The Therapy Journals of the Fat-Headed Klingon Woman

One woman's journey to becoming Her True Self

A Sad Day July 12, 2019

Hello, all. It’s been a tough week. This week I experienced a first in my almost 47 years on this earth. Last Saturday night I was sitting in a lawn chair in my parents’ driveway, watching fireworks, holding my uncle’s hand and talking to him, hugging him goodbye when he and my aunt left, and the next afternoon he was dead.


I’ve lost people before. Of course I have. But never someone I was just talking to and having fun with the day before. I mean, I knew he wasn’t well. He was on oxygen and was really struggling with his breathing that night, but none of us could have known he was in such danger.


My family is a very loving one. Even if we don’t see each other for months at a time, (a fact made somewhat more pitiful by the realization that we live in the same county) we still love each other and enjoy seeing each other. I feel very blessed by that. Last Saturday night was an example. It was a throwback to the days when we had big family gatherings at my parents’ house, with aunts, uncles, and cousins from both sides of the family. We’d eat, maybe grill burgers or make a huge pot of spaghetti. Then afterwards we’d have watermelon and homemade ice cream and pop fireworks until late into the evening.


That’s what we were doing that night. Not everyone was there- but a few family members from both sides made it feel like the old days for the first time in a long time: simple, homemade country joys, shared with at least part of a loving family.


Then today, the rest of that family were all together for the first time in ages, as we said goodbye to my uncle. His service was in the church we all grew up in, with congregational acapella singing. That was one of the best and yet hardest parts for me. My aunt and uncle sat behind us for years in church, and many of the songs they chose to sing today were my uncle’s favorites and I could hear his singing so clearly in my mind. Afterwards, the police stopped traffic for us when we had to leave the church and get on the highway that runs through town. My uncle’s youngest son rode honor guard on his motorcycle.


But the part that struck me, one of the things I loved the most, was the way all the traffic on the roads pulled over and stopped until we passed. It’s such a small thing, and I guess maybe it’s not done in all parts of the country, but the comfort I felt from seeing that show of respect can hardly be described. It made me feel proud to have grown up here. I wished that I could have said thank you to all those people who had taken time out of their day, stopped for a moment in their busy schedules, to sit by the roadside as we followed my uncle to his final resting place.


As lovely and comforting as that was, though, it was nothing…*nothing* compared to the comfort of knowing my uncle was a Christian, and having an utterly firm conviction that he was in paradise at that very moment. I honestly never realized it before, because at the times of other losses, either I was too young to really think about it or appreciate it, or I unfortunately could not be absolutely certain the people I had lost were in a saved condition. Today, I knew. I knew without question that my uncle was literally in a better place. There is nothing that compares to the joy that comes from that certainty.


Now, I know all of this gets into religion and theology or whatever, and not everyone shares the same beliefs and convictions. I am not even the most churchy person myself at the moment, but today made me want to start living my life better. It reminded me, as funerals always do, I guess, that someday this life will be over, and all I know is that I want to go to heaven. I want to have my poor fragile physical body exchanged for a spiritual heavenly body that will never get sick or broken. I want to spend eternity in the presence of Jesus, singing and worshipping God and walking streets of gold.


I know this feeling may not last. This inspiration, this determination. It never does. Death happens, losses happen, and they make you think. And then the sadness goes away a little, the thoughts and introspection fade and you get caught up in the busy-ness of life again until the next loss happens. But maybe I can make it stick around and get back to how I was raised, going to church more often and trying to live a better life. I hope I can. I’m going to try, anyway.


Until next time,


PS. I have another family member, a cousin who was in a terrible motorcycle wreck. He could use some financial help if he is to make a full, long recovery. Here (I hope) is a link to his GoFundMe:


Another New Experience- Open Mic Night! October 24, 2013

Hello all!  Last night I participated in an Open Mic Night in conjunction with the Oklahoma Arts Conference that took place here this week.  The evening was completely enjoyable, and I was very glad to see old friends, meet new people, and make important connections.   I thought I would highlight the four poems I read last night in a single post.  All of these are, or are about to be, on my Poetry and Fiction page also.  Enjoy!


Maybe It’s Monday

When you can’t get a kid to get off the bed,

when you can’t find a shoe or a sock,

when the windshield is frosted and the steering is dead,

and the bread is as hard as a rock,

when the cereal’s gone and the milk’s gone too,

when the cat leaves a mess on the floor,

when it’s 8:25 and it’s time to be there

and the kids are just now out the door,

and friends need some money and cars need gas

and you’re sleepy and tired off your..

well, you know.

Odds are there’s one simple reason for this,

why everything turns out this way.

It may be your luck or it may just be fate,

but more likely, maybe it’s MONDAY!!



Bonsai Life

Growing for years,

Beginning to be established.

Life is the Ultimate Gardener.

I am Cut Down and Brutalized.

I am nothing but a Stump.

But after successive Springs

gradually New Shoots grow.

New leaves to disguise

The Scars.

A little guidance; I am Wired.

And soon

I am smaller.

A more compact version

of what I was.

But more deliberately shaped

and trained.

I am an Art Form.


8-11-10   10:35 a.m.


Road Trip

Roaming through the countryside,

Acres of parched fields,

Or lush green crops proudly thriving,

Somebody’s sweat and blood and tears.

The world is quiet

Until history begins to speak to you.

For everywhere you look,

The past comes alive.

From the gnarled tree-branch fence posts,

Standing faithfully

Since some sturdy old farmer put them there,

To the gray, abandoned shacks

Along the way,

Each with its peekaboo roof and sagging porch

Ever so slowly disintegrating

With the passage of time.

Once someone’s pride and joy,

Perhaps the culmination of their dreams.

Rows of ancient cars and trucks,

Fine old machines from an era gone by,

Where young men on back roads tested their fates

And young ladies in back seats determined theirs,

Now reduced to rusted out shells.

The world as it once was

Stirs, gives itself a shake,

And comes forward to greet you.

DD  8-9-02  6:10 pm



Under a table hides a young boy,

battered and beaten a broken toy.

Across the room a mama cries,

the hurting, the hitting, the pain in her eyes.

Between the two survives a bond

for love and forgiveness to build upon.

Around them both the empty walls

the echoing silence, the desolate halls.

Beside the chair where the mama weeps,

a bottle of medicine that helps her sleep.

Nights stretch endless when she can’t NOT think.

In desperation she picks up a drink.

And in the morning her little son begs

for biscuits and gravy or bacon and eggs.

Behind the fridge door there’s nothing he wants.

His hungry eyes taunt her, his wailing voice haunts

Until she can’t take it, endurance worn thin,

her hand lands the blows again and again.

He runs for a safe place. She drops into a chair.

Again her heart shatters for the pain they both bear.

Desperate to hold him, she calls to her boy

hiding under the table, like a broken toy.

But he follows her voice and she clasps his small form

and clings to her child, the lifeline in a storm.

Through tears she says she’s sorry and that she loves him so.

He snuggles closer to her and says, “Mommy, I know.”

DD: 08/23/11 9:07am


And this is one I wrote yesterday but didn’t get to read, which I wrote for all the new friends I have met in the last few months since the beginning of my involvement with Ardmore Little Theatre.

Theater People

Theater People are Friendly People.

Because you never know- that girl you talk to, while standing in line to buy paint for the next big monster set designed by possibly masochistic crazy men…might just be the next big star.

And speaking of Monster Sets-

Theater People are Achy People.

Entire weekends spent climbing ladders, bracing studs, steadying walls, standing bent double with a drill in hand, and painting all day on your knees…is as good a workout as any you can get from a trainer!

Theater People are Hurried People.

Because that monster set, with all its painting and leveling, wiring and plum-lining, has to go from bare stage to showplace in three weeks, and back to bare stage in one night!  And lines must be learned, and blocking changed, and costumes discussed and it all must happen immediately if not sooner!

And speaking of too many things to do-

Theater People are Drowsy People.

After working all day at “real” jobs like managers, teachers, and secretaries, Theater People show up to devote hours to rehearsals, construction, learning lines, and staying up all night texting because they just like each other that much.

And speaking of liking each other-

Theater People are Flirty People-

Working closely, often too closely, with Big Egos, Applause Hounds, Spotlight Whores, and sometimes the quiet but surprisingly passionate character who observes from the sidelines, what starts in the theater…doesn’t always STAY in the theater!

And speaking of Staying in the Theater-

Theater People are Devoted People.

Because despite being friendly and hurried and achy and drowsy and flirty, there is always drama and comedy, and tension and dissention, but stage bios are 30 years long, friendships are measured in decades, and hugs are distributed freely, because Theater People…. Are A Family!

DD  10/22/2013  10:20 AM


Thanks for reading!  Until next time,



On Oklahoma and God May 21, 2013

Filed under: Steps in the Journey — DDKlingonGirl @ 1:34 pm
Tags: , , , ,

Hey, y’all!  That, by the way, is an adaptation of my normal greeting, in honor of my home state that got hammered the last two days by the tornadoes.


I have so much I want to say right now, and as usual, my biggest concern is that I will have the right words.  Starting from when I woke up this morning and was almost afraid to pull up Facebook for fear of what more horrible news I would find posted there, all my thoughts have been focused on the tragedy of the storms and the results and aftermath.


As an almost-lifelong Oklahoman, I’ve been through this before.  I’ve watched weather updates, heard sirens, and “hunkered” down in hallways, bathrooms, cellars, and closets.  And…I’ve seen it up close and personal as well.  This happened to my own small hometown in 2009.  Trailer parks wiped out.  Eight or nine people dead.  Destruction and devastation and neighbors’ lives uprooted just like the trees in their front yards.


And now, as then, there is good in every evil.  There is triumph in every test.  When bad things happen, good people come out of the woodwork.  I’ve seen it.  I am so proud of this state.  I am proud to be FROM here.  Someone was telling me about the news footage last night of the line of cars, stretching around blocks and blocks at ONE donation point.  Just one out of the whole city, and all you could see were headlights.   Not to sound cocky or anything, but guys, that’s just how we roll here.  When bad things happen, people are literally there in a moment to do whatever they can do.  Sometimes all you can do is hold people while they cry, but I can speak from experience:  there are times when that is everything.


I think I know, intellectually, that there are good people in every state, and that if something comparable to this happened in California, or New Mexico, or Ohio, or New Jersey, or anywhere, people would be there to help.  Donations would pour in.  I know this.  But somehow, Oklahoma feels special.  The outpouring you see here isn’t just charity.  It’s love.  Pure, undiluted love in action.  I like to think it’s because we’re largely a group of God-fearing Christians, but that’s arrogant.  Oklahoma and Texas specifically, and the Midwest in general, are just very special places.


It’s interesting to me how my thoughts move when something like this happens.  I have been feeling a need to draw near to God all day today.  As I drove in to work, I was singing some church songs and just kind of realizing what I was feeling.  I acknowledge how sad it is that it takes something like this to make me feel that need, to make me feel that strong desire to really come closer to God, but above and beyond that, I feel mostly a deep gratitude for the opportunity.  I’m thankful for this tragedy, in that it serves as a reminder that catches my attention, that wakes me up, that makes me realize as little else rarely does… I NEED God!  I need faith in my life.  I need to believe in a higher purpose, a higher power, in a wisdom far beyond mine that knows all, understands all, and has a greater plan for good from this, than I can scarcely begin to comprehend.


I really truly do understand how angry that sentiment could possibly make some people.  Those who lost their homes, their children, their workplaces…I get how they could read that and go, “Are you INSANE?  Are you crazy?  How dare you be thankful for something like this, for MY suffering and MY loss?!”  All I can say is that I am.  I am thankful that I have the opportunity to be reminded of God’s awesome power, and how people’s love for Him leads them to walk in love for their fellow man and just give so much and so deeply.


And I would say to everyone who is struggling with their thoughts about this, with their pain and anger and doubt, but especially to those people who lost loved ones, particularly children- can you just imagine where they are today?  Can you see the beauty that surrounds them?  The sunlight, the warmth, the absolute and utter peace and lack of pain where they are?  The love that they are wrapped in?  Can you picture the scene?  They are in the place Jesus Himself described as Paradise.  Feel that, and let it comfort you.

All in all, my pledge is this:  I mean to take advantage of the opportunity to wake up another day and draw near to God and also show that love by doing what I can to help those whose lives have been impacted by this storm tragedy.


Until next time,



The Return of the Klingon Woman June 28, 2012

Two Klingon males and a female as they appear ...

Two Klingon males and a female as they appear in the original television series episode “Day of the Dove”. The bronzed skin, facial hair, lack of ridged foreheads, and simple costumes are typical of The Original Series Klingons. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Hello all!


Wow, no more Allure trip journal.  I’m not sure I can write anything else after all that.  Actually though, we did take another trip last weekend.  This one was much shorter, cheaper, and personal.  We had a family reunion in Cuchara, Colorado.   Road trips, oy!  There’s a reason they call it a trip!  Families are so crazy, but so much fun and so much love.   When we first arrived there, for the first whole day or so in fact, I felt like Forrest Gump– I was so excited I just wanted to run everywhere.  Quite a departure for me, I can assure you.  My cousin who is a nurse said it was a little bit of manic behavior brought on by excitement.  Whatever it was, it didn’t last.  I was fine with walking after a couple of days.  We always have a lot of laughs, my cousin and I.  You never know when we’re going to dress up an old mop and try to torture neighborhood boys and get beat for it.  😀


One of the moments that cracked me up the most on the whole trip was on the way home.  It felt like it was taking absolutely forever, and the kids were getting a little antsy.  All of a sudden, from the back seat, the following scenario occurred:

The Boy:  “Pillow fiiiiight!!!”

Me and my mom:  “Boy, you’re the only one in the whole vehicle who has a pillow!!

The Boy:  (two beats of silence)  “Fist fiiiiiight!!”


He’s a hoot, isn’t he?  We nicely informed him there would be no fist fights, but I was about to fall out of my chair laughing.   On the other hand, one thing that did NOT make me feel like laughing was The Return of the Klingon Woman.  Now, to know what I’m talking about, you’d have to go all the way back to the first month of this blog, all the way back to the origin of the whole thing.  I was 130 lbs heavier then, and I had woken up many mornings to see that my forehead was squished when I slept on my sides, resulting in these diagonal lines from my hairline down across my forehead.  The first thing I thought of was some kind of crinkly-headed alien like the Klingons, so that’s where the whole thing started.


This phenomenon hasn’t been quite so prevalent since I’ve lost so much weight, but this past weekend I woke up one morning to discover it had returned.  Maybe all the hiking and mountain air wore me out and I just slept harder on that side or something, but it was kind of a disturbing thing.  It made me remember how I felt back then, how hard it was living life at that weight.   People who have never been overweight just have no idea.


Luckily, my forehead smoothed itself out pretty quickly as the day went on, and I haven’t noticed a recurrence, but it definitely gave me pause.  It reminded me how far I’ve come and how much I do NOT want to go back to where I was.  Unless of course you’re talking about going back to Colorado.  Man, it was so nice there!  The highs were in the 80s or so, lows in the 50s maybe.  It was Extremely Pleasant!  We started home Monday morning, and the closer we got to Oklahoma, it just got hotter and hotter, more and more humid.  We were all kind of like, “Did we take a wrong turn on the way to Oklahoma and end up on the surface of the sun!?!”


Realizing of course, Colorado is in a state of emergency right now with all the wildfires, all of us here at TJKW (read, me) are definitely sending good thoughts and prayers to the entire state.   Our family reunion was in such a beautiful area!  There were a wide variety of cabins for rent, a cute little village with stores and such, and two tiny little lakes just hopping with trout.  Several of our family members enjoyed the opportunity to drop a hook and drown a worm, The Boy included.  He caught his first fish this weekend, in fact.  (I think it was his first fish.  It was definitely his first trout.)   I was so proud, and he was so excited.  (All together now:  awwwwwww!)  He had a hard time with his first trip, because the flies were bugging him, so to speak, but on his next two trips they weren’t as bad, and he had a lot better luck.


All in all, it was a great weekend, a lot of good fun with great family, and an opportunity to appreciate other places besides home.  Wildfires or not, I may have to move there someday.  It’s not as far as Alaska, but the weather is much more comfortable than here.  Hope everybody has a great 4th of July coming up!  We usually have a big family thing.  My parents live out in the country, so everyone brings their fireworks and we usually either grill or have sandwiches, watermelon and homemade ice cream.  The day being on Wednesday night puts a bit of a crimp in it, but we’ll just roll with it.  That’s what we do.


Until next time,



Allure Trip Journal Part 2: The Water Taxi and Embarkation Morning June 7, 2012


Water Taxi

Water Taxi (Photo credit: Joe@HIO)

Hello All!!  And we continue…

After stopping to take pictures with a few more little dinghies  😉 that would make my poor Dad pea green with envy, including one incredible boat named Milk Money, we made it to the Water Taxi stop, taking the long way around the back of the building, thanks to my spectacular lack of instinct for locations. Daughter S. was quite certain by this time I was the WORST navigator on the planet. She turned out to be quite good at finding our way around different places, and at ever-so-gently verifying with me whether or not I knew for sure where I was going before she started making suggestions. She’s such a wise child. J


The kids plopped down on the edge of the pier or whatever you call it, and started checking out the water below, arguing about whether their shoes would get eaten by an alligator if they dropped them in the water. I issued dire warnings that NOBODY had better drop their shoes in the water, and struck up a conversation with a rather perturbed lady sitting nearby, who had apparently been misdirected and had hiked all over land and valley to find her way to this stop, only to discover that the boat she desperately thought she needed to catch, being the last Hollywood Connection, or something, was too full to allow her and her husband to board. With many oaths and declarations of severe retribution, she sent her husband into the office to find out exactly where the next boat would take them and exactly when it would get there, stating quite firmly that she was not taking another unnecessary step that night! Eventually, the next boat came, and Happy Shirley was ready to go, but her husband was still in the process of getting informed, and besides, another boat was pulling up right behind this one. So we got on it and tried to make our way to the back where the empty seats were, without causing injury to the exposed toes of the other passengers. We found spots at the back and off we went!


I definitely want to point out here that the water taxi was one of my favorite parts of the trip, mostly because it was the first step and it made us feel like we were having an adventure! We rode through several stops, listening to the tour guide talk about all the different houses, marveling at them and being amazed at the amount of money some people have. I kept glancing and smiling hopefully at the kids, like “Isn’t this fun? Isn’t this cool? You’re having a good time, right?” And they assured me it was fun, and cool, and they were having a great time. The tour was a bit of a torture, though, because we kept passing eating establishments with the most delicious aromas leaking out of them, and if I hadn’t been 99.99% sure they were outside our budget range, I would have happily jumped ship at any one of them. 


We had been perusing the water taxi brochure for the whole ride, trying to decide at which stop we should disembark, and the kids thought Stop # 7 looked promising, because it had listed under it, a pizza place. Doughboys, or something like that. My kids can always be counted on to be in the mood for pizza, so we left the taxi at this stop and proceeded to walk. And walk. AND walk! We had asked the tour guide when she came to sell us our tickets where exactly this place might be, and she said something like it was just a little walk down the street from the stop. Now keep in mind, we didn’t know our way around, and ok, boys and girls… how is Mommy with directions? Terrible, yes, thank you! I kept telling myself, “If we don’t see it by the next corner… ok, maybe the next corner.” Finally, the children were getting hostile and we started to go around one corner, then changed our minds and decided to cross the road, and The Boy almost darted out in front of a car, whereupon words I don’t normally say issued from my mouth. 


We joined another group of folks crossing the street (who happened to be CCers, btw!) and continued on a little farther. Finally, we turned a corner into The Shops on 17th Street or something like that, and desperately stumbled through the door of 5 Guys Burgers. My pizza-loving children were not exactly pleased at this point, but we were exhausted, starving, it was dark, and I. Didn’t. Care. Anymore! We threw ourselves on the mercy of the cashier, asking what was good and what we should order, etc. She was really super nice to us, coming over to chat a couple of times, and upon request, giving us the number to call a cab, and I paid it forward by asking for the manager or shift leader after we finished eating, and telling her that the girl was really great to us tired, hungry, out-of-towners, and that I just wanted the manager to know she was a good employee. I was trying to set an example for the kids that when people are kind to you, you try to be kind back.


Then we called a cab and took a short, uneventful, mostly silent ride back to the hotel. (Fare was $7 including tip, if you’re interested.) A little note about cab drivers here- remember when I said I feel l should at least try to make conversation with airplane seatmates? Same goes for cab drivers. I always feel guilty just talking to the kids or riding in silence, so I always asked the drivers how they were doing, in my whimsical, Southern Oklahoma way: “You doin’ alright today?” Some answered that they were fine, some barely spoke, and some were friendly and chatty. Mostly they seemed to want to just drive and not be too social, which I can understand. Back at the hotel, we checked out a few more things on TV, being very careful not to hit any channels that would result in having to pay more money. The girls showered, and we all eventually passed out. 


I woke up early the next morning, like “isn’t this still the middle of the night?” early. The Boy and I had been sleeping in the same bed, and he was awake too. I had thought we might be up early enough to watch Allure coming in, (squeeeee!) and I had heard and read on CC all about going to the top of the tower building to do so. So I asked The Boy if he was up for an adventure, told him I wanted to go check out the tower, and as always, he was gung ho. We walked over (my borrowed camera takes less-than-great pics in the dark, I discovered) and went up to the top of the round tower of Pier 66. My son was a little concerned that maybe we weren’t allowed to be in there, but I assured him it would be fine. As we walked in, we were bowled over by the beautiful scent of the flower arrangements still on the tables from the night before- calla lilies, and I don’t know what else, but they were so lovely. We stepped outside, took some pictures, admired the wrong ship (I forgot my glasses back at the room) and posted a preservation of the moment to Facebook from my phone. (Internet Addicts Anonymous, remember?)


We decided to head back and stopped at the pool. It was very gradually getting lighter. He stuck his feet in the pool and I took my first “lounge chair” picture, despite the fact that it was 5:30 in the morning or so! (I’m such a dork!) We went back to the room and tried to rest a little longer. He fell asleep and I got up and showered, and I let them all sleep until the last possible minute. Woke them up, finally, and everybody put on their new Allure of the Seas t-shirts that I had had made at home, which many people asked about throughout the day. Daughter J. was peeved that her shirt was too long and her shorts were too short, and she was rather cranky and irritating, but we snapped some “happy family pictures” on the balcony and went to check out. Easily got a cab to the port, but the kids had been hoping for some kind of breakfast, it being about 10:30 a.m. at this point, and I asked the driver to stop at one of the pharmacies on the way. We stopped at Walgreens and I grabbed some Pop Tarts and similar items, a cheap plastic watch because I’d forgotten one from home, and some Gatorade. We arrived at the port, all excited and nervous, flashed our IDs at the gate, and he took us to the terminal.

Up next:  Embarkation, First Day aboard, and Sailaway!


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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