The Comedy Routine

October 27, 2025 ~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

Today’s writing prompt is simply to describe a family member. I choose Angela.

The first conversation I had with Angela was when I was 16. I told her that I thought she should join the space program. That they needed space doctors. She said, “but Leslie… I already am a space doctor. I’m a room-a-tologist.”

It killed, because I was impressed that she was a doctor in a specialty that interested me… More of a detective than anything else, and conferences in our office were VERY VERY MUCH like you see on House. And she was a rheumatologist, so sometimes, it was indeed lupus. Beat that with a stick.

We made fast friends because she was the kind of acid funny I like.

One story involving this period of my life, I thought had been forgotten. I was wrong.

We were singing…… “Let us break bread together, on our knees….. Let us break bread together on our knees… When I fall on my FACE….. We both sang the wrong word at the wrong time and cracked up. It was in the middle of the service because of course it was, and my mother was directing the choir. If looks could kill, we both would have been dead and buried.

Lots of funny things happened to her as a doctor, so she put together a comedy routine in her Palm Pilot and kept adding to it. However, she never got to give it. It’s my hope to tell you these stories for posterity and make you laugh with stories that have entertained our family for 30 years. It really loses something without the hand motions, but 6… 7.

Angela was given her beeper on her first day at the hospital. She’s all shiny and new, thinks she’s got it. Gets a page and goes into the room where a woman is seizing all over the place. Angela looks at the nurse like a deer in headlights. Nurse says, “Doctor, would you like to push some valium?” Angela raises her finger and says, “let’s.” Her first medical order as a doctor was, “let’s.” She was stunned by her own brilliance and learned the value of experienced nurses.

If my father reads this, he will remind me it was thorazine or something. I don’t remember the drug, I just remember how hard I laughed when she told it, and I will miss that she’ll never tell it again. However, I do a killer impression of her like all kids can imitate their parents. I can remind myself of her anytime I want. These stories keep her alive.

Guy comes into the ER saying that he thinks his foot is broken. Angela tells him that he cannot possibly have a broken foot because he walked in on it. Comes back after seeing the X-ray and says, “oh my God I am so sorry. Your foot is broken in like 26 places.”

Woman comes in saying that she thinks that she has swallowed a crab claw. She puts on her serious face and says how unlikely that is, because what actually happens is that when the crab claw is going down, it scratches the inside of your esophagus and you still feel it in there when it’s not. It’s called “foreign body sensation.”

The crab claw in this woman’s esophagus made her say unprintable things.

Another time, she didn’t use a mirror before she went into a patient’s room, smearing what she thought was clear chapstick all over her lips. She goes into the room and the family is all looking at her like she is the most interesting woman in the world. They can’t take their eyes off her. It’s just strange…….. Then she walks out of the patient room and sees herself in a mirror. She’s got red lipstick from her nose to her chin.

Those are just a few of the stories I remember from when I actually worked for her, and I miss that time in my life. When Angela was in private practice, I could work under her without getting certified. When she sold to Methodist, they required certifications I didn’t have. I think all the time about what my life would have looked like if I’d done that work, but I think getting me as far away from HIPPAA as possible is best for my blog.

I did enjoy my white coat and stethoscope days, though. Work started early, but we had two hours for lunch. Sometimes this was fast and furious, because we were going to the hospital to round on patients. Some days, though, we had time to come home and get in the pool before we went back, and those days were just golden.

I joke that I went to medical school in the back of a Lexus, and there is more truth to it than laughs. I learned a great deal about patient care, drug interactions, what needs cutting and what doesn’t, etc. And just like a medical student, there was no concrete entry point. I just started overhearing the fire hose of rapid-fire information coming at Angela and one day, I could hang.

When I met Angela, I met a different idea of what a woman could be, particularly a straight woman. I needed that in my life because my relationship with my mother was complicated, as complicated as the one with the woman who emotionally abused me for so many years. She was the one that showed me there were no gender roles, that women could be breadwinners and heads of household. She could do dinner and dancing or sitting in a blind for three days without showering just to get a photo of a bird.

In fact, this leads to another funny patient story. My stepmother told her patient and their husband that she’d gone up to Vancouver to shoot snowy owls. She talked for several minutes about shooting these endangered birds, so the patient asked how you cook them. Angela laughed so hard she nearly fell on the floor before explaining she was a nature photographer.

These are all the funny things I’d like to remember about Angela, because our relationship was unique. She was one of the people that turned my world from black and white into color, and I’ll never forget it. We all have those moments as teens when our brains switch on and those adults who make it happen.

It Varies As I Age

October 26, 2025 ~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

Daily writing prompt

What is your favorite form of physical exercise?

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I have running shoes, but I doubt I would run unless I was chased. Mostly, I like to walk on the treadmill with trash TV playing at the gym. I’ve been falling off of this a little, so I need to get back into it. I watch Jennifer Hudson or Maury Povitch, trying not to focus on the pain in my calves, but the numbers on the screen. I am burning calories!

My balance is severely off because I have cerebral palsy. Therefore, I have to have exercise that helps me without agitating it. I have tried different machines, such as the elliptical and the stairs. I just don’t have as much luck feeling safe on them.

I would probably do well with a stationery bike, but I need help using the ones at the gym. They are very fancy and look like I would fall off before I even got on. They have huge screens so you can watch something or read, and I’m sure are a wonderful addition to your workout if you can figure out how to use them.

When I go to the gym, I appreciate all the walking because I really can exercise while doing something else. If I’ve forgotten my headphones, I can still doomscroll on my phone for half an hour. I do have to be careful using my phone and walking at the same time, but it’s better than walking and doom scrolling in traffic.

I felt like getting out a little bit, so I took myself for coffee. When I came back, I realized how little I have to say about exercise because I’m so bad about putting it off. I’m not the person you want in charge of your life if working out is a big part. I have it on the periphery, where it is fighting for more airtime with driving.

Now, I can drive to the gym. That makes things a lot better, because I can keep a gym bag in my trunk. In fact, that’s a good project for today- go through and find all the gym clothes in the house, then pack them for the back of the car. I also have some flip flops and a set of toiletries for the shower. I have bought all the accessories one needs to be a gym rat, I just have not put the whole package together. I did that thing where when I first got my membership I absolutely burned myself up working out, lost some weight, then hurt so bad I couldn’t move.

This time, it needs to be a more measured approach.

I wish I had some workout buddies, but the friends I have that go to my gym prefer to work out alone. Squad and Rook, my boys from group, live in the neighborhood, but we don’t run into each other except on Thursdays. It’s time to look for a meetup group or something that involves working out, because I know I would go more often if I had an appointment.

In the meantime, I will be making myself an appointment. I don’t feel good today, so it might not be this afternoon. But Monday or Tuesday when I’m feeling better, I will start getting it together. The problem right now is that when I become overheated, my coughing gets worse. So, if I go to the gym today feeling healthy, I will not be feeling so healthy about 15 minutes in. I cough so hard I throw up, and that’s always attractive in public.

I am taking Tessalon pearls for it, but they cannot defeat me trying to exercise.

I am looking forward to getting back into the swing of things, because I do enjoy being at the gym. I haven’t learned to use a quarter of the machines and I know I can get a personal trainer to explain them to me. I can picture myself becoming a total gym rat because the endorphins help my brain lift itself out of depression. Nothing feels as good as when a workout is over, and your troubles feel a million miles away.

I remember how that feels from the last time I was going to the gym regularly, and it’s an impetus to get back on board.

The only thing I’m really missing is having a pool. My gym does not have one, so I will have to wait until Memorial Day for the pool to open at my complex. My original form of exercise was swimming, as I started lessons at six months old. My doctor thought it would be therapeutic for my legs, which were not functioning properly at the time. It worked, and I can walk now……. But I will never tell you that I’m any good at it.

As Much As It Costs

October 25, 2025October 25, 2025 ~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

Daily writing prompt

How much would you pay to go to the moon?

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Somehow, I don’t think a trip to the moon is something you get for $29.99 on sale. I do not have the amount of money I would pay NASA to haul me around. That’s because I recognize that traveling to the moon is terribly unsafe venture and getting by on the cheap could only lead to disaster.

But honestly, this is not the most important question. The better question is, “do you want to go to the moon?” I’m not sure. I think I do. I have been enamored with space and NASA since the 7th grade. But I’m also introverted and have trouble with transitions, so I don’t know how that would translate to interstellar travel.

Do I get to pre-board?

I know that it would be an incredible experience for a writer to touch the face of God.

That actually seems, well, priceless.

Careers

October 24, 2025 ~ Leslie Lanagan ~ 2 Comments

Again, I cannot get WordPress to load the pull quote with today’s writing prompt, but it’s one that I did recently, anyway- the one about which careers I would like to do instead of this one, which I assure you I would not do if I thought I could do anything else. Being a writer is a lonely endeavor, but I seem to get the most done this way. I just don’t know how much of a value-add I am right now. It’s a rebuilding year.

The writing has to go on no matter how I am feeling, no matter whether I want to publish or not. Web sites that don’t change in 24 hours don’t get repeat visitors. So, if I make money from ads based on my thought process, my thought process goes on paper no matter what it is. I have been lucky in that my readers will accept any topic from me; what I have not done is switched to academic papers when I was going through something hard. I haven’t hidden away from my grief, shame, mental illness, any of it. It has led to a number of discussions with myself lately on how much I like being a product.

Maybe I would be happier doing something else, but I don’t think I would get the same type feedback. Now, I feel so much less tortured in my soul than I used to. The depression is lifting and I can handle more than I could a few months ago. Where that will lead me, I do not know. But it will not be turning the same problems over in my head, because I’ve been allowed to move on.

But in all of my moving on, I have not allowed Aada the same grace. She has been reading, taking in all my writing as punishment when I’m the one that feels punished by my own actions and feel terrible about them. The message is coming across to her as inverted, like I have some malevolence in store. I do not know how this is happening, but I want to say for the record that I thought I was excellent at raking myself over the coals, and I’m sorry for the lines in which it seemed like I was dragging someone else with me.

This leads me to a deeper issue within my own writing. If I set out to punish myself, then why was Aada so hurt? How could I have written the narrative better so that she knows she’s off the hook?

My silly ruminations weren’t for her, but she read them, anyway. I have no idea how I feel about that, because I’m too used to it to feel embarrassed.

Well, I am embarrassed by the emotions that came up in Aada as she read, because my hurt and my pain were the point of the entries. I did not write them in a way that did not affect her, and I’ll be struggling with that for a long time, because it’s not really a question involving Aada but all the people in my life as I muddle through having a blog at all.

How do I write my frustrations out without hurting the other people in my life? The short answer is that I can’t. To be so frank with my opinions is to create a ripple effect.

Sometimes, the ripple effect is good. People read things here that enlighten them to the path I’m on and it makes them have more empathy for me in person; they feel like they know me better. I have given them context as to who I am, and they like reading me because of it. But then when I write about a conflict between us, the conflict only deepens because I have written about it.

That’s the part that always trips me up. The blowback. My stomach hurts. My head hurts. My brain races. My heart races. My adrenaline fights not to go up and I swallow bile.

I’m a sensitive person, and I am not saying that I don’t deserve these differences of opinion. Mine is not the only story that’s true.

I’m just saying that when I have hurt someone, this is what happens. I start to overheat and melt down.

Like when Aada said that it was my goal in life to take her down, embarrass her.

No, my goal in life is to make memories with the woman I love.

Some of them, because I love her, are difficult.

Some of them, because I love her, are easy.

That’s why none of the positive things I write are clues in a game (although I do like Clue, I’ve only played it once or twice). They are just as genuine as everything else. I wish I could endorse my writing somehow…. If only there were a way to check if I’m really who I say I am, like going for coffee……..

Going for coffee is my favorite way to talk with someone whose read my writing and needs to vent. The conversation cannot get too heated on either end, and I’m not ashamed to cry into my latte. Sometimes these conversations are living the entry twice, because I cried when I wrote it. But the easy nature of friends helps the conversation to get back on track quickly. It’s not the same as writing in this space to figure out a conflict. We have solved it in real time.

Though I think it will take a long time for Aada to heal, I do not think this is the end of our movie. She thought I was rejecting her when I wasn’t, and it took the wind out of her sails. This last round was peaceful, and I told her I loved her. It was a benediction of sorts, allowing her to go in peace.

I have taken that peace for myself, and it reminds me to slow down in my writing. To notice smaller things, like the sunrise this morning. The taste of my coffee. The water in my shower. To feel differences in temperature, like the sharp cold of the morning air embracing me after a night covered in blankets.

My entries are progressing into a new era that doesn’t feel like profound loss. I have been given a chance to start over, and I am taking it.

I want to surround myself with people I can be safe, stable, and genuine in creating deep friendships, a support network built on trust. I’m really starting to think about who is going to finish my life with me, because I’d rather know a few people for a very long time, and a disorder that needs to be managed in order to make it happen.

I am the most safe and stable in Baltimore, ironically. It’s a dangerous city, but it’s got the best health care package for me. I can move anywhere in the state of Maryland, the trick being that all my doctors here are already set up. I’m not sure that I want to go through the hassle of setting them up again so soon after I’ve become their patient. But moving back to DC does weigh on me, and I think about it every time I have to renew a lease. I just don’t think I can make it happen this time around. I’m running out of time.

I would like for my apartment complex to make it right by giving me a new apartment on the grounds. We’ll see. I’m also surfing Craig’s List like a madman.

I am overwhelmed because moving takes more energy than I have. I need help, and I know that my dad and sister will be available as we get closer to my move-out date. I am learning that we will do anything for each other, and that makes me feel invincible as I work through what needs to happen between now and November 10th, the absolute date at which I will be homeless if I do not find something.

It is comforting knowing that the things I love most will fit in my car, and that lets me escape to anywhere, or dream of it, anyway.

I dream of a lot of things, which is why writing suits me. Today I’m dreaming of a better world for myself, one that doesn’t flood when it rains. I would like my home to be warm, welcoming, and inviting. I would like for light to stream in. I have a laundry list of features that I want in a new place, including laundry. My neurodivergence is eating my lunch.

I need to be more strict with myself. I need to time writing sessions rather than letting them be open-ended because I have too much to do at home to make WordPress my entire focus. But at the same time, I know I will not be able to post and move at the same time, so it’s banking entries so that people have more to read while I’m off the grid.

But it’s not a carefully calculated baring of my soul, it’s just brain droppings. I go all over the place, or try to, and that’s the point of the journey.

I make a career reflecting on my interactions with the world, and it responds by reacting to me. It all seems fair, it’s just difficult.

But I wouldn’t have it any other way.

My Specialty is Flexibility

October 23, 2025 ~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

For some reason, I can’t get my browser to insert the pull quote containing today’s prompt… But it goes something like “what food would you consider your specialty?” I worked as a cook for years, and I have yet to find a favorite. But the thing I make the most often when I need to comfort myself is macaroni and cheese.

Not Kraft Dinner.

It’s a casserole filled with multiple kinds of cheese, mirepoix, and a crumb topping made out of club crackers or Goldfish. I am pretty sure I can woo anyone with this dish, I just haven’t found anyone on which I’d like to work that particular magic. You have to be invited.

Real macaroni and cheese is work, which is why Kraft Dinner has simplified it. I enjoy taking the extra time and effort, especially since a casserole will last me for several meals. Mac and cheese with some kind of protein thrown in is never something I mind having more than once in a week.

When I’m cooking it’s all about love. I want friends in the kitchen to sous for me while I direct the recipe. I feel I have at least cooked professionally long enough to break down the jobs for everyone else by station. I don’t abuse power, I just get it done. You can teach more with kindness than you can with hostility, but try telling Gordon Ramsey that………

When I’m cooking, I think about love and how I want it to direct me in the future. Because I’ve been so sprung over Aada for 12 years, I’m looking in a different direction. She has never been interested in me like a partner would be, and I am realizing that emotional support cannot be everything. It’s not about displacing her, exactly. I just need more than she can give, and that’s so okay. She’s beautiful just the way she is, and she was made straight.

That doesn’t mean I didn’t say “damnit” a lot when I found out that particular tidbit.

So what I’m looking for in a partner is someone like her, who is strong and vulnerable in all the ways I’m not, plus actually wants to go on a date with me would be a nice change.

Finding love like that makes me miss Aada more, not less, because I realize that my time would be divided so much differently out of necessity. That my girlfriend (most likely) and my possible step kids will take over my writing life. That’s good, that’s necessary. You can still admit that change is difficult when you’ve only known something else for a number of years.

I honestly cannot tell you why this transition did not happen earlier. It just never worked out. I have dated since I met Aada and I have fallen in love. It just didn’t last.

Mostly because I didn’t care.

I would eat my own comfort food, take my own long baths, sleep in powerfully comfy sheets, and just focus my attention on a possible career as a writer if I ever get my act together.

I know it is possible if Aada read every day for 12 years, because she’s smarter than everyone else.

Mostly.

We both have our weak spots, and one of mine is that she feels like I’m beating up on her. She already feels terrible, and I just keep bringing shit up. That’s got to stop, because the slate is wiped clean. I have done all the thinking about our problems that I’m going to do, because being off in my own little world did not allow me to see that I was hurting her. I was just working on my own stuff.

I was trying to wade through the hard parts of our relationship so that I could come to peace within myself; that came across to her as “you will be stronger than ever once you’ve punished me enough to move on.”

Yeah, that one hurt.

That’s because she’s been my heart since 2013, and she didn’t deserve to be thrown away like I would get over our “breakup” quickly and easily, as if she was disposable. If you break up with someone and they’re a writer, it’s going to hurt if they’re any good.

It would not have been my recommendation for Aada to keep reading, but she said that she stopped on Friday and would let me have my space. I have my doubts as to whether this is actually true, A-Dog O’Bling Bling. 😉 I sent her a letter yet again pouring out my heart, and perhaps hearing the back story of what really has gone on these past few months helped her to see that I’m not the monster I play on TV.

My web site is all about exploring relationships, and mine with Aada is the only one I’ve been in to be able to tell you about, with guest spots here and there, but for the most part it was just us chatting all day. I couldn’t build a web site outside of her because I was giving her too much energy. She couldn’t keep up with the volume, and always felt guilty about it. Meanwhile, I’m like…. “But you like to read, don’t you?” I never minded when she couldn’t keep up. I minded when that excuse was actually her hiding a problem from me.

I hope she’ll at least cop to that.

I am a sponge and I can feel energy, even from someone’s writing. I can tell the difference between “I’m slammed” and “I’m ignoring you.” The tone is completely different, no matter how much you might mask it.

I told Aada that maybe my writing wasn’t for her, because she didn’t think she was as interesting as my readers did. And honestly, I think that’s true. Nobody likes to read about themselves as much as they like to read about somebody else, because they don’t identify with the conflict. Aada identified with it too much, and I’m sure is basking in the glow of not being subject to all my “homework.”

I don’t know, though. Even now, after all we’ve been through, she told me that she just needed to get together the willpower to stop reading, and stop wanting to correct the narrative. That genuinely broke my heart into a million pieces because I would be thrilled if Aada corrected the record in so many ways.

Why does she not think she has a side of the story here? That my entries are edicts? Why does she give me that power over her rather than telling me to shove it up my ass?

I know from 25 years of blogging that I can be wrong. Really wrong. Devastatingly wrong. And instead of getting defensive and angry, it helps to roll with the punches. Write corrections where I can, because sometimes people don’t want to talk about my writing. The ones that do have a better relationship with it, because we collaborate on what’s going to be said. Aada hasn’t had that because she cut me off (I deserved it).

She is forgiven for that, but it’s hard to correct her record when she walks away.

I also don’t think that she’s ready to give up her relationship with me, not in her heart of hearts. I’m not sure she has the stomach for it, but we’ll see. I think she thinks it’s interesting how I weave us in and out, she just doesn’t read it with enough love for herself. She does not see the tapestry I’ve created, the 3D characters we’ve both become, because I can talk about victories and defeats in equal measure… But often, happiness writes white.

The ink just doesn’t get deep enough to make an impression, so in thinking of things to write about I often explore problems in my life so that I can put them down for the day. What Aada is missing is the part of my day where I’m the lightest, which is after I’ve finished for the day. It would be great if she came in at Happy Hour and not “this is my space where I turn things over.”

This is advice for my new friends, who cannot possibly know me as well as Aada does in other ways. I figure if she thinks I’ve been punishing her, I should tell her how I feel when I’m the lightest as well.

I wish I had a memory of us hugging, and then I don’t because I think it would make me too emotional now. Once I had hold of her, I wouldn’t let go until she did. I would hope that at least sometimes, it would be hard for her to let go, too. There’s not a hint of romance, but deep companionship that I won’t find anywhere else BECAUSE we’ve fought so hard. I am in my grateful era, that all of the strife is over and I can just relax. I want Aada to enjoy the benefit of the calm in my soul.

She really undid me with her letter the other day, but I cried so hard that it let some light in. I no longer feel as sad and depressed as I’ve been the last few months, because I feel secure in her in a way that I never have before. If we do not reconnect, everything will be okay. Nothing will be the same, but everything will be okay. Before, when Aada would walk away our trauma bond would go off and my palm would itch, brainrace and heart race intact. I don’t feel that anymore, because the trauma bond is broken. It is a huge leap forward in connecting with other people.

I have a feeling I’m using the words “trauma bond” incorrectly…….. What I mean is that we had “instamacy” because we each trauma dumped, not thinking of the consequences years down the road. It has been a mixed bag. I think she likes the idea of me writing my first novel and dedicating it to her; I don’t think I can do it without her. Therein lies the rub. I feel like I will not proceed as a writer if I do not have Aada in my corner.

These are all the things that are in my writing, this absolute glowing about Aada’s magic qualities, that she misses when she reads. I’m betting she has few people around her with a positive view of me if she views my writing as punishment. If she tells people I’m punishing her, then that’s what they should believe. Those are not my facts, that is how my writing affected her.

I am saying that I hear that.

She said that hopefully I could let go of the hate and vitriol, and I wish I could. Sometimes I get angry, and those feelings are just as valid as joy for a scratch journal about mental health. Those angry entries are symptoms of something larger, which is showing mental health as it really is. If you follow me every day, you can see my neurodivergent tendencies fight it out. Some days, autism is driving the bus. Sometimes. ADHD has the wheel. It has never, to my recollection, been Jesus.

But for every single time I’ve been angry, I have been joy-filled.

You should see her eyes. I have, and I’ll never be the same. Her gaze is so wonderfully powerful in a photo that I would fall all over myself in person. I think that’s the part I regret most about our relationship, that I never got to apologize in person, moving the story forward in a more positive direction. I think I could have accomplished more with a smile and a hug than I could with a letter, but both methods of apologizing are inextricably interrelated. Going without contact comfort for 12 years led us to be a lot crankier with each other than usual.

I don’t think she realizes that I let go by writing, that I am not carrying around hatred, vitriol, punishment, any of that. I have been so careful to talk about both our flaws and failures, trying to be fair and balanced, trying to see her perspective without her giving it. I have raked myself over the coals trying to apologize and she says she cannot stomach the flagellation I’m doing to her. I asked her where her empathy was for all the times I’d flogged myself.

I don’t mean to flog myself or anyone else, but when you try to get to the heart of shame and vulnerability in a relationship, you talk about hard things. Putting them away and pretending they don’t exist is harder than bringing something into the light and sharing pain. I have been so grateful to the readers that have stuck with me, especially those that have commented, and I’m sorry I have not been keeping up with them.

I think the most magical quality that I’m trying to find in my writing is, “if I can attract someone like Aada to my writing, how do I attract more people like her?” I want readers that are smart, engaging, funny, thoughtful, etc. Now, they are starting to appear.

I hope that it is because I have presented a story all the way through, not picking and choosing “the best of,” but showing that relationships are complicated and so are the people in them. I cannot think in soundbites, I need to understand all the way around the nature of a problem. My soul has not been settled for months, tossing and turning from despair to despair, with jolts of joy to remind me that life was worth living. It got dark for a while, but thanks to my mental health team, the swing is going up.

I am not trying to hurt my beautiful girl. I have been hurt. I am not trying to punish anyone but myself. I’m not punishing anyone, but asking Aada to own her part. To not be a victim because neither of us were. We both have gone through some hard things with the other, and neither of us has a stellar track record at connecting with the other. But through my writing, both in e-mail and here on this web site, I have managed to explain myself well enough. Why would I want to punish her when I am so excellent at punishing myself?

Yes, it was all worth it. From the highs to the lows to the end of the show for the rest of our lives.

But it’s not just that. It’s that Aada and I have reached a good stopping place. That it is now possible to start again because we both got closure and will give each other time to rest. It’s not time to throw each other away. It’s time for me to be stronger now that I’ve lifted her up enough to move on.

Maybe Michael is right. Some relationships just shouldn’t be. But love is all about risk, and I’ve already risked this much. I know she has risked plenty for me, more than I know and am afraid to ask.

But one day, down the road a bit when both of us have breathed the peace of interim, I hope she’ll let me make her some macaroni and cheese.

It’s the closest I’ll ever get to really letting her know how I feel.

History According to Me

October 22, 2025 ~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

Daily writing prompt

What major historical events do you remember?

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The first news story I really remember was when Adam Walsh got kidnapped.

I watched the space shuttle Challenger blow up with the rest of my fourth grade class.

Baby Jessica fell down a well.

My father preached through all of it.

I really wish I could remember what he said in his sermons all these years later, because I remember feeling comforted then.

I was a child, taking in everything through a child’s lens. I was afraid of being kidnapped for a long time after Adam Walsh disappeared. This was the first time I knew that facts could have an emotional impact. It was 1981. It felt like that was the first moment I realized how big and scary the world could be.

The second moment was huddled on the floor of my townhouse in Alexandria with my then-wife, Kathleen. The Pentagon had been struck that day, as well as the twin towers. There were fighter jets flying over our house every 10 minutes for about three days, and the phone lines were jammed. Because I’d been home that day, I’d actually heard the plane slam into the Pentagon, but the TV wasn’t on. I had no idea that I’d just lived through a terrorist attack. I thought it was a construction accident across the street. That’s how loud it was, even miles away.

Less traumatic, but still important was that I led a prayer and remembrance service for Matthew Shepard after he was murdered at University of Houston. It changed me because I learned that I could indeed be a leader when others were in pain, and I could step into the role my father had and it didn’t look bad on me.

I can see myself preaching through things, in retrospect, but I think I have more of an impact here.

I’m able to talk about my experiences, and how the historical and the emotional come together to make me who I am today.

I used to be more dialed in than I am now. I have ignored the news for months. I have been focusing on my own journey, pulling myself out of a lot of grief. That has started to change with getting back into the swing of things. I’m starting slowly. I listened to Pod Save America in the car.

I distanced myself from the news because it drove my anxiety, whereas a lot of my writing became repetitive self-soothing, echologia to calm myself down that riled everyone else up. I’m learning that my words do have power, that I’m my own kind of news, and that I’m not comfortable with it. I’ve had to become comfortable with it over time…. To accept that to put my own thoughts into the universe is to create a reaction, a ripple effect.

No one knows what is going on in my mind as I write, weaving history and my emotional life together. There are many people that I wish would come over and sit with me, because writing is often a lonely endeavor. It helps to have a dog, which I do not. But I enjoyed being in Houston and my dad’s dogs lying next to me while I pounded the keys. It has made me consider a service dog with renewed fervor now that I actually have the time and space to dedicate to one.

That will be a moment in history to savor, because I think at that point I will be so obsessed with training my dog that Lanagan Media Group will just become a repository of our pictures and videos.

Something about Aada’s letter has stayed with me… That she will miss the time in her life when reading Stories was the highlight of her day. Her manipulations isolated me from the life I was writing about, so in effect she helped bring about the changes she didn’t like. My task now is to find what it was all those years ago that made my writing appeal to the broadest possible audience. It is how nothing being the same will make everything okay. It’s the transition I have in front of me, where getting back into the news is a choice. Getting back into society is a choice. Not being so closed off is a choice.

Walking towards health and wholeness is a choice. I am on my way, because being in my Cognitive Behavioral Health group and attending therapy is helping turn down the dial on all my emotions. It will be possible for me to get out and make friends locally in a way that it hasn’t been before. I have more of what I need to survive, which is care and connection out in the real world that doesn’t depend on the Internet.

The 24 hour news cycle drove me insane, because there wasn’t a moment of my day that I wasn’t anxious about something. But I cannot afford to be tuned out, either.

It is a conundrum, because I like being dialed in. I just don’t feel strong enough to handle the world’s anxiety when I can barely handle my own.

Again, it is striking to me how much this blog has made history in other people’s heads, that things I’ve published have come across as news to them. I am learning how to deal with those consequences, and it’s such a large part of my need to branch out. Maybe write some academic papers. Who knows?

History belongs to the writers, and this week I learned why that is so unfortunate.

Do I Like Risk?

October 21, 2025 ~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

Daily writing prompt

What’s the biggest risk you’d like to take — but haven’t been able to?

View all responses

I am not generally a daredevil, so it’s hard to think of anything I’d like to do more adrenaline-filled than go to the spy museum and read books. But perhaps if I had a friend with me, I’d like to do something more brave, like bungee jumping or sky diving. It really depends on my traveling companion. Do they want to do high adrenaline stuff? I’m flexible.

I’ve always thought that Hawaii would be my perfect vacation because they have all the extreme sports, but if you want to lay on the beach and be a bum, you can do that, too. I will have to talk to Bryn and see how risk averse she is, because she’s the person I can see doing that stuff with. If I meet a partner in the future, I’m sure I’ll want to include them, too. But my best friend being with me is non-negotiable (if she wants to go).

Skydiving, among my friends, has gotten mixed reviews. I think the only way I will know how I feel about it is to jump, because some people loved it, some people hated it. Both are equal in their fervor. I am sure that it is the same with bungee jumping, I just don’t have any friends that have done it…. well, maybe Lindsay has, but I’d have to check and there’s no way she’s up yet. I don’t want to poke the bear, okkkkk…….

I am hoping that I get the chance to travel as I age, and have mentioned before that I would like to spend some time in Finland with all the other neurodivergent weirdos. That includes going into the sauna, then jumping into the lake. I am almost certain I will not die, and that I will not get a truly Finnish experience if I do not do this at least once.

Maybe I’ll love it. Maybe they’ll have to call an ambulance. Who knows?

I’d also like to visit other parts of the world, but I’m not sold on where I would like to go except for Helsinki (and Tampere, to visit the MOOMIN museum). I know that I’d like to explore the UK, because I have only been to London. Maybe Rosie O’Donnell would let me visit her in Ireland. 😉

The most important part is that wherever I go, I take a piece of home with me. Aada’s letter yesterday served as that talisman, a new Gmail era that I don’t want to delete. Last night I felt emotionally regulated for the first time in months, actual tears threatening to fall with relief.

She doesn’t feel sorry for herself, she is aware of the penance she is paying. I feel exactly the same way in an equal and opposite reaction. I hope it will allow us room to breathe and come back together in the end.

We’ll just have to see what these next few years hold, because I think we at least need that much time to rest and relax. We’ve both been through a really hard thing, and I make it more complicated because I’m a writer.

Trips like these where I am constantly taking in new information are so important. I don’t want to stagnate in my writing or anywhere else, and it’s important that I drift away from Aada to the extent that I can. I have been so dialed into her for so long that I’m finding it hard to walk through life without her, but resolute that it’s time for me to find out how to cope on my own.

I just know that she cannot stay away from me any more than I can stay away from her. Even yesterday, she said, “for now.”

I’ll take it.

She has shown me that she has the ability to change, and the ability to face the music in really hard conflict. I wasn’t sure about that before, and now I feel better. It’s still time to let go and trust that the universe has our backs. That just because we aren’t talking, that doesn’t mean that peace isn’t flowing through the chord that runs between us.

If is is meant to be, it will be. I can rest in that.

So bring on the adrenaline. I want to live before I die.

Not Being Certain

October 21, 2025 ~ Leslie Lanagan ~ 2 Comments

The biggest risk I’d like to take in my future is not being so certain about everything. My autism lends itself to writing about everything in black and white, when in reality there’s a lot of gray area. Like knowing you have a story that ends with a wet fart and publishing it, anyway, because that’s what happened.

Aada shocked me by writing me a very long e-mail last night, covering a lot of ground. We’re square, and she’s not going to read anymore. Her resolution has been holding strong since Friday. I’m so proud. 🙂

We talked about what both of us have been through- she said that the entries feel like nails on her palm. So, instead of sending someone to wipe the blood off her cross every day, I think I’ll move on in writing topics.

That’s because I said before, the mystery is solved. I am getting better. And in the end, that’s all that matters.

Pride

October 20, 2025 ~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

The thing that I’m most proud of in my life is helping queer people be themselves. I have always been out and proud in situations where it was inadvisable to do so, because I was unwilling to hide. It gave other people who were still closeted a touchstone in rooms where queer people were not always invited.

For instance, I was out in high school in a large Republican stronghold. I helped other kids come out, or just to talk about their sexuality in a way that was non-threatening. I had a rainbow flag on my backpack and I wore a rainbow necklace. In a lot of ways, I brought HSPVA with me to Clements, because I wouldn’t have been so brave if I didn’t think queer kids walking the halls in high school was normal.

I have always been someone that other queer people could find in a crowd. It’s mostly the haircut, not going to lie.

There’s something about my presence that makes people relax and be themselves. Mostly because I discovered that being myself is the only thing at which I am truly capable.

Working on Myself

October 19, 2025 ~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

I’m working on myself to the level that I understand the phrase. Writing when I feel like it, making sure to make time for lots of self care. I have been through a really hard thing, and I would like to recover. While I would never kick Aada out of my life if she reappeared and said, “I seriously want to work on this with you,” I have decided that she has already left and I’m just catching up. Losing a friend is always hard, but I’ll bounce back. I’m already on my way.

Slowly.

Last night I had to go to Urgent Care because Tiina invited me to her farm and I had to make sure I didn’t have COVID or the flu first. My reasoning was that if it’s just a cold, I could still go. Ruth, my NP, assured me that I would feel worse before I felt better and not to push myself.

Y’all, I woke up this morning feeling like I’d been hit by a truck.

I need to go to the pharmacy later to pick up some cough medicine, and then I’m coming home and getting back into bed. Or sitting on the couch with my tablet. Whatever. What I am NOT doing is driving to Virginia today.

Four hours round trip to myself in the car just to listen to podcasts and sing and all that sounds great, but not when I feel like this.

I cannot even hide my disappointment because I’ve been looking forward to seeing Tiina since March. I texted her and said, “is next week just as good?” I’m still awaiting a reply because it’s so early in the morning.

I am probably sick because the relationship with Aada ended. When I feel down in the dumps, I often present physically. My immune system just isn’t as good when I’m sad, and there’s not only this relationship ending, but my stepmother dying as well. These past few months have, in a word, sucked.

It’s time to start looking forward, even in my writing. Dipping back into the well of my own loneliness where Aada is concerned is no longer serving me. I am talking to my friends and group members all week long, and getting out more now that I have a car. I have surprised myself many times this week by not having things delivered and just going to places myself. Life doesn’t feel so overwhelming when I’m alone in transition.

I’m working on finding a new place to live, which may actually be a new apartment in this complex…. Or it could be someplace entirely new. I’m leaning towards letting my apartment complex get it right, because moving is such a hassle. Even lugging things across this campus won’t be great. But it will be easier than moving back to DC. That’s what I need right now…. Something easy. I’m not ready to change my whole life and it feels like I just got here.

I will if I need to. Changing my life doesn’t seem like a bad thing. It’s just hard for me to accept change fast, especially as I age. My compensatory skills don’t kick in as quick as they used to……

I’m currently having an energy drink (C4 in Cherry Popsicle) and I just took two Aleve. I’ll take a hot shower and that should put me together long enough to do my errands. The prescription I have is for Tessalon pearls, but I find that Delsym works better. That being said, prescriptions are cheaper, so we’ll see what I decide when I get there.

Oh. Wait. It’s Sunday. The pharmacy is closed on Sunday. That answers that. If you are a Delsym fan, should I get grape or orange? This may be the most exciting choice I get to make all day. I also need to grab some Mucinex, because I’ve already got real Sudafed vs. the PE and the PE version says, “DOES NOT WORK” right on the box.

Tiina has a beautiful farm and I was so looking forward to all this. I have even been keeping up with my Zyrtec for the occasion. I know that it’s just one of those things that I turned up sick today, but I am just so BUMMED. I’m achy all over, which would make the road trip that much more uncomfortable. I keep talking to myself trying to come up with ways I can Frankenstein myself back together and still go…. And then I think that Tiina would not be very happy if I gave her my cold, anyway. She would probably prefer to stay two hours away from me while I don’t know if I’m contagious or not.

In terms of what to do instead, it seems like all my favorite YouTubers publish on Sunday mornings. The big three are Tyler & Todd, Laura Kampf, and Vanwives.

Tyler & Todd own a homestead in the Canadian wilderness and post about their improvements every week.

Laura Kampf is a carpenter from Germany and makes all kinds of stuff.

Vanwives are Crystal and Jaz, who own a huge homestead in Canada as well, sometimes doing crossovers with Tyler & Todd.

I love all this HGTV kind of stuff that people are producing and at higher values than one would think out in the middle of nowhere. Living on a homestead is not something I envision unless I wanted to live with a group of people, because I would not be motivated to work the land and take care of the house without someone to social mask. I am a great helper to someone else who likes to manage these projects, but they are not something I see myself capable of doing on my own. People tell me that I can do anything I want to do, and my disabilities say, “not so fast, Leslie.”

So I watch these people on YouTube to get tips on all this stuff, knowing it’s unlikely I’ll use them unless I meet people who are also interested in owning a homestead. If I do, I will be quite knowledgeable and helpful to them because I’ve been studying DIY for years. YouTube is a university for maker projects.

But I don’t just watch DIY. I also like to watch mechanics overhaul cars. Restorations of old BMWs and Mercedes are my favorite, and because of this, I wanted my own. Aaron said, “there’s nothing more expensive than a cheap BMW.” That’s how I ended up in a much newer Ford. There are jokes about Ford’s reliability all over the place, but the parts & labor are undeniably cheaper.

Speaking of parts for my Ford, I’m having a lot of fun looking at mods like a more aggressive grill. These are parts on which I’ll probably never spend money, it’s just fun to window shop. I like to imagine more than I like to purchase. Car mods are my current Sears Christmas catalog of the soul. I think about adding approach lights a lot, because I could change the colors to different pride flags at will. I think it would make my car look smarter than lots of stickers.

However, pride stickers reminds me of a very funny story.

When I was 18, I had a Mitsubishi Mirage sedan. It had a window cling on the back that had a pink triangle and a Christian fish interlocked.

My dad and I switched cars so that he could get my car serviced for me, and I get a phone call:

“I’ve enjoyed driving around, everyone thinking I’m a Christian lesbian all afternoon.”

A pink triangle would actually look great on my car, because it’s a dark gunmetal gray. I should look for one, because today’s kids are losing touch with what it means. It was the symbol for homosexual during the Holocaust the way Jews wore yellow stars. I think it’s an important symbol to bring back as America leans toward fascism.

I’ll have to surf the web and my local queer bookstore to see what kinds of car accoutrements are available. A strip of rainbow on the back bumper or a rainbow license plate frame will be easier to take off later. Window clings are invaluable for the same reason. You don’t have to spend hours scraping your car to remove them.

I’m going to have this car for a long time unless my life drastically changes, like getting a service dog. The right service dog for me is 65 lbs, enough to counterbalance my weight and heavy enough to brace and let me pick myself back up when I fall. I am certain that a 65 lb dog would fit into the backseat/trunk area with the seats folded down. However, an SUV would be more comfortable for both of us. The cabin is my area. The cargo hold is your area. Bliss.

We’ll see how all that shakes out, though. I’m caught between wanting a dog and wanting to travel. We’ll see which one wins out, because of course you can board a dog. I just won’t want any time away from mine. And in fact, once my dog is certified as a service dog, I won’t have to be without them. It’s fun to think of my dog being a jet setter.

Ooooh, the Aleve just kicked in. I just felt my whole body relax.

I’m still not well enough to go to Virginia, but I might just make it to Walgreens.

I just don’t think they’re open yet……….

It’s about six in the morning. Even though it’s a weekend, I was so excited about my road trip today that I couldn’t sleep. I was taking the doctor’s advice and waiting to call it until this morning, so it was hard to drift off. I took some sleeping pills and finally went deep, but not for long.

My dad gave me these pills called “Sleep 3,” and it’s just a bunch of herbs and melatonin. They’re amazing. I am going to have to get another box, because they work better than the prescription I’ve been given. Luckily, I already have to go to the pharmacy.

It looks like it’s going to be a particularly lazy Sunday after that. I am going to have to put off being busy with finding a new place to live. I just don’t have the energy and I’m supposed to talk to my own leasing office tomorrow. Again, if they can make it right by giving me an apartment that’s actually habitable, I’d like to stay.

My life has been really, really hard the last few months. I need to get out of this apartment in the worst way possible because it has flooded four times. It’s flooded right now. I need to be out by November 10th, so being sick today is not the most convenient time. I really could have used today in terms of meeting possible new landlords.

It’s time to let it go, because I really am too sick to deal with all that. The nurse practitioner (who was ADORABLE, btw) told me that I might want to come back in a couple of days to make sure I’m still negative for the flu, because my symptoms were awfully flu-like. She also told me that if I didn’t want to come back, they sell flu tests at the pharmacy.

Luckily, I have to go…. Oh, wait. We’ve covered this. 😛

Saying goodbye to Aada last night was the hardest thing I’ve written in a while. It was not a rejection of her, like “never talk to me again.” It was the realization that she was already gone, and I needed to catch up. That of course she wouldn’t want to be my friend after this no matter what I did. I exposed everything she didn’t want other people to know about our relationship for 12 years, including the lie that she was a CIA case officer.

There is so much of me that cannot believe this lie because there are too many details over 12 years. My brain tries to put together every possible scenario that leads to Aada telling the truth about her life. But when I do, Michael stops me. He’s firm. She’s a liar. And a good one. She convinced more than just me.

Yes, I did think about what would happen to her if I wrote all of this. I sweated blood. But in the end, I had to claim what happened to me after making a thousand percent sure that Aada, Mummo, and I were all inconsequential to each other before I published. That there’s no way I could hurt either woman professionally with my writing.

Talking about how bad things got is allowing me to feel better as I process my way through everything. And in fact, it robs me of regret that my relationship with Aada is over. That will change in another 10 minutes because I cannot make up my mind over such a thing. The thought that we will never talk again is too big for me to take in. So I know she’s not going to contact me today. I’ll be saying that a lot of days in a row until I don’t have to anymore.

Part of the reason it’s so hard to wrap my brain around the concept of “over” is that Aada and I have kicked each other out of our lives more than we’ve had a happy relationship. So, it’s hard to know whether this is the end, or whether a year from now I will get a heart-wrenching e-mail, surprising me in its depth and breadth. Because that’s how it works…. Every time I have gotten attention and affection from Aada, it has been surprising to me how raw her love for me truly is. I know I made an impression on her heart, and that we both hurt each other beyond all measure.

Michael says that there are some relationships that just shouldn’t be…. That it isn’t writing Aada off not to engage in her manipulations. That I will know I’m healed when I won’t accept contact from her, or at the very least, it is superfluous. I cannot imagine not accepting contact from someone who genuinely came clean with me, and showed apology with changed behavior and not just words. But not knowing whether Aada is capable of such a thing is where the toxicity lies. Maybe things would be better in the future, but am I willing to take that risk?

Love is all about risk, so I’m not there yet. I’m not strong enough to say never again, because my heart is still tender and raw, missing Aada and wanting to be comforted by her when there is no comfort to be had. She has not been truly present for me in the 12 years since our relationship began, so I cannot expect her to be present now. If she has been reading, she knows that she caused me enormous pain with her lies and my intuition is that she can make a mess, but she won’t clean it up.

I want that. I want her to want us to get healthy.

But maybe Michael is right, and some relationships just shouldn’t be.

Nothing will be the same.

Everything will be okay.

Telephone

October 18, 2025 ~ Leslie Lanagan ~ 2 Comments

There’s really not a lot about me that my readers don’t know that have been reading every day. I don’t create a persona for this web site, it’s my real inner monologue spilled onto the page. What tends to happen is that by other people reading, what people find out about me is their impressions of what I said, and their impressions often miss the mark. Reading comprehension is different for everyone, and I may have thought I said something one way, but it came across to the audience as the opposite. That’s why people fight with me tooth and nail over what I actually meant.

You would think that an author would know what they meant more than the reader, but my readers do not react like that. No matter what the blowback might be, I should have known it was coming. I should have had the same thought process my reader did. It’s impossible, which is why I don’t give readers much purchase into my writing process. We can talk after I’ve already written, but taking advisement causes me not to write at all. That’s because I start thinking of all the things that could go wrong after an entry is published and the courage to hit post never appears.

Because Aada told me that she was a high level operative, I feel more scared at publishing these entries than I’ve felt my whole blogging career. What if I’m wrong and I have hurt truly innocent people? What if it’s possible to find Aada just by looking at my web site and I’ve put her in danger? If Aada really does what she says she does, publishing is unforgivable. But I do not believe that anymore. I believe that she needed an admirer.

Someone to tell her that she was every bit as amazing as her sisters, and again, I would have done this if she worked at a car wash. She didn’t need to be anything more that she actually was. Puffing herself up was her own deal, and one I find disconcerting as I work backward through all the lies.

She told me not to see a therapist about our relationship, so I didn’t have anyone to confide in but her. Now I know why she was so prickly about talking about her career. It wasn’t hers.

I left my wife because Aada didn’t want information going to her.

It was years before I opened up after that, but I’m glad I did. The bubble of secrecy was slowly making me more and more unstable.

Michael tells me that I seem much more stable now, and in the end, that’s all that matters. I am getting better, slowly. No more gaslighting, no more being emotionally starved when I’m clearly invested, no more holding onto things not meant for me.

You’d be surprised to know that I’m still sad. I still miss my friend.

Nothing will be the same.

Everything will be okay.

How Lazy is Unproductive to the Conversation

October 17, 2025October 17, 2025 ~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

The neurodivergent brain runs a thousand miles a minute. There is no such thing as lazy, just internal processing vs. external. If you do not see someone move, you do not assume they are doing anything because you have no window into their minds. Meanwhile, people with autism and ADHD are struggling to find a bit of inertia to move them forward as their RAM overloads with information about their environment.

I am a people with autism and ADHD. For every symptom I have with one disorder, I have the equal and opposite problem with the other. Autism loves order, ADHD loves chaos. I need concrete structure and I cannot keep it up. Every task has taken the same amount of energy since I was born. I have not put anything on “autopilot.” The fight for one thought to have supremacy is still going.

Thoughts fly by so fast I literally do not have time to take them in. It leads to a kind of incapacitation, in which I look like I’m your basic couch potato.

Calling me lazy while I’m actually incapacitated is not helping.

By thoughts fighting for supremacy in my head, I mean that spinning out over Aada’s lies and what my reactions should be going forward is somehow just as important as taking a shower and brushing my teeth. There is no order to the priorities in my head, and it is up to me to find it.

What’s important about my story is how I write the next chapter. How flexible and resilient am I knowing that my story comes with a heaping side of skepticism and I just need a thicker skin about it.

It’s going to take a while to turn down the sensitivity knob where this story is concerned, because I cannot rest for a bit until I find out what consequences there are for me in publishing. My bet is that there are none, because everyone involved has just agreed to let me have my own space and leave me alone.

So far.

It makes me feel better to have this space because when I am mulling over what’s going on in my head, it brings my “laziness” into sharp relief. Yes, I am sitting comfortably, but my fingers are going several miles a minute.

I’ve been thinking a lot about Mummo today.

Wondering how our friendship would have developed had it not been cut off by my idiocy. Would she have felt the need to unburden herself and let her hair down the way Aada did? Would I have known when to worry? My guess is probably not. There was not a bubble of secrecy around our relationship, and everyone already knows what she does for a living. That part’s not a secret. There was also not the pull to get to know each other very fast.

It was a healthy relationship, and I did not recognize it when I saw it. I was just so…. Well… Me.

Aada became a treasure trove of compulsive thoughts due to her “profession.” I don’t think I would have let that happen with Mummo, because I don’t think that she would have shared anything about herself that would have bonded us to the level that Aada and I did.

It was so fast. Too fast.

So fast that even now, I’m having trouble accepting my new reality. It is coming slowly, that Aada told me if I needed to expose her that it would end our friendship permanently. That it was fine, but she wasn’t staying around for it.

Those words mean more to me now as I give up all the hope that we will mend in the future. That the real hallucination in all of this is thinking we’ll all go back to being one happy family. I do not think it would come together in an hour. I think that as I work on my creative projects, the people in them would want their own voices represented. Because make no mistake, I am working on a screenplay.

It’s a rich landscape, but where I’m tripped up is the medium. How do I express action when it was all in my head? And all in Aada’s, too, because we were reading each other for so many years. How do I show what was happening in our heads?

That is the work of all screen writers, and I’ll figure it out once I get a team together. But this project is not more important than the neurodivergent cookbook and I have more life to live before this story needs to come out. I need to wrap my own head around it and get some distance. I need to cope with Aada’s feelings of betrayal whether they were good for me or not, because that is what will make me rest about reconnecting. That it would not help her, it would only be reopening a wound.

I am also not bitter or angry about the 12 years in which I was manipulated into believing I was friends with a CIA big shot. I don’t harbor ill will towards Aada for all the nights I spent anxious for her safety. I don’t see her as a villain in my story, but that so many things make sense now that didn’t before.

Why she wouldn’t get together with me. Why she wouldn’t figure out her in case ofs so I didn’t find out something happened to her on social media. Why it was easy to share the details of someone else’s life.

And still there’s a part of me that tries to reconcile it all in Aada’s favor…. That the program she’s in is just so secret that it cannot possibly be found. That she doesn’t have it in her to lie for that many years.

The gaslighting alone is enough to make me wary of Aada’s red flags, but as I told another friend, “I think the reason I don’t care that my friends have red flags is that I have so many of my own.” I would tread carefully, but I would like to reconcile eventually. The Monty Python lens cap ending of our relationship is not enough for me and never will be. But whether Aada is on my next journey or not, she influences where I’ll go next based on things she’s said previously. My work to do is to stop using her as that touchstone and to start using myself.

There is no power in trying to discover Aada’s motivations or trying to get her to interact with me. There is only power in digging into myself and asking myself the hard questions.

Who am I going to be now that Aada is no longer a part of my daily life and routine?

I’m discovering that, day by day. It just looks lazy.

Coffee, coffee, coffee

October 16, 2025October 16, 2025 ~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

I did not hear from Aada yesterday, I just thought it was a possibility because news travels fast. If she already knows about these blog entries, she’s surrounding herself with other people. When I am clear-eyed about the writing I do, I know that past behavior is an indication of future. If Aada read me every day for 12 years, she didn’t stop just because she stopped reaching out to me. That’s because other people in her life read my blog and she won’t want to be behind them. It doesn’t have much to do with me, actually.

And in fact Aada’s lie has nothing to do with me. She needed it to make herself feel better, but I don’t know why. My guess is that she was feeling a little overshadowed and vulnerable about it, so she told me details of someone else’s life for years……….. Then tried to control every possible outcome so that no one would find out she lied.

There’s no evidence to back up any of her claims. None.

I’ve told you this already, but I’m still sitting in my bedroom in shock.

I have group therapy later, and that will help me compartmentalize and stop thinking about all of this. Michael assured me that I needed to put all the responsibility on Aada, that I wasn’t the one living a lie. I was living on what I thought was the truth. Aada changed my reality, and feels responsible for my maladies.

I don’t think that’s unfair of her, given the situation. What she told me, that she was a part of the intelligence community, might be true. I’m also sure there’s an AI that can do her job for her. But she is nowhere near the super secret agent she pretended to be.

The working title for the project is “The Spy Who Catfished Me,” but I’m leaning towards “Hacking Aada,” due to the internet aspect of our relationship, and how over time we retreated from the rest of the world and started working each other. We each had the other over a barrel with our shenanigans, because she was rightfully avoidant and I was deservedly anxious.

You don’t lie without protecting the path.

I was blocked by Mummo and Heytch, so there was no way for me to get together with them and assess who was really whom. It’s so hard to bullshit a bullshitter, and that’s the source of my shame and embarrassment. That I’ve been dismissive of everyone in my life because they didn’t have Aada’s street creds, therefore her opinion is “bigger.” I have stayed in that headspace for over a decade, and it didn’t make me popular, I’ll tell you that much.

Then, in an ominous turn, I started buying Jonna Mendez’s books, thinking that Aada was one of her recruits. I felt like I was trying to out-spy a spy…. Looking for comfort in her story because she fell so hard for Tony, the person I thought Aada was in real life.

Morgan Freeman: She was not.

It’s a case of mistaken identity, because all that care and connection should have been reserved for someone else, the person whose story I was actually following. Aada’s position is indeed classified, and I will continue to say it because Aada’s lies were so effective due to being hidden behind that curtain. I could believe she did whatever I wanted and she couldn’t confirm or deny.

So she didn’t. She stonewalled me every day, and had strong reactions to my guesswork. That’s because my guesswork was for people whose lives were far and away more complicated.

I did research on what it was like to be a broken child accepted into a system like CIA so that I could be a better friend. I did triage to see how much anxiety she was feeling, and was surprised when she always said she felt none. It makes a lot more sense that she was not anxiety-ridden given that she wasn’t doing half of what I thought.

But Mummo was.

Aada got tears that did not belong to her, nor can I really say that they were for Mummo, because we have not been in contact. As for Aada sticking by me, there are so many times when she should have given up and ended the relationship earlier, because I was a basket case and I never would have known that I was fucked up over a lie. I am thinking that she has thought the same thing, because she has regretted telling me she was CIA every day since.

To be clear, Mummo isn’t CIA, either. That does not mean she’s never been in danger. It’s just that Mummo is closer to espionage and actionable intel than Aada ever has been…… You just wouldn’t know it according to her.

Aada sees every entry as a threat and will fight me tooth and nail on this one. She thinks that all of this will blow back on her professionally and she’ll be in danger of losing her job. Meanwhile, I cannot control those consequences for her and I think her fear is too great. I forgive her, so everyone else should, too.

It’s not up to me to protect Aada from her consequences, because the fact that she continued to lie is what will sink her and not anything I’ve done should it come to that.

Say Aada was telling the truth all that time, that she is the field agent and trained interrogator she played on TV. Isn’t it better that I tell you her story is a pack of lies so she can keep what little cover she has left? I have no idea what she tells other people in her life, but I’m betting I’m not the only one she’s used this little trick on to make herself seem more important than she really is. It is not my responsibility to clean up that mess, and it never will be.

I have never manipulated her. I have never lied. She thinks that I lied because I published an e-mail I wrote to her after I’d told her I’d deleted all her emails to me. It wasn’t that I lied. It’s just that I did delete everything in my Gmail account and found that letter in my Outlook account after she blocked me.

I published her words after she blocked me because there was no one to ask, and she didn’t have a problem with me publishing anyone else’s takedown of me for her own entertainment. To be fair, I got a thrill out of posting other people’s criticisms because it always caused Aada to react like a mama dragon.

She just never turned that mama dragon on herself and asked herself whether she was causing me harm. She turned everything around so that I was the only manipulator, I was the only one who had done wrong, and that I betrayed her by catching her in a lie.

She wasn’t sorry she lied. She was sorry she got caught.

That’s why it would take a mountain of work for us to be successful. If we do make up, it will be because we declared our former relationship a total loss, and started working on putting our relationship back together as a salvage title. It’s not bad to fix a write off as long as the work is done right.

Why do I insist on being kind and hurt at the same time? Because I know that in her heart of hearts, Aada has already forgiven me and moved on, compartmentalizing her feelings so they don’t leak out. But if she’s half the friend she said she would be, she’s cried over my situation more than I know, and probably stuck with me because she saw how affected I was in my writing.

She loved being adored, but hated when I talked about problems in her relationship because I wasn’t representing her side of the story. I couldn’t until now, both because she wouldn’t tell it and I had to wait until I heard the real truth. Michael has never manipulated me, and has a vested interest in keeping me healthy. I don’t know why, because he’s a Republican.

Yes, I have Republican friends. I had to get over it. You will, too.

For some people, this will be the biggest shocking thing I say all day.

There’s just a tie that binds Michael to me in a way no one will ever have. As he says, “HSPVA 4 LIFE.”

A Little Bit of a Lot

October 14, 2025March 17, 2026 ~ Leslie Lanagan ~ 9 Comments

Daily writing prompt

What could you try for the first time?

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I think that I have the brain capacity to understand a lot of things, because I am interested in them. I, for instance, have been a medical assistant, an IT help desk support person, a web developer, a cook, and a writer. AI has extended my reach because if there’s anything I want to know, I just ask. I am not a fan of generative AI in which it writes things for me, but I have no problem asking it for 200 words on any topic so I can get a good idea of what something is all about before I start publishing. The great thing is that AI can be wrong, and Microsoft Copilot will pull up references so you can do your own fact checking.

But at its most basic core function, AI’s ability is in collaboration. You don’t get anything out of AI if you don’t put anything into it. The results will look ersatz, as if you were the one that pretended to be human. AI can easily take the soul out of your work or creative project, and I don’t think that businesses are ready for it.

We need to be in an age of vulnerability with leadership, and an ersatz work product isn’t going to get us there. I want more searching for knowledge across the board. I want more curiosity as a society, and other cultures are doing it far better than the US. We’re even different culturally across states, with some areas having many more PhDs and JDs and MDs than others.

Washington is also a curious and sometimes soulless place that could do with more leadership like Raphael Warnock’s. He does not use his preacher status to lord his Christianity over us, but to influence his vote for the working class. He’s an example of who Jesus might actually be in modern times, a social justice warrior for things like voting rights, universal health care, etc.

In terms of mixing religion and politics, the conservative arm of the church is nowhere near the historical Jesus’s message. Jesus did not come here to comfort the distressed as much as he came here to distress the comfortable. Over time this message has been lost, and it is time to reclaim it. Too many unhoused and working poor people feel the pinch of income disparity and not being able to go to the doctor when they want.

It all stems from a lack of curiosity in their own faith, because what their preachers tell them is good enough. You won’t find Biblical literalists reading Marcus Borg and John Dominic Crossan, because they are not interested enough in the teachings of Jesus to swallow more than what they hear on Sunday…. But their faith is so much richer when you take Jesus’s words at face value. Launching war off an itinerant preacher is the strangest transformation in history. I didn’t write that line, but I believe it with all my heart.

AI is fantastic at Biblical exegesis because it already has access to the texts I would use without me buying them all (to be fair, my collection of William Barclay is quite large). It makes me faster when I can just ask AI to look up a scripture and a cross reference. Illustrations come to me easier when I’m reading pericopes in small doses, exploring what was going on historically at the time.

Geographic location is also very important to Biblical criticism, because especially In the Beginning there are tons of land grabs that affect how people see God.

As Rowan Williams, former Archbishop of Canterbury once said, “in the Bible, there is no argument for or against God. There are only people’s reflections of God.” The God of the Old Testament is vengeful because we as a society were vengeful. The God of the New Testament is full of promise, because society advanced.

But theology is only one subject on which I like to go down a rabbit hole. I’m researching for a neurodivergent cookbook, and of course AI can present me with one-pagers on all the cooks I’d like to include in “why we do everything.” It is also quick for recipes, because I don’t use them but some people do.

I am the kind of person that reads cookbooks like a novel, learning techniques and blending recipes from whatever I have on hand. The ancients guide me in seasoning, and I would like to believe there are black people in my history somewhere, because I do not have a white person’s sense of spice. Judging by my translucent skin color, I doubt it, but there’s always hope.

Actually, I’m lucky that my skin is a little bit olive, because it stops me from burning to a crisp in the summer. I actually have the ability to tan, and I used it quite liberally in Texas, where September rarely cools from August heat. My left arm is particularly dark from spending all that time driving with the sun beating through the driver’s window.

I used AI to give me several one-pagers on my car and its tech functions.

But the most important thing that AI can teach you is AI.

You can ask it all the questions you need in order to feel comfortable with it….. Like, “what are your capabilities?” “What kind of hardware does it take to run you if I were to download your data structures?” “Who invented you?” “When did you go live or when were you “born?”

Now that Microsoft has introduced voice chat, this goes even faster. My digital assistant sounds like a surfer, and I can use it on my iPhone or my Android. What is best is keeping the window open like a phone call, so when I think of something I need to research I can just say it into the mike and keep typing.

As you can see, I have used none of AI’s generative capabilities. I think of my own brainstorms, but writing those ideas into Copilot allows Copilot to enhance whatever I want to do naturally, coming up with ideas that fit the scope of my project. I’m not sure that I could write without AI these days, because I’m not using it as a platform that does my work for me. It is at best a kind and caring Google search.

So get curious. Ask the books for information. You have at your fingertips a tool for getting smarter, and I can’t think of a better time in history to use it.

The Principal Principle

October 13, 2025October 13, 2025 ~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

Daily writing prompt

What principles define how you live?

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“If I have it and you need it, it’s yours.”

Words from my father when I was little that still resonate. I am often guilty of giving away too much under this principle, but I have never regretted bestowing a kindness on someone else. I have received more kindness than I can ever repay, so I hope that the next phase of my life comes with more giving.

I have turned inward over the last few years, joking that I’ve become feral. I’m trying to right that wrong by getting out and about in the world- much easier once I have a car, and it is supposed to arrive today. I’m excited to be able to go to Clark Burger for dinner, but I might change my mind because my father reminded me that the only problem with the restaurant is the parking situation.

Clearly, I have not thought this whole driving thing through. 😉

My dad got me a gift certificate to Clark Burger for Christmas at least two years ago and I’ve never used it because getting across town was such an ordeal.

Yes, it was a Christmas gift that time, but my dad does these little sweet things for me all the time, and it has set a great example for me in terms of how to remember people in ways that they’ll like.

For instance, sometimes I’d just send Aada a Starbucks gift card and say, “let me pick up your afternoon coffee.” Just for no reason at all. I didn’t expect anything in return, it was just to be sweet to her.

But over time, she started doing the same thing for me.

And in fact I have a cup I bought with one of her gift certificates so I have a tangible reminder of our relationship that doesn’t have to do with a computer. But I did that for Aada, too, by sending her Christmas and birthday gifts. So I don’t think that either of us is in a position to forget each other. Those are the kinds of things that make me smile in remembrance, and little surprises are definitely something I want to take into my next relationship.

Yes, it’s weird that I thought of her as so primary in my life, but oh my God is that a long story. You can read it here if you’re willing to go back a hundred years.

Even I don’t have that kind of patience.

The thing is that I rose above “if I have it, and you need it, it’s yours” to “take a look around and see what needs doing.” I’m trying to be more other aware. This type of looking around is not for sending sweet surprises to people who already have lots of money.

It’s noticing when people are hurting. Stopping to talk to homeless people and giving them coffee money instead. I’ve prayed with the unhoused in front of Safeway just because they asked me to (I do not remember the context).

Now, there’s nothing wrong with having lots of money. I just mean that people who already have lots of money are probably buying their own coffee.

I just want to be of service, instead of waiting for everything to happen to me. I don’t want to be so “go with the flow,” because those people get trampled. But I also don’t want to be a control freak, because I have learned that there’s so little in life that can be controlled in the first place. The secret to winning is giving up.