Phetasy
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So an internet personality I used to admire pretty much outed himself as a serial spouse/domestic partner abuser. His most recent girlfriend made a somewhat cryptic post on his page that checked almost all the boxes on the "I'm a victim of abuse" form. Things like "he just didn't know what he was doing" and "He didn't hit me; I fell down the stairs." Evidently afterwards people made calls and she was contacted by a private investigator who, it seems, has been investigating this guy for some time, and she was able to extricate herself to a place of safety.

It hits me pretty hard, partly because this was someone I used to admire and think of as a pretty normal, stable person, if someone with a decidedly dark and dry sense of humor. But more because I myself am a survivor of abuse. I was married to a woman for almost two years who mocked me, insulted me, belittled me, made me feel small. She tried to make me completely alienate my family and my friends, and made me feel guilty ...

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Hello new followers, I hope I don’t disappoint you. I want this place to feel like home, where we can escape the Thunderdome and process the world. Where we can post dog pics and recipes and book recommendations. Where we support each other as we get sober, lose weight, embark on new business opportunities, creative endeavors, relationships and travels. I want this to be your oasis of sanity and laughter in an increasingly mad world. A creative outlet where you can share your spirit with us.

We might not have any control over the news cycle—but we can control our habits and attitude. It all starts with us. And hopefully a little piece of that will start here.

Morning Phetasy Phamily! A little something of all of us animal lovers out there. Complete with photos of Handsome Jackson and Pretty Kitty Holly.

Living with Animals

Maybe it’s that old story
of rescue Lassie. Rin Tin Tin,
the two dogs and the Siamese cat
on a long walk back, looking for home.

Or it could be a fixed point in the day,
sureness of warmth, need,
a timetable, yes
a timetable.

It’s not an easy world as we all know
You turn around and you are old,
or sick, or hurting; reaching out
to whatever reaches back.

Feathers and fur talk of the now,
keep us humble in the minute,
because they must be fed,
walked, played with
in exchange for a love
that has no limits.

Immune systems may be erratic,
the very planet may wobble,
yet this day begins with a squawk,
a bark, a wet tongue.

I open my eyes; I am alive.

Lynn Martin

Dead
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