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.

Be you

An oldie, but a favorite photo of mine.

Be yourself. Unapologetically and unmistakably YOU.

Be you when people doubt you. Or when people question your intentions. Or when someone you trust doesn’t trust you. Check in and dig deep. And believe in you.

There are so many people out there trying to tell us what’s best for us, passing judgement on what works in our lives. Even when they think they know every piece of you, they still don’t. They don’t know what song is in your heart all day or what thoughts are in your head when you wake up. There are pieces they are missing…even when they know you well…even when they have known you forever.

So be you. Don’t let people shake that. Don’t let anyone question YOU. Because you are you. You are not them. Their size 8 shoe does not fit on your magical sand covered bare feet.

Be you. Dance in the sand. Watch the sunrise. Let the rain fall on you and remember you can brush that sand off and dry off again. And you will still always be you.

Practice.

Look! That’s me! And my sweetie pie!

I’ll admit, the first moment I saw this photo, I was triggered. Triggered by an old story in my head and an image of who I thought I SHOULD be for the world. In this photo, all I saw is who I thought I was on the outside. Old. Fat. Tired… just not good enough in anyway.

I let these thoughts seep into my soul slowly over a few days until I had a full on melt down. Tears and all. My life has come to a point and in so many ways this is NOT where I thought I would land. (I mean…is it EVER?!?!)

But the craziest part is when this photo was taken, I was so unbelievably happy! I was full of joy and freedom on this night. I was being taken out to a lovely, special dinner by the man I love. I was at a peaceful crossroads when we took this cocktail in hand, love in my heart, sunset at my back. And yet still in the beauty and bliss of this perfect evening, the dark cloud of self doubt began to creep in, making me question parts of me that I have long since laid to rest.

As I considered all of this, I realized the maybe I wasn’t seeing the bigger picture. Maybe my insecurities were being shaken up by the many other parts of me that were feeling off balance. I have been holding up all these buckets of responsibility for so long - buckets of navigating motherhood, self employment, life changes, my future, medical concerns. The list is endless. And burdensome.

While most of my life seems fairly well managed, perhaps putting down my worries for the day - actually tapping into joy - was what triggered me. I feel safe with this man. Protected. Loved - as I am, where I am. Maybe THAT was the vulnerability I was feeling. After all, how could someone like me even deserve someone like that?

This isn’t a cry for help. It’s not a desperate attempt to garner a compliment from someone. It’s the reality of being human and having emotions. it’s a direct result of ALL OF THE PIECES of my life at once. The good and the bad. It all adds up to one big emotion - at least for me.

Our hearts are frail and complex. And life is hard. No matter who you are or where you are going. Adversity can affect us in so many ways.

My only advice in this space is this: Practice love. Practice Acceptance. Practice forgiveness. And listen to yourself. Your voice is the most frequent one you hear. The practice is where the perfection lies.

Get Messy

“Look honey…things are about to get really messy. That’s the only way we make this picture more beautiful…”

No truer words have been uttered to me before.

You have to get messy to make things beautiful. You have to unpack things before they get rearranged into how you want them. Sorting through and making sense along the way can be daunting. Some days you have to pull everything out so you can see it in front of you before you know how to move through it. And it’s messy.

Skip the messy part and watch how much more chaotic things become. Those niggling little things that you needed to examine get shoved to the bottom of the pile, only to fester and make things worse in the long run. It’s like the one rotten strawberry that ruins the whole container. If you had only sorted through all of it...unpacked that container…you’d see more clearly.

So while I don’t love cleaning, I think it’s time. Some things are gonna get messy for me for a while. Maybe even a little ugly. But I am okay with that. I feel like my life needed a deep clean anyhow. Sorting, cleaning, and throwing away that which no longer serves me is just the thing I have needed these days to create space for what’s to come.

Making room for that magical, lovely work of art called life to take a shape of it’s own now.

twenty

Twenty years.

I remember everything about the day you were born. I remember the time you started making your entrance into the world - on the first day of school. I remember my excited anticipation to finally meet you. I remember where my room was on the delivery hall, who came by to see me that day, and what your tiny newborn face looked like. I remember watching people cry and me just looking at you, marveling at the scene…wondering how I got so lucky to finally have the baby I always wanted.

The thing is, though, I don’t remember all the details of the past 20 years. They have flown by.

I remember car rides to school… road trips we took. I remember our quiet conversations in your lovely, soft bedroom light, and the never ending battle it was to first - get you to sleep as a baby, and years later - rouse you in the mornings for school. You always were a night owl.

I remember listening to your TV shows while I worked nearby and your deeper, developing voice as your played video games with your buddies over wifi. (I still am astounded by technology sometimes). I can hear the conversations we had as we planned out those elaborate wooden train tracks that we would play with for days on end. I can remember the angst in your voice as you sat down for homework and tried to put papers together that your ADD brain couldn’t handle at the time.

I remember YOU. How you make me feel - how you make everyone feel by just having you around - is programmed into my soul.

The experience I have had as your mother is singularly the best thing in my life. The feeling I have had with every sweet moment with you is seared into my soul - from day one to day 7300 (or something close to that). It’s been the best thing ever.

I have loved watching you grow into a man….into the human you are now. You have your own spirit that I will never squash. I love that you are brave and free and all of you. I love that you haven’t lost your empathy, your gentle spirit, your kindness, or your fire.

All these 20 years, the one thing I have asked of you - begged of you - is to not let the world change you. And thankfully, you haven’t. You are still YOU. But I would add that you are still becoming you. Becoming who we are is and evolving process. Hell, I am still doing it at 51. But you are doing it more gracefully than I could ever have done. I am so very proud of you.

Keep on being you, G. Keep on discovering you. Because this world needs who you are meant to be.

With all my heart, I love you,

Momma

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.

Connection

“There’s an inexplicable delicateness to your photos…like you put your tender heart into each picture you take.”

Perhaps the best compliment I have ever gotten about my work in one simple sentence.

When my work started looking like I feel on the inside was when I knew I had finally found my style - so to speak. Of course it’s easy to shoot a wedding this way or a family. But the trick is to let yourself come through in those shoots with commercial work. Food. Portraits.

All photos need to have the balance of the client plus the photographer. It’s hard to not let instagram or other people’s work dictate how I portray myself. But with each photo and each moment, I try to put a piece of myself in there.

It’s about connection. No matter what I shoot. Connecting the people to the moment.

Unapologetically me.

I love food. One of life’s greatest pleasures is eating delicious food. The fact that I get to sometimes photograph food and food stories are always a favorite part of my job.

It’s taken me a long time to be able to say “I love food” again. You see, I have never had a great relationship with food. From far too early an age, I was taught by almost all the people around me to be ashamed of myself. I was chubby growing up and struggled to be slim like my peers. I was frequently teased – both by people I both looked up to and people that were supposed to be taking precious care of me. After all, I was an easy target – as most people with visible differences are. I carried around this albatross for years until developing disordered eating patterns that lasted well into my 30s.

For the life of me I will never understand why people think it’s appropriate to discuss someone’s appearance, particularly that of a child. For me in particular, it lead to a lifetime of trauma I have to unravel. 50 years of comments on my appearance by people who are supposed to be responsible adults, doctors, authority figures in my life re knotted into a mess of me not feeling like I am enough. The work I have done on myself the past 10 years is like no other work I have done in my life.

We all carry the mistakes of others around with us. Comments made by others that were inappropriate at the time or that sliced us precisely in half at a vulnerable crossroads are a heavy burden to bear. They become a knotted mess that seems to never want to unravel.

We must be careful how we talk to one another. We must stop judging how someone else feels based on our experiences. It has to stop here. With each one of us.

Start seeing beyond yourself. Start loving people where they are. Start apologizing for your missteps…because we all have them. We all make them. Start with you. Start where you are today. And find the joy in each day.

I am gonna start with my next delicious plate of pasta. Unapologetically.

Beauty in letting go.

There is beauty in the letting go. Fall tells us so every year. But we deny it over and over again.

Just sit back and observe in nature. The seeds are here for our tomorrow just waiting to sprout forth innocent fresh ideas for us all to bear witness to.

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.

Connection

This week, I took some lifestyle photos for a place that is near and dear to me - The Cooper School. I have taught art here. I have photographed these kids for years. I have designed collateral for them. I even sent my child to school here when he was younger. To say I understand the workings of this place would be an understatement.

It’s always fun when people trust you to tell their story - no matter what it is. But there is something truly special about a place that lets you back again and again to capture them both as they are and as you know them.

I don’t take for granted the families that come to me over and over again to tell their family story. Or the businesses that hire me year in and year out to photograph their staff, their day to day activities. It’s a special thing to be trusted like that.

And it’s a special thing to fall in love with your clients. In my opinion, it’s not the technical aspect of the job that tells the story. It’s not the fancy camera or the high end lenses or lighting. it’s not even assistants or other people on the job. It’s the connection.

And it’s that connection always makes for the best photos.

Freedom

My schedule allows for LOTS of days like this right now. I am very lucky. And more free than I know.

I was recently having coffee with a friend. Sitting in the cooler breeze of the day, we sat talking about life and kids and future goals for ourselves.

She looked at me and asked me “If you could have anything you want in this world, what would it be?”

Without hesitation, I calmly and mindfully said “Freedom.” Which, in truth, caught me off guard. She looked at me curiously and said “That’s an interesting answer…what do you mean by ‘freedom’?”

I recoiled. I knew I couldn’t articulate what I felt very well, perhaps because I wasn’t sure what I even meant. On the outside, I have a lot of freedom. My days are flexible. My schedule is mine. I can work as hard as I choose. But there is a tradeoff to that kind of freedom. As a photographer, you are at the mercy of the seasons, weather, budgets…the list goes on. So you really aren’t totally in control of your schedule. I work weekends often - especially in the fall when happy families line up for polished photos for their Christmas cards. It’s a trade off that I embrace. I love showing people the best version of themselves. I love shooting the best of what something is - be it food, families or just life floating by.

In truth, the freedom I wanted to feel wasn’t any of this. And I need to be honest with myself. What I was hoping for the most when I calmly and evenly said “Freedom” was emotional freedom…and if I am being honest, that is something I don’t know that I have ever felt.

I want Freedom. Freedom from anxiety. Freedom from worry. Freedom from being beholden to what others expectations of me are. Freedom from the petite prison I put myself in because I think I am not enough. And if I am being honest, that is where I am headed. It has nothing to do with anything else really.

When we continued our conversation, I said “I guess it sounds silly, because I feel very free. I have a great schedule. I have a good life and a lot to be grateful for. So many people are so much worse off than me. I guess financial freedom is what I am talking about.” It was an easy out and a quick cover for something I was so convicted about. At the time I wasn’t wholly sure of what I really meant. I thought on it a lot and let the answer come to me in truth.

So now I know the answer to my deepest desires. It’s not things. It’s . What I want most in this world is, indeed, Freedom. I want to let it all go and just be me. That’s what I meant. That’s what my heart wants.

Watching the storms roll in

I watched curiously a few weeks ago as a big storm came rolling in off the coast. The wind, the humid air, the dark clouds swirling around didn’t run me off. For the first time I felt compelled to stay. Instead, I felt like they were saying “stay, watch, learn.”

Typically when the storms come rolling in, I want to run for cover. Shelter from the winds and rain, the possible destruction, or just the plain old discomfort of being wet or cold. I have spent a lifetime running for fear of not only what I know, but what I have been told about storms - they are something to fear. So that’s what I do. I live in fear of the storms of life, fleeing at the first sight of cloud coverage overhead. After all, nobody wants to get caught unprepared. Right?

Lately, though, I have been just trying something different. I have been sitting with the storms. Waiting for the rain to set in before I run. Or maybe even dancing through it.

I guess the other way wasn’t really working because I have avoided things most of my life or tried to make them better in some way by protecting myself and everyone around me. I was taught to be afraid and flee the threat of any trouble. I have sheltered every moment from pain and truthfully, I shouldn’t have. Pain is part of life. Storms are a part of life. And it all comes and goes.

The good news is storms eventually pass. Some are worse than others. But you can clean up after them. With a little elbow grease and a lot of effort.

So for now, I am going to be more of an observer. I am going to stop trying to protect myself by running for cover. And I will watch with patient, curious eyes.

Wonder. Wait. Watch. And learn…

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.

Grace for my mommas.

I can’t believe my big boy was ever this little. :(

If you you think pregnancy is hard, you are right.

If you think having a newborn is hard, you are right.

If you think having a toddler is hard, you couldn’t be more right.

And if you think having a threenager, tweenager, or an actual teenager done with high school and moving on with their life is hard, you are right.

Parenting is hard. All of it. It doesn’t get easier. You still worry about them as much when they toddle off to high school looking for new friends as you did when they were in preschool. The only thing that changes is the shades of grey. They blur together more. Life isn’t as black and white as when we were trying to solve the needs with food, shelter and warmth.

But being a kid is hard too. So guide them gently or firmly if you must. It’s not perfect for any of us. Just because your friends post photos of their family trips, extended family suppers, or perfectly appointed playrooms doesn’t mean it’s easy. You aren’t seeing the behind the scenes.

So take a breath and love them at every stage. And in the meantime, give yourself a little grace.

After all, that’s all any of us really need.

Learning to float.

Years ago, I went on a tubing expedition with a casual group of friends like one does in their 20s. As we headed down the river, little groups slowly broke off - some going faster than others, while others lingered behind near the coveted beer float.

The group I was in was in the front - we called ourselves the “lovely ladies.” We had hit some rapids on the way down and gained momentum, breaking us off from the beer group and the boy I was woo-ing.

Included in our group of “lovely ladies” was me, an exotic sounding German woman I had never met, and a friend of mine that looked like the spitting image of Cameron Diaz - tall, blonde, lean, stunning. She was gorgeous and she leaned into the safety of that. I can hardly blame her.

As the three of us floated aimlessly down the wide river, giggling and gossiping and having a fun little Saturday, I noticed something…my gorgeous friend seemed to just glide around obstacles, long legs extended, peaceful and serene. I, on the other hand, kept getting caught. Stuck. Stopped by the river’s obstacles. I caught myself on rocks and branches. I rammed head first into rapids that flipped me over, making me look like a bedraggled prom queen the night after her big debut. Meanwhile, “Miss Diaz” kept those long bronze legs in the air and made it down rapids and around boulders effortlessly.

I determined at that moment that this was a metaphor for life.

And in truth, this has been my life. I have watched a few people glide by me - even with a headstart from my parents - no college debt and a little help when I needed it. It’s not because I’m wasn’t working hard or giving it my all - it’s just that my balance was off. Or sometimes I drifted into the wrong current. Or maybe I didn’t believe I could do it all on my own. After all, when had that happened before?

I have believed as long as I can remember that I wasn’t good enough, pretty enough or worthy enough. It’s taken me years to unravel this story, which still gets knotted up in my brain sometimes. And it’s gotten me tripped up and stuck for years. The only way I can stop believing it is to keep pushing through those obstacles and keep showing myself how strong I really am. Get up. Dust myself off. And just keep going.

Eventually I made it to the end of our float, a little wet and ready for a snack. I made it before some of the beer floaters. I made it right behind those easy long legs. But I made it.

______

It’s been years since this day and I think about it today like it just happened last week. I have no idea where the “lovely ladies” have landed now or if their lives have been easy, effortless or struggle free. I have no idea what happened to the boy I was chasing back then who crushed my ego like so many before him…he ended up bringing someone to the next party that looked like a call girl.

I digress.

What I do know is that I am still standing here…stronger and more resilient than someone who has glided through life effortlessly. Because I know how to get through the rapids. I have had some practice.

Life is full of rapids….full of obstacles. Learn to navigate them early and with grace for yourself. Because the quicker you navigate that, the easier the big boulders down the river will be to get around.

Oh…and make sure you learn how to swim, too. That’ll come in handy.

Balance

Things haven’t been great lately.

I mean…life is okay. But, truth be told, a lot of stuff has been coming my way this year that is making me have to reassess the things that are important.

When this happens, I have a set of things I do. Talk to a friend. Write. Take care of my body with movement and healthy food. Sleep. Meditate. Take a nice, long, lingering bath or shower. See the ocean or stand in the middle of a forest. It all became a laundry list of things to do to care of myself in the most essential of ways.

When I started out on this regimen, I felt guilty when I missed something. “Shoot - I forgot to write today.” “I missed working out.” Or, even worse, “That workout wasn’t good enough.”

record scratch

Where on earth does THAT come from. The very thing I am doing to help myself is the VERY THING that causes me to feel worse about myself.

That didn’t feel good. Time to flip that script in my little pea brain.

In the past, I would be the perfectionist and ask myself, “why even bother?” I would throw in the towel and just continue being unhappy because if I can’t do all of it, why bother even doing a part of it. But after recognizing this behavior and awful script running through my perfectionist brain like a Monday morning train schedule in New York City, I decided to loosen the reigns on the regiment of it all. Because isn’t trying part of the game of succeeding?

So, these days I just use the list as a set of options…suggestions of how to get towards my better. Not perfect. Just better. The steps are not specific instructions, but merely suggestions on what to do or where to start.

Today, I will show up for myself in a few ways. I’ll write a little. I’ll move my body. And I’ll go breathe in some ocean air. If a hamburger gets in to my body, I won’t beat myself up about it. Because life is a constant balance of what feels good in the moment and what feels good in the long term.

And what makes me a better human in the long run is balance.

Summer love.

I love summer.

Wait. Maybe I need to refine that statement. I love summer FOOD!

I love the freshness, the immediacy of summer. The bright foods grown in your own backyard. The seafood caught and eaten the same day. The smokiness of the grill. The spiciness of food. Different temperatures and textures. And lucky for me, the real magic happens at the crossroads of summer food and summer food photoshoots like this one. It feels inspirational and gorgeous.

But, it’s not ACTUALLY REAL. This is staged - perfection in an imperfect world. I look at this photo and remember what happened that day or the conversations of lives crumbling at our foundation, I can’t help but realize we are always telling a story out here. The behind the scenes isn’t always this beautiful. Sometimes in our lives we eat out of plastic containers with sporks.

And you know what…it’s okay! Part of life isn’t what you see. It’s a balance of beauty and fun.

Life isn’t this perfect. But it can be in moments. It is as perfect as you want to make it. Embrace the good parts, because those messy parts are always there, hiding behind the scenes, waiting for you to clean them up.

Of this I am sure.