My Writing. My World.
I’ve never been a huge fan of 4th of July celebrations.
They always seemed like an excuse to drink too much and play with explosives, which, as the daughter of a retired fire chief, always made me nervous and uneasy even as everyone around me was having fun.
So while I appreciate the moment we all take as a nation to stop and be grateful for the freedoms our country affords us, I’ve always had a greater appreciation for Independence Day from a more personal perspective. I’ve taken quiet moments on this day each year to commit privately to creating more of the freedom and independence in my own life that I’ve always wanted — and needed — which was always more than most people I know needed.
One of my favorite visualization exercises is the one in which you picture your ideal day.
Starting with how you envision yourself waking up in the morning, you imagine everything about how you would want your perfect day to look. What time you ideally wake up, who wakes up with you — a sacred partner, a furry friend, rambunctious kids — and then how you get your day started.
I don’t believe that the Universe tests us.
At least, that’s what I always thought I believed – until lately.
And now…now, I feel like that’s all the Universe is doing to me. All while it’s laughing its ass off at me.
A few years ago, I wrote an article about beginning what I called a Soul Project. I loved that idea so much. What could be more important than creating a life that’s aligned with your soul? With giving your Self everything you’ve ever seen in your idealized vision of yourself? There is no greater work.
Breathing.
It’s not so hard, right?
Inhale through your nose, exhale through your mouth.
Inhale through your nose, exhale through your mouth.
Inhale through your nose, exhale through your mouth.
Simple.
Except when it’s not.
Except when the weight of the world has left your shoulders bruised and sore.
Except when you find yourself taking a deep breath, only to realize it’s because you’ve been holding your breath. For a very long time.
I’m sorry.
I’m sorry I’m not the mother you wish you had. I’m sorry I’m not the friend I once was. I’m sorry I can’t accept your lovely offer for a date yet.
You see…I am trying to keep my head above water. But the undertow is strong and it’s taking all of my strength just to keep treading water.
It’s taking every moment of every day to just look for the good. Just to see the tiny bit of light.
I thought this would be my year of healing. But instead of reaching the end of the dark night of my soul, I fear I have seen only just the beginning.
I feel like I’m living a double life — but without the glamour of being a secret agent or a superhero.
When my husband of 25 years and I decided to “split up together,” we knew it wouldn’t be neat and tidy. Having committed to putting our children first — no matter what — we knew we were going to be taking on the brunt of the tricky logistics involved in letting the kids stay in our family home while we took turns coming and going.
But I definitely didn’t know I would feel like I was living a double life.
I believe in signs. I always have.
The first time I went to Red Rocks to see Lyle Lovett a million years ago, my ex-boyfriend couldn’t make it to the show after we had purchased a summer’s worth of concert tickets together – and he suggested I invite a friend of his instead.
As I remember it, I thought to myself, “Message received.” I had been feeling like he wasn’t as interested in me as he once was and his suggestion seemed like the sign I needed. That he was trying to let me down in the nicest way possible by suggesting that I take a friend of his that he had just introduced me to.
I married that friend of his less than six months later.
I’m struggling with the words that go along with divorce.
In fact, I don’t think I’ve even said the word divorce out loud. I’ve only written it. I just doesn’t feel right to me – it doesn’t feel like it describes us or our family’s situation.
We didn’t even want to use it when we told our kids, and I didn’t use it when I told my side of the family. I think I mostly say that we are splitting up. But why? Why does it bother me so much?
For the most part, I think it’s because…
I’m not sure exactly what I was expecting.
After my last article, I knew there would be shock and dismay and understanding and a flood of “I’m so sorry’s” and lots of love. And I was right.
What I was not expecting was the outreach.
Much like when we had our miscarriage in between our kids’ births – people came out of the woodwork. I couldn’t believe how many others had had miscarriages at that time and I didn’t know. Some of them much further along than me…and some of them multiple times.
It was like a secret club that you didn’t even know existed – and certainly never wanted to belong to.
I took my wedding ring off today.
Not to send a message to you — or to anyone else for that matter. I did it as an act of self-love. As another punctuation mark. Punctuating the completion of our marriage.
And it does feel complete.
It feels sort of odd that I didn’t take the ring off to mark an ending — as much as I did it to mark a new beginning. For me. For you. For our family.
Boy, was she something.
She was as badass as they come. Brave and bold and sassy.
She was amazing and confident and in love with herself and what was happening in her life.
But she didn’t love her daily life. That grind that came with dealing with the minutiae left her with nothing for herself.
It made her restless.
Riddle: What does a writer do when she writes to process the events of her life – when she writes to figure out how she truly feels about everything she is experiencing -- but cannot write about what’s been happening in her life?
If you can solve that riddle, please let me know, because I haven’t solved it yet. And it’s frickin’ torture.
Whether you are starting your business from scratch, working from home as a freelancer, or have a traditional, full-time job outside the home, there is one thing we all have in common – when the kids are home from school for the summer, we suddenly have much more on our plate to manage.
I have a dear friend who is an Executive Director of Meetings and Events for a national organization and she is one of the hardest working people I know. Not one of the hardest working moms – one of the hardest working people. We often comment to each other that we don’t know how the other one does it. And we always say it with love and affection.
Yesterday, I found out that a man I barely knew died unexpectedly the night before. I am still feeling sad about it today—but I’m not sure why, since I didn’t even know him.
This young man was a friendly, scruffy-looking retail clerk at a small store in my town, and all I know about him is that he had just turned 25 years old, and that he was going to get married next month. I also know that he had just gotten his first tattoo. He was so proud of it and eager to show me the last time I saw him.
Maroon 5 released their latest single, “Girls Like You” this week and it was just what I needed in this #MeToo era—especially in the wake of Harvey Weinstein’s arrest and the new allegations against actor, Morgan Freeman.
Full disclosure—I am a fan of Maroon 5 and might even have a somewhat ridiculous crush on Adam Levine, so I already knew and loved this song. However, I have never been one to ever really watch music videos.
But this one is worth watching.
