Help.

A lot of memories all in one place.

Yesterday afternoon, in true New Year’s fashion, we disassembled the Christmas tree. Ornament by ornament. Memory by memory. We dismantled the fragrant and not-so-dead-after-all tree.

While this is nothing remarkable (I mean, let’s face it, we ALL take the tree down at some point), it was remarkable to me. This was the first year in all the years I can remember that I had help dismantling the Christmas tree.

Maybe you are shrugging your shoulders right now thinking to yourself, “So what…”

The thing is, I am not very good at asking for help. I am even less good at receiving it.

For me, the help I always needed has never really been there…partially by design and partially because when I asked for help, it never came to me - at least not how I was expecting it. So I figured out life on my own. I became a “do-it-yourself” kinda gal. I never wanted to risk the disappointment of being told no, so I decided there wasn’t much I couldn’t do by myself.

The thing is, I tried to do this alone. For some reason, my guys weren’t having it. They pitched in and we had decorations out of here and life back to a semi-normal state within the hour. Record time. This could have taken me up to 3 days to get it taken down, packed up, and cleaned away if I was alone.

The help I desire to ask for runs deeper than help with the Christmas decorations. It’s in every facet of my life. Sure, I have stepped away from things from time to time and let someone take the wheel… But it’s never been easy for me.

Help came last month when I needed it…in a big way. Christmas was coming and we had an unexpected passing in our family. When my people came to me and said “we are here, tell us what we can do for you…” I felt a sudden relief from the pressure. We all pitched in and had maybe one of the best Christmases I can remember in recent years.

So maybe the key to happiness - or even the key to life - is acceptance. Acceptance of help, of love, and of truth. Acceptance of whatever is in front of you. I have spent so much time pushing it all away that it’s time to embrace that which was meant for me.

And that includes all the help I can get.

Beginning again.

I am stepping gently into 2025 right now.

I am not grabbing it by the horns or seizing the day. I am walking cautiously ahead. Quietly. Easefully.

Like you, I’ve done the resolutions before. I’ve done the “word of the year.” I have done the vision boards and journaling and enough goal setting to make a corporate CEO promote me to become their right hand man. I have done it all. And you know what I have learned: life has it’s own plan.

That’s not to say I am giving up, or without goals or a vision for the rest of my life. I have vision and purpose. I have things I am trying to accomplish in the rest of my days here on this planet. But I know things all work out in due time…which is not necessarily MY time.

If last year taught me anything, it was to expect a lot of changes in plans. This has happened to me a lot in my adult life. And as I write these words, I am trying to teach my adult son that those curve balls life launches at you are there to make you a stronger human capable of big things. The better you handle those minor setbacks, the better your outlook on life becomes.

December was particularly hard this year. We had a lot of pivoting to do including the loss of my future Mother-in-law. It came on fast and furious and seemed to swallow us whole during the holidays. For the first time in 40 years, I wasn’t “home” for the holidays. And you know what? I think it was my favorite holiday yet!

One thing that got me through the holidays this year was a text from a friend that reached out. In the middle of funeral planning and life happening, I was getting stressed about not having done anything. We had no tree up, no presents were bought, no cookies were baked. And I was just not feeling it.

“I’ve done nothing for Christmas yet…” I bemoaned in a text message.

Her response stuck with me and became my guiding light through the end of a difficult time. “You really don’t have to “do” anything.” She said. “It’s about being with the people you love and celebrating the promise of new/continuing life in winter’s darkness. I bet you are perfectly prepared for that. You can buy shit anytime.”

And with that, I pivoted.

Everything became easier. All my decisions became more clear. The pressure fell away. We had each other and we would all be together and that’s really all that mattered at the time. My focus changed from what I wouldn’t get done to what I could get done. And with that, Christmas was reborn for me.

So that’s how I am going into the new year. I don’t have to set intentions or goals. I don’t have to color in a vision board or scratch words into a journal. It’s about having a purpose to get up every day…for you, that may be the gym. For me right now, it’s spending time with myself and family, giving everything and everyone the grace and space they need to move ahead.

Each day has a promise… and that promise is to begin again. That’s all we can do while we have the time to do it here on earth.

Begin again.

Twenty Two

Twenty-two.

As I write this entry, I remember you. Twenty-two years ago today, I was making a big pot of chili with some added flavor from the hot sauce Scott had made me from the our little summer garden on Stewart Street. I had thought about you a lot that day as I gazed at my plump, melon-shaped belly, imagining what you’d be like, who you’d look like, what was in for us.

I couldn’t have begun to imagine this life you gave me.

As I settled in that evening, I remember the calmness I felt. There was a knowing that washed over me that everything would be okay. It was a deep knowing that we were gonna be just fine despite the whispers and worries of friends and family. I wasn’t worried.

You see, I knew you were meant to be. I knew we were meant to be.

I loved you before you were born…before I ever conceived you really. A friend of mine looked at me when you were around 3 months old and said “Can you even imagine what your life was like before this?”

The truth is, I never could. I never did. You came along and just put it all in focus, painting the details in for me so I could finally see what was real. You made the impossible POSSIBLE. It’s one of your subtle gifts.

Watching you grow up has been my greatest privilege and honor. All those days at the beach and making grilled cheeses and doing legos and carpool went by at warp speed. I always wanted it to slow down. Enjoy the party. You are such a gift to me…to this world. I am excited to see the directions your life takes you and what you do with this one precious life. I will always be there, rooting for you, cheering from the sidelines.

I say this all the time to you, but don’t let the world tell you who to be. Don’t let me or Scott tell you what’s right for you. Or your friends. Or bosses. Only you know what’s right. Get quiet. Be still. And be you. Authentically you. Gloriously you. Unapologetically you.

Because the one thing I do know is that this world needs as much of you as it can get.

I love you.

Momma.

Back to the Basics

I am tired. Weary.

I am tired of feeling like I am not enough…and yet, somehow, too much.

I am sick of being sold shit at EVERY DAMN MOMENT of my life. Since when did we need so much CRAP!

I am tired of toxic positivity. Not every day needs to be slayed. Really. Some days you need to just rest.

I am over caring about anything but comfort. That goes for clothes. Routines. Food. Work. And the rare show I decide to watch (I’m looking at you Fraiser).

I am tired of politics. The pitting against each other. The bickering. The back and forth. The aggressive behavior on both side. It’s humiliating to watch. Like being inside of a massively dysfunctional family dynamic that none of us can escape from.

I am sick of feeling responsibility for everything because I am a sponge for others emotions. For the love of god, someone out there please tell me how to be Teflon.

I am tired of all of the minutia that occupies my brain when I could be doing something useful with it…coming up with better ideas for living a smaller life and making a difference for those I know and love. The only change I can influence is my immediate circle. I have found that it’s rare to make a statement that can change the world. But you can do things to change your world.

I am tired of living large. Dreaming big. I want simple. I want to feel full of heart when I look at the ocean, or a little hermit crab, or a bird perched on my fence post, or a flock of Canadian geese flying in formation. I want to see the wonder in how bees work together and feel fresh air on my face and be so excited that my legs covered in cellulite and scars can still hold me upright after 50+ years. What a MIRACLE it would be to LOVE ourselves as we are.

I am just done.

So for now, you may find me doing the simple things. I will keep posting about the things that feel pure and fill my heart. I will find magic in the minutia. You can find me there…in the garden watching the bees, or at the beach looking for that perfect shell, laying on my back watching clouds change shape as they float by. Looking at flowers as they open wide and fireflies as they LITERALLY produce a magical glowing light from their bodies. I’ll be chasing waterfalls and searching for stars in the sky and rainbows after a storm.

I am going back to the beginning when things were simpler and curiosity was what ruled the day.

I am going back - back to the basics.

Lying in the grass

Oh the backyard clover…

I lay there in the grass, plush comforter underneath my body, soft, fluffy clouds drifting by over my head. The air was as soft as cotton sheets wrapped around me and smelled like the spring of my childhood - sweet and perfumed with freshly cut grass, late season iris blooms and honeysuckle.

I noticed things in the grass I don’t take the time to look at anymore. I noticed tiny ants marching along in line with one another - not so aimlessly, but almost on a mission. I noticed caterpillars munching on garden leaves and busy bees buzzing around clover blooms. Taking their time to drink it all in.

I moved with the sun…out of it when it was too much. Into it when I needed it’s warmth.

I thought about all these things I used to do. When I was younger, more free, unencumbered by life. I used to linger over the little things. When did I get so busy? Why is there so much information in my face all the time? Where did all these useless emails to answer come from? When did I become a grown up? And why-oh-why can’t I make decisions as solidly as I did as a little girl?

When did I get so lost?

Maybe the choices were easier back then. Grape or orange soda? Hot dog or tuna fish sandwich? Play a game inside or tag outside? Maybe I am lost in the complexity of life. Choices feel bigger now…a sort of life-or-death situation.

---

I lay there all day that day, unable to get up and unwilling to move. Paralyzed by life and what had come of it. I lingered all afternoon - swept up in the most basic pleasures of the world. Sitting in the sunshine looking for 4 leaf clovers. Drinking ice cold tea from a glass with a straw. At ease.

I thought of my younger self a lot that day. How hurt she was. How lost she had been and become. I thought of her and how she never thought she had any help. Maybe she didn’t want help…or didn’t know how to ask for it. Maybe she only wanted certain kinds of help. The kind of help that was on her terms…not the kind of help that the youngest person in the family gets which is always unsolicited and condescending.

That little girl in me laid there all afternoon…thinking about things…crying sometimes…curiously searching for 4 leaf clovers…did they even exist? Why are they so hard to find? Why are the good things so elusive?

---

How do we get so far off course? When do we lose our curiosity…our sense of play and wonder? Is it when we are trying to fit into the scheme of life in our teens, desperately not trying to call attention to ourselves. Or maybe it happens when we watch others. We begin the complexity of wanting.

We are paralyzed in our want these days. The trap of wanting is a real thing. At my age, I don’t care as much as I used to. I am comfortable enough in my surroundings and I am at the end of the search for accepting myself. So life seems okay.

So, the question is this: why am I pushing so hard and what exactly am I pushing? Should I just walk away? Will it all come crashing down?

---

It’s good to watch the rhythm of life every now and again…lie in the grass and just watch the ants marching to their nests and the bees buzzing around collecting nectar. For me, the best thing I can do now is to watch the seasons begin as I observe gently as the other ends. It gives me balance in my brain…a recognition that things always change and life always has a way of continuing on just as it needs to. Even when those ants are lugging around things bigger than them, they seem to know when to put it down, when to signal for help, or just when to stop. Even when the bee is fed up of searching for it’s nectar, it knows just how and where to rest and take a moment.

Maybe the answers are in slowing down. Laying in the grass. Letting that little girl inside me get what she deserves - peace, simple pleasures, rest, and stillness - so she can quit trying to be the adult here and run a show that is too big for her.

Time for a break. Time to rest.

Easter Sunday

Sweet little Easter eggs, just waiting to be made into something magical…

Today is Easter Sunday.

It’s one of my favorite days of the year. Or…it used to be.

There is something so magical about this time of year. Flowers blooming. Gardens changing. Easter baskets. Egg hunts. Brunches with mimosas and family. And the symbolism of rebirth is all around us. It’s just very special to me.

But lately - especially this year - I am spending Easter Sunday a bit differently. My son is grown and at a concert this weekend. My fiance is spending time with his aging parents today. My best friend is on a European adventure. And the rest of my family is…well…doing their own thing I guess.

One thing spring harkens is that change is evident. Always. And nothing shows this phenomonon better than Easter. Expect the unexpected is the clear message we get on this day. Miracles abound. But somehow, today has felt less than miraculous and a little more regular and mundane.

So I am spending the afternoon looking for a different kind of magic. I am searching for small miracles. Messages from my son saying he’s fine and on the way home. New plants growing out in the garden. And the bluebirds that have been hanging around my yard today singing songs of joy. It’s a sunny, clear, gorgeous day that I can only be thankful for - despite all the changes that have settled in.

And all I hear in my heart now is this clear and vibrant message: “Life is right here outside your door, my love. It’s playing a game of hide and seek with you. Come out and play.”

Good enough.

The Daffodils are here.

Things are new. Fresh again. The spring is bringing me messages more clear than a sunny winter sky these days…sunshiney as the daffodils peeking out at me with their bright happy faces.

I am now focused on what matters most. You see, I have spent the better part of my life focused on the wrong stuff. Things like what I look like. Or how much I weigh. Or how many calories I have consumed on any given day.

Our society counts on us not feeling like we are enough as we are. Because if we were enough, what would happen? If you weighed enough and your teeth were white enough and your pants were a perfect size…what would happen?

Or rather, what COULD happen?

For starters, I think we’d be content with what is in front of us and focus in on the things that matter to us most. Things like sunrises and sunsets, flowers and new foliage blooming in our own back yards, or food and fellowship with those we love most. The little things. The beautiful things.

We would be less focused on our aging faces or those big bellies we acquired somewhere along the way. We would be content to be as we are…as things are…as life is.

I am all for improving ourselves. But I think I got lost somewhere on this path thinking the improvements had to be external. Or visible to anyone. The changes have to come more with the reality of life…the reality of how small we really are. The reality that right here, right now is good enough.

The flowers don’t feel like they aren’t doing enough. They know they are okay. They live for each moment. They go dormant when they need rest and thrive when the conditions are good enough.

Not perfect. But good enough.

And so here we all are. Standing on the precipice of change, evolution, and everything that happens and has been happening. And it’s all been good enough.

So this spring. I beg of you - of me - to let this all just be good enough…as it is.

Thirty days.

Turning over that new leaf…

For the past few years, I have abandoned my desire to create some sort of “resolution.” I often feel too pressured by them and the fear of failing 2 weeks in always looms over me. Because if I am being honest, I have never fully followed through with any of it. It’s just human nature to slip back into habits that are familiar, comforting and easy.

What I did instead is create a 30 day habit to get into. Nothing too complicated, but something that could ass to my life rather than remind me of what I am not doing. I have added watercolor painting (which I fell in love with and know I need more of in my life) and a daily walking habit (despite having some pretty severe plantar fasciitis at the time).

While I don’t do either thing continuously through the year, I do love the habit and ritual behind them. They ground me into a routine and perhaps something a little on the healthy side - which I really love. And the practice of making you do 30 continuous days of something is a good way to start any new habit.

While I have no ideas of grandeur that any of these practices will become an actual thing I do every day, I like the reminder that it is something I can practice more of.

It took me a few days to choose something this year…but I have decided that writing is going to be my daily practice. Perhaps here. Perhaps in a journal. Perhaps on social media. But I will do something each day.

Writing helps me process what’s in my brain better than any other thing I do. It allows me to make sense of thoughts that loom over me like dark shadows in the night and helps me work out schedules and routines as I stumble through what’s next in my busy mind. It helps slow me down and dive into clear thinking. And friends - that is something I could use a lot more of these days as I navigate a new chapter this year.

I hope you find something to inspire yourself this year. It could be today or in 3 months. New Years doesn’t have to be the marker. It could be on your birthday or any random wednesday (like me!). This just feels like it fits for me - right here…right now.

In the meantime, you can catch me on one of those walks, or picking up those paintbrushes. It’s been a long time coming and I can’t wait to ground down into something comforting.

The Good Parts

Photos tell a sweet little story… a memory plucked out of a moment in the line of forgotten memories. Some of those moments tend to slip away and that’s okay. Not all memories are made to savor. But I really like that part. I like to remember the whole story. I think it’s a big reason of why I do what I do.

There is a back story to every photo I take. The hard work in the back yard - literal blood, sweat, and tears - that allow you to enjoy a summer morning on the porch. Or the haul to the beach with so much gear you’d swear your arms will fall off as you sweat out any remnant of remaining water in your body (Hello, Charleston summers). Or even a solitary moment by the stereo belting out a childhood favorite after a long, twisty, carsick ride just to get to that little vacation spot. There is something to each photo above that makes me remember the bigger picture. The good and the bad.

Often we post these sweet images…the results of the life we are living. From the outside looking in it all looks pretty perfect. And maybe that’s what the point is. Remembering these moments.

I don’t think when I look back at the end of my days that I’ll think much about the blood, sweat, and tears it took for me to get to those moments above. I think I’ll remember the parts that counted. Call me an optimist or a glass half full kinda gal…or even a goldfish. It’s all true. But I think I want to remember the good parts anyhow. It’s why we do the hard stuff in the first place.

Just remember, those good parts are just the result of the invisible work behind the photo.

Lock the door and throw away the key

Lately, I have really had the urge to padlock myself behind a heavy door and throw away the key. Just hibernate and regroup to come to terms with myself.

We are saturated with information every day. The world tells us a lot of things. What to think. What to wear. What to look like. How old to be. Who to love. What to eat. I feel as though we are all being bombarded with information - or more likely, MIS-information - about who we are in relation to the rest of the world. It’s exhausting.

So the thought of locking myself away in a cozy little place and letting myself be comfortable with who I am sounds really appealing to me these days. I want to get to know me and only me….sort of like I would do if I was dating myself.

I have lived a life as an unlocked door - open for passers by to come inside and get comfortable. I let anyone have the keys - men, women, friends, and family were all allowed access to me, allowed inside to come in and get comfy or a soft place to land. Don’t get me wrong… I don’t mind a little compromise, but I think what I did is to give away to much space in my heart.

It turns out that when you give people free access to your insides, they trash the joint like a band of twenty year old college renters with zero stakes in the game. They take that cushy pad they landed in and stain the carpets, leave water prints on the coffee table, break the appliances, and walk away with all the valuables, leaving you to clean it all up.

Trust me, I know this is a choice I made. A pleaser by nature, I wanted people to walk away feeling good from me. But what happened was I let them walk away with all my best stuff. They raided the china cabinet and left me the dirty dishes.

It’s time to heal. It’s time to regroup. It’s time to take precious care of what’s behind that door. I’ve got some serious repair work to do.

So maybe this us where I will sit - behind this big locked door. No access for the outside world. Just me and myself - getting reacquainted with each other.

Searching for perfection.

I walked outside the other morning, cup of hot coffee in hand and looked up. In that moment, things were perfect. The weather, the sky, the energy I felt. Life felt good - even great. The moment of peace and gratitude hit me as if from nowhere. Like a love bomb from out of the blue

How did I get to that moment? Where did it come from so unexpectedly. It’s not like I haven’t walked on my porch – coffee in hand to welcome the day. I have spent countless mornings walking outside, looking at the sky, wondering when it would hit me…that feeling of things being just right. And there it appeared, on my back porch when I wasn’t even looking for it.

I feel like I have spent the better part of my life waiting - waiting for things to be just right, for life to get easier, for the right moment. Waiting until I am thinner or prettier or in the perfect mood or the weather to be precisely what I want. If I am being honest, it’s been an exhausting search.

I think I realized on my porch last week that things are really good enough. You just have to want to see it that way. Life isn’t what I expected it to be, but isn’t that true for most of us? Maybe the weather isn’t what I was hoping for or my thighs aren’t the size I wish they were, but if I step a little further back from that, I can see things more clearly. I am healthy, happy, and pretty lucky to have what I have.

Maybe striving for perfection isn’t really about perfection. Maybe it’s just about acceptance of it all. Maybe we just need to be grateful in the now to appreciate what is.

Freedom

In the beginning of the year, I decided to explore something new creatively. I didn’t want it to be photography related in any way, take tons of time, or become a burden. So I started a 30 challenge to make a watercolor every day.

At the suggestion of a friend who did this for A YEAR, I stuck with a specific size and just started exploring from there. And you know what - I really sucked at first. Like…my first stuff was awful. But as I continued, I sort of watched it all unfold and stopped having expectations of myself.

This one simple act of showing up with nothing in my head and no expectations lead to some pretty awesome creativity. I experimented with paint, paper, brushes, and watched as the water took over every single image I created. Sometimes it was great. Other times, I ended up throwing it away. But each moment was a delightful experience in losing control of an outcome.

This dance became something I craved. I woke up each morning looking forward to seeing what happened with paint, water, paper, brushes and me. I got into a rhythm and found that the paper I thought I would hate, the brushes I didn’t like at first were the EXACT things I went back to over and over again.

Losing expectations and losing control was necessary at this point in my life right now. I had to lose some control to see how little it really matters. I had to give in creatively to something I knew literally NOTHING about other than the little palette of Crayola watercolors we distributed in art class when I was a teacher. We spend so much time having expectations on us and responsibility laid out for us. Sometimes letting something else have a little control - letting something be what it is without wanting to change it or manipulate it too much - is just where we need to be. It was like uncovering a path to somewhere new, somewhere that freedom took over and expectations were left behind for 15 minutes a day.

So do that thing – go take a dance lesson or hula hoop class. Sign up for that ceramics class you dream about. Learn to sew. Free yourself creatively a little. Then watch it all unfold with an open mind and an open heart.

Happy New Year

The start of the new year with all it’s resolutions and goal setting can be daunting - even for the most disciplined of us. I personally love a fresh start, but sometimes I am just not ready to leap into that on the first day of January after a wild holiday schedule, months of a busy work schedule, and making magic for those who come into my Christmas wake.

I have long sinced abandoned “resolutions” as a thing. Frankly a goal of “losing 10 lbs” or “getting my finances in order ” seems as overwhelming as Lucy holding the football for Charlie Brown…he’s never going to get that ball, is he? So about 10 years ago, I started making themes by choosing a word of the year. This works because you can keep revisiting your word and checking in - “Am I being “MINDFUL” with my choices today?” or “Am I really focused on wellness while eating this barbecue?”

You get the picture.

But lately, even that feels daunting. How do I focus on wellness goals when COVID has loomed over us for the past 2 LONG years and taken me down physically, emotionally and financially? How do I focus on mindfulness when I am overwhelmed with just getting through the days? All I want is a new horizon…new views and a fresh start. I don’t want the pressure of attaching anything to that but what makes sense for me and on my time.

While I slow roll into the new year and make decisions about what works for me on my terms this year, I will consider the views around me. What makes sense? What is working? And what is calling for change? And as the stillness of my soul lets the dust settle from the “new year frenzy,” I will wait for the call of what truly aligns with me…gym membership be damned.

Happy New Year, friends. I hope this year brings you what you and your soul truly seek. Get still…listen…and follow YOUR call.

Closure

“I don’t know…I think I am just looking for closure, but I don’t think I’m ever going to get it.”

This was the end to a text conversation. Hopeless and desperate all at the same time, the words hung with me like a weight around my neck. A verbal Albatross. The feeling was palpable between us both.

Closure has been on my mind a lot lately. It’s an image in our heads of resolve. The end of something. The moment we lay everything to rest during it’s final chapter. The problem is, I am not really sure there is such a thing. Closing a door to something doesn’t mean there aren’t things behind it. This closet is still full of crap that barely gets used. But it’s still there. And I know it.

When my parents died, I wondered if there would be closure. I hoped for it…even prayed. They were great parents, but the relationship between parents and children is a complicated and twisted path. But during their final chapter when their eyes closed for the last time and I watched them take their very last breaths, I realized how many holes there were in our story, in our history. My heart never fully had the chance to heal from some of it, and to this day there are still unresolved issues I have over moments with them, memories of them.

The same happened when my sister passed away. Or numerous break ups I’ve had. Or arguments. The list goes on.

I think the closure I have been seeking - the closure we all seek - isn’t real. It’s an illusion. The reality - the thing that IS real - is forgiveness. The closure is in the forgiving - the letting go. It’s in trying to stop the outcome of what is and living along side it. While this feels doable on some level, there are times where it can be especially hard. It’s hard when you aren’t prepared for it. Or when our pain is so real you can feel it physically. Or when you can’t get space from the person or situation. It seems unrealistic to expect someone to find forgiveness in something like an affair, abandonment, abuse.

But I think it can happen. I think forgiveness can come… with space and time.

I have mourned relationships that didn’t work out for decades before. I have wrestled with things said to me for a lifetime. So each day is a practice. Forgiving is letting go. And often, the hardest person I need to forgive is myself.

But each morning, I wake up and work on it.

I forgive. I breathe. And mostly, I hope.

National Day of You

There was a recent push around the interwebs for “national son’s day” and “national daughters day.” These things always feel so staged to me. Canned and triggered responses thoughts thrown out into space about the love we have for our children.

I mean…sure. I love my child…we ALL love our kids. But why do we need to set aside a day for this? Isn’t this a sentiment that should be shown daily - outside of the realm of social media? It feels wrought with the same canned emptiness I feel around Valentine’s Day.

But while I don’t love the “forced” nature of these sorts of days, I do love a pause to appreciate and show gratitude - be it a prayer or a party. Whether it’s a small token of gratitude or an entire celebration of someone, maybe showing each other we love each other should be more cause for pause.

If you know me at all - even a little - you know I love my son. I don’t need Hallmark or National Calendars to tell me how to celebrate him. Mention his name and watch my face soften like butter on a warm day. Ask me how he is and listen to the tone of my voice shift like sugar melting into a smooth, rich caramel.

I am so lucky to be this kid’s mother. He is special and amazes me every single day. His kind heart. His open mind. His sensitive soul. He came to me this way. All I did was nurture those good parts and help guide him to being his authentic self. My job has been mostly easy with him. The hard parts are always watching what the world had in mind for him - as thought it knows him better.

So in honor of all of the times I didn’t let you know enough, in honor of National Son’s Day, in honor of you, my son: I thank you. Thank you for being yourself and showing up as you are, 100% you, all the time. Thank you for that kind heart, that gentle soul, that clear mind. Thank you for following that heart. I am so proud of who you are becoming. You are celebrated everyday in my heart.

Spring Fling

I have spent time in love with something that doesn’t love me back quite the way I need to be loved. This city, with it’s fickle heart, makes me feel like a scorned lover at times. But it’s during the spring season that I can look away from the push and pull of this sordid relationship. Those cotton candy sunsets, the flowers bursting with color in backyards - dropping petals like confetti at a party. The seductively warm sunshine and cool, soft air like sheets dried in a breeze that wrap around my skin. It’s all enough to make me fall in love again, only to be scorned by the scorch of prickly summer heat lurking around a corner.

This year feels different. The rose-colored light looks warmer than ever before. More welcoming. It’s as if we are trying to fall back in love with each other, little by little. One sunset, one drive over the connector, one pile of petals at my feet at a time.

Jennifer

This one…

She has been standing by my side through this life with me for a while now…about 30+ years if I am doing the math right. Our friendship has outlasted careers and bad boyfriends, life and death, and even distance and proximity. There have been years I wouldn’t have made it through without her friendship, or her unyielding support. Her love is the perfect blended cocktail of strength and kindness for my thirsty soul.

She knows so much about me, often more than I can admit about myself. She listens to everything - and I mean EVERYTHING - that I am going through without batting an eye at the minuscule details I seem to cover. She calmly holds space for me in times of grief and patiently waits for me to come through whatever fog life has put in my path, always gently guiding me where I need to be.

But I think there are things she doesn’t know sometimes - like how much her texts mean to me each day or how strongly I value her opinion. She doesn’t know that I realize she almost single-handedly got me to actually pursue photography again after years of putting the camera down. It was this girl that held me up when I was falling apart a few short years ago in ways I can’t begin to express my gratitude for. And it is her that reminds me almost daily that I am worthy of so much more than what I ask for.

And here we are…her special day. A monumental occasion.

So, how do you celebrate a human that is this special to you on a day this special to them?

Candy? Balloons? A Party? A blog post? Nothing seems to fit this occasion. It all seems like an ill-fitting pair of cheap shoes that are wrong for the event. Too tight, stiff and awkward.

What I can do is share with you that I have hit the jackpot of friendships. What I can say is that she means more to me that she will ever comprehend. What I can tell you is that my gratitude for her unyielding support is immeasurable and undefinable.

Mostly though, what I can do is try to show her the same friendship, kindness and support she has shown me over these 30 years. What I can do it hold space for her as she continues to grow into the human she is meant to be - creative, kind, talented, smart, thoughtful, and generous with all of her.

Happy Birthday, my friend. May all your birthday wishes come true.

xox

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A New Year

We all seem ready to usher out last year right now. I have been seeing more about the change of the decade this year than I can ever remember before now…2020 seems to be the hope that we are all clinging on to in this firestorm of life.

That seems like a lot of pressure though…giving a whole set of unrealistic expectations and demands that it can’t live up to.

Don’t get me wrong… I get needing hope. I get wanting change. While I have had some bad years, this wasn’t one of them. But I have been ready to boot years to the curb. I have felt pain and grief and loss like you cannot even imagine. I have dealt with personal struggle that should have made me quit the game of life long ago. But here I am standing at the end of this year reflecting on what magic has become because I somehow managed to make it further along in my little story.

In all those bad years and in all the time that I was trying to heal myself, I never leaned heavily on the year or decade ahead to get me through it all. That’s a lot of expectation for something that may not be able to deliver. The work came from me. Facing it. Trudging through it all. Doing the work. Showing up. It was on my shoulders…nothing else could help me but Me.

While I love the concept of a fresh start on New Year’s Day, I am not keen on the pressure and responsibility we seem to be handing over to it - especially at the turn of a new decade. It seems particularly heavy and destructive. It’s almost like handing keys to a toddler and saying “go ahead and drive this car for me.”

So this year on New Year’s Eve, instead of remarking about what I am looking forward to and running towards, I will gently tell 2019 “Thank you for the lessons, both big and small. I am grateful for what you taught me.”

I am ready for your lessons 2020. Let’s do this.

'Tis the Season

I have been noticeably absent these days around here. My blogs, instagram, and facebook accounts have all taken a huge hit. And it’s with good reason. Life has swept me up in it’s wake.

Sometimes (more often over the past few years) when this happens, it’s due to some really hard times. Dealing with the death of my parents, my sister, and life somehow all seemed to overshadow so much in my life. I slid into the dark side of depression and anxiety and didn’t know how to get out.

But recently, I have reason to be joyful…or maybe that’s just how aIl see it all now. A few things turned around for me this year which brought some tremendous joy into my life. But truth be told, the rest of my life hasn’t changed. I still grieve the loss of my parents every now and again. I still struggle some months with the balance of work and life. I still have a fully grown, driving, teenager who is soon to be on the way out the door. So why couldn’t I see my life with joy before? Why does one change in life change the filter at which we look through the rest our lives? Why can’t life just show us pleasure no matter what juncture we are at?

I have been thinking about this each morning as I sit here under the Christmas lights, taking in the meaning of the season. Whether you practice Christianity or not, I think we can all agree that pausing in gratitude and with love for what we DO have is what this time of year is about.

So for now, I will sit under the Christmas tree that hasn’t been switched off since I put it up and feel gratitude for all the things I have… a warm home, some delicious food in my fridge, a healthy family, and a whole lotta love to give.

Women's Day

I was remiss at mentioning Mother’s Day on all the usual outlets. I didn’t reach out and wish friends a happy Mother’s Day. And I didn’t write about it or even acknowledge it at all. I am not sure why…I wasn’t sad or depressed or introspective about it. I just…was.

For me, Mother’s Day isn’t a really big deal. I never got into the whole “Hallmark Holiday” thing. Don’t get me wrong…I am happy to be celebrated, but I don’t need a whole ticker tape parade for it. Just some quiet time and maybe a little indulgence….some shopping…a pedicure…or a walk on the beach. Something to honor me and all of us for our incessant hard work.

But honestly, I sort of take issue with us celebrating moms only one day of the year. Because you know what - MOTHERS ARE EVERYTHING. I mean…every. effing. thing.

Mothers are strong and soft. Driven and easeful. They are the duality of all things - as soft as a down bed and as strong as 100 men. They are sage advice givers and tack-sharp fortune tellers. They know how to make cookies, do math homework, plan a meal, do laundry, nurse a baby, and arrange for babysitters so they can attend that work function – all at the same time. Simply put, they are the freaking operating transmission to the functioning world.

I don’t know if it took being a mom to understand what moms do, but friends - it’s a spectacular sight. Women are so amazing. Even my mother, who was imperfect in her way, was the strongest most resilient woman I know.

In the beginning of my lifelong quest of self-exploration and examination, I was initially hurt and frustrated by my Mother’s imperfections. But as I zoomed back and took in more of the picture - the part of her story that wasn’t just about me, but the image of the whole person she was - I sort of marvel at how far she came on her own and how strong she was for us. It was in my darkest moments that my mother took over for me – equal parts comforting and commanding – like a mother goose protecting her little chicks not just ready yet for flight on their own. She was broken, but still had the energy to care for me. Like we ALL do.

It’s amazing when you lean in and really witness to what women do. I am not talking about the perfect image of some cookie cutter June Cleaver-esque mom - there for her husband, food on the table, kids groomed and life running great. But still, that’s effing amazing too. I am talking about the women who struggle to work 3 jobs so they can get their kids out of a life situation they have no control over. I am talking about single moms who have to be everything and everywhere to everyone. I am talking about the foster mom of 6 who sacrifices and fights for those that have less than zero starting out. These are the heroes. They are the ones we need to celebrate. Everyday. Not JUST on Mother’s Day.

So if you are a mom - or really, a woman - hear me out. YOU ARE AWE-INSPIRING. You are strong. You are smart. You are loved. And I see you.

Happy Woman’s World, friends. Keep kicking ass.