Category Archives: Stories

Thursday Thoughts: Ditch the Haters

Until recently, I’ve tolerated meanness. Unkind people. People who put others down.

More often than I’d like to admit, I’ve had people in my life that always seem to put me down.

The thing about these people? These haters? I’ve realized they do the same things over and over again. I’ve learned the warning signs. Red flags. Bad behaviors that haters tend to do, actions that are easy to minimize or excuse.

  • Haters consistently speak badly about others. They consistently judge, belittle, and put others down. They celebrate pain of people they do not like. A hard lesson that’s taken me years to learn: if they talk badly about others and revel in other’s pain, they’re doing it to you too. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but they will eventually talk badly about you. Guaranteed.

  • Haters tend to have little respect for your feelings, but demand respect for their feelings. If the hater is upset or having a problem, they expect you to give them your attention and sympathy. Only occasionally will they have time or interest in yours problems.

  • Haters often look for what others can do for them. If they’re needs aren’t met, they will punish you (with words, actions, etc) for not doing what they want. It’s not a good place to be. I always struggle with this because I feel like I am a bad person for not doing what they want. Here’s the thing about that: people who love you don’t make you feel bad for not doing what they want. They accept and love you for who you are, not who they want you to be.

  • Haters have a bad temper. Haters often blame their temper on alcohol, or those around them, and they snap quickly and take out their anger on everyone around them.

  • When you call Haters out for their behavior, they label you “sensitive”. When anyone calls you “sensitive” for expressing your feelings, it is a cowardly way for them to blame others for their bad behavior.

Previously, I was willing to forgive meanness and quick to minimize bad behaviors. I want to see the best in others, and I look for the good and to forget the bad.

But, here’s the thing: whenever I’ve been mistreated by a person and allowed them to stay in my life? They do it again. They mistreat me again. Always. I’ve made this mistake so many times it’s embarrassing. It’s the definition of insanity; doing the same thing again and again and expecting different results.

I’m not doing the same thing anymore.

I’m following Nicole Antoinette’s advice to Change Your Story, Change Your Life. My Story was I saw the good in others often at the expense of myself.


A couple of Fridays ago, my friends and I were out and met a guy. This guy? Super cute. Tall. Successful. Friendly. Interesting. Blonde. (Side note: Blonde guys are totally my type, but I’ve yet to had a good experience dating one). All the things I’m looking for. Twenty minutes after we met, he insulted his friend’s girlfriend. The insult was out of nowhere, and really uncalled for. Unsurprisingly, I gave him the benefit of the doubt, but proceeded with caution. A few hours and many drinks later he was insulting others again – this time he was insulting my friends.

In the context of the conversation, you could spin his insults as jokes, but in reality, he was unkind. Having difficulty letting go of my old ways, I gave him my number.

The next day when he texted and asked for a date, I decided to Change My Story, Change My Life: I told him no and I told him why.

Crazily enough, it was a great conversation. I told him I enjoyed meeting him, but I didn’t like the way he treated my friends.

He apologized and said he really didn’t mean his insults. He said that he is a really nice guy, but he “has an edge”.

And here’s the kicker, guys. Normally, I would forgive, move on, and cross my fingers it would never happen again.

But it’s time to Change My Story, Change My Life.

I don’t need anyone – man or woman – with “an edge” in my life.

How does this story end? I’ll never see him again.

I can’t help think about what Maya Angelou has famously said,

“The first time someone shows you who they are, believe them.”

You know what? I believed him. The first time.



Filed under Dating, Self, Stories, Things I've learned

white trucks, cleaning out closets, and consequences to everything

White pick-up trucks have a visceral affect on me.

White, Ford Ranger, pick-up trucks, specifically.

Previously, the affect was joy-filling excitement.

Currently, the affect is gut-wrenching painful.

The white truck knocks that box of sorrow off the shelf I so neatly tucked away a few weeks ago and throws its wide open, spilling it’s contents everywhere.

I stand there looking at the contents of the box, saying, “You again? Really!?”

But that’s the way it goes I guess. That’s the thing about things. Sometimes when you think you’re over something, (or maybe desperately trying to be over it) certain triggers pull you right back and make you dealwithitnow.

Consequently, this is what I will do.


This past weekend, Tahn and I traveled home to the Bay Area to see Buddy and my newest love, Lily (my brand new niece. And no, Lily’s not her real name).

On this trip home, I decided to clean out the closet of the my previous bedroom at my Dad’s house. The closet that hadn’t been touched close to the 10 years since I lived there.

Hello dust.

Hello old memories.

Hello junk.

Hello whydidIeverkeepthis?

It was overall good, cathartic and slightly odd. I threw away/gave away/ recycled most of everything save a few boxes of photos and cards from my grandma. And of course, a Justin Timberlake doll.

Old habits.


During our stay home, Tahn happily found herself at her grandpa’s. Like old times, he had her water bowl and bed out for her to feel right at home.

Over the weekend, my dad would occasionally leave Tahn alone.

Yesterday, after I returned home, my dad called to tell me a story.

My dad is in the process of putting new doors on his kitchen cabinets. Therefor, his cabinets and all such contents are exposed and open.

On Tuesday, he found a Brillo pad (which is usually kept under the kitchen sink) in the cabinet under the stove.

When he told me this story, he indicated this was a sign of protest by Tahn; she did not appreciate being left alone.

My response?

There are always consequences for your behavior.



What are your current triggers? (Positive or Negative)

Do you have any plans for Spring Cleaning?


Filed under Blogging, Crazy Dog Lady, Life, Stories, Tahnee, Travel, Vacation

Tales of Tahn: Hot Dog, Hurt Paws

When I woke up this morning at 3:30am to get ready for work, I was greeted by my happy, silly, and slightly tired dog. I sluggishly got ready for work, knowing I’d be off early and could come home and rest. Then I remembered how my roommate and I agreed that we were going to take our dogs for a hike this afternoon. We’ve been busy in the past few weeks and they both haven’t been walked enough.

After getting home from work I put on shorts, laced up my shoes and drove the four of us to a nearby trail. It was in the 80’s with a light breeze, beautiful outside. We happily started our hike down a very steep hill, firmly reminding the dogs not to pull us down the hill. We chatted of the guys we were seeing, talking a mile a minute while the dogs pranced around with joy.

I didn’t know that less then 40 minutes later I would be sprinting back up the hill by myself to get water from the car.

I didn’t know that I would have a dog who was overheating and getting worse by the second.

I didn’t know that once I got the water, got back to the dog just as fast as my legs could carry me just to find my roommate, with a look of horror on her face.

“She started crying a little bit ago” she said.

I did know that crying was a very, very bad sign. She only cries when she’s really sick.

I didn’t know that I would beckon her into a nearby brush just to watch her collapse and bury her head in the weeds.

I sat next to her, helpless. I found myself in a situation we all have to face someday; realizing she might die right here, right now.

I didn’t know what to do.

I decided to send my roommate home. I gave her the keys to my car.

“Get more water.” I said. “We’ll wait until she can cool off enough to walk.”

I started going through the symptoms of heat stress: vomiting, refusal of water, severe panting. Her paws seemed to be hurting her too – it seemed they were hurt from the ground or the rocks.

I found myself pouring the little water we had left into the cap and giving her little cap fulls at a time.

I watched her painfully lift her head from the brush to grab a drink – then bury it down again.

I knew two things for sure: I had no way of getting her up the two huge hills that separated us from my car. I knew she wasn’t going to walk at all. One of two things was going to happen. Either we’d wait until she cooled off and regained her strength, or she would overheat on the trail and I’d watch her die.

Just as my roommate was getting ready to leave, she saw a young family approaching us with their dog. She told them about our situation, and asked if they knew of anyway to get a car on the trail.

The man looked at me, sitting in the bushes with my dog.

His wife turned to him, “you can carry her, right?

I sat there shocked before I said, “oh, no. I can’t let you do that. She’s 70lbs.”

Sure I can.” He said. “No problem.”

I watched him immediately walk over to my dog.

His only was concern was if she would be friendly to a strange man.

I told him her name, and despite my best efforts I couldn’t say anymore.

I saw this man pick my dog up and cradle her over his shoulder. He didn’t complain about her weight; all he said was how she was such a great dog.

I watched this man carry my baby a half a mile up two huge hills. He took two short breaks and pet and loved my dog the entire time.

I found myself supporting her shoulders as it got really steep.

At the top of the hill, I watched him carry her past the summit to the water fountain. There I saw his son filling up the water fountain with fresh water for my dog.

I watched her cool off quickly and her spirits immediately lift. I stood there for a few moments before I realized I didn’t even know this man’s name – the man who could have just saved my dog’s life.

I had enough sense to ask his wife for their name and address to send him a thank-you note.

I thanked them and they left.

I gathered my sick dog into my car and brought her home. It took her a long time to get from the car to my apartment.

After a call to the vet, it seems her heat stress was fading and he thought she would be okay. His only concern was that she injured her paws and he wanted to see how she did in the morning.


About halfway into our walk I noticed Tahn was getting hot and tired. She’s a black dog, and it was a warm day. I was worried the ground was too hot for her paws, but when I touched it with my fingers, I felt it was fine. Apparently it was not. My roommate’s dog also seemed to have hurt paws and was very hot too – but, unlike Tahn, she didn’t lay down and refuse to walk. Tahn went from needing a little break to refusing to walk very quickly. I knew I needed to act fast, because heat stroke happens fast and once a dog (or human) has heat stroke, they need immediate medical attention. Knowing we were a good half-mile in, I knew that was not an option. My priority was to keep her cool. I didn’t realize at first that her paws were hurting her too.

The man and his family also had a dog – a dog who walked further on the same trail as Tahn and also had a thick coat. He seemed fine and his paws weren’t burnt. I really don’t know what happened.

I do know one thing for sure : that man – Bobby – could have very well saved my dog’s life. It’s possible she would have not gotten heat stroke but her paws are injured enough that she probably couldn’t have walked the hill for few hours. We would probably still be in the bush.

I don’t really know what else to say but this: during this whole ordeal this afternoon I couldn’t stop thinking about how last night I got up to use the restroom and found Tahnee laying on the ground next to my bed, on the side I was laying on. She wasn’t laying on her plush bed a few feet away. Instead, she was laying as close as she could to the bed as possible; her paws under the frame. I remember looking down at her and thinking, “Wow, this dog loves me.”

Maya and Tahn, right before Tahn started refusing to walk.

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Filed under Crazy Dog Lady, Stories, Tahnee