The Bucket Digest

     E ven now, she lives broken.  She can’t shake the pained look behind her pale blue-green, sympathetic eyes. A pain which lies in malice at the forefront of her severed, tired soul. What was her plan now? A year had passed and she still did not know; could not recognize nor grasp that which she had once sought. A blatantly abysmal reality.  She stared at her reflection. A tiny statured, beautiful woman with perfect pink lips and long, straight blonde hair to fit her thin but round face and button nose. A solemn ghost of a woman stared back.  V icariously, she asked, “ why were we not good enough ?”  *** It’s almost spring outside. Gentle dew sleeps on blades of soft grass while flower seeds begin their gentle sprout. Bees hum and birds discuss amongst the tall, sun-bound trees or glide with wings hugging the open sky. Spring; earth’s new beginning, and yet, within the dark walls of her small apartment, mother lingers on forever’s end.  E mpathizing, a daughter recognizes this trut

  Previously Published on Words Between Coasts.   Yes, Face Blindness is Real, and this is What It’s Like to Have It by Andrea Geones If I re-introduce myself to you after we’ve already met, please don’t be offended. When I was 5, my mom sent me to summer camp. I had to take a big, yellow school bus. On my first day, the bus driver told all of us on the way to camp, “we are Bus Two! Remember to come to Bus Two after camp! What bus are we?” “Bus Two!” We all recited in unison. At the end of the day, I went searching for Bus Two. I was a painfully shy kid and had a very hard time in social situations, so the day had been overwhelming enough and I just wanted to go home. I found the bus with a sign that said “2” in the window, so I climbed the steps and entered. Once inside, I looked around. I didn’t recognize a single person on the bus. I turned in a panic and ran back down the steps, humiliated that I had boarded the wrong bus and terrified that I was hopelessly lost. I looked around wi

  Previously published on Words Between Coasts. Change Your Life, One Fear At A Time by Andrea Geones I am still scared of that invisible shark in the pool. Except, for me, it’s more of a weird, slimy sea monster with lots of long arms and tentacles for fingers. (Maybe I read too much Harry Potter as a kid? Probably.) So, if I’m ever alone in the pool and venture out into the deep end, I get a twinge of fear and start to feel those tentacle fingers on my ankles coaxing me down, and I inevitably find myself splashing back to shore, gasping for air. Anyone else still have this problem? Kids are fascinated by their fears. I for sure was afraid of a lot--dogs, spiders, clowns (but, let’s be real; clowns are terrifying.) It’s accepted with kids because they’re small and are allowed to be afraid. Then, they grow up, and for a lot of people, their fears grow with them.  Here’s the thing: adults are not supposed to be afraid.  Many people just assume that they’re cowardly because they never “

  Originally published on Words Between Coasts. The Thin Line Between Manifestation and Lying to Yourself by Andrea Geones The laws of attraction.  Manifestation.  Attaining insurmountable success from a positive attitude.  Receptivity.  Vision boards. Meditation. All of these buzzwords into which I poured my heart and soul for so many years. The journal entries, the visualizations, the positive affirmations… Writing intentions time and time again, declaring that which I deserve, meditating, meditating, meditating… All in combination with hard work, focus, and dedication. After years - after so many years dedicated to manifestation and nothing to show for it, a giant wave of uncertainty came crashing down. I was left in the middle of a thick debris from my shattered unfulfilled manifestations turned to dust of hopelessness, one question nagging at me:  Where does the mindset of manifestation end and a lie begin? Where’s the line between positivity and lying to yourself? I’d spent so

  Originally published on Words Between Coasts. The Important Lesson I Learned From My Customer at the Ice Cream Shop by Andrea Geones I spent four years of my life working in a place that many might call a paradise, but which I called a hell-hole: an ice cream shop. When I told people where I worked, their eyes would widen in excitement, they would squeal, and then exclaim about how I must just have the best job EVER. Because what could be bad when you work at an ice cream shop? Then, they inevitably end up coming to “visit” me to see if they could finagle some free ice cream. Working at an ice cream shop is similar to working in a bar or as a hairdresser or any other customer service-based job. Your objective is to have your customers leave happier than they arrived. And since I am a person cursed with a friendly face and the compulsive need to help everyone, I’d always end up with the people in want of a therapist. This often was a burden, but sometimes a blessing. There was one ext