Coming in December

Constant Muses

a collection of poems and prose



My Hiatus

For those who are unaware, my mother passed away earlier this month, which is why I’ve not been very present here on WordPress. Aside from posting nearly daily, I read and comment just as often, if not more often. To me, reading, commenting, and reblogging moving content is just as important as posting my own work. I value my community, and greatly appreciate the love and compassion of my friends. All of you WordPress writers are a part of my daily life…a daily life that has been put on hold while I mourn my mother, manage her affairs, plan a memorial service, etc.

I will return to full capacity, though I cannot say when, exactly. Just know that you all are not forgotten by me.



Sleeping Problems

I don’t even know what the fuck I’m doing most days, unless it involves the tip-tapping of keys. I’ve forgotten how to properly mingle with breathing bodies; I prefer the company of the characters who live inside my head to the people I meet when I go out with friends, on the rare occasion I go out with friends. The friends I most want to spend time with live miles and miles and miles away from my old house in this piss-ant village in Michigan. There’s one special lady who lives across the Atlantic, and I miss her. Funny how you can miss someone you’ve never beheld. Funny ho-ho, not ha-ha.

I don’t go out and paint the town puke anymore. If it weren’t for Fibromyalgia, would I still stay home on Saturday nights? Would I get all riled up when the phone rings after 7 pm? The friends I most want to spend time with would never phone me after Jeopardy has begun, and if we did go out on the weekend, they’d make sure I was home and in bed by nine o’clock. When I stay up until 5 am, it’s because I’m writing. Or binge watching Stranger Things, or True Blood.

My sister got me hooked on True Blood; Tara let me borrow her DVDs. She also has the complete set of Pretty Little Liars, but no thanks—I do have standards. I finished Stranger Things 2 this afternoon. Holy balls, what a terrific season! I do hope there is a third. It really boils my piss that Jim won’t watch Stranger Things. He also dismisses my attempts to get him to watch Black Mirror. Both shows are themes he is interested in, but for some reason, my fucking husband will not cooperate with me.

Jim works ten hours a day, and Nicole has been out on her own for over a year. I do miss my girl a lot, but being alone most of the day has its perks. For the majority of the day, I live alone. I like being alone. I don’t have to listen to the television screaming at me; I can play my music as loud as I want; I can read a book without someone interrupting me; and I can just sit quietly with my thoughts without someone asking me if I’m okay.

I like to sit in silence, preferably with Melvin in my lap. The sound of his purring is relaxing—hypnotizing. My mind wanders free, and opens up to brand new thoughts. Sitting with my kitty is my meditation. Some people in my life laugh about my relationship with Melvin. They think I’m being funny, or that I’m fucking nuts. Well, nuts to them, I say. I feel sorry for people who don’t know the special relationship between human and animal companion. For real, when my baby boy jumps into bed with me, and falls asleep on my chest, I’m overcome with the most relaxing sensation. My Melvin, he is the best therapy I could ever receive.

I’m tired enough to sleep now.


Fibromyalgia: You Don’t Own Me

Despite the pain I live with every day, I often do forget that I’m not twenty anymore–until I hand down to my girl some vintage band tees too small for me now. Goodbye Fleetwood Mac tank top, and Rolling Stones long sleeved t-shirt. See you around, Abbey Road with the small hole in the armpit. Rick Springfield, you’re next, dude. And poor Peter Frampton, my beloved…I promise you’ll live on in the hands of Nicole. She’ll treat you right. I just can’t stretch you across my boobs anymore. Okay, so my boobs aren’t the real problem. I’ll be thirty-nine in December, and I’m a good deal heavier everywhere than I was twenty years ago.

Thank you, Fibromyalgia—you really do cramp my style, and by that I mean you’ve made me fat. My bell bottom jeans just don’t fit right anymore, and I wonder who I am when I go out in yoga pants and sweatshirts. You’ve taken my identity and my will to give a fuck. I throw my hair up in Pebbles buns now, and wear my glasses every day. I wear slip on shoes, for fuck’s sake. Granted, my shoes are colorful and cute as fuck, and I rock a messy bun, especially when I’m wearing glasses. I refuse to allow you to take away my good humor. You take away my concentration; sleep; self-esteem; sanity; appetite; motivation; and MY T-SHIRTS, among loads of other things…you can’t have my goddamned humor, too.

I thank the Universe for Nicole. My girl reminds me who I am better than anyone. I had a lovely day with her yesterday, full of laughs and stimulating conversation. So there’s another thing Fibromyalgia and my other health issues cannot take away from me—my daughter, and our beautiful relationship.

I know I’ve posted this song a million times before, but I’m posting it again. This is the song that I would play when Nicole was a baby—when she’d wake up crying in the night. I’d hold against my chest, and dance her back to sleep. My special babe. I’d be nothing good without her.

About Me–page not found


I have written and published eleventy “About Me” pages, only to go back and hit the trash a day later because each one plagued me at night; I’d wake up at bastard o’clock in the morning wondering, Am I really a cunt? All of my blasted attempts to write up a proper biography always seem to come out reading fucking cunty.

giphy-downsized (3)

I’ve taken the Funny Lady biography for a spin or twelve. Oh, look at me! I’m a proper Kristen Wiig. More like Kristen Stewart, bitch—which leads to the I’m Awkward and Don’t Know If Anyone Really Likes Me biography. I’ve also written up the Understated Writer biography. I’m a regular Hemmingway over here. That’s a goddamned lie. My favorite was the A&E biography. Kindra was born into one of the most fuckest-uppest families in Michigan, but she never let her parents’ inability to get their shit together drag her down.


There are a few “About Me” pages on WordPress I’ve read that are poignant, genuine, and absolutely interesting. Perhaps I could employ one of these beautiful people to write my biography for me. Or visit the elementary school and get a kindergartner to do it. I actually like the latter idea better. My biography would read something like:

My name is Kindra. I wrote a book, and now I’m writing another one. I like to write for my blog on WordPress. I like my friends on WordPress. My favorite color is green. But not neon green. I don’t like neon colors. I have Fibromyalgia. Fibromyalgia sucks donkey dick. Mean people suck donkey dicks, too. I like sticking up for people who are being hurt. I make the best homemade pizza in the galaxy. I love my husband. I love my daughter. I love my cat, Melvin. I love my dad, and my mom, and my sister. My sister is having a baby girl later this month. I love babies. I visited England once, and I want to visit again. I also want to go to Scotland and see my kindred spirit, Allane. My dream car is a 1970 AMC Javelin, because unicorns aren’t real, and unicorns are not cars.

The end.

Melvin Cornelius, You’ll Be the Death of Me


Melvin Cornelius likes when I sing to him. Today, Jim chuckled, and shook his head when I sang You Are So Beautiful to my baby boy.

I said, “You’re lucky I don’t put Melvie in clothes, put him to bed in a crib, and sit him in a highchair at meal times.”

To which Jim replied, “I’m lucky??? You’re lucky. Because I’d have to put you in a home, where you’d be hand fed by nurses. In a highchair. And straitjacket.”

I don’t know where my husband comes up with these ridiculous scenarios.

Once, I said to Nicole (when she still lived at home with us), “Wouldn’t it be creepy as fuck if one day we were minding our own business, and Melvin walked into the room on his hind legs and starting talking to us? I’ll bet he walks around in the middle of the night like a person, while we’re all asleep. He probably walks upright into your bedroom, hops up onto your bed to sleep with you, and you don’t even know it.”

The idea frightened her for some reason. She slept with her bedroom door closed for weeks. Melvin would scratch at her door, and I’d hear, “No, Melvin! Go away!”

There’s nothing diabolical about Melvin. Look at that face!


He’s my special guy, yes he is. 

I had a nightmare recently. It was a zombie apocalypse, and I was trying to save Melvie from being caught and eaten. For some reason, Dream Kindra thought that hiding him in a cupboard was the best solution. He kept running away! And I kept putting him back in that goddamned cupboard. Seriously, I need to get my shit together. I need a solid plan. Without one, I’ll be the first to go, and it will be because of my cat. Not even (my secret boyfriend) Norman Reedus would be able to save me and Melvin.

I’m a lost fucking cause, I swear.






Feeling Some Type of Way


Nicole and I are on our way to see Fleetwood Mac in this photo, taken in 2015.

At 3:33 pm, on the third day of October, it is 82 degrees where I live in Michigan. The house is cool inside, too cool, so I’ve opened a window for balance–just one. The sun is a golden god today, and the trees are waving happy branches in the breeze–lots of them have managed to hold onto their spring green color. From where I’m sat at my desk in the living room, looking into the backyard, I might easily be fooled into thinking it was June.

I am peaceful this afternoon, listening to the clacking of keys as my fingers deliver my thoughts. Melvin is asleep in the window just inches away from me, and he keeps making these fat kitty errrmm sounds that melt my heart. I want to pick him up and rock him like the baby he is, but the poor guy hasn’t been feeling well, so it’s best I let him be; the sweet thing, I wonder what he dreams about, all curled up and cozy.

I’m going to prepare a chicken stew with dumplings tonight for dinner. I feel good enough to cook, so I want something special. I only wish Nicole still lived at home so I could feed her, too. Oh, my girl. I miss the smell of her shampoo permeating after her nightly shower. I miss going to bed at night, and seeing the soft light of her bedroom reaching just beyond the edge of the closed door. I miss waking up to the sound of her tea kettle. She and Isaiah have just moved into their first house, about ten miles out of the village. I still see Nicole several times a week, and we text, or speak on the phone every day.

I am peaceful this afternoon, but I really feel like I need a hug.






Treasure Chest Award (created by Braeden Michaels)

Braeden created a new award to show appreciation for the writers of WordPress. It’s a simple, genuine acknowledgment that speaks for itself. The only thing you have to do when presenting the Treasure Chest to a fellow blogger is write about why you love their blog. The nominee will then pass the Treasure Chest along–so on, and so forth.

Treasuring Bittersweet Lane is one of my favorite blogs to read. Braeden is an honest, multi-faceted writer, and he has a kind spirit. I’m thankful for his friendship, and the tremendous encouragement he offers me. I’m also thankful for his writing, as his work is something I look forward to reading every day. For this reason I’m going to nominate Braeden for his own award, AND pass the Treasure Chest along to Christine E. Ray at Brave and Reckless.

I love Brave and Reckless because Christine writes about the human condition with fierce courage. She is open about her truths, even when she is feeling vulnerable. Her words are uplifting, tragic, romantic, horrific, and stunningly beautiful. Christine inspires me to be my best self. I offer this award with great gratitude.


A Random Thought About God

God asked a man to kill his own son on an altar. Yeah, yeah, I know the outcome. God was so fucking happy to see that Abraham was obedient that he stopped the sacrifice before Isaac’s blood was shed. And Abraham was like, “Thank you, Lord. I will serve you more fervently now, because you are good. Thanks for sparing my son.”

Excuse me??? I’m sorry not sorry that I’m about to offend: If God said, “Kindra, this is Me speaking. I want you to take Nicole up the mountain, tie her down, and cut off her fucking beautiful head.” I’d be like, “Send me straight to hell, motherfucker. And fuck you for asking me to do such a thing, you needy, sadistic bitch.”

I dare any parent to tell me they wouldn’t do what I would do. Envision your child, defenseless against you. Do it…

For real. This is the shit people defend with their lives. Abraham is the sort of man we should admire–because of his devotion. Devotion to what?





My Fibromyalgia Check-list: Legit Reasons Why I’m a Surly Bitch


Fibromyalgia, insidious onset (yeah fucking right). Symptoms include:

  • Fatigue, worsened by physical exertion or stress (CHECK)
  • Activity level decreased to less than 50% of pre-illness activity level (CHECK)
  • Recurrent flu-like illness (CHECK)
  • Sore throat (CHECK)
  • Hoarseness (CHECK)
  • Tender or swollen lymph nodes (glands), especially in neck & underarms (CHECK)
  • Shortness of breath with little or no exertion (CHECK)
  • Frequent sighing (CHECK)
  • Tremor or trembling (CHECK)
  • Severe nasal allergies (new or worsened) (CHECK)
  • Cough (CHECK)
  • Night sweats (CHECK)
  • Low-grade fevers (CHECK)
  • Feeling cold often (CHECK)
  • Feeling hot often (CHECK)
  • Cold extremities (hands and feet) (CHECK)
  • Low body temperature (below 97.6)
  • Low blood pressure (below 110/70)
  • Heart palpitations
  • Dryness of eyes and/or mouth (CHECK)
  • Increased thirst (CHECK)
  • Symptoms worsened by temperature changes (CHECK)
  • Symptoms worsened by air travel
  • Symptoms worsened by stress (THAT’S A BIG 10-4)
  • Headache (CHECK–MIGRAINE)
  • Tender points or trigger points (DON’T FUCKING TOUCH ME)
  • Muscle pain (CHECK)
  • Muscle twitching (CHECK)
  • Muscle weakness (CHECK)
  • Severe weakness of an arm or leg (CHECK)
  • Full or partial paralysis of an arm or leg
  • Joint pain (CHECK)
  • TMJ syndrome (MAYBE)
  • Chest pain (CHECK)
  • Eye pain (CHECK)
  • Changes in visual acuity (frequent changes in ability to see well)
  • Difficulty with accommodation (switching focus from one thing to another)
  • Blind spots in vision
  • Sensitivities to medications (unable to tolerate a “normal” dosage) (UMM, DUH)
  • Sensitivities to odors (e.g., cleaning products, exhaust fumes, colognes, hair sprays) (YES, YOU FUCKING STINK)
  • Sensitivities to foods (CHECK)
  • Alcohol intolerance (THANK FUCK, NO)
  • Alteration of taste, smell, and/or hearing
  • Frequent urination (CHECK)
  • Painful urination or bladder pain (CHECK)
  • Prostate pain
  • Impotence
  • Endometriosis
  • Worsening of premenstrual syndrome (PMS)
  • Decreased libido (sex drive) (UNFORTUNATELY)
  • Stomach ache; abdominal cramps (CHECK)
  • Nausea (CHECK)
  • Vomiting (YEP)
  • Esophageal reflux (heartburn) (CHECK)
  • Frequent diarrhea (THANKS, IBS)
  • Frequent constipation (AGAIN, THANKS, IBS)
  • Bloating; intestinal gas (BEANO DOESN’T HELP)
  • Decreased appetite (I WISH)
  • Increased appetite (LE SIGH…)
  • Food cravings (THAT’S FUCKING NORMAL, DUDE)
  • Weight gain (UGH)
  • Weight loss
  • Lightheadedness; feeling”spaced out” (CHECK)
  • Inability to think clearly (“brain fog”) (THAT’S CALLED COGNITIVE IMPAIRMENT. CHECK)
  • Seizures
  • Seizure-like episodes
  • Syncope (fainting) or blackouts
  • Sensation that you might faint
  • Vertigo or dizziness (CHECK)
  • Numbness or tingling sensations (CHECK)
  • Tinnitus (ringing in one or both ears) (CHECK)
  • Photophobia (sensitivity to light) (DARKNESS IS MY FRIEND)
  • Noise intolerance (SHUT THE FUCK UP)
  • Feeling spatially disoriented (CHECK)
  • Dysequilibrium (balance difficulty) (CHECK)
  • Staggering gait (clumsy walking; bumping into things) (CHECK)
  • Dropping things frequently (CHECK)
  • Difficulty judging distances (e.g. when driving; placing objects on surfaces) (CHECK)
  • “Not quite seeing” what you are looking at
  • Hypersomnia (excessive sleeping) (CHECK)
  • Sleep disturbance: unrefreshing or non-restorative sleep (CHECK)
  • Sleep disturbance: difficulty falling asleep (CHECK)
  • Sleep disturbance: difficulty staying asleep (frequent awakenings) (CHECK)
  • Sleep disturbance: vivid or disturbing dreams or nightmares (CHECK)
  • Altered sleep/wake schedule (alertness/energy best late at night) (CHECK)
  • Difficulty with simple calculations (e.g., balancing checkbook) (I CAN’T MATH)
  • Word-finding difficulty
  • Saying the wrong word (CHECK)
  • Difficulty expressing ideas in words (CHECK)
  • Difficulty moving your mouth to speak
  • Slowed speech
  • Stuttering; stammering
  • Impaired ability to concentrate (CHECK)
  • Easily distracted during a task
  • Difficulty paying attention
  • Difficulty following a conversation when background noise is present (CHECK)
  • Losing your train of thought in the middle of a sentence (WHAT?)
  • Difficulty putting tasks or things in proper sequence
  • Losing track in the middle of a task (remembering what to do next) (DAMN IT!)
  • Difficulty with short-term memory (DID I EAT BREAKFAST?)
  • Difficulty with long-term memory
  • Forgetting how to do routine things
  • Difficulty understanding what you read
  • Switching left and right
  • Transposition (reversal) of numbers, words and/or letters when you speak
  • Transposition (reversal) of numbers, words and/or letters when you write
  • Difficulty remembering names of objects (CHECK)
  • Difficulty remembering names of people (CHECK)
  • Difficulty recognizing faces
  • Poor judgment
  • Difficulty making decision (CHECK)
  • Difficulty following simple written instructions
  • Difficulty following complicated written instructions (CHECK)
  • Difficulty following simple oral (spoken) instructions
  • Difficulty following complicated oral (spoken) instructions (CHECK)
  • Difficulty integrating information (putting ideas together to form a complete picture or concept)
  • Difficulty following directions while driving
  • Becoming lost in familiar locations when driving
  • Feeling too disoriented to drive (CHECK)
  • Depressed mood (CHECK)
  • Suicidal thoughts (CHECK)
  • Suicide attempt(s)
  • Feeling worthless (CHECK)
  • Frequent crying (CHECK)
  • Feeling helpless and/or hopeless (CHECK)
  • Inability to enjoy previously enjoyed activities (CHECK)
  • Increased appetite (CHECK)
  • Decreased appetite
  • Anxiety or fear with no obvious cause (CHECK)
  • Panic attacks (CHECK)
  • Irritability; overreaction (FUUUUCK!)
  • Rage attacks: anger outbursts with little or no cause (LOOK THE FUCK OUT)
  • Abrupt, unpredictable mood swings (CHECK)
  • Phobias (irrational fears) (CHECK)
  • Personality changes (CHECK)
  • Rashes or sores (CHECK)
  • Eczema or psoriasis
  • Aphthous ulcers (canker sores)
  • Dental problems
  • Periodontal (gum) disease