Strap in folks!
You are about to go for one hell of a ride!
This week in the life and times of yours truly some major shit has gone down!
Okay, okay… Enough fucking around (also what she said).
Let’s try to get a coherent thought out that doesn’t contain profanity or a euphemism.
I’m drawing a blank.
Ah, fuck it! I’ll just write and let the fucks and inuendoes [in your end… oh!] flow feely…
It is my style, after all.
Okay, no pressure.
It’s Sunday afternoon, my beloved is taking a nap, the kitties are stirring in the distance, and I’m grateful to finally sit down and write.
In fact, I love writing so much that I rarely do it these days.
Right now, I’m at a stage of life [insert bullshit self-justification] that I am too busy to write as frequently as I want.
The very act of planting my happy ass in the chair to scribe such philosophical tripe seems to take an act of God.
And I’m okay with this…
The bullshit part is that I tell myself I am too tired and busy to consistently pursue what I love because of working my ass off in the Phoenician heat dragging tree limbs and heaving log chunks.
So there is that.
If David Goggins were here, he might just bitch slap me for all this excuse making.
Except, he’d look like a gremlin.
You know the ones in my head?
That paints a picture.
So yes, the motivating voices in my head (some shame-based) look like (sound like?) David Goggins and the evil gremlins.
I doubt the interwebs even has a picture of such for me to post, but you know I’ll look for one.
Maybe I finally had an original thought?
David Goggins Gremlins…
Okay, that’s the best I can do without any photoshop skills, but I’ll work on it.
Anywho… my point is…
What the fuck was my point?
Oh yeah! I’m making excuses for not writing more often because I’m tired, in-love, and distracted as a motherfucker.
However, the dream is still alive, and here I am clicking away at the keyboard of dreams for your and my edification and pleasure.
So, come inside.
Make yourself comfortable.
And welcome to the light at the end of the tunnel…
Living the Dream
Aside from making excuses about not writing more frequently, if you’ve been following the blog or know me personally, then you know some big changes have happened in my wonderful life.
Since the subtext of this blog is about thriving beyond trauma, I think it’s important to note that’s exactly what the fuck I’ve been doing.
In just nine short months, I have regained my sobriety, lost about 25 pounds, transformed my mind and body through regular CrossFit participation, met the love of my life, got a couple kitties, moved into a house, and am happier than I ever remember being.
I’m not just thriving…
I’m thriving like a motherfucker!
And one could say I’m manifesting like a motherfucker, too.
Everything, and I mean everything I wanted when I moved to this god-forsaken desert wasteland… I mean gorgeous oasis called Phoenix, has occurred.
I credit that largely to the benevolence of the God beyond my understanding, consistent work, and a shift in attitude.
Ironically (or paradoxically) the actions created the attitude and vice versa.
In AA, some say, “Bring the ass and the mind will follow.”
It’s simple Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT) shit.
Make a decision, and do the damned thing!
One’s attitude changes enough to start taking new actions, and the new actions reinforce the new attitude.
It’s Sunday, and I have a long history of hitting snooze and struggling to get out of bed in the morning.
Today, the alarm went off at 5AM, and I sprung out of bed ready to go!
When the alarm used to go off, the first word out of my mouth was, “Fuck!”
When I shared this information with my beloved, she said it’s because I am happy.
And she is fucking right!
Everything I’ve been through up to this moment–the subtle and not-so-subtle actions I’ve taken, and the grace of my higher power transformed me to live the fucking dream!
So you may be thinking, “Well that’s nice, David. I’m sooooo fucking happy for you…” [yes, you were meant to read that as a sarcastic tone]
Or (hopefully) you’re thinking, “What the fuck do I have to do to acquire this happiness?”
Maybe you’re wondering what drugs I’m on?
Just creatine and caffeine… I assure you.
Okay, and fucking nicotine… You got me.
Are you fucking happy now?
If not, maybe, just maybe, you’re wondering how could things get any better?
Well, young Bucky, let me tell you a couple stories of how things have unfolded for yours truly over the last couple weeks, and maybe you’ll gain a nugget or two for how to live boldly, and yes, thrive beyond trauma!
She Said Yes!!!
The biggest and happiest news I have to share is my beloved Tricia accepted my proposal in marriage a little over a week ago!
I think it’s important to share this first because of the sheer importance of it [yes, that was redundant], and I am running out of descriptor words for her besides “fiancée” to use for this blog post.
The word “miracle” appears in the main title because I was starting to wonder if marriage might be a fantasy I may never experience again.
As I’ve mentioned, years ago, I wrote out an intention for the ideal mate.
I had certain qualities I was looking for, and even though I am in the business of manifesting dreams, I was starting to lose hope.
If you’ve been reading this blog, you know my dating history has been less than ideal.
I also take a lot of responsibility in that because, as you can probably ascertain from reading this, I am not an easy person to love.
Unless you are Patricia “Panelicious” Shoemaker!
By trudging my way through the murky waters of online dating and a series of trials and (mostly) errors, every single step along the meandering path of love led me to her.
None of the past relationships were a mistake.
They all happened when and how they needed to to bring me to this lovely place by Tricia’s side.
Yes, I am still growing and learning how to be a healthy and loving person…
I found the person who checks the boxes I drew nearly four fun-filled years ago.
I cried out to the heavens to find my bride (yes, that is a bit dramatic), and she appeared…
Tricia was worth waiting for.
She is my best friend, my partner-in-crime, my lover, the mother to our kitties, and I cannot imagine life without her.
As the flow of our relationship continued to blossom (does a flow blossom?), I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her.
And yes, that’s asking a lot of her…
As loving and charismatic as I can be, I have certain quirks that make cohabitation (I imagine) challenging at times.
However, I know she’s the one to live and grow with me.
We both have a growth-mindset and enough humility to admit our mistakes and forgive one another. (She’ll get a lot of practice in forgiving me… I fuck up regularly).
That’s the spice of life!
That’s what I was looking for!
Tricia is the perfect partner for walking hand-in-hand through the ebb and flow (the blossoming one 😉 ) of life, leaning on love, recovery, and you guessed it, young Bucky, thriving beyond motherfucking trauma!
So, you may be asking, just how did this wily writer drop the bomb of matrimonial bondage on this unsuspecting sweetheart?
Lend me you ears…
Or eyes, rather…
Unlike this current post wherein I revealed to you upfront about the proposal, on my podcast, I saved that tidbit for the conclusion.
In fact, on episode 13, the season finale, I interviewed Tricia and proposed at the end.
If you’d like to hear her amazing story, strategies for thriving beyond trauma, and of course, the proposal, check out the interview posted below.
She gave a wonderful interview, and her reaction to the proposal was priceless!
It is a very happy memory we will not soon forget.
Plus, we can listen to the podcasted proposal anytime we want.
And we have…
It makes us smile.
A Side Note About Synchronicity
I believe the Universe leaves me breadcrumbs as signs I am on track.
Figuratively, not literally – except I wrote it, so it is literally, too. 😉
As soon as I left the parking lot with the engagement ring in hand, whom should I pull up next to on a very busy road?
I was driving down a major street in the Glendale area, and coincidentally, she pulled out of a driveway and ended up right next to me.
The odds of that happening are astronomical as there are easily over a quarter million people in the Glendale area, not to mention Phoenix’s population.
That, my friends, is synchroncity.
Of course, I was busted as she knows I never take that way home from work, and I always text her when I’m en route.
But I played it cool.
She asked what I was up to after I followed her into another parking lot.
I merely said I was following her.
That was true, vague, maybe even a teeny bit deceitful…
But I was on a mission from God, and I solemnly swear I am up to no good.
Nonetheless, she didn’t pry, and my scheme was afoot.
I kept dropping subtle hints and worried about her finding the ring, how to go about the proposal, et cetera, etc.
As I led up to the big question, I read her the following poem I wrote the morning of the proposal.
What words would I use
What words would I choose
What way would I say
Today is the day
I choose you
Lost & found
Through slings & arrows
As the poet sings
Our focus narrows
And I choose you
Lost & found
Through trial & error
Every step we’ve taken
Brought us nearer
And I choose you
Lost & found
In loving lucidity
I choose you
Lost & found
Lost in each other’s eyes
Found in each other’s arms
Lost, we’ve found our way home
And I choose you
Lost & found
A symbol for forever
I choose now
And eternity together
I choose you
Lost & found
Will you walk
With me through the flames
Take what the heart claims
Will you choose me?
Because God as my witness
I never want to miss this…
I choose you!
—I Choose You
Coincidentally (I prefer synchronistically–and yes it’s a fucking word, autocorrect!), during the interview, she said, “I choose you.”
She found a song for our wedding by the same title!
Oh…. the breadcrumbs are a-flowing…
You know what I mean.
Maybe you don’t.
Then, while we supped celebrating our new engagement, we thought it would be fun to go buy a Powerball ticket with our first date and planned wedding date as our lottery numbers.
You may know that my favorite number is 13.
I told her it would be cool if we found a 76 station on 67th Ave to buy our lottery ticket (yes, I know you can do math… never mind) because they equal 13.
And BAM! There it was! A minute away from the restaurant.
She thinks I knew it was there, but I really don’t remember there being a 76 on 67th otherwise, that’d be the only gas station I ever go to.
Then, the Powerball jackpot was $238 million (yes, another 13). No, we didn’t win. If we had, I would’ve written this blog days ago because I would’ve quit my fucking job.
Nonetheless, that’s a cool little coinkydink. (It’s a word, autocorrect. Look it up!)
Oh yeah, and the price for our meals totaled $90.31….
Yes, another fucking 13!!!!
I’m glad Tricia sees these damn 13s with me, otherwise, I’m sure there would be a padded cell waiting for me as I crawl around on the floor, wearing an extra long-sleeved jacket strapped in the back (a very wordy way to write straight jacket, I know) whilst looking for a corner in a round room mumbling something about the 13s.
A final note about this synchronicity business…
To-date, (which has only been just over a week), everything Tricia has said she wants for our wedding décor is exactly how I envisioned the perfect wedding.
When she played the song we will walk down the aisle to, I just stood in the kitchen, held her, listened, and cried tears of joy.
She and everything she brings to this union is perfect.
It is all aligned with our hearts’ greatest desires, and yes, thriving beyond trauma.
Motorcycle Miracle? Really?
Okay, the use of the word “miracle” is a bit heavy handed to describe the following adventures in selling my Honda motorcycle.
Certainly, it’s a no-brainer that Tricia agreeing to marry me was a miracle (as well as finding her to begin with).
But motorcycle miracles? Really?
I think so…
The interwebs (and they know everything) say that a miracle is “a surprising and welcome event that is not explicable by natural or scientific laws and is therefore considered to be the work of a divine agency.”
Now, I’m sure the point of scientific laws could be argued here as relevant to motorcycles and the sale thereof, but to me, the motorcycle and the selling of it are pure fucking magic….
So, the miracle moniker stands.
My blog. My miracle.
Now that we got that cleared up, I’ll attempt to get back to my point…
The point is, since you asked, is that the same day I proposed to the lovely Tricia, I also (finally) sold my Honda motorcycle.
I may have mentioned in a previous post (you’ll have to read it to find out–https://greenleaf4life.blog/2022/09/04/the-only-constant-is-change/) that I sold out and bought a beautiful Harley Davidson. Since Tricia found it, I think it’s good Joo Joo to have sold my soul to the HD gods.
As a result of such mechanized necromancy, I decided to sell my Honda.
I’ve had that bike for five years.
I loved that bike.
For a mechanical neophyte such as myself, the low maintenance and zoom-zoom of it made it a perfect bike for me.
It was my self-care via throttle therapy after my life fell apart in 2017.
I’ve ridden that bike from Phoenix to California and up to Oregon and back on more than one occassion.
It was a black 1300!
I know, right!?!
It was made for me!
The fact that it was a black 1300 (and I could afford it) was reason enough for me to buy it to begin with.
But, alas, parting is such sweet sorrow because until Tricia learns to ride and we become independently wealthy, we need to be a one-bike family for now.
I am grateful for the memories, Black Beauty….
Well, friends, you’d think as the weather cools down in the greater Phoenix area, more people would be in the market for purchasing a little two-wheeled freedom.
And they are!
This, however, young Bucky, is where the fuckery and practicing of spiritual principles intersect at the crossroads of Craigslist, OfferUp, and Facebook Marketplace.
My bike actually went up in value since I bought it!
Sure, it was a little high in miles (because I rode the motherfucker). But it is a 16 year old bike. It should have some miles on it.
Nonetheless, the aforementioned fuckery began with the Harley dealer. Those assholes (they take pride in that label, I mean the asshole part, and I suppose the Harley label, too… I digress) offered me less than half of what the bike was supposedly worth (because it’s a “metric” bike… where’s my eyeroll emoji?).
Then, after deciding to sell privately, I received a litany of lame bids for my beloved Black Beauty.
I was selling it for nearly $1,000 less than the (supposed) value.
People either flaked, lowballed me, wanted to pick apart what was wrong with it (the miles), etc.
Not one of these sons-o’-bitches actually came to look at the bike over the two weeks I was trying to sell it.
It was akin to online dating, except with dipshit would-be biker-buyers.
I wasn’t desperate to sell it, but I wanted at least $3,500 for it.
That seemed fair because it’s solid and fun as fuck to ride.
So, as my patience wore thin with the surplus of stupidity chiming away on my phone, I decided I have a bottom dollar, and I’m taking no less.,
For inspiration, I referred to the late-great bard of boldness, Bernie Mac, to help me stick to my guns whilst negotiating with fools… I mean perspective buyers.
So, whenever anybody gave me a ridiculous bid for the bike, I merely messaged $3,500 back to them. I imagined my beloved Bernie Mac saying “half” over and over until the point was made.
A wonderful man who seemed interested in my bike came along.
He took his time.
He test drove other bikes.
I merely made myself available and trusted in the divine agency (miracle) of letting shit go whilst manifesting like a motherfucker <— secret of life shit here!
You’re welcome. 🙂
This person came to look at my bike after riding others that day. He complimented me on how clean it was (since I shelled out money to detail the bitch, it made me happy to hear that.) He test drove it and came roaring up to our house with a big grin on his face.
He asked me how much I was selling it for. I told him $3,965 (as listed) and that I am willing to negotiate (Bernie Mac welling up inside of me–that sounds wrong since I just typed it).
I know better than to name a lower price, so I let him go first.
He asked with sincerity, “Will you take $3,500?”
I felt like the loch ness monster in South Park.
But instead of getting “three-fitty,” I got the number me and the Almighty agreed upon (not the buyer, the Universe).
I smiled, extended out my arm, slapped him hard in the face, and said, “I need three-fitty.”
Just kidding. I’m just amusing myself right now.
I shook his hand and said, “Deal!”
I even accepted a personal check from this guy because to all appearances, he seemed nice, drove a nice truck, he loved the bike, and he named my magic number for the purchase price (besides 13 or three-fitty).
Wait For It
The miracle of the two stories I told you comes down to waiting on the Universe to present what your heart desires.
Sometimes, I think with all of the patience I practice, I should be a doctor. (That joke works better said rather than written.)
I knew in November of 2018 the kind of woman I was looking for.
I set the intention, surrendered it to my Higher Power, went out and made a mess of things for awhile, and eventually found out I need not settle.
Again, I had boxes that need checking, and all I had to do was be patient as I found the woman who checks said boxes.
I knew I wanted a certain amount for the motorcycle. I ignored the offers that did not check my boxes (or box–the price) and did not settle.
The point is DO NOT SETTLE!
As trauma survivors, it can be difficult to determine what we want.
It can be easy to allow shit we’re not okay with.
Through a process of letting shit go, healing, and getting in-touch with our true selves, we get to figure out what the fuck we really want.
The key is to hold out for that.
Yes, life doesn’t always go our way.
As we speak (me write and you read), I am retyping this fucking blog post for the second time because due to operator error, technological glitches, and the Matrix, this post got deleted.
Evidently, if I start writing through WordPress on my phone and then pick it up on the laptop, two versions are created, and yes, it reverted to the original phone version with only two sentences, a Michael Scott and Kevin Hart meme.
You’ve read how long this fucking post is…
It’s taken me nearly three hours to retype this fucker.
Fortunately, when I realized my mistake, through other inexplicable technological fuckery (probably cache or something), the finished version still showed up in my browser, so I took 50 some odd screen shots to recreate this.
Yes, shit doesn’t always go our way.
However, if you have dreams and desires, there is a way to bring those things into existence whilst letting go of the outcome (or screaming at your laptop for losing your long ass post).
It may seem paradoxical (or insane) to consider going for what you want while letting go…
But there really isn’t a better way without driving yourself or others crazy.
When I proposed to Tricia, I figured she’d say yes.
However, a part of me also surrendered to the possibility that she may say no.
If she had, we would’ve figured out what to do next, if anything.
The point is that I let go of the outcome WHILE pursuing my heart’s desire.
Chase what you love. (Not in a stalker way–I shouldn’t have to say this… I hope.)
But while you chase what you love, accept that the path meanders and will not go as you plan.
You may find yourself recreating a blog post from 50 screenshots…
Or from memory… That would’ve sucked, but I would’ve done it.
It does not mean you need to change your goal.
It just means now is not the right time for your intended outcome to manifest.
Keep to your vision, be patient, trust the process, let the fuck go, and you will accomplish what intention you put out into the Universe.
See how simple that is?
These verbal puns don’t quite work in written form.
Regardless of my punny sense of humor, if you got anything from this, DON’T FUCKING SETTLE and BE PATIENT!
Thank you for following along my long-winded (written) rants about thriving beyond trauma.
Sure, it may be a stretch to say my life adventures and attitudes are thriving beyond trauma, but as a trauma survivor, I am leading a charmed fucking life right now!
I firmly believe every story contains at least one lesson.
Everyone has a story, and the more we take the time to listen to (and hear) each other, the more we learn and connect.
The next time you find yourself judging someone (I know, I know, my readers don’t judge people); okay, the next time I find myself judging someone, I’m going to try to remember everyone has a story, and I don’t know what that person has been through or is going through.
My life is an example of living on borrowed time.
I could’ve easily died before I reached 18.
Through the various trials and errors of my life, I believe I’ve learned a thing or two to maintain a basic amount of self-esteem, contentment, and usefulness.
I have learned that what my heart longs for matters.
I have learned that it’s okay to say no when I find myself close to settling for less.
Without repeating myself too much, I want to reiterate redundantly and repetitiously: WHAT YOU WANT MATTERS!!!
I mean, don’t be a total self-centered, self-seeking dick like I can be from time-to-time.
You know, think of others first.
But not at the expense of always sacrificing what you want.
You are worth it!
Look in the fucking mirror and tell yourself, “What I want (and need) matters!“
Say it until you believe it.
Figure out what those things are (wants and needs), and fucking do something about it!
Don’t wait for someday.
Someday will never come.
Today is someday!
You got this!
I believe in you!
We’re in this together!
So do it again until you get it right!
That’s also what she said.
Be well 🙂
Thank you for reading another installment of as the engagement ring turns. We are here to thrive beyond trauma! No one said it would be an easy or straight road, but we are committed to manifesting the life of our dreams!
Since I already posted the link to the podcast where I proposed to Tricia, I won’t post it a second time (but you know I am tempted to…)
Also, I am ready to help you find the love of your life, get the job you dream of, lose weight, get in shape, get along better with your spouse, get a fucking cat (or dog, I suppose–just kidding, I like dogs, too.)
As your life coach, we will team up to get some shit done! Drop me a line (no cocaine, thanks) at email@example.com.
Be sure to subscribe, like, comment, follow, throw tomatoes, or whatever with this blog. It’s your life. Regardless, I thank you from the bottom of my blackened heart for reading!
Stay tuned for my adventures in thriving beyond trauma!
I’ve got a great post brewing for next week!
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