Dear Diary: 10 Random Things

I don’t have the bandwidth to format this post, so just enjoy this list of random thoughts.

1. I found out I have psoriatic arthritis. How wild it is that after over a decade of wrist/hand/arm pain, chiropractors, doctors, hand specialists, ergonomics, stretches, and gallons of Biofreeze … it would be a dermatologist who would finally figure it out? Well, the dermatologist in partnership with a rheumatologist. Most of the time psoriasis first presents itself as a rash and later can get into the joints. For me, it was joints first, so we never knew. Till now.

2. This lotion is the best ever. It works fast, isn’t greasy at all (I can even use it on my face), and smells like some heavenly mixture of clean air and warm light and a drop of vanilla and lemon. It’s not a “fragrance” or “scent.” Just an incredible product that happens to smell delicious.

3. One of my favorite people got married yesterday. I wrote a poem for her and her new hubby and read it in the ceremony. I loooooovvvved my dress. And shoes.

Bria and Justin, you are a #kilonova … love you x 100000000.

A post shared by Jackie Lea Sommers (@jackieleasommers) on

4. I’ve been doing the online dating thing for 14 months now. My friend’s wedding was such a great reminder to me that it’s imperative I don’t relax my standards. I truly want to be best friends with the man I marry someday.

5. I think I will have new news in my writing life soon. Send prayers, good thoughts, etc.!

6. Feeling very blessed to work at the University of Northwestern. What a joy it is to work with high school students and then see them succeed in college and beyond. And at a school as small as ours, we really do get to watch them grow. They make my heart so proud; they really do.


7.Ā I like being a woman who isn’t scared to wear bold lipstick. This is Nyx Butter Gloss in Chocolate Crepe. I hope it show up right on your screen. (It does on my phone, but not my comp! If it’s not a bright orangey-red, you’re missing the full effect.) šŸ˜‰

8. Creativity takes courage. In Tribe of Mentors, I read “Courage is more important than confidence.”

9. It also said, “You won’t take a bullet for pleasure or power, but you will for meaning.” I need to think about that.


10. I just finished reading Thunderhead by Neal Shusterman (review

strange the dreamer

to come soon! spoiler: loved it!). What should I read next? The Becoming of Noah Shaw? The Sun is Also a Star? Strange the Dreamer?

I think I just answered my own question. Laini Taylor, here I come!

Oh, That Interim!

I have started and paused on three different posts!

This week has marked change or upheaval in nearly all areas of my life– admissions, writing, health, dating– and I’m not sure I’m ready to talk about any of it yet, save to say I went on a date yesterday with a man who seems truly sweet.

*resists posting self-deprecating joke about how I will screw it up*

So, in this weird little interim, entertain me? Give me your best one- or two-sentence pep talk in the comments!!

Rockstars. All of you.


my life

is so weird.

sometimes i legit feel like i’m living inside a ya novel.

good inspiration for your stories, you may say.

listen: i have plenty of ideas.

i’m a grown woman who wants a grown man who wants a real relationship.

remember “ben” from the ghosting post? he resurfaced.

i am writing in lowercase because i feel very trepidatious.

being a woman is a glorious and sacred thing.

it is also complicated.

i am a web.

i capture even myself.

Beauty, Boundaries, & Naps

All of this. Every day.


Three years ago, I listed 20 life lessons Iā€™d picked up since college, and you can read those here.

Here are a few more Life Lessons with Jackie Lea:

arrow lessons

1. If you can afford to hire movers, do it. Your family and friends will be so grateful, and your stuff will be protected and insured in the move.

2. Itā€™s okay to appreciate beautiful things you donā€™t understand, like abstract art and experimental poetry. You donā€™t have to understand something to know if it is lovely or makes you feel something.

3. Makeup primer is not a joke. If your face is melting off by noon, try this. (I swear by Urban Decay primer potion and setting spray.)

4. Asking for help makes youĀ strong, not weak.

5. If you have a strong intuitive nature, donā€™t suppress it. Bringing up my thoughts and suppositions in a gentleā€¦

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Online Dating Chronicles: the Man who Never Was

burning armchair in the grunge interior. 3D illustration creative conceptYou can be anyone you want online. For awhile.

Mike was born in Ohio, grew up in Germany, and lived most recently from North Dakota, though was deployed by the US Army when we met– or so I thought. We got along great– tons of chemistry, lots of laughter, and I adored his heart, the way he wanted to be a dad someday, the way we cared about the same things. He was simultaneously so gentle and so masculine. It felt like I found someone my soul understood.

And then there was an emergency. His military-issued PDA was being collected because of a compromise in communications, and I remember my fear and sadness being ratcheted up to an 11. As I cried, Mike promised to find a solution.

The solution? Purchase a phone and send it to him. He was going to request to come home for Christmas and he’d paid me back then.

If all your warning signs just went up, GOOD.Ā 

But it made me realize: I think we’re all so used to the obvious scams like “Dear Sir or Madam, I’m a foreign prince and I want to give you $5 million US dollars for safe-keeping” that we are surprised by the intricate and clever ways we can be played.

This was a slow con: make a girl fall hard for you, then introduce the idea of separation and let the panic cloud her judgment.

He had another con too, made to seem more legitimate due to the slow introduction. One day he mentioned his dream was to open a particular business (in fact, I asked the question!). Another day he mentioned the money he had set aside for this business endeavor and how he had some of the equipment on reserve for a certain sum. Yet another day, he introduced the idea that someone locally was selling the same equipment and he might check it out … then it was the equipment he needed … at a far better price than the stuff he had on hold … he would save all this money, and it was forĀ our future, not justĀ his, and he only needed a deposit … by Friday.

Again, the slow introduction of facts, the insistence the savings would benefitĀ us both, and the frenzy of an impending deadline … I never thought I’d be so foolish.

I’m so grateful to my friend Ashley, who just said two words: “Jack … no.”

They snapped me out of it,Ā thank God.Ā 

Then I started researching. My friend who was former military easily pointed out all the inaccuracies in his stories. A quick internet search showed there was no American military presence in the location he had listed. The continued requests for money started to make sense.

I was being catfished.

Catfishing is a term used to describe luring someone into a relationship via a fictional online persona.

I’d been catfished before– but I’d always caught them early on and called them out before blocking them. They were clumsy at it, and I was too smart to fall for foolish schemes. I’d actually felt a weird pride that I was able to sniff out fake identities online. Until I encountered someoneĀ so dang good at it.Ā 

Now who’s the fool?

Keep in mind that, during all this discovery, my heart was also hurting. I had begun to believe that Mike and I might have a future. Now I was learning Mike did not exist.

Some people might think this was a bad move, but a week or so later, I messaged “Mike” again. He jumped into another story, and I simply said, “Stop. I know.”

He didn’t argue. “Then why did you talk to me again?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “Closure? I have so many questions.”

“You can ask,” he said.

Me: What’s your name?
Him: Wale.
Me: Where are you from?
Him: Nigeria.
Me: Did you target me because I’m a Christian?
Him: No, I am one too.
Me: Did you feel guilty?
Him: Every day.

Of course, I could not trust a single thing he said. But I wanted to believe these things– that he was a good man in a hard place, that he was truly sorry.

We developed a friendship, and through research, found a feasible career move for him– poultry farming, which is lucrative in Nigeria and has low start-up costs. He met with a local farmer and asked a hundred questions. I connected him to a field agent for Kiva (an amazing organization that does microloans), and he made a business plan to show them to request the overhead loan.

Wale’s phone has been turned off since mid-January, as he warned me would happen. I may never know what was true and what was fiction, even of his second story. I may never know if he was able to start his little poultry farm, or if he returned to the more lucrative but soul-stealing con of catfishing women. There are so many questions, and I know that once upon a time, he used to read my blog. (Wale, if you read this, I miss you, wish you nothing but joy, and would love an update, friend.)

Mike, of course, was just a phantom.

And how does a heart mend after loving a man who never existed?

Slowly. Surely. By letting new hopes fill the spaces that ghosts made.


6 Signs You’re Being Catfished
Kiva: Loans that Change Lives
10 Matches I Never (Ever) Expected
The Unique & Ambiguous Grief of Ghosting


The Dreadful O of OCD

OCDĀ beginsĀ with obsessions. Ā Compulsions are actually just a monstrous side effect of OCD.

Source: deviantART "Torture" by eWKn

Compulsive hand-washing is hard to hide. Ā Hoarding, definitely. Ā Even repetitive reassurance-seeking and confession (compulsions of choice for a Pure-O) are easy to notice once someone points it out to you.

But itā€™s harder to see the obsessions that are driving them.

Keep reading atĀ The Dreadful O of OCD

On God’s TongueĀ 


Youā€™re gonna think Iā€™m crazy.

Maybe I am.

The image that has been the most comforting to me this difficult week is inspired byCharlotteā€™s Web.

Do you remember when Wilbur carried Charlotteā€™s eggs from the fair back home to Zuckermanā€™s farm?

This has been my odd comfort: picturing my heart, wrapped in silk, resting on Godā€™s tongue. Safe.

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Online Dating Chronicles: the Unique & Ambiguous Grief of Ghosting

burning armchair in the grunge interior. 3D illustration creative conceptI had never heard the termĀ ghosting before online dating.

Ghosting describes ending a personal relationship suddenly and without explanation by ending all communication.

And. it.Ā sucks.

I think ghosting might be the most painful thing I’ve encountered in the whole nefarious world of online dating, although catfishing (more to come!) might be its equal.

The first time I remember talking to … let’s call him Tyler … was clearly not the first time we had talked. He greeted me with, “Fancy seeing you here!”


I might not have even responded to him except that it seemed we had prior interactions. Later I found out that we had talked on a couple other sites but I had kinda blown him off. I admired his persistence since he wasn’t rude or pushy about it any way.

In fact, he wasn’t rude at all. Even though I had originally replied out of a weird obligation, I found myself really enjoying my daily conversations with Tyler. After two weeks of thinking it was nothing, I realized IĀ really, reallyĀ liked him. He was cute and friendly and really honest about his rough past. We had a similar sense of humor and developed inside jokes quickly, and we had vulnerable conversations about our insecurities. We talked about everything: we sent links to our favorite songs back and forth, I’d casually ask him to pick out which nail polish color I’d use while we learned about each other’s work, families, passions. Then I’d send a photo of my painted nails and it would evolve into flirting, so much flirting.

It was while I was in Duluth on a writing retreat that I realized I was falling for him.

Yes, I totally agree with the idea of meeting sooner than later, but remember, when we started talking, I honestly had no intention of pursuing anything. By the time I had changed my mind, I was spending a week in Duluth. We talked every night, and finally made plans to go on a date when I got home that Friday.

But it was actually Memorial Day weekend, and his family wanted him to go up to their cabin for the weekend, so we said, “Okay, we’ve waited three weeks; what’s another couple days?”

On my way home from Duluth, I went shopping. I bought a new outfit for our date. I was actually quite giddy and felt like the luckiest girl, picking out something to wear for when I finally met my newest best friend.

We chatted that Friday. We chatted that Saturday. He sent me a photo of himself in the boat, holding up a fish he’d caught, and I remember my heart doing cartwheels becauseĀ how could I have not seen how absolutely gorgeous he was immediately? How could I have ignored this man on two other sites? I’d been a fool, but now my eyes were open and I had a cute skirt for Monday and look at my strong fisherman!

I remember snapping a photo of myself making a dorky face, and he replied, “So cute!”

I never heard from him again.

For Saturday night, I wasn’t worried. Yes, we talked most evenings, but I knew he was up north with his family. There were a million distractions for him, and he might not even have good cell service.

On Sunday, I sent him a photo of the 90s song that was making me laugh. I sent a couple other things too, and … nothing. On the messenger we were using, it shows an “S” for sent, “D” for delivered, and “R” for read. It was not flipping to R.

On Monday, when I thought we were supposed to have our first date, I thought, “Huh, maybe I misunderstood and he’s only getting back tonight and we’re hanging out tomorrow.”

On Tuesday, I told myself I would hear from him later on, after work, even though sometimes we would text when we woke up and during breaks in the day.

The dread had been growing, but when I went to sleep on Tuesday with no word, it exploded like a bomb in my heart. As I’m prone to do, I still tried to reach for excuses. He dropped his phone in the lake. He was sick. He was still up north. But my heart was in pain, and … more than that …Ā I missed my friend.Ā 

[Loooooong, intriguing story here aboutĀ why we had this, but] I remembered that my roomie and I had a fake account on that dating site. On Wednesday morning, I logged in under that account, found his profile, said, simply, “hi.”

He wrote back to “Jenny Jones” within half an hour. “Jenny Jones” sat in her bed bawling while letting go of the boy who had become so important to her and then suddenly decided to walk away. “Jenny Jones” told him she’d had a tough week because a guy she’d been talking to ghosted her. Tyler told “Jenny Jones” he was so sorry to hear that. “Jenny Jones” asked if he’d ever done that to anyone before. Tyler admitted he had. “Jenny Jones” logged off.

Immature of me? Yeah, probably. But the ambiguity is like hell.

A man had won me over for a month, make plans with me, and then bailed. Completely bailed. Not just cancelled.Ā Ghosted.Ā 

No explanation. No goodbye.

For a while, the space that person has carved out in your heart feels so devoid you can hear echoes.

And people don’t understand, of course, because
it was only a month
you never even met
it’s not like he was your boyfriend

So you mostly grieve alone. The death of possibility physically hurts.


I met another guy last summer who did the same. We’ll call him Ben. I liked Ben even more than I liked Tyler, far more, which is why it’s actually easier to tell that other story in more detail. Ben’s last words to me were, “Sweet dreams, gorgeous Jackie,” and with Ben, there wasĀ no closure. None. No “Jenny Johnson” convo to truly cut that cord.

Then, two weeks ago (six months after ghosting), Ben emailed me. We sorted through things. We explained our various miscommunications. We talked seven hours that day. I let my foolish heart reopen. I could hear the hope in my voice, feel the potential fill my heart like a balloon.

And then he did it again.

I bond easily,Ā very easily, which is why I’m careful with my boundaries. I am created for relationship. I am not wired for casual. My heart loves hard but bruises easily.


Ghosting, I think, is selfish and needlessly cruel. That ambiguous grief is so much worse than a goodbye, even one without an explanation, and it’s such a reality in the world of online dating.

It’s hard to say when two people cross the line from owing one another nothing to owing one anotherĀ something. Is it determined by how many days you talk? How many hours? Or how many secrets you share, what level of intimacy you reach? I can’t pinpoint that space in which it changes, but I think that most people know. I knew. Tyler knew. Ben knew.

But why?Ā I may never knowĀ that.