Reflecting on 2016   Leave a comment

This time last year I was getting ready to go to Tillamook and live with my best friend of 23 years, and her daughter. It was an amazing month – lots of beach time and hiking and exploring – and the start to what I hoped would be the year for me. 

It wasn’t to be – not in every way. I lost things. My thyroid and a para-thyroid. A job I’d finally acquired after 6 months of searching. A section of my colon. My son in a petty custody battle that my ex started because he doesn’t think a boy needs a mother. 

I gained things as well. I grew closer to my niece Grace when I lived with them. An apartment after living in a hotel for two months. An amazing new friend from my time at the hotel. Reconnection with my love. An appreciation for life after two back to back surgeries. Friends that became family of my choosing. 

So I honestly can’t say that the year was all bad. I’m going to hold onto what was positive, and take that with me into 2017. 

Happy New Year. Make the year what you want it to be for yourself. 


Voting. Educate yourself.   Leave a comment

I feel very strongly that I must correct something I’m seeing said a lot since last night: telling me or anyone that you served in the military and fought for our right to vote is incorrect. Yes, you’ve served our country proudly, following the directive of the commander in chief. But the fight for the right to vote has always been an internal fight, and not fought on foreign soil. People have died for this fight, this right, but they were not military.

A history lesson on the right to vote:

While the Constitution did not originally have a definition of who could vote; individual states decided amongst themselves who could vote. The right to vote was mainly given to white male property owners. Freed slaves in 4 states could vote. If you were a woman in New Jersey you could vote if you could prove you held property. In 1865, all white men were allowed to vote, although some states required a tax to be paid. 

My right, as a woman, to vote? Susan B. Anthony and Harriet Tubman fought for that. 

African-Americans’ right to vote? By so many…Martin Luther King Jr., Malcom X, Bernie Sanders, Tim Kaine…granted first in 1870 by the 15th amendment, yet held back by the South, who created literacy tests, fees, etc, to discourage it. It wasn’t until the Civil Rights Movement in 1965 that Lyndon B. Johnson signed into law The Voting Rights Act, eliminating those obstacles/restrictions, and creating ballots that were bilingual for minorities. 

In 1924, Congress granted Citizenship to all Native Americans born in the US – the fucking people whose home and land we took as ours! – and yet these people were not granted the right to vote until 1957! 

So, though you’ve served our country, and bravely, and I thank you for that, you can not claim you fought for these rights, and talk down to people for it. 


Posted November 9, 2016 by chasingthislight in Education, History, Rights, Voting

Words Are Hard   Leave a comment

Walking Dead Season 7 spoilers are within. You’ve been warned. 







The title says a lot. I’ve been trying to put into words my take on last night’s episode The Day Will Come When You Won’t Be, but I’ve struggled. 

So, I’m turning to the man who had such a way with words, Sgt. Abraham Ford. Abrahamisms, as my friend called them, who practically collected them whenever he spoke. 

“It’s plain as a potato to me…”

“I’m crispy like a cracker.”

“We’ve got a shit storm behind door A and a storm of shit behind door B.”

“I want to kill them because loose ends make my ass itch.”

“Let’s chew up some asphalt.”

“Uugling Bumpies.”

“Why? Why are dingle berries brown? Because that’s the way shit is…”

“You’d have better luck picking up a turd by its clean end.”

“I don’t give a monkeys left nut!”

“There is a vast ocean of shit that you people don’t know shit about. Rick knows every fine grain of shit, and then some.”

“I’ve been to eight county fairs and a goat rodeo, but I’ve never seen anything like that.”

“Spill the pintos.”

“Plan just got dicked.”

“We don’t give two short curlies what it looks like.”

“Mother dick.”

“Bitch nuts.”

“When you were pouring the Bisquick…were you trying to make pancakes?”

“I see rain coming, I’m wearing galoshes. I’m doubling up.”

And his last spoken words: 

“Suck my nuts.” 

But he said so much more in his last moments, silently saying I love you, and also goodbye:

Heartbreaking, seeing him flash those two fingers in Sasha’s direction. His death wasn’t one I saw coming. My son argued that it had to be Abraham; he was strong, he was a threat, no way would Negan let him live. 

And then there’s Glenn Rhee. The guy you could always count on. Trustworthy. Defender. Believer. Friend. Husband. Father to be. 

Yes, his death was foretold in the comics. But having Abraham take Lucille so valiantly, it appeared he would be safe. I never thought it would actually be Glenn. I thought he’d be safe, like he always was. 

I don’t blame Daryl for lashing out and landing that rewarding punch to Negan’s face. That’s who Daryl is. One of his family was just brutally killed. And Negan only did what he did to show them he kept his word. He warned them all. An example had to be made. This time there was no game of choosing. He just swung his beloved bat, and showed Rick and his people that he was true to his word. 

After that first hit, I sat up, gasping and clutching my blankie. I felt frozen with shock. 

And like that, Glenn was gone. 

This blog isn’t so much a recap of the episode…it’s to honor two lost members of a family that has grown and suffered so much in what now begins the 7th year I’ve been watching The Walking Dead. No, they’re not my family…but it’s a family whose lives I’ve come to know over time, and they’re loss feels like mine. 



Cruel Claw and Hungry Throat   Leave a comment

I’ve been absent. 

Building a life back, having it broken down. Building again. 

Feeling a mixture of things and two biggest feelings are at such odds. 

Pure happiness, for the first time in my very nearly 38 years of life. I was told last night by the one I love that the white hair peeking out under the towel wrapped around my head as we watched fireworks, that I looked so wise. And perhaps I am, somewhere in the depths of my soul. I do not feel it right now.

Fear. The reality of this precious life knocking on my door. And what do we tell the gods of death? Not today. 

The S of my S and J earrings fell out last night…is there a sign in it? An omen? Or just the backing come loose and an earring falling out? 

Lost. That’s what I feel most right now. 

I know I’ve not said much, nothing telling. Just words that will be dust someday. But they are words creeping around in this heart. 

Sweetness, of the bitter kind   Leave a comment

It’s been an adventure/struggle/ lesson for me these last months. Losing so much, learning who to trust, discovering a lot about myself. Finding true family in people who were simply friends before. 

It’s been rough. The path littered with obstacles, some of them put there by people I knew and trusted. 

But I am coming out of it. Better than before. Stronger than before. Wiser than before. Kinder than before. 

I have a job in an industry that is new to me in every aspect and I’m looking forward to learning everything I possibly can and adding to my life and skill set. 

And now, after living in a hotel for nearly two months, I have a place to call home. It’s tiny, but size doesn’t matter. It’s what you make of it. And I’m making it mine. It’ll be cozy, welcoming, beautiful. And I’ll get to share it with the people I love, the people who are truly home to me. 

After months of stress and fear and worry and wonder, I’m finding my path cleared. I see a light. And I think it’s shining from within me, breaking through the darkness to brighten my way. 

SarahJ 3/21/16

Posted March 21, 2016 by chasingthislight in Home

See   Leave a comment

Brown eyes

Burning into me 

You see my soul 

SarahJ 3/19/16

Types   Leave a comment

I just read this thing on finding your type when looking for, or being in a relationship. And I thought, okay, fine, some people do have “types”, and the article was right – that could be exactly why some people wind up in the wrong relationships or even alone. 

And it reminded me of how once someone asked me what my type was, and my answer was “him.” Why? What is it about him that makes him my type? Well, everything, nothing…because being with him breaks all those barriers. There’s no reason or rhyme. It just is, and it’s beautiful. 



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