36 years of Slogan

I don’t even want to look to see how long it’s been since I’ve last posted. We’ll get more into that some other time. This is a light post about the greatest day of the year….

MY BIRTHDAY!! 🎉

Who would have thought I would make it to 36? I’ve been stabbed, abducted, raped, had guns pointed at my head, burned the candle at both ends, been homeless, ran the streets, and had more near-fatal overdoses than I can count. Suffice it to say I am so grateful to be alive. There’s a reason I’m still here and I’m determined to make these next 36 years– and then some– count.

Birthday week 🥰

Thank you to everyone who took the time to wish me a happy birthday on social media today. All that birthday love sure made me feel special. I truly appreciate those of you who donated to my birthday fundraiser for Grace House of Memphis [we got around $150!] sent me birthday money on Cash App.

$sloanefund 💸

Truth be told, I woke up feeling awful today. Between foot pain, body aches, and an ear infection, I was not at my best. Luckily, it got better as the day progressed. Allen surprised me with breakfast ‘mimosas’ and his mom got me a gorgeous new dress, some shorts, and tops– all of which are totally me.

Dad already gave me an amazing present by handling my outstanding balance at Campbell Clinic, treating me to Olive Garden, and inviting me to stay for a couple of days at his house. That was huge for me.

The cake and ice cream setup. 🎂🍨

Allen wanted to run back up to the store before the presentation of the cake because the ‘6’ candle fell out of the bag. I thought it was absolutely perfect as is. Because really, I do feel like a three-year-old more often than not. 😂

He knew my favorite birthday treat– yellow cake with caramel frosting– and he delivered. Bonus points for the birthday cake flavored ice cream. Deliciousness all-around.

With infinite love, gratitude, and respect,

Sloane

I’m a disco ball

A week ago today marks one of my greatest accomplishments: successfully graduating The Next Door’s residential treatment program. In order to commemorate such a milestone, I decided to make a post. Consider this more of a check-in than a full-blown update. It’s so nice to be back in [blogging] business.

It didn’t take much of 2021 for me to realize that I was in a life threatening place. Unresolved trauma and pain was manifesting itself in drinking, drugging, and dangerously reckless behavior. I had the right idea wanting to go to detox, but I decided to pregame with substances shortly before my ride arrived. Not surprisingly, it resulted in an overdose upon reaching the facility, which left me in ICU for two days.

Upon discharge, I was sent to a facility in Memphis called Crestwyn. I had an amazing doctor there, Dr. T, who is one of my Guardian Angels from that night. Had they not given me Narcan, I’d be dead. I was able to detox as comfortably as possible there and after more than a week, I moved on to my next leg of the journey.

I cannot even begin to express, much less articulate, how much The Next Door [TND] meant to me personally. Getting out of Memphis was crucial— and Nashville was somewhat familiar and not too far– so it was the perfect location.

If I had to summarize in a sentence precisely what TND did for me…..I’d say it was the intense work I did with PTSD/trauma, identifying triggers and actively planning how to avoid them and/or what I would do if one presented itself, recovery strategies, finding the right medication, and overall healing. It was exactly the right treatment center at exactly the right time. Furthermore, I am eternally grateful that it was an all-female facility. Being around so many strong, relatable women [who were truly in the trenches with me] was empowering. Much love to my roommate, Kayla Michelle, and the entire Neighborhood 3A crew.

Once upon a time, I thought positive affirmations were ridiculously cheesy. Even now, I refuse to look in the mirror and say them out loud. First of all, it’s more effective in my head. Second, it reminds me too much of Dirk Diggler giving his penis a pep talk in Boogie Nights. However, I have come around to my own sort of morning motivation. Corny and ‘kumbaya’ and this may sound, it actually set a nice tone for my day.

I am worthy.

I am a resilient warrior.

I can do anything I put my mind to.

I am a muhhfckn disco ball.

First picture post-treatment

I am in such a good place right now. Seriously. I haven’t felt this peaceful, light, and optimistic in years. My three mental health medications work wonders for all my diagnoses, I am actively working the 12 Steps [starting the fourth] with my badass sponsor, I am involved with Recovery Dharma, I crave connections with females, I stay abstinent from drugs & alcohol, I’m back on Vivitrol, and am Finally. Doing. Me.

For the first time in my life, I truly feel FREE. I’m not living in the past, anxiously anticipating the future, or being stuck in the present. I’m consciously mindful of where I am in this exact moment. Nothing more, nothing less. I can honestly say I do not give a flying you-know-what about others think about me. What others think about me is none of my business.

Do I want to be liked? Of course. I try to treat everyone with kindness, empathy, and respect. It’s human nature to want others to like you. But if you don’t, I’m not going to lose sleep over it. Truth be told, it’s not even about ‘liking.’ I’m done seeking validation, trying to conform, and avoiding whatever does not serve me well. While I appreciate thoughts and advice from friends with good intentions, I will no longer apologize for doing what works for me. Take that however you will. Yet if you see that as a bad thing, you’re taking it the wrong way.

I’m not about to spew toxic positivity at y’all, but I am trying to embrace a ‘glass half-full’ approach. I’m keeping my side of the street clean and taking care of myself. I know exactly what happens when I stop taking my Vivtrol and medications, when I overextend myself, or when I don’t process my feelings….and the ability to avoid that rests solely in my power. I am beyond grateful for Vivitrol once again giving me my life back and removing the ‘white knuckling’ and ‘battle mentality’ associated with my early sobriety when I do not have the shot.

One more thing…. quite a few of you have asked me when to expect my next YouTube video. I’m flattered that people actually missed the videos on my channel. Because I feel like my audience deserves me at my best, I have to be in the proper mindset to film. Therefore, I plan to film this weekend and edit accordingly. Yes, I’ll actually be using that Filmora I paid for a few months ago! 😂 Expect a new video sometime next week.

With infinite love, gratitude, and respect,

Sloane

The truth.

EDIT: Scumbag Stalker is trying to sue me for this. Hmm, I wonder who showed it to him? They’re not even worth a mention. I will never remove this post because it is a factual account of certain events combined with my opinion of what I believed happen in the actual murder. It’s not ‘defamation of character’ if I speak the truth. For those of you who are a little obtuse, I will make sure to designate my *OPINION* as such. I’ll even [[let you know source material]]. Also, what character?! He’s a career criminal who is facing years in jail. Heaven forbid I hinder his job opportunities or taint his impeccable reputation!

–

Not even a week before my best friend, Larry McCown, was murdered in cold blood, he called me for our morning chat. He would always call me as he got his coffee at Burger King. Larry wouldn’t touch booze and he wasn’t an addict– so his morning coffee [and his cigarettes!] were his vices of choice.

I heard him say “Oh shit.” I already knew the guy in the background. “It’s my sister, Joey. It’s not her.” Click.

A few hours later he called me back with the unfortunate news. Scumbag Stalker had moved his stuff into Larry‘s place and set up a ‘bar’ with all the booze that he had stolen. He even had a sleeping bag unrolled and had hung up some of his clothes. Without permission.

He routinely harassed Larry, demanding that he use his phone to contact me. Larry refused. I told Larry that it wasn’t worth getting hurt over– I could always block his number temporarily. He should not have to deal with the bullying and intimidating tactics the Scumbag Stalker frequently utilizes. [[Facebook and text exchanges between Larry and me speak of this ordeal.]]

Three days before his murder, Larry reached his breaking point. He was so tired of the years and years of harassment, stalking, and abuse I endured at the hands of Joey Carter and the way he was also being bullied [[Multiple witnesses, various police reports, and two restraining orders document this]]. Larry bagged up all of Joey’s belongings and dumped them outside of the property line in the woods. [[Facebook and text exchanges between Larry and me speak of this ordeal.]]

I cried and begged for him not to antagonize Scumbag Stalker. In addition to being an alcoholic and a regular crack smoker [[his lengthy arrest record attests to this]] , his brain was largely gone after all the huff he did in the 90’s [[arrest records once again]]. Larry said he wasn’t scared of him anymore.

Three days later, my precious Larry was bludgeoned to death.

This is the part where I have to say I think probably messed up the investigation. As if the rest of this doesn’t haunt me, this is where I can truly never forgive myself. Scumbag Stalker was stabbed a few months prior. I was not with him but I happened to see the altercation. I realized very quickly that he was stabbed underneath his armpit and he would not have much time. I didn’t want anyone to die on my watch– even a terrible person who physically abused me for years [[two restraining orders filed]]. I was torn as to whether or not I should run to Walmart to call 911 [knowing that he probably wouldn’t live if I made it there] or stay with him, as he was begging me to. He asked me to pray and I sat on his shoulder and even reached my hand into the gaping wound to try to stop the bleeding.

I took him to Larry‘s because he said wanted to die comfortably and death seemed a real possibility. Because of that choice of mine, his blood was saturated in Larry‘s bedding and home. *OPINION* Was there a third blood type or was it just Larry and the Scumbag Stalker? That would be telling. And can’t the age of the blood be determined with all our modern technology? Why hasn’t this been done? *OPINION* Scumbag Stalker turned deathly pale and lost consciousness.

Larry heard my screams and came running. He called 911 [[see police report documenting this incident]]. Technically, Larry saved his life. We’ll save the story for when the cops detained me thinking I tried to kill Joey for another day. Because isn’t that super typical of a murder suspect to literally plug their hand into a gaping incision to try to stop massive blood loss and then sit on the wound to prevent them from bleeding out even more?! Total guilty behavior, if you ask me. I should have just walked away.

Shifting gears, Scumbag Stalker contacted me multiple times a day, being stalker that he is for a significant amount of time prior to the murder. He borrowed phones and went into businesses since Larry would not give him telephone access. I found it…telling….that after Larry‘s body was found, it was complete radio silence. *OPINION* I do believe that’s super shady. *OPINION.*

We can say this is circumstantial. Even though every person who I told about Larry’s murder, their first question was “Did Joey do it?” *OPINION* I think that tells you something about the ‘character’ of Scumbag Stalker. *OPINION*

Because the one thing that Scumbag Stalker is excellent at is leaving a paper trail, he there’s plenty of documentation [[to prove his threats towards me and the people that I love [[Multiple witnesses, various police reports, and two restraining orders document this]]. *OPINION* I absolutely believe that he was responsible for the murder. I think he was there, whether or not he participated in the actual violence. Even if he wasn’t there, it was done with his authorization and/or command, as he was very verbal about his dispute with my dear friend. *OPINION*

*OPINION* I think it is extremely telling that Joey refused to speak with police and actively avoided them in the aftermath. *OPINION* As far as I’m aware, he has yet to cooperate. He blatantly lied about this, telling me he was in regular contact with the police– and even gave the name of a non-existent detective!– and tried to pin the entire thing on his ‘friend.’ [[phone conversation I recorded and sent to the police]]

Two people claim they saw Joey– and only Joey– walk into the woods that afternoon. One of them died several days ago, so he can’t verify this. The other person is scared to come forward because they have their own legal issues [[this is what I was told directly – though I cannot prove a verbal conversation transpired – nor can I substantiate their claim because I was not there]].

After homicide came to my home and we spoke at length in my kitchen [[see police records]], I knew that it would only be a matter of time before Scumbag Stalker contacted me again. I made sure the conversation was recorded and sent it to the lead detective. He admitted to hiding the bloody clothes for his ‘friend’ [[see police records]]. *OPINION* Why would you do that for another person?! You wouldn’t unless you were involved! I firmly believe they were his clothes of which he was disposing. *OPINION*

Being the true coward that he is, he blamed it on his vocally atheist friend who all of the sudden felt that Larry was ‘Satan’ for “disrespecting Joey” [[see police records]]. When I started to ask questions, he shot back with “Why won’t you be with me? [[see police records]]” *OPINION* Somebody that you claim to be one of your ‘best friends,’ a person that you ‘loved,’ just got brutally murdered and you’re asking about the status of a toxic relationship that ended years ago?! Go to hell, asswipe. *OPINION*

Joey has been incarcerated since my birthday, in July [[jail records show this]]. He doesn’t know where I live. Being the deranged stalker that he is, guess what he still does on frequently? He writes letters to me, my Dad, and other loved ones [[see pies upon piles of mail sent from 201 Poplar]]. He finds people to call Allen’s phone to harass me– and that’s not even counting all the Facebook randos he has harass me [[saved voicemails and FB convos]].

A massive part of my grievance is with the police. Who cares about a homeless guy? Apparently not them. But guess what? I do. And I will never stop speaking his name and being a thorn in your side until this is resolved. I AM SICK AND TIRED OF UNSHELTERED INDIVIDUALS BEING TREATED AS SUBHUMAN BY APATHETIC LAW ENFORCEMENT. Larry mattered. We want– no, demand– justice.

*OPINION* Let’s say that the police determine Scumbag Stalker did not commit the murder. I wouldn’t apologize for thinking it did– because it was a logical assumption shared by many. I would, however, admit that I was incorrect. Yet even if that were to happen, that does not absolve Scumbag Stalker from blame. He is a horrible, toxic, violent, unstable person who has made my life a living hell and I sincerely hope he is never released from jail. *OPINION*

With truth, opinion, and sorrow,

Sloane

Now more than ever

Yesterday was Martin Luther King Day here in the States. I would have posted this on the actual federal holiday, but…..I’ll tell you why that didn’t happen on my next post.

A privileged white woman [of the liberal variety] sharing the wisdom of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. on MLK Day sounds so cliché. Yet I truly believe that our collective society could appreciate this words and accomplishments the other 364 days of the year as well. I realize that oftentimes MLK gets made into a sort of deity when he was very much in fact a mere mortal with flaws like the rest of us. Be that as it may, I do consider him a hero– imperfections and all.

Some background: I was born and raised in Memphis. With the exception of a year in Oxford at Ole Miss [where I came home every single weekend] and a two-year stint in California, I have lived in Memphis and/or the metro area my entire life. It is my home. The effects of systemic racism and poverty are glaringly apparent here. Furthermore, MLK was assassinated here in April 1968 at the Lorraine Motel. This disturbing legacy– along with the National Civil Rights Museum— is an integral part of my city.

There is no dearth of brilliant, thought-provoking quotes attributed to MLK. His words resonate so deeply, one Elephant Journal contributor believes that some of his words are capable of healing America. I wholeheartedly believe we could all stand to learn a thing or two from a man who died for that in which he believed.

Watching MLK speak never fails to give me chills. Such a powerful orator, he knew how to make an impact. My friend, author Billy Manas, wrote about one of his lesser-known speeches that is equally poignant. How right he is when he says it brings tears to your eyes. I could watch his speeches for hours on end.

Black. Lives. Matter. A statement that reeks of ignorance to me is “All lives matter.” Um, obviously. But how can all lives matter if we don’t respect and recognize each and every one of the individuals who have been systemically oppressed? Each of us has to matter before all of us matter. As much as some claim to be woke [and any step in the right direction is commendable], let’s not forget there is a huge difference between being ‘not racist’ and anti-racist.

I would be beyond naive to advocate for unity and repairs for our fractured nation with hollow words. While that sounds good on paper, it takes a little more than a rallying cry to achieve that effect. Much of our divisions are too partisan, too political. I think there’s a simpler way that we can start to find some semblance of healing.

What are you doing for others? Get outside of yourself. Please, just do something. I know that our face-to-face service opportunities are limited, but there are plenty of virtual ones available. I wholeheartedly believe that people gain a broader perspective of our world and a better understanding of themselves when they are of service to others. I challenge each and every one of you to start small. Try one good deed a day. If you can’t give money, give time– be it online or facilitating a food drive. Let me know in the comments how you plan to be of service.

With infinite love, gratitude, and respect,

Sloane

Sugar, sugar

As of Monday, I’m embarking on a sugar detox. Initially I was apprehensive….until I saw how much delicious food I could eat. What’s permitted versus what’s restricted is very impressive.

Welp….won’t be having any of these for a bit!

One addictive habit I am trying to overcome is sugar. I erroneously assumed that because I am not much of an obvious sugar person, it wasn’t a problem for me. For example, I think I am the only Southerner in the South who doesn’t like sweet tea. Don’t come for me! I never add sugar to any of my beverages, don’t eat candy, rarely have dessert, and drink a soda every once in a blue moon. But then I started reading labels and was shocked by how much sugar is added to everyday items you wouldn’t expect. 

Lest you need a refresher as to why excess sugar is bad for you, click here. I know that Donna avoids sugar and I wanted to reap the benefits as well. So I was thrilled when I heard about Further Food‘s free 10-day sugar detox courtesy of Elephant Journal. Eventually I plan to buy their bundle, but as of now I wanted to do it without supplementing. Which is a polite way of saying I’m broke. 😂

Actually, I’m not broke. I have plenty of money in the bank but my card has yet to arrive because the mail is ridiculously slow. But I digress….

Today I’m planning all of my meals and snacks and figuring out exactly what I need to buy. It’s not difficult because Further Food gives me tons of recipe ideas and a grocery list. I appreciate the fact that they have two types of plans– one for carnivores and one for vegetarians & vegans. I’ll be following the latter. Here lately I’ve been eating meat and I’m over it. I don’t like it and it makes me feel sluggish. Regardless of what happens with my future sugar intake, I hope to feel better during and after this challenge, and remain a vegetarian.

With infinite love, gratitude, and respect,

Sloane

 

2021

Behold, my first post of 2021. Surely anything is better than 2020, amirite?! While January has gotten off to a bit of a rocky start, I’m confident the rest of this year will be glorious. Yet for the purposes of this post, let’s get the negative stuff out of the way first so we can focus on the positive.

Deputy Doofy

It pains me to even have to discuss this, but I would be remiss if I didn’t. Speaking of the soon-to-be gone ‘leader’ [I can never refer to him as “President”] makes me sick to my stomach and weep for the state of our nation. I hate to feed into his narcissism and ego by giving him any attention, but I think his actions are nothing short of treason. How dare he undermine our democracy just because he’s a sore loser and feels the need to torpedo everyone else just because he’s going down and his tiny little hands are grasping for straws? If he was capable of empathy, I’d say he should be ashamed of himself.

But let’s not discuss the Supreme Buffoon. I want to discuss the thugs that he incited into a frenzy– and they ultimately stormed our Capital. Y’all. Storming. The. Capial. Is this even America?!?!

Let me be abundantly clear: I know that not all conservatives or Republicans are Trump supporters. Even those who support the Supreme Buffoon do not necessarily agree with the violent and destructive ideology espoused by this mob. So there’s my disclaimer.

With that being said, I could not agree more with David Anderson. I’m done. It’s impossible to make excuses for these people. They clearly don’t want reconciliation and common ground. May justice be served.

For further reading on the dangerous state of American politics, check out Nina Khrushcheva’s article comparing the failed coup to Russian authoritarianism, Eric Lutz’s take on two impeachments, and Maureen Ryan urging us to hold Trump’s cronies accountable.

Currently, my son has ‘The Rona’ as he calls it. Poor Adam is having one hell of a time, though he has shown signs of improvement since he got his diagnosis several days ago. I know he’s not in any of the demographics for whom Covid is most dangerous, but it’s still scary stuff. No parent wants their kids sick and feeling miserable and uncomfortable. Please send positive vibes and healing energy into the Universe for his speedy recovery. Thanks to Kelli and Aunt Annie for their excellent advice on how to alleviate unpleasant symptoms and get back to health.

Tatum also had Covid several weeks ago, but hers was an extremely mild case. For her it was more along the lines of a slight winter cold. I’m very glad she never had any of the difficulty breathing and body aches that have affected her brother.

More than anything, I’m worried about my Dad. He’s in good health– and I’ve been told that the transmission rate within the home is around 20% [lower than I would have thought]– but it still concerns me. His age falls within a certain bracket so I’m hoping he continues to remain asymptomatic, even if he test comes back positive. Which hopefully it won’t.

This may sound odd or even mean, but I’m grateful Mom went peacefully in her sleep before any of this happened. With her myriad of health issues and her age, she seems like she would be a prime candidate for having a truly awful– if not fatal– experience with this virus. Furthermore, if she had to return to the hospital, not being able to have visitors would have destroyed her. The same goes for her having to isolate at home. I truly think she would have died from a broken heart if she was unable to have those social interactions and loving hugs that sustained her.

In more pleasant news, there I am sledding down a hill on a waffle.

Now we can finally get to more optimistic material. It’s 2021– glory hallelujah! I always appreciate the fresh start and new beginnings that come as of the first day of January. Except this year I’m not doing any sort of resolutions or anything remotely resembling them. Of course I want to be my best self and make positive life decisions….yadda, yadda, yadda. But no resolutions or goals for this lady. I just want our world to become healthy again and take my own life as it comes.

Recently I encountered some major difficulties with drinking. I didn’t just ‘fall off the wagon,’ I essentially fell off the planet. Things are much better now. I’m not going to say I’m 100% sober because that would be a lie, but alcohol does not rule my life, nor am I physically dependent on it. Both of those things were true a few weeks ago.

I’m not making excuses– I know that even if I can have a drink here and there I’m still playing with fire. And it’s only a matter of time until I’m right back on Planet Booze. Yet I think it’s important to mention this because it reaffirms my commitment that I despise alcohol and do not want to drink. There is no doubt in my mind that I want– and need– the Vivitrol shot.

Speaking of Vivitrol, this further emphasizes the correlation between my substance abuse and mental health. I have not been medicated since before Christmas and am definitely feeling the effects. While I am grateful that it is depression instead of mania, I know that can turn on a dime. I’ve got the shot and medication waiting on me, but it just seems like #4534533453 of my list of stuff that has to get done and I’m overwhelmed. And I’m not talking about things I want to do, I’m talking about things that must get done.

One final note about sobriety. Quite a few people have said things along the lines of “It’s just alcohol– at least you’re not using.” While it is certainly commendable that I’m not using [and I fought tooth and nail to be able to say I’m clean], it is not ‘just’ alcohol for me. I am an alcoholic AND an addict. This may sound like semantics. I know, a drug is a drug is a drug. And I know anyone who has said this means well and is trying to assure and/or support me. Yet it seems to me that most [not all] of my friends who have some sort of substance abuse issue are either an alcoholic or an addict. Not both. I find this phenomenon interesting. I know plenty of ‘drug’ addicts who have never been drinkers and can’t stand alcohol. I also know plenty of alcoholics who would never touch a ‘hard’ drug. Maybe I’m just a substance abuse garbage disposal, but for me they are inextricably linked.

I’ve started going back to Group. I was only able to make two sessions last week and didn’t even stay the whole time– but even less than two hours of Zoom time with my people made a world of difference. Group and meetings with Dr. B and Sandra [my therapist] are crucial for my mental health, just as much as medication. I know that staying on top of my mental health along with being clean and sober is the not-so-magic formula for things to be consistently wonderful in my world. I know exactly what to do. It’s just a matter of doing it. So I guess if I had to summarize what I want out of 2021, it would be JUST. DO. IT.

I realize just how much of a toll the stabbing, the abduction, and years of stalking from Scumbag Stalker has taken on me. It was….not wise….for me to assume that throwing myself into work and pretending like those things didn’t [or in the case of the deranged lunatic – still happening] happen. They say in the Program that admitting you have a problem is the first step. I will amend that statement slightly for my mental health to say that “self-awareness is the first step.” I’m acutely aware and determined not to repeat certain behaviors and engage in destructive patterns, even if I think I’m doing myself a favor.

To that end, I’ve decided to stop teaching for the time being. As much as I love it….right now it’s just too much. I can make the money I need writing [and with Allen‘s income] with zero of the responsibility that comes with teaching. It’s not that I’m averse to being responsible, but right now I need to focus on myself. Honestly, if writing wasn’t so second-nature for me, I probably wouldn’t be doing that either.

I want to take a moment to thank Allen for being my anchor, my rock, and my person. He was instrumental in talking me off the proverbial ledge. We may have our squabbles– and me FUI’ing [Facebooking Under the Influence] certainly doesn’t help any– but I would be completely unhinged without him. Anyone who is close to me knows that he is one of the most positive influence and stabilizing factors in my life. I love you, Allen.

With infinite love, gratitude, and respect,

Sloane

Christmas of the clustereff

Once again, Christmas was one of those holidays that gave me the overwhelming urge to pull my intestines through a navel and spike the eggnog of innocent passerby. I mean, uh, hey….jingle bells.

I was already half-past gone to meet Falcor [sadly that is not a drug euphemism – I just miss Larry] and make my escape. Unfortunately, my Semi-Spouse decided to send me elsewhere. Much to his dismay, I am a city gal and care not for his shenanigans. In his defense, I will say that I think he means well in his own sort of Allen way.

Suffice it to say, our Eve of Christmas was looming and present. Let’s not even discuss that. What matters is that I came home on Christmas Eve….and my left foot got run over by a sedan. Is it just me or is that a 2020 metaphor for anyone else?

I have reached the conclusion that much like the cat I have 9000 lives to die. I won’t squander my time but all I can do is chuckle. I have breath in my body because I want to see my kids do everything they can. Being a Grandma is the only thing on my bucket list.

At the risk of taking this to a morbid turn, I would never take my own life. That’s the upside of being bipolar– as much as I hate myself at times, I would never deprive y’all of me. Arrogance at its finest, eh?

Even if I was not there, how grateful I am they spent Christmas Day together. 🎄

60% percent of my gifts haven’t arrived. Of course not. We got Donna the new Ina Garten cookbook [I’ll take ulterior motives for $500, Alex] and I got Allen the game Hunt A Killer. He got me Hillbilly Elegy by J.D. Vance.

I wish Mom was here with a green cake. Technically it was a vanilla cake with green frosting and the multicolored jellybeans comprised of the decorations. Quite frankly, I wish I could drink Mom’s bathwater. Anything for one more second…..

Meanwhile, Freya and I wrap presents and Snapchat. 🐶🎁

Thanks to my kids, Baberz, and Freya. I’m alive, but barely. My life exists because of y’all. Much love.

With infinite love, gratitude, and respect,

Sloane

Michaela’s case has been solved

This is not the post I was hoping to write three days before Christmas– or as my “I’m back to blogging” announcement. Yet it needs to be said. If you have not been following this blog for a long time and/or are not aware of Michaela, please click here.

I felt like I’d been sucker punched when I saw this status last night. Having been on an internet hiatus, I immediately started crying and closed out of the article I was writing to see Sharon’s poignant post. I am shocked. I cannot even begin to fathom what it was like to have your child snatched out of the street from a stranger, to not know what has happened to your child, to live with that uncertainty, to not hear from them for decades, to wondering whether they are alive, and then to discovering that they were ultimately murdered by their kidnapper.

As much as everyone I know devours these true crime podcasts, documentaries, and the like– always remember that there are PEOPLE behind these stories. Individuals with parents and loved ones. Sometimes they are parents themselves, or siblings. Each and every one of them is a human being who mattered and should not be considered a mere statistic.

With infinite love, gratitude, and respect,

Sloane

I can breathe a sigh of relief

No caption necessary.

Unlike the predecessor, there is no need to gloat. No need to claim fraudulence. We will hear from LEADERS today. Not whiny, sore losers who beg for division instead of civil calls for unity. Can y’all recall the mortification most felt regarding the predecessor who spoke recently? If he wasn’t such an ignorant bigot, I probably would pity him as he grasped his orange, Cheeto hands for straws. But you know what? That makes me sound like the way he treated folks who disagreed with him. And I will never stoop to that level. Here’s to talking something we call progress– which we would never in a million years here if the last person in charge got another four years.

I’m glad we have LEADERSHIP now. Once upon a time, I remember our last Republican president. I often giggled at how he seemed flustered– and disagreed with most of his decisions. Yet I never felt threatened, disrespected, or ridiculed when he addressed our Nation. That is quite telling.

I wanted this time-stamped. I will write so much more later. We finally have a chance to do what we can to correct-course….

With infinite love, gratitude, and respect,

Sloane

Halloween 2020

My Facebook status pretty much sums up my views on this year’s Halloween. Recent trauma still has me somewhat paralyzed. Yet I’m trying my best to put one foot in front of the other and keep on trucking.

Tomorrow I have an interview at noon for an ESL company. I only have one shot at it so I’m spending the night practicing. It’s a fine line for me between being confident and prepared and obsessing over it and having a complete meltdown. While I’m still doing the freelance thing, this would be an amazing way to supplement my income. And I absolutely adore teaching– I can’t go without it for too long. Here’s to hoping I rock it.

GO VOTE ON TUESDAY!! I thought I was going to be a poll worker, but apparently that’s not happening. I’ve called, emailed, left messages, and so on and so forth, to no avail. Because it is the year 2020, nothing goes as planned, so this lady was not meant to be a poll worker. I’m pretty stressed because my wallet got stolen so I will have to get a new ID Monday so I can vote the following day. Le sigh.

‘Costumes’ courtesy of Snapchat

Y’all won’t be seeing much of me on this blog for the month of November. I am doing #NaNoWriMo, so that will be my primary focus outside of work. My novel? An unabridged history of street life in Raleigh from 2014-2020! The magic number is 1935 words per day— that allows four days of not writing, because life happens.

I will be continuing to make YouTube videos this month. Watching AML Films has really struck a chord with me, and that’s part of the reason why I chose to write about Raleigh for #NaNoWriMo. Imagine my surprise when I contacted him on Instagram and he subscribed to my channel. Wow! I feel like we have a similar vision and I am such a fan of his crucial work.

With infinite love, gratitude, and respect,

Sloane