The Therapy Journals of the Fat-Headed Klingon Woman

One woman's journey to becoming Her True Self

To D or Not To D April 6, 2016

Hello, all!

“Oh, to struggle against great odds, to meet enemies undaunted!”

“That sounds to me like you’re daunted. Say it again like you’re UNDAUNTED!”

Another word for undaunted might be determined. I need determination right now in so many areas of my life. I need determination to work on my health and weight loss. I need determination in my theater pursuits, to not get depressed when I don’t get cast, and to help promote the theater and the arts. I need determination to do the best I can as a parent and to deal with and face any challenges with my kids that might come up. I need determination to re-train my brain and learn to love and appreciate myself.

So much determination! I don’t know at this point where it will come from, but I know I have to find it.

Today’s poem:

Daring and dauntless

reach for the brass ring.

Grasp the dream and live it


Nothing stands

between me and greatness.

I am there.






Until next time,



I Talk A Good Game, But This Is Basically A Self Pep-Talk! September 2, 2012

Paris Sunset from the Louvre window

Paris Sunset from the Louvre window (Photo credit: Dimitry B)

Hello all.


So I have a milestone coming up.  In three days, I will turn back into a mermaid, over a new leaf, OK, OK!  In three days, I will turn 40.  Forty!  This is a number that is so surreal I cannot imagine it.  Wasn’t I just dealing with stupid junior high crushes, like, five minutes ago?  Wasn’t it just yesterday I was trying to decide whether to strike out on my own and try the college my parents wanted me to try, or take the safe route and go where my best friend wanted us to go together?  Didn’t I just a day ago say “I love you, Seniors.” and with hands shaking, return the microphone to the stand after fulfilling a dream of singing a solo at graduation?  I could swear it!  Or maybe it was just yesterday when I was 21 and drowning in newborn babies when my twin daughters appeared on the scene?  Or when I was 30 and doing the baby thing all over again with my Little Man, The Boy.  Or those years in between, watching husbands self-destruct, searching for myself, suffering loss and surviving devastation again and again and freaking again!?


Nope.  It was years ago.  Back in the Day.  Old times.  Ancient History.  It’s cool, I can deal, really!  I can live with these realities and look back on the events I’ve just listed and see that, yeah, they were pretty good times overall.  There’ve definitely been some awful times.  I touched on those, but what I’d really like to examine is, “Where the heck am I going from here?!”  What’s in my future?  What lies ahead in the twisty, turn-y, dark and light-y  road through my next few decades?  Why did I just edit that sentence from ‘hell’ to ‘heck’ so I might not offend or shock anyone who knows me?  What’s going to happen to my kids in their journeys?  And please tell me I’m not going to fulfill that horrible line from that poem in Dead Poets’ Society:  “…and not, when I had come to die, discover that I had not lived.”


I think society tries to tell us life is meant to be some grandiose adventure, some breathtaking experience that smacks of deep meaning and awe and wonder, and that if we don’t find our experience matching up, that we’re not doing it right, that our life is somehow subpar, substandard, just sub.  Sub means below, you know.  Society tries to subversively and sneakily tell us that there is a bar to be cleared if we are to be able to say we have lived.  Like we must have made certain amounts of money or been to certain places or felt certain throbbing levels of love and lust.  And it’s true, there are crazy infinite amounts of experience out there to be had.  The world is so much bigger, more varied and vast and amazing than this little corner where I have grown to this point.  Society wants me to think my limited experience is somehow inferior.


But you know what?  Society can just go screw itself.  I’m about to be 40.  I’ve lived. I’ve never owned a million dollar house or driven a Mercedes, but I’ve raised kids and seen them laugh and cry, seen them bleed, seen them struggle for breath, and even seen them die.  I’ve never been to Paris, but  I have loved parents and grandparents and friends, and I’ve laughed and cried with them.  I have never felt the certainty that I was looking into the eyes of my Soul Mate, but I have paid the bills (sometimes even on time) and most often eaten food paid for by the state.  I am still in the town where I graduated High School.  But I. Have. Lived.


I am filled with hope that this is true, but I don’t have to be reassured that the next decade or four or five that I continue to breathe will be somehow more interesting or more awe-inspiring or more joy filled than the last four.  Just to illuminate with an example:   I got mad at my kids yesterday.  They let me down.  They didn’t do what I asked them to do, even with specific instructions and guidelines.  They just chose not to do it.  I was angry at them and more angry at myself for letting them get away with it.  I suddenly started experiencing a deep desire to just leave them to their own devices and go make myself a whole new life somewhere.  Let them do what they wanted to do, since they were going to do it anyway, and just go.  The girls are almost nineteen, right?  People do it.  But today we were in the car, on the way to my mom’s for after-church dinner.  And they were singing.  My babies.  All of them, singing together, some goofy song I can’t even remember now, but I was singing with them and laughing, and then I started to cry as I thought how just yesterday I wanted to leave them on their own and go be my own person without them.  I forgot for a moment that they are the personification of all I ever wanted in life!  I wanted to be a mom.  That was it.  All else was secondary……  And I knew then that they ARE the glorious, interesting, awe-inspiring, joy filled living that I have done!


So would I be lying if I said I don’t care what the next 40 years holds?  Yep.  I hope my future is full of experience and adventure.  Travel.  Seeing more, doing more, being more.  True love, even.  But if it’s just day to day living, paying the bills, watching my kids walk their paths, being single but not alone, I know I have already been blessed beyond imagining.  I have loved.  And yes, I have most definitely lived.


So bring on what you got, September 5, 2012!  Bring on the official turning 40!  It’s been good this far, and it will continue to be good, no matter what.  I am beautiful.  I am alive and breathing and fabulous, and so is my life.  As in my last post, it can only go up from here!

Until next time,



The Therapy Journals of the Fat-Headed Klingon Woman

One woman's journey to becoming Her True Self

Shawn L. Bird

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