Bagworm Moth Caterpillar

I spotted this Bagworm Moth Caterpillar on the dock at work. These unusual insects create miniature log cabins to dwell in. 

Glamour Shot

These two will never appreciate the glamour shots lavished upon them.

Line of Fire

The fall leaves accentuated by the setting sun. 

Fight or Flight

For years my relationships were defined by fighting. At first it would be fighting from a place of love. Fighting for each other, fighting to be together, fighting against the odds. I believed deeply in fighting for the one you loved.

Inevitably it would turn into real fighting. Screaming, yelling, hitting. I have been in some extremely contentious battles. I had a hard time backing down because I always thought I was fighting for the right reason. I was fighting for “us”.

I remember reading somewhere that women raise their voice when they feel they are not being heard while men raise their voice when they feel they are not being obeyed. That stuck with me. I have never been terribly obedient. I was always strong-willed and taught to be an independent thinker. That was something that all my ex’s all loved about me - until they didn’t. 

I’ve often entered relationships wondering how long it would take for my best traits to suddenly become the worst things about me. 

Years ago I was having a heated argument with an ex when he confessed he couldn’t fight anymore. He had nothing left to give. It was one of the most nauseatingly heartbreaking moments of my life. I could have fought forever to make it work because I loved him, but he was already out the door. To this day that scene plays out in my head every time I hear the phrase “not everybody has a heart like you do”. 

I never fought to win as much as I fought to be heard, but I wasn’t innocent. I can kick and scream with the best of them.

Another ex would always try to control me and tell me who I could and couldn’t spend time with. It got worse when he drank. One time he threw a plate at my head and it shattered on the wall behind me. He was over a foot taller than me and very muscular, but in my mixture of rage and self defense I left marks on him. He wouldn’t calm down and I wouldn’t back down. He was in my home destroying my sense of security. I came to grips with anger that was frightening but it was my anger just as much as his. I vowed never to be with anyone who made me feel like I had to defend myself that ferociously ever again. 

Passion with an absence of love rots into aggression. 

I grew sick of fighting for people who didn’t love me. Hell, everything was a fight; I was working two jobs most of my 20’s and 30’s and still barely had enough money to survive. Anytime I got sick I still had to take care of myself and my pets. When you have to work so hard just to make it day-by-day, relationships struggles become especially exhausting. 

And things still took a turn for the worse. I was grabbed by a married co-worker, lusted after by men who only wanted to use me, stalked by a customer, and lost two of my closest male friends; one in a fight where he said something that destroyed me, the other just stopped communicating.

I used to pride myself on being a good judge of character, but the ones who are the closest will tear you down the fastest. 

It was then when fight turned into flight. People always say “let your light shine bright” but a bright light often attracts creatures that like to hide in the dark. “Give your love away - that is the key to happiness”. But I didn’t want to give anymore. I didn’t want to take either. I became withdrawn and isolated. I endured and perpetuated a thousand cat lady jokes. 

Dating had turned into a warped game of roulette - who is going to assault me and who is just going to disappear? I can hardly remember a time when someone laid their hands on me with anything beyond the spirit of aggression or greed. 

Maybe I wasn’t pretty enough or skinny enough to attract a good partner, but I was too smart and too defiant to settle for the bullshit I experienced.

I felt forced to sink into solitude. I didn’t have anyone to fight. I didn’t have anyone to run from. There was certainly peace in being alone. 

But the truth is that I didn’t want to stay isolated. I just didn’t know how to fix it. I still don’t. Someone asked me out and I froze. Torn between wanting to try and absolute terror. I used to be a good judge of character. Now I don’t know if I could trust myself to make the right decision anymore. Would I even recognize someone who came with love if they were standing right in front of me? 

What happens when you don’t have a reason to fight? What happens when you know flight is no longer the answer? You stand there motionless and vulnerable just like a target. A martyr unto yourself and everything you used to believe in. You don’t know what anyone else could possibly see in you besides easy shooting practice. 

Sunken Gardens