country. He turned to me and told me I was really smart. I wasn’t sure how my gratitude made me intelligent, but I thanked him for the compliment. He told me that he knew I was smart because I identified the one thing that meant something to him besides his daughter.

He immediately told me he moved to Missouri to be near his daughter because her mother was from here. Continuing, he told me that he was getting medical and psychological treatment at the local V.A. Hospital. Without prompting, he shared that he never thought a therapist could help him. He always thought going to a psychiatrist made him seem crazy, but the doctors there were helping him feel like he could be normal and maybe find love again someday. Wow! That was A LOT of unsolicited information. Clearly, this dad was seeking connections with others, and the inspiration about “trained release recipients” continued to come my way.

If you have found yourself in a situation where you feel completely lost or need a voice of reason that hasn’t already spoken to you, I encourage you to find a “trained release recipient” who will productively listen to your problems and guide you to solutions. There is nothing wrong with asking for help from a certified therapist, counselor, or nutritionist. Seek out someone who has the skills and training to help establish a healthier, happier existence. Positive purpose is often found when you connect with someone who has the expertise to motivate your intent and energy in productive ways. Let go of the stigma of just-get-over-it and get yourself a “trained release recipient.”

By: Melanie A. Peters

P.S. Charlie Brown was on to something when he stepped into Lucy’s office; he was just a little misguided. He should sue for false advertising.

Herding Turkeys… : An Emotional Chore

All in a day’s work….

That’s what I should call it, but have you ever tried to herd turkeys? There is nothing run-of-the-mill about herding turkeys once they’ve escaped from the barn.

On a day when I had the privilege of helping top out buildings*, there was one barn door that just wouldn’t stay on its hinge leaving a gap as we made our rounds through the building. It was through that gap that nine turkeys made their grand getaway.

The thing about turkeys though is that they are not very intelligent and tend to run wild in every direction before making their way back to where they started.

In the case of these nine runaways, they hovered around the outside of the barn because they could hear their buddies inside. Unfortunately for me, they huddled about half way down the barn, and I had to deftly sneak up behind them and shoo them to the other end of the range house. Once we made our haphazard way back to the other end of the building, these fugitives found safety being back in the flock.

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National Broadcast Anxiety

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Every hour on the hour.
Breaking, late-breaking, exclusive.
National Broadcast Anxiety is produced at the speed of sound and sight.
Our eyes, ears, minds, and hearts cannot escape.
Tonight’s segment on how to handle media-based stress
made it that much worse.

We can’t trust the “honesty” of journalism because they feed on
National Broadcast Anxiety.
Coming at you from every angle,
but the only angle they want you believe is theirs.
Loving our nation for what is it can’t be allowed.
Only one side or the other can be accepted.
They refuse to compromise…

Photo by Daria Sannikova on Pexels.com

The only ideals that do not deserve to be compromised
Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness are excluded by National Broadcast Anxiety.
Apparently, if their side is not happy then no one can be happy.
The only pursuit is to divide.
Liberty loses life when the desires of a radical few strip the American dream from those who are willing to work for it.
Working for it isn’t enough. Speaking up is not accepted.
Suffer in silence because standing up for yourself is considered prejudice.
Be careful! You’ll end up on the NEWS.

Photo by Terje Sollie on Pexels.com

N.E.W.S. – Directions that fail to lead anywhere but
National Broadcast Anxiety.
It’s time to change more than the channel.
“Journalists,” listen.
You are not speaking for America. You are speaking for ratings.
State facts. Take out the loaded adjectives and labels. Tell the stories of what’s working.
Use your avenues for advancement beyond that of overpaid officials and their tantrums.
Share the problem-solvers. Mute the warmongers. Produce something positive.
We don’t need any more seasons of National Broadcast Anxiety.

By: Melanie A. Peters

P.S. If we are ever going to find peace amongst ourselves, we must change the channels of journalism today.

The Discipline to Want the Most – Wise Words Wednesday

Discipline – the classic struggle between what we want right now and what we want most.

Abraham Lincoln was an expert on making tough choices based on what he wanted most. He built a career and defined a nation by working for what he knew was necessary to unite our peoples and continue to establish America as a world power. After all how could a nation divided be the most powerful country in the world?

Discipline is something that many feel is a violation of their rights. They believe that if they want to do something, go somewhere, buy something, or say anything, it’s not “fair” to have to work for it or take into consideration the impacts their impulses will have on the big picture for their lives and what they want beyond that moment in time. The demand for instant gratification and knee-jerk reactions to the work and words of others has cast an ugly shadow over what we really need and want as a society.

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Security in Nature: As Guided by a 9 Year Old

I will be the first to admit that I often give the excuse that I am too busy to do what my kids want, especially when it involves going into the woods to see a “secret” fort, deer stand, or “special” rock. Not because I don’t like my children or am anti-nature, but I don’t always find joy in the trees or rocks that my darlings do and the matters in the house seem much more pressing. (The stick-tights and cockleburs are also on my list of unhappy things, and they are bad right now.)

This past weekend was no exception. I was not particularly excited about following my son down his “secret” path to see his “deer hunting” tree or his “special” hidden fort. Something told me that it meant more to him to share than it did for me to fold the laundry or finish the dishes. As he lead me into the woods, my 9-year-old chattered like a squirrel in a tree about the way he and his friends had discovered this place and how cool it was. His happy chatter was welcomed, as he has been in a bit of a funk lately unable to find kind words or pleasant things to say to his siblings or I.

When we arrived at the “deer hunting” tree, I saw a dead, dried up evergreen. What my son saw was an opportunity to sit up high, watching wildlife, with ample branches to share the spot with his friends as they “hunted” deer. I asked if the branches felt like they were going to break and he said, “No. They’re good. I know which ones I can stand and sit on.”

“Aren’t you afraid you’ll fall?” I asked.

“Nope. I’ll just catch another branch if I start to go down. There’s plenty in this tree.”

He was so secure in his answer I had to smile. As nimbly as a squirrel, my boy scampered down and said, “Come this way. Over here is my secret fort.”

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