Fuck “there’s no shame in asking for help”

I’ve been thinking a lot today about mental health/illness.

The flood of posts after Anthony Bourdain’s death are so cliche. “Reach out” or “There’s no shame in asking for help” or “I’m here for you” really piss me off. Sort of like how the “thoughts and prayers” sentiment does after another shooting.

Like. Thoughts and prayers? I’m here for you? You guys. We have to actually do something. What is with the pattern of everyone thinking they’re part of the solution by taking to social media about it?

Sending thoughts and prayers to gun violence victims does nothing for them. Something has to actually change. Saying, “There’s no shame in asking for help” to mental illness suffers does nothing – you have to actually be there for them, in a real way. Not just a facebook post.

And I sort of loathe the fact that people make it sound that simple. Oh, just reach out, they say. That’s the answer to all your problems. But I reached out to people last year, in the darkness, and got nothing. What do you need, they asked. I need friendship, a coffee date, I said. And I never heard from them again.

Don’t suffer in silence, they say. But when I didn’t suffer in silence, when I was open and shared what I was going thru — all of my friends disappeared. Nobody checked in on me, nobody called to see how things were going. They all knew and they all did nothing.

Then there’s the scary concept of first of all — thinking that mental illness is situational, ie: he had everything. And two: thinking we know anything about someone based on their social media and public persona.

Just because someone looks like they’re having the time of their life doesn’t mean they actually are. That could’ve just been the curated two second glimpse into their life they chose to share that day.

I think about how I shared and so often was met with, “But you seemed fine on Facebook!” Because facebook is what? Something they can check off their list and still call themselves your friend? Oh, well — I liked her photo so I’ve done my friendship duties.

I honestly don’t understand this. It’s really quite scary. We’re sharing more and more and yet we’re all so much more isolated.

I reached out to a friend a couple of weeks ago to see when we could talk on the phone. She just straight up said she was too busy. I’m sorry, but — if your life is so fucking busy that you can’t find 30 minutes to check in with a friend….you need to check your mother fucking priorities and overhaul your life.

I read this Medium article the other day about spreading joy and sending people random messages telling them what they mean to you….like this was some genius concept they had just discovered. That is not what’s wrong with the world. It’s easy for people to reach out in that way — to spread positivity.

What I want to so is send messages to so many friends I lost count telling them what pieces of shit they are. Telling them what absolute garbage people they are, let alone what a terrible friend they are. I feel like that would actually feel a lot better than messaging someone and saying, “hey I think you’re great”.

Because that kind of shit is all just words. Oh, you think I’m great, huh? Well would you come over and wash my hair? Would you bring me dinner? Would you listen to me cry? Ok, well then fuck off with you thinking I’m awesome. I don’t really need that.

I thought about this sort of two-part thing. Last year I posted something on facebook about how to be there for your friends — bring them a meal, drop by and share tea with them, etc. It wasn’t a direct call to my friends, it was just a general post. But this one gal took it personally and brought us a meal. She was sort of an outside friend, not in our direct circle, but still — it was lovely none-the-less. Some weeks (or months?) later I sent messages to literally dozens of people saying we were struggling, needed work/money, and to please keep their ears open. This same friend responded again and paid me to do some house work.

Interestingly — I never heard from that friend again. A funny example of asking for help and then receiving it, but also a direct example of — check in on your fucking friends. She witnessed us at a spectacularly low point and either never thought of us again or (more likely) just couldn’t be bothered.

Which brings me to the dozens….I mean literally 40+ people I sent private messages and emails too. And I either didn’t hear back from them, or I got a “so sorry to hear that” bullshit message, or I got a “let me ask around” message but nothing else.

So that’s turned me off of the so-called community I thought I was a part of. Because everyone loves us when we’re telling fun travel stories or sharing sex adventures, but when we actually need something — fucking crickets.

One of the people that I had initially messaged asking for help that I then never even got a response from — they messaged me some months later needing a favor. And I just thought, wow. How disconnected could you be. How out of it could you be. How selfish could you be. Of course I said no because: boundaries. And because we are not all fucking one. Treat people the way you want to be treated is nice, but it’s sort of an ignorant sentiment. Of course I want people to be nice to me and help me and be there for me, but I’m not going to be that for them if they’ve been shitty to me, you know? That’s called Being a Fucking Doormat.

It’s crazy too how long it can take for people’s true colors to show because if you’re like me and you’re a strong person who generally has their shit together — it could take years before a friendship is tested and you actually need anything from them. And that’s what happened to me. For years and years and years I was fine, I had my shit together so much that I had loads of excess love and energy to give. I wasn’t keeping score, I didn’t care. But then came the day when I needed to call upon friends. And I got nothing. It made it feel like my whole life was one giant illusion.

And now, it’s full steam ahead, but not without the motivation of wanting to stand on top of the world and then have everybody notice. And be able to tell them a very satisfactory, “go fuck yourself”.

I don’t feel like this is a bad thing though. We’re told that it is. Any negative emotion is something we need to “work through” or “let go of”. But why? Sometimes it’s okay. I’m not cynicle with new people. It’s not like I meet a new potential friend and think, “Well this isn’t worth it — they’re probably just an asshole underneath”. I’ll continue to love people and help people, just not the same people that ghosted me.

That, my friends, is self-care. That is self love. That is having some fucking dignity.


A picture of right now


I took this photo tonight while we were sitting at dinner. Not for social media, not for other people — just for me, to remember the moment. It reminded me of Jena’s “right now”. A photo of the scene right that moment. Not curated or posed, just right now.

I’m still in the place of wanting to really remember this time. Because I feel like massive change is coming. But what if it’s always like this? What if wanting to “remember this time” is just some sort of awakening to the present moment like never before.

Whatever the case, the right now was us, eating dinner on the porch with the two neighborhood cats — bitch cat and fatty. They’re back after not seeing them for months. We had decided not to put out milk for them because last time they were around and we were doing that, they started pissing on everything.

Tonight though, there was still pissing. And it was just a turf war — fatty was scowling at bitch cat and then fatty quickly ran for the front door, backed her ass up into it and sprayed piss on it to mark her territory. Ugh. Milk or not, there’s just cat piss on everything outside.

The right now is that we’re done with dinner, inside and naked, I grabbed my computer while Kris grabbed his guitar and now we’re both quietly expressing ourselves.

The right now is that dinner was pretty fucking good. It was little chicken chunkies that we marinated all day in olive oil, lemon juice and yogurt to make fancy greek chicken salads with store bought pita bread.

Our porch table was perfect. It was 88 degrees, but that’s okay in the shade and when the sun is down.

Dessert was also yummy. I feel like a real adult in the sense that I now have a cake recipe committed to memory — a victoria sponge, which is equal weight butter, flour, sugar and eggs + 1/2 a tsp of baking powder for each egg that you use. So that’s what we had tonight. Sponge cake with the freshest strawberries and whipping cream shot out of our fancy can with the cartridges in it.

We had sex Thursday night, Friday and this morning which is way more fun than not having sex. I was thinking about our sex rut and how it was mutual, like we were both in sync being out of sync. And thinking about how a couple times I had the urge to ask someone about it like — how often do you guys have sex, is this normal, what’s the deal here? But then always thinking no, I don’t need to do that. Because whatever anyone would say wouldn’t be relevant to us anyway. Relationship are all like fucking snowflakes. They’re so incredibly unique. And it’s interesting to think how we’re trained to think that regular sex is somehow an indicator of a good relationship. We’re trained with what “regular sex” is anyway. That the average is some how 3.5 times a week and if you’re not doing that, there’s something wrong or you’re not sexually compatible.

But what if everything is fine? What if there’s an open dialogue and both parties feel fine about it and it’s just another phase? What if there is no regular sex? What if the average is made up of people who have sex 17 times a day and people who have sex twice a year and that’s how they get the 3 times a week average? Isn’t that a mindfuck.

Kris and Greg are investing in a master node that is hard not to be excited about all day every day. We have four credit cards maxed out and another one that came in the mail today. And yet. It all feels fine. Even if we have moments of “Oh shit, what have we done” about it – we remind ourselves that like — all we have to do is pay the minimums. And it’s one day at a time. If we start thinking about picturing a time where we can mail checks to each card company paying off the balances…you can just so easily spiral down.

Because every time I make the minimum payment, I look at the box that says, “Pay balance in full” and I know that I’ll hit that one day soon. It sounds crazy and nobody really understands why, but it makes sense to us. It’s hard to talk about with people though.

I read an article yesterday that I thought was just so well written and it articulated a lot of the feelings we already have about crypto taking over the world. And it’s exciting. But people think you’re nuts. It’s just anything else though. I had an iMac in 2002. It weighed about 37 pounds and took up my entire desk. But I thought it was about the most high tech amazing thing in the entire world. I used it about once a week to log into my AOL account.

Never in a million years would I have thought that computers and the internet would take over the world, even then with my futuristic iMac on my desk. It was just a cool thing I had like when I got a discman or when I ran on a treadmill for the first time.

It’s exactly what crypto is like now. It’s novel. It feels more like a game. We make money, sometimes we transfer funds to our Bitpay card and spend it. But pretty soon, it’s going to be everything. No longer will our money sit in banks or our rent be paid with checks or our jobs be paid with USD.

And what a time that will be.

But this is now, and until then I’ll enjoy my little house and my simple life because I know I’ll miss it.

Right now we try to make our food stamps go as far as we can. Thursday night I skipped yoga to go to a focus group because I needed the $125 gift card to buy end-of-the-month food and gas. Right now I update our yoga studio’s website for $35 an hour, 3-5 hours a month.

Right now I may have found a bandaid for my sleeping — white noise played in earbuds that I wear all night long. Kris may have found a solution for his horrifying skin — this cream I found on one of those bullshit lists that are like, “Here’s our 74 favorite beauty products on Amazon for under $25”. He’s been seeing a dermatologist for two years and the cure might be some cream on amazon? Talk about a mind fuck. For now we’re still treading lightly and probably will for some months until we’re past the point of his body building a resistance to it as it has with everything else. For right now, it’s a goddamn miracle. I mean I just run my hands over his skin ten times a day and I could just burst into tears at how soft it feels and how calm it looks. Right now I sit on the bathmat and count down five minutes for him while he let’s the special soap soak in that compliments the cream.

Right now my bacne is in full force and has been for months, I can’t figure it out. I wonder if I can find a one piece bathing suit that covers it but doesn’t make me look like a frumpy soccer mom. I’m all about body positivity, but ain’t nobody wanna stare at a back canvas full of goddamn angry splotches.

Today we watched this cray balls ass documentary on John Macafee and the entire time I spent sewing a patch into the crotch of my jeggings because that’s how much I love them.

Tonight we’re going to eat more peanut butter cups and watch another episode of Seinfeld and then lay in bed for an hour and snuggle.

And that sounds pretty fucking good to me.

The beginning of something

Writing is so strange, it’s like I never know where to start.

I feel like I’ve been saying for years now that we’re on the brink of something. If you go back and look at my free writes from group — I’m saying this starting in 2015.

I sure felt like on the brink was a lot closer than several years away.

But now it really does feel like we are closer than ever. Like, for real.

Kris has been working on the German investigation and every day for a week now we’ve been expecting the reward. First it was Easter, so it was expected to be today at the earliest. But someone was sick, so still another day has gone by.

I was lamenting to Shell that isn’t it funny? To this German guy, sending this money is nothing. It’s just one little thing on his to-do list. He has no idea that he is sending it to the poor as fuck guy living in Phoenix renewing his food stamps in between recovering millions in stolen crypto.

We all thought it sounded like a movie, and would in fact make a great movie. Shell added that the most interesting part was the position of the people investigating, what a spectrum of people it was, particularly the rags-to-riches tale of Kris and me.

These last few months, not even of these investigations, but more of just getting into crypto in general — I have a complete and total lack of interest in anything. I am not creatively inspired, I don’t want to write or blog or record a podcast or anything. It’s such an interesting feeling to be working on literally nothing. To have no projects in the works, no ideas. It’s almost like — is this a subconscious plan to have no attachments?

Even Kris with his band — that’s such an attachment. And that is just a social commitment.

I wake up most days with absolutely nothing to do. In some ways I relish these days knowing that it will not always be this simple. And in some ways I want not much to change — I just want to have money so that I can really spend my days doing what I want.

I half wonder if I’ll ever have an ambition in the traditional sense ever again. Or if it will purely be the pursuit of pleasure, which I’m absolutely fine with. “What do you do?” Oh me? I’m just forever in search of pleasure. Food, sex, history, architecture, coffee, pastries, cathedrals, massages, luxury. Oh? What do I do for money you mean? I’m sitting on 5 dozen Bitcoins, thank you very much. No worries here.

Like literally today there is nothing going on. I don’t even wanna say I’m bored, but maybe? I read my Travel & Leisure and my Queen Mother biography. I make tea. I watch little spurts of Gilmore Girls or New Girl. I look at Instagram. I clean. I research travel.

I wonder what the summer will look like. I really want to spend our first night in London at the Hilton that is attached via a walkway to Stansted Airport. It’s nearly $200 a night. Maybe soon that will seem like nothing?

Z is coming over at 4 to talk about social media stuff. I hope to help her understand that for social media to be successful, you actually have to be social. And unfortunately you can’t pay anyone to do that.

I’m not not hoping that this current singer doesn’t work out, but I just want what’s best for Kris and I wonder if in some way that would be better? It wouldn’t cure the frustration, but maybe he wouldn’t feel like it was all his fault?

The other day I read an article that really lit my ass on fire about teeth health. And how important chewing is. And how unsafe supplementing can be and in some ways I really do feel like that’s true. I question taking my vitamin D because while my levels are up, I don’t feel any different. And who came up with the levels anyway? What if 30 is where I’m supposed to be? What if my body is smart and not defunct?

I told Kris how much I do not want to stay in Phoenix and how much I will be really paying attention to my state of mind and state of being this summer to see what if any if all of my symptoms improve while we travel to the depths of the english countryside and are steeped in beauty. That is one thing that can’t be calculated — beauty and it’s affect on happiness and that affect on overall physical health. Because if I do see a change — that will become my primary motivation. To waste not another day here in Phoenix. Sitting inside my house. Riding my bike breathing in smog. Hiding from the ever present destructive over powered sun. Choking on the dust of the desert.

That time we drank gin and got free massages

Man, I’m so uninspired to write lately, I don’t know what my problem is.
This week was The Week of Free Shit Everywhere.
On Valentines Day we went to the farmer’s market and ended up winning a raffle for 2 free meals — basically just tickets you could take around to any of the vendors or food trucks. But we didn’t get the call that we had won until we were already at Panera Bread. I peed — thrilling, right? And then we decided to go back to the market and use our free tickets instead of me making Kris eat at a chain bakery in the name of love. Turns out there was fuck all at the market that day though — the food trucks rotate and the ones we’ve been wanting to try weren’t there. It was misting rain, which set a nice mood, but in the end we decided to get back in the car and eat somewhere else. I had a limp dick for Panera at that point, so we just pulled up Yelp and started looking around.
We settled on Federal Pizza and had the best goddamn lunch of our lives. Maybe not THE BEST, but you know what I mean. I had a bangin salad with big ass chunks of chicken and cheese tossed in a creamy dressing with half a pizza on the side topped with dates, arugala and ricotta. It was the fucking bomb. Kris had an $11 meatball sub, which was totally worth paying $11 for.
The next day we were at the gym and I saw a teaser post from Le Dinersaur about an event she was catering later that evening. It was an art opening, which to me just means “free snacks and drinks”. So we decided to skip yoga, since there was a sub, and pretend to be fancy at this art gallery. Thank fuckfully we arrived shortly after it started and there were already a bunch of people there so it was easy to slip in and eat a shit load without drawing too much attention. This fucking guy though, he came and stood with his shit at our table and I don’t know if he was half drunk or something, but he asked us the same questions over and over. Like he asked us three times if we were married. And what we did for a living and where we were from. It was so fucking weird. Also — I know it’s “small talk”, but “are you married and do you have kids” are two questions that are actually extremely personal and are shitty conversation starters. Because if you are married, you just answer yes and beyond that what are you going to say? And if you’re not married, it’s sort of an awkward no and then again the conversation doesn’t really naturally flow anywhere. Same with the “do you have kids” either you have kids, and you take 12 second to say “two girls and a boy” or you don’t have kids and the conversation falls similarly flat.
After we ditched that guy and I ate four more cookies, we got the hell out of there to go home and watch more skating. I just really cried from the depths of my soul watching Adam Rippon skate. It’s like when I went and saw Avenue Q and was baffled that puppets could make me feel so deeply. It’s the same watching Adam skate.
Saturday a similar thing happened at the gym — I messaged my boyfriend about food, only this time it was wanting to go to Rainbow Donuts to erase the absolute dog shit experience we had at Dunkin a few days ago. Rainbow is fucking good and their donuts are a fucking dollar. I get fancy donuts at Welcome of course, but sometimes you just want to spend a dollar on a solid, basic donut.
I’ve been messaging a lot with Ashley and she goddamn cracks me up on Instagram. I sent her a video chat after I burned my tittie by sort of side swiping my kettle against it while I was making my coffee. I had been wanting to tell her I wanted to meet her, but I didn’t want to seem creepy? Like – what is the etiquette? What if she just thinks my Instagram posts are funny but that’s it. And I’m like I want to meet you and she’s like…..the fuck? But then she messaged me saying they had bought tickets to a Phoenix for a wedding and it ended with me inviting myself to the wedding and her to stay here. Ha.
Sunday was insane with more free shit because we went to one of the events going on for Arizona cocktail week. It was free gin cocktails and massage. And I had two of the best massages literally of my entire life. The first one was a foot massage from this fucking magician woman. And the second one was a chair massage from a man that made my vagina wet.
That’s pretty much a round up of the week. Let’s hope I do this shit again next week.

On money, success, and being fucking honest

Recently we hosted a couple through Couchsurfing. They were from Denver and on an epic road trip to celebrate their one year anniversary. They only stayed one night and when they left in the morning Kris and I remarked at how much better they made us feel about ourselves.

Everything about them was very cliche and practiced. They had decided who they wanted to be and they presented themselves as such, but upon some questions from us — you could see their facade start to crack. They finally looked like real humans who didn’t have all the answers. They looked tender, confused, and honest. Which is how we look all the fucking time.

We value honesty over literally anything else. Like you don’t have to be anything other than yourself when you walk through this door.
But with them we could smell bullshit like almost instantly. Not like they were bullshit, but just the feeling of — can you cut the act and can we just talk like real people?

They are in a new relationship and they are into natural organic everything. They have loads of lofty aspirations like we used to have years ago.
We used to talk about all the good we wanted to do, all the people we wanted to help.
We had rejected the mainstream ideas of success and felt pretty fucking clever for doing so. No marriage contracts, 9-5 jobs or processed food for us!
But the biggest mistake we made was thinking passion and money had to come from the same place.
So we put ourselves through the ringer for years trying to make the two come together.

Until we really stripped it down. What did we really want, at our heart of hearts. What was THE MOST IMPORTANT THING.

And for years I didn’t want to say it, I felt like it was bad or reflected poorly on me as a person.
I wanted to be something I wasn’t. I wanted to be better than my deepest desire.

And what is that, you ask? Money. Plain and simple.
That’s the motivation behind everything, for me anyway.
Did I want to wipe the sweaty brows of birthing women? Yeah. But I also wanted $800 bucks at the end.
Did I want to write and organize my thoughts and smartest travel tips so that other people could benefit and see the world? Yeah. But I also wanted them to pay me for it.
Did I want to make delicious bone broth and package it in non-toxic glass jars and sell it in my community so everyone had local, convenient access to densely nutritious food? Yes, but I also wanted $15 a quart.

Money is such a taboo subject and especially in the alternative/artistic/creative/woke/whatever-the-fuck circles, it’s even more frowned upon to say that you want it.
We’re supposed to crave a Utopian society where everyone has equal access to everything, you barter for goods and services and no one is poisoned by the evil green dirty money.

Okay, sure. But also. I want money because I live here, now in Phoenix in 2017.
Where you can Uber to Trader Joe’s and buy $7 pre-sliced mango. It’s fucking brilliant. The conveniences of our time blows my fucking mind.

I used to jump on the band wagon in my artistic/hippie friend circle of mocking rich people. We’d see some fit bitch in $100 yoga pants getting a $6 latte carrying a $400 purse and we’d make all sorts of judgments about her and say passive aggressive things like, “Must be nice!”

Do you know where all that aggression came from? Jealousy. All we wanted, if we’re being honest, is to be that bitch.
Those $100 yoga pants? They’re like fucking butter. That $6 latte? It’s like velvet. That $400 purse? It’s cute as hell and totally functional.
Because if we were satisfied in our own lives and truly happy — we wouldn’t have even noticed the fit bitch or at the very last — wouldn’t have had the time or instinct to pass judgement.

I noticed a few years ago that I stopped doing that. And it wasn’t even a practice or a retraining, I just stopped. I’d see a fit bitch and be like, “Fuck yeah, fit bitch!! You look awesome and if I had money I’d be strutting the same fucking way. I can’t wait!” Some of the nicest, kindest most wonderful people I’ve met in my life have lots of money.

My attitude towards money and the people who had it totally changed when I got real with what I actually wanted.

And now, at this moment in time, I’ve separated my passions from the way that I make money and boy has that opened up a whole new world. Because the thing is — they don’t have to come from the same place. If they do, that’s fine — but in the same vein: you need money to make your dreams a reality.

The truth about being an entrepreneur is that you’re doing the job of 12 people at once and you have no money to hire help or outsource.

So I’m looking at this baby faced couple from Denver (who were in their 30s, mind you) wanting to ask them how much they were willing to suffer? They owned a home with an HOA, they have two cars, they have a savings account and stocks and a comfortable lifestyle. They’re just at the beginning of quitting their day jobs and being an active part of this new life they say they want.

I wanted to look at them and say — you know you’re not just going to throw up a facebook page and suddenly have people knocking on your doors, right?
I want to tell her that yes, she’s right — having a trade is noble and smart, but that massage therapy isn’t a fucking smart trade. The top paid tradespeople have skills that humans can’t live without: auto mechanics, plumbers, brick masons, computer programmers. Not fucking massage therapy.

I want to ask them if they’re willing to short sell their home, sell most of their stuff, drain their savings, sell their stocks, and apply for food stamps.
Not because I want to project my own experience onto them, because for fuck’s sake — they could be the unicorns. But because nobody was real or honest with me.
All I ever heard about entrepreneurship was the success stories. The packaged happy stories that had great endings.
No one is sharing the missteps, the hardships, the day to day reality of it.

This couple is telling us about doing massage therapy, using essential oils (of course they’re fucking DoTerra reps, don’t get me started), opening a wellness center and all of this other shit. Instead of just smiling politely and telling them how great that all sounded, I said — “Hey, you know — you need money to do all that. And money and passion don’t have to come from the same place.” And in that moment you could see little cracks start to form. You could see the look of one being humbled. They asked a few questions and I said that it can be exhausting trying to sell yourself and your intensely personal offerings. It can be absolutely nutty to have your livelihood depend on showing up on Facebook, maintaining your website, emailing your subscribers, all in the name of what you’re selling. And that if I could go back, I would’ve tackled the money thing first and let the passion come later.

Because the interesting thing about money is that it changes everything. It challenges everything you say you’re about and shows you who you really are.
What do you want to offer for free? What do you want to offer truly from your heart? When your rent is paid and you’ve got money in the bank — how do you want to show up for the world? Do you even want to?

This is a theme for us lately, and a different CouchSurfing couple — one that was married and loved the Lord Jesus Christ — asked us what our vision of the future was. I didn’t miss a beat and said, “Piles of money”. A year ago I would’ve said something really inspiring and philosophical that totally highlighted was I was going to teach people and offer people, the space I was going to hold and the transformation I was going to facilitate. Because that sounds a whole lot better and more noble. But it wasn’t completely honest.

If we’re stripping away all the fluff, I just want to wipe my ass with $20 bills.

Your average person also wants that, but probably would never say it for fear of how it sounds, just like me.
But it’s great now to own it and say it and watch it give other people permission to really be honest.


We don’t have to sit around having poopy schmoopy new age conversations and singing kumbaya.
Everything is relevant. You can want to heal people and also want to live in a mansion.
One doesn’t have to be poor and suffer in the name of their cause to be a respectable person.

It’s funny, too — in the same breath that these people are saying they’re getting out of the corporate world, they’re thru making money for someone else — they’re also touting essential oils and other forms of affiliate marketing. Which is a different version of the same thing. Yes, you can sell essential oils in the comfort of your own home instead of an office, but your essentially just making someone else rich.

And of course it’s how smart he thinks he sounds saying, “We’re going to get into internet marketing when we get back home”. Okay, cool. Do you know it’s not that simple? Marketing, no matter what the fuck you’re selling or how the fuck you’re selling it, takes money and loads of time. You’re going to fail and be wrong and have to try all sorts of stuff and have loads of cash to throw at facebook ads and SEO words. You realize that’s what internet marketing means, right? It doesn’t mean you’re going to just sign up with a company, post a couple times on facebook and have off the fucking chain traffic to your shit.

The cherry on top though was when they said they were going to get their weddings rings tattooed on. Marriage and monogamy is totally fine if that’s your thing — I know loads of people that are happy as fucking clams doing life that way and it’s fucking beautiful to watch. But wedding ring tattoos? Are you 12? Are you that naive to think that you’ve known each other a year and can predict 80 years in the future and proclaim a huge part of your life is never going to change? It’s like, boy can you spot from a hundred yards away a person that has never been humbled by anything in their life.

Then there was more bullshit talk about abundance. They said, in what sounded like a rehearsed speech, that isn’t that the ultimate dream in life — to obtain abundance for yourself, to crack the code, and be making $20,000 a month and then be able to spread it around and teach other people how to do the same thing.

I thought — yeah, that’s great and all and totally do that if that’s your thing. But also. You can just make $20,000 a month and just fucking relax. You can just chill out and enjoy your life without living the rest of it like you’re in debt to society. Like you owe all of your suffering friends the way out. Like they’re too stupid to figure out their own way. You did, but they can’t? It’s sort of a condescending catch 22.

What if they just wore standard wedding rings? What if they just said they didn’t know if they’d be together because how possibly could they? What if they just committed to each other’s happens and vowed to choose each other every single day? What if they promised to do this thing together until the one day it didn’t serve them in the best way anymore? Or would that kind of honesty just reveal too many deep cracks?

Cracks that a wedding ring tattoo will sure strengthen. Bwahaha. I’m still very judgy in lots of ways, can you tell?

Nearly everything else that’s been tested has shifted.

This prompt landed in my inbox 8 days ago, but the first time I read it was three minutes ago.
It’s funny because the last 8 days — all we’ve been talking about is the rainbows we’ve chased in the past and why we keep chasing them.

This year we have massively struggled in all of the major areas of life, except for our relationship.

Lots of major pieces of our identity have fallen away, prompting us to examine what survived.
We’ve tried so many things and massively failed.

But the one thing we’re both sort of surprised is still intact is our belief that we will be successful.
That has never wavered even a little bit.
It’s not anything we’ve consciously worked to maintain, but rather — something we noticed was still going strong with no effort on our part whatsoever.

Nearly everything else that’s been tested has shifted.
But not that.

A big piece of that, I think, is the belief that we are worthy.
And the ease with which we receive.

Have you ever noticed those being two common themes? People say they want things, but don’t believe they deserve them. And then they say they need help, but feel bad asking for it or taking it when it’s offered. We’re all just so busy feeling guilty and getting in our own way.

There’s been so many things over the years that we thought would be “it”.

And now, of course, there’s something else.
The new thing.
The latest thing.
Finally — something.

And we’ve been observing how enthusiastically we’re meeting it.
You’d think it wouldn’t be so.
That we’d both be soured and think — well, why would this work? Nothing’s worked for us before. Why would we get our hopes up again?
But that feeling hasn’t crept in even a little bit.

I was starting to think that we were going to close out this year without a light at the end of the tunnel. It’s November 1st tomorrow, for cryin out loud.

But maybe — most likely actually — we’re right on the verge of a major shift.

We’ve been consumed with learning about cryptocurrency. Bitcoin is the one everybody has heard of, but there’s actually 1100+ coins.
It’s absolutely fascinating.
Kris has watched hours and hours of video and read days worth of blog posts and forums.
It’s largely his I.T. background and knowledge that is making this all possible.

It’s another thing where anyone we share it with meets us with, “That sounds crazy, I could never do that”.

It’s another idea we have where everyone thinks we’re just naive idiots taking a very uncalculated leap into the unknown.
But we’re both big researchers and are very grounded in reality. So that’s never been the case with anything we’ve tried.
Just because it didn’t work out doesn’t mean it’s because we went into it blind and stupid.

This is another instance though where we don’t share with many because you just get an onslaught of their fearful projections that have nothing to do with us.

I always knew that whatever we did would be very outside the box. I also felt that whatever happened for us would be a giant explosion forward, versus a series of small victories that eventually led to something big. I had this inkling feeling throughout the shit show of this past year that whatever got us out of our hole would be mega. Where our lives would change nearly overnight. A blog post would go viral and suddenly we’d be on every talk show. Our course would sell ten thousand students overnight. We’d sell a thousand shirts an hour out of our online boutique. That’s just what I could conceive of in my teeny tiny brain.

But maybe this is it. A robot that day trades for me. A computer that mines currency for me. Buying cryptocurrency, for fuck’s sake. That’s some futuristic Jetson’s shit right there.
The realization that only 1% of the world is doing this. And it feels like we’ve been let into some secret club.
To test theories and see that they actually work.
That feels nice. I’m ready.

And it feels almost nostalgic, even though nothing has happened yet.
This is likely our last bit of time in this house, maybe this city.

And that if it isn’t this, it will be something.

What mothers are capable of

What mothers are capable of astounds me.

I am not a mother, so perhaps what mothers do seems more outrageous to me.

But then I think no: if I were a mother, I’m sure I’d still think it was pretty fucking mind blowing.


A friend of mine shared with me that her baby boy was teething, hardcore. He is breastfed and has been biting her a ton. The only thing that soothes him is her breast, so she was unable to get away without him and go to yoga.

She just said that like it was nothing. Like she was saying she couldn’t go because she had a headache. Or needed a nap or something.

But because a human baby is not only attached to her breast 24/7 — he’s BITING IT AT ANY GIVEN MOMENT IN REGULAR INTERVALS?!

Why isn’t this more of a thing?

If dudes had to feed babies from their ballsacks, and it was a regular thing for the babies to chomp on the dudes ballsacks, I can guaran-fucking-tee you we’d hear about it all day long and we’d all be bottle fed.

Why aren’t there parades for mothers every weekend? Why aren’t we supporting them more from a societal stand point?
Is it just because it’s so common place to be a mother?
Why does that make it any less shocking?

Just because collectively shit loads of women are currently mothering doesn’t mean that each individual mother isn’t feeling the weight of the world every single day all day long.

She’s letting the next generation soothe itself on her nipple. In the name of nurturing an emotional stable and capable human — she’s soothing him with her actual body. Not just her body — her fucking nipples. She gets bitten and just continues on — that baby’s comfort overrides everything.

I know this happens to my friend every single day and it’s her normal, but to me — I heard that and wanted to send her a dozen roses, a gallon of chocolate milk and a lifetime supply of pizza. Metaphorically, but you know what I mean.

Women are capable of such sacrifice, and it’s these extreme sacrifices that literally keep the human race from going extinct.
Men are integral, too — obviously. But I’m talking about the sacrificing of one’s body here. And that is all fucking women.

I don’t understand how these every day sacrifices go so unnoticed.

I know many aspects of mothering are intangible and not quantifiable – the emotional, mental, and spiritual aspects vary widely. I think because of that — most of the world just chalks up motherhood to some big, fat, don’t ask don’t tell mystery situation that somehow everyone seems to make it out reasonably intact from, so what’s the big deal? Even the obvious physical elements of mothering are often swept under the rug because we don’t want to talk about it. Keep your blood and poop and amniotic fluid to yourself.

But that’s fucking bullshit, because:

Women have their organs displaced for 10 months to incubate a human
They grow a disposable organ, for fucks’s sake. And it acts like a computer that jacks nutrients from her body to give to said growing human.
Then they have amniotic fluid leak out of their vaginas without warning, along with blood and tons of goop while their uterine muscles are simultaneously surging in opposite directions
They’re pooping at random, usually in front of a room full of strangers
They’re getting poked and prodded and measured and evaluated
They have their pussies ripped apart
Or their stomachs sliced open
They have their nipples chomped on
Their actual bodies are the reason for every single human alive on this planet right now

Can you even wrap your head around that?

Talk about being fucking capable.