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Psychotherapist, Hypnotherapist Sharing new choices. Leans Left. Mindfulness practitioner before it was cool. LPC, M.Ed. Helping you make a difference every day

You can have all three

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I told a younger man recently, “You can be my boy toy or my relationship. Your choice.”

Sound cold? It wasn’t. It was frustration with a person I’d spent too much time with trying to figure out what he wanted from me, and what I ultimately wanted from him. Three years to be exact. In some ways, this is the story of my dating life.

I really enjoy sex. It’s not an earth-shattering announcement, but not all people do enjoy sex. Not all women. Certainly not all older women, although many more than you think.

I was also taught not…

And, yes, I woke up this way.

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Looking at my naked self in the mirror in my twenties I thought, “I have no breasts! I’m too thin. I’m not sexy!”

My therapist at the time had told me to go home, look at myself naked in the mirror, and concentrate only on what I liked. She knew my first inclination was to criticize, and she was right.

When I made myself focus on the good, I noticed that the tiny breasts I did have were quite nice, and that my rounded derriere that boys had made fun of when I was growing up by calling me “Bubble…

Editor of New Choices. Mindfulness and antiracism practitioner before they were cool.

Head Shot by my son Blake Scott, aka Moonlair360 on social media. Notice the cat sneaking into the shot.

Once, I wrote my entire relationship history in one short, non-emotional, factual paragraph. The humorous, I hoped, plan was to text it to a first date to dispense with before the questions were asked. I never actually sent it. I’m also still single.

Here’s me, sans relationship history, longer than a paragraph, and I hope humorous and more interesting. Also in no specific order of occurrence, as that is how my mind works, and my careers have been.

I’ve been writing since I can remember. Haven’t most of us? All kinds. …

Being temporarily in a wheelchair brought this into sharp relief

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Today I figured out how to carry a cup of hot coffee from one room to another in my wheelchair. Ta Da!

I used the switchback method. Holding the coffee cup in one hand, I propelled the chair at an angle using one wheel. I then switched hands and traversed another angle. Slowly I made the distance and was able to have my coffee elsewhere than the built-in kitchen desk with the litter box underneath. Now if I can transfer my entire breakfast, life will be good. Of course that might take until lunch.

If you live in a wheelchair…

“He was the ghost of a Texas Ladies’ Man.” — Concrete Blonde

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I was lying in bed, asleep, when I drifted into consciousness feeling lips pressed onto my lips in a kiss. When I became fully awake, there was no one there. My boyfriend lay sound asleep, facing away from me.

Was I kissed by a ghost?

The experience came back to me when I heard the words to “Ghost of a Texas Ladies’ Man” by Concrete Blonde.

“I saw a face in the shower door

A cowboy smile came and faded.

I reached for my towel on the floor

I didn’t think it was exactly where I’d laid it.

“You don’t…


And She’s always listening

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I came home from the physical rehab hospital Tuesday. Today my neighbor, a nurse, came up to help me transport coffee to my work/writing area, as nobody taught me how to carry a cup of hot coffee while wheeling a wheelchair.

If you read me, you know coffee is my only addiction, albeit a powerful one. Hence the physical rehab referral instead of the other kind.

Perhaps it’s not possible to carry a cup of hot coffee in a wheelchair. Except I didn’t think breaking both ankles in a minor fall was possible either. I was wrong.

My nurse friend…

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Maybe it’s from being surrounded by people even older than me

In physical therapy today, I was asking for something and I couldn’t think of the name. So I called it a “Thingamabobby.” My grandmother would have said “Thingamabob” or “Thingamabobber.” I added my own twist.

Is it because I’m aging that I’m recalling and using her funny words and phrases? Or is it because I’m in a physical rehabilitation hospital surrounded by folks looking as if they have one foot in the grave, and not their broken foot? In spite of that, they are working their asses off to…

Even then, I refuse to descend all the way to the bottom

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I broke both my ankles on July 3, 2021. If you read my humor articles about it, linked below, you’ll think I’m weathering the storm swimmingly. Except I can’t move my feet and ankles to tread water or kick. Some people might also say, based on my humor articles, that I’m weathering this event foolishly, or without realizing the seriousness and severity of the situation.

They might be right. I refuse to borrow trouble. My martial art, Aikido, says “Expect Nothing, Be Ready for Anything.” Add to that a Mindfulness practice of living as much as possible in the moment…

The fun doesn’t have to stop there, though

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I like to make people laugh. All comedians or those who think they are sometimes face a tough crowd. I’m in a rehab hospital with two broken ankles. You’d think the circuit of the ER, the hospital, and rehab for physical therapy would be tough rooms for a jokester. Especially one in pain.

Fortunately for me, hospital employees are an appreciative audience. Like any audience, you have to woo some of them, but most are glad for a ray of sunshine or even really dark humor from a patient. So many of their patients are grumpy and cranky, albeit for…

The Catch-22s of U.S. managed care health insurance

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You know how most hospitals want you in and out? They need the bed, or insurance only pays for a limited number of days. Well, I’ve been in this quite nice hospital for six nights after surgery on both ankles.

Nice or not, nobody really wants to be in a hospital for this long. Except, they can’t release me until my insurance approves of a place for me.

That’s the good part of still being in the hospital. I can’t put weight on either ankle, so I’m known as “non-weight bearing.” …

Carol Lennox

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