Lovefraud Blog

By Ox Drover I got to thinking the other day about how our strength and ability to carry an emotional load of “stress” is sort of like a long-distance walk or ride or race. People who travel in various long distance endurance races, or just for their own purposes, have to limit the amount of weight that they carry. Some people who do long distances on foot even cut the handle off their toothbrushes to reduce the load they have to carry by even a fraction of an ounce. If I had to carry a five pound sack of flour to our local post office, which is about three miles away from my farm, up and down several steep hills, I could do it without a great deal of time involved, but would probably l …

Traveling the distanceRead More

By Ox Drover I slipped into an unhealthy lifestyle after my husband died six years ago. Slowly I let things deteriorate until I had gained a significant amount of weight, about 10 pounds a year. I started to feel bad and wasn't really sure just why, but in the back of my mind I knew I had ignored the “red flags” of that needle on my scale creeping up. I had been in “denial” with, “Oh, it's just a couple of pounds.” Many times I have realized that my life has been “out of whack” just a little bit at a time, that I have been doing unhealthy things that didn't immediately impact my life dramatically, but just a “little bit at a time.” Like a bucket filling up one drop at a time, eventually …

Don’t call it a diet–call it a lifestyle changeRead More

By The Front Porch Talker My father was a sociopath. He was many other things too. To my mother—and the world—he was an alcoholic and a sex addict. In those days, back in the sixties and seventies, they didn't use the word, "sociopath." Things were more black-and-white: either you were a psychopath, like, say, Richard Speck, the man who killed those nurses back in the day; or, you were an average American. To the world, my father was an average American who, by all appearances, was normal. Well, except for the booze and sex”¦ My mother, on the other hand, while also an alcoholic, just viewed herself as a bundle-of-nerves. And, a victim of my father who, as I found out forty years later, …

Sociopaths and My Life as a World Ambassador: ‘My Mother, Myself’Read More