 "Do you want to get married again?"
His question was so innocent. The early stages of "getting to know another" when stepping out into the dating world again post-divorce, and with children. I completely fumbled over my words. I haven't mastered a good response for that question, despite it rolling in my head for nearly a decade now. My thoughts flow more easily via pen and paper than they do when formulating a thought to speak. I think my answer is, marriage is no longer a destination for me. But if it is part of the path, of my journey, and it feels in alignment rather than the "next step" of a relationship, then yes. There is a quote that you can only love someone as deeply as you have met yourself. Conversely, someone can only love you to the depth that they have met themselves. I have to tell you; I have gone deep. Dug deep. I have excavated every hurt I have both received and inflicted on others and rolled it around in my heart and soul. I have spent countless hours introspecting and looking at each experience through multiple lens to not only learn what was triggering me in life's moments up until now, but also how I may have been triggering in someone else. I have sat looking in the mirror at my own reflection naked, afraid, vulnerable, begging the universe "how many more lessons in love do I have to learn?" Sat until the tears that stained my cheek ran empty and my heart felt wide open. Until I found the stillness inside of me. Until the parts of me that once ached had been loved back to health. Not by someone else, but by me. In When the White Picket Fence is No Longer Enough, I write: "When you are of a certain age and you find yourself looking for a partner and a love that is not derived around having children, having a family, building a house together, consolidating resources, it creates a strange dynamic. It is not a love built for the outcome but rather the journey. You realize you are looking for someone just for you—not to establish a legacy or generation to leave behind you. You’re not trying to create something that will compete with past loves or exes or even families who came before. You’re not looking to intertwine finances or debate the number of children and how they will be raised and what a family looks like. When you are looking for someone at this point in your life, it becomes incredibly personal in a very different way than when you were looking in your twenties." I have found peace both within my own heart and my home. That carries with it a price tag that no one can afford. I won't exchange my peace. Too picky? I want too much. My expectations are too high. Maybe. Or maybe I just want something, believe in something, that others have long since given up on. Or maybe even talked themselves out of by saying things like: "it's never going to happen." Maybe the idea of juggling life, finances, schedules and the unexpected alone is too much. Or it will cost too much to choose your own peace. And that is okay, we all get to go about life our own way. My heart hasn't turned black. I don't have a zero-tolerance with relationships. I don't want to grow old alone, forever. I just have just come to the place where the peace I have found is greater than my need for partnership, even greater than my need for desire or passion. I have tasted love that is so expansive, so unconditional, that defies all logic. I am okay waiting to cross paths with the man who has sat with all of the versions of his younger self and healed them, loved them, honored them. I don't need to get married, but I do need a love that runs deep. A man that doesn't just love my glow but honors the fires I have walked through to get here - because he has walked through his too. Marriage? Okay, maybe. But first - give me the man whose presence honors my peace and solitude. The man whose own battles within give me the strength, courage and curiosity to grow even more. Give me the man who finds me through the center of his heart. I'll be waiting for him in the center of mine.
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 I adopted this as my motto for 2025.
Truthfully, I found it after walking away from the first sign of danger in what could have been a new relationship. A few weeks later, my gut instinct was confirmed when I received a half dozen drunken texts that were pure hatred. I got off that wrong train quickly, and I gave myself a high-five for trusting myself. But as I sit here now, four months into 2025, I realized that motto wasn't just going to be a one-time "good job" but rather a continuous test of my own resolve, and resilience. It was as if I put this thought out into the universe, and the universe responded with "are you sure you're ready for this?" It always happens that way, doesn't it? In just these four, fleeting months, I have let go of my daily coffee and opted for tea instead. Let go of most gluten and even most Friday-night-glass-of-red-wine while cooking dinner. It has been like my physical body has begun rejecting the things that no longer satisfy it in the way they once did. No matter how much I still enjoyed the moment of consumption. I've let go of a dear friend I wanted desperately to hold onto and made my heart ache every time I said no. Leaving me reeling at times and asking "why?" I have said no to interview requests, and even no right as an interview was about to start. Even as I am still starting to grow into this new role as an author and speaker. That proverbial train was not just a onetime "dodged-a-bullet" type experience, but rather a pervasive, relentless and constant check with my intuition. Is this right? No matter how much I like it, or how much I want it or what I think "it" is giving me - is this right? The question that pops up every time I face a crossroad no matter how big or how small. For me, my intuition speaks to me in my gut. It clenches, feels nauseous, my appetite disappears and then often I am overwhelmed with fatigue. Tiredness to my bones. That is when I know I have to let go, walk away, climb off that train no matter how fast it is going or if I thought its destination was where I belonged. In a year that has brought so many new and exciting opportunities, they still have been sandwiched in between moments and experiences, and lifestyle changes I have been forced to make when I realized they were no longer fueling me. Such is life, right? A constant ebb and flow of experiences that usher you down the path of life. As I sit here, excited and grateful for the trains that brought me to the current station of residence, and watching trains pass me by, I can't help but whisper: "I am ready for my train to come in." Ready to take a break from the eternal vigilance of knowing when it's time to de-board, and ready to find the train destined for me to sit down, put my baggage down, and ride peacefully along for at least a little stretch of peaceful and certain countryside. Personal growth and understanding are rewarding. But it is exhausting too. So, if 2025 has left you feeling both excited and overwhelmed, I invite you to sit down next to meet at the train station. Bring your baggage, bring your weathered heart and your wildest dreams. We can sit together and watch the trains go by, waiting for ours to arrive. And should you board a different one, well then maybe I will see you down the tracks of life  It is that time of year again here in New England - spring has finally arrived!
The warmer days have begun to appear more often, bringing with them our emergence into the fresh air - and our annual garden preparations. Some of our seeds have been started in the office under grow lights, and we took advantage of the fresh air Saturday to replace the fence and netting in an attempt to keep out the deer/rabbits/groundhogs/whatever other animal decides to feast in our yard this year. Perhaps we are learning that slowly preparing for the time when the temperatures stay consistent enough to move all of the plants outside, is better than having a single back-breaking weekend to get started! Some years are a success. Some years the animals channel their inner-Houdini and eat everything no matter what I try. Some years the tomato plants take over everything. Some years we are barely home to give the gardens the TLC that they need. But the honest truth of it all - I am not really a great gardener. I try - I definitely give it a valiant effort each year. But a natural green-thumb, I am not! For me, for us, our gardens aren't necessarily about total yield or success. I like to imagine someday it will be, but so far, my gardens have been more about a proof of faith rather than producing all of our veggies. I painted that sign in 2023 (admittedly no expert painter either...) when I didn't just want to grow veggies, I needed to WITNESS something growing. I needed to watch something start as a seed and evolve into something bigger, stronger, beautiful and life-giving. I needed to garden because I needed a reminder that what exists today is growing into a beautiful tomorrow. I needed to believe that like that little seed, I could change and grow my own reality into something new and beautiful and fulfilling. I needed to garden because I needed a physical reminder that faith exists. That even through the dark soil, even when we can't see what is taking place, even if we forget to water it a day here-and-there, even if they are eaten by animals instead of us, life is still in bloom. MY life is still in bloom. Maybe in a phase where I can't see the "end product" but magic and growth is still happening beneath the surface. If the heaviness of your winter - whether that is actually, truly winter - or a broader meaning of winter such as loss, grief, an aching heart, an unknown future, is weighing you down right now... Go to the store, buy some dirt, a little pot, a few seeds, and let your mini garden become more than just a garden. Don't worry about being a master gardener. You aren't looking to be featured in a Home & Gardens magazine. Let your little seed be your own proof of faith. Faith in the cycle of life, the ability to start fresh and above all - that you are still growing. Happy Blooming!  Find the Good Brand As the warmer weather slowly forces its way in through the seemingly never-ending coldness of winter, if I am not in a lunch meeting and Joey is not out in the community with his helpers, we always make sure we take a walk together at lunch time. Joey's thoughts often have him spinning into different lands, directions, anything other than the path that we walk on a regular basis. Like many of us, his thoughts lead him astray to anywhere and everything other than the present moment. To help bring him back from his own thoughts, I ask him questions about what he sees, and he responds with: "I see that nice mailbox number 57." "I see the yellow flowers." "I see the withered white fence that protects the forest." We are looking for the good in the here and now, focusing on not getting lost in our own thoughts. Away from the what-ifs and what could have beens and the will-it-evers. As an official over-thinker in recovery, I know how challenging this is. Yesterday on our walk we stepped out into the breezy crisp air, but the sun was shining. "Ahhhh, Mom, feel that sunshine." Suddenly, we weren't just looking for the good in the present moment, we were feeling it. These past few months have been exhilarating in ways I never imagined. Book events, speaking events, anthology and contest submissions and even a new course I'm developing (wink, wink stay tuned...) not to mention the countless new friends and contacts I have met has been just incredible. BUT I have also felt bombarded with people saying: "have you done this or that?" "are you going to start coaching?" "are you maximizing your website contact information?" "are you, are you, are you..." And honestly it started to feel overwhelming. And the old repetitive thoughts of "you aren't doing enough, being enough, trying enough, fighting enough" started to fill the pit of my stomach. I didn't write my story to make millions. I am not focused on boosting my SEO. I wrote it to heal, and I wrote it to give hope to others who had found themselves asking questions like: "Is this it?" "Is there another way, I feel like I have more inside of me." I wrote it so that I would be reminded of the silver lining of love in every lesson and blessing of chaos that life inevitably throws at us. I wrote it to remind others to look at life through a lens of gratitude and hope. And as we walked along our usual path yesterday, something happened.... Joey stopped to smell the hyacinth. (A little too early for roses).  I mean he stopped, sat down on the sidewalk and breathed in their delicious scent. My children humble me more often than I can count, and this was one of those moments. When we got back home, I paused to reflect in my journal before returning to my day job. I reflected on all of the blessings that are surrounding us every day. I reflected on how liberated I felt in sharing my story and my authentic voice with at least a small corner of the world. I reflected on how I know I am on the precipice of stepping out into a phase of life where the choices I make, the words I write, the people, companies, and organizations I engage with may not always be the best to "maximize my growth and potential" but they resonate with the core of my value and my beliefs. I reflected on how I trust myself and trust the gift that this life is more than I have ever before. In the past twelve months life has been anything BUT ordinary, nor has it been the path we had expected to be on. Yet, there we were, on a cool Thursday in spring, sitting down to smell the flowers that have courageously fought through the soil and swinging temperatures and dared to shine their beautiful colors. And all I could think was "Life is SO Good." I hope that as nature comes back to life around us as we continue to creep into spring, that you don't just witness it, but that you become part of it. That you feel it. That you learn to ride the waves (or the spring breeze) and allow it to move you to where you can truly flourish from the center of your heart. That you fall in love with all of the good that surrounds us. That you stay present in a state of gratitude. Because it is there - everywhere - we just have to Look for the Good. Please be sure to check out Find the Good to soak yourself in reminders of gratitude of this life we live AND to support Mental Health America. Enter code: SE111 for an extra 10% off.
 My son has a fan in his room, and he does not ever want me to turn it off.
The constant rotation, the constant movement, the constant sound is soothing to him. Every once in a while, though, I have to turn it off, let it completely come to stillness and then and only then can I give the blades a good wipe down. One would think because it is constantly moving nothing could stick to it. Dirt, filth, congestion, wouldn’t be able to find its way on to the smooth surface of the blades while in propulsion. Yet every time it comes to a stop, and I have a few moments to wipe it down, I am amazed at how much it has accumulated. I used to function like that fan. I used the busyness of life as a way of distraction from the “debris” I was collecting. The harder things got, the more I took on. The more I tried to keep myself moving with plans, activities, parties, constant striving for perfection and movement. Even drama, gossip, politics, news, how miserable work was, and the juggling of it all. It was all constant motion. I thought I did not need to stop moving. Or maybe I was scared if I slowed down that I would crumble under the weight of all that had been accumulating. Does that sound familiar to you? Have you found yourself caught on the hamster wheel of life - or should we say the fan of life? It took me a long time to understand that the more I stayed in motion, the more actually stayed the same. I wanted, I craved a different direction, a different feeling of peace and the sensation of being settled in life, a different level of meaning. Yet, I kept going round and round, adding more and more on to my constant rotation thinking that the “more” or the “different” would fill the void I was feeling inside. I would hide my constant motion under the guise of “doing good.” I would convince myself that it was completely necessary - because I was a “do-er,” a “go-getter,” an “over-achiever.” When what I really needed was to turn the momentum off. I was using my continuous activity to hide from the emotions, desires and fears inside that I truly needed to clean up. To shed myself of the debris, the stress, the distractions, the constant quest for more. I had to find stillness. I had to allow myself to not only stop spinning, but to come to complete rest from all of the spinning I had been doing for so long. After brushing myself off. After letting go of all that I had been clinging to and accumulating, all that had started to hold me down without even realizing it. I found there in the silence, in the void of motion - peace. Everything I had been looking for wasn’t wrapped up in the busyness of life. It was in the quiet of it. There is a saying that you can find the solution to a problem in the same vibration that the problem exists in. You have to move yourself outside of it. So, while I know it may sound absolutely impossible to turn yourself off for a moment. I promise, you can. You can turn yourself off, at least for a moment, dust yourself, wipe everything off… And then you get to decide if, and how fast, you want to keep spinning.  I remember being in the hospital after my daughter was born. After an extended stay, due to a slightly unexpected c-section, I remember holding my baby when the doctor came in and told us we could go home the next morning.
I started crying. How could they let me take a baby home? I understood that technically speaking I was in fact a mom. However, I felt overwhelmed and underqualified for the job of actually taking my beautiful baby girl home and really, truly becoming a mother. Yet the next morning came, and they still insisted that it was time to leave. While we bundled our baby up and brought her home, fearing every other car on the road and every bump we bounced over, we slowly began to grow into our roles as parents. It wasn’t an overnight realization or an instant success, and still to this day I still find moments where I say to myself “I am really a Mom.” Usually after I am struck in awe at something inspiring or loving or completely unexpected that my children said or did. We weren’t given a manual on how to proceed. On how to be parentish or mom-like. It is something we kind of just figured out. We figured it out by following our instincts, our intuition, and taking what felt like the next right step. I have found myself standing in a similar place this year. I have found myself thinking “writing a book doesn’t make me an author. I am not an author.” But technically speaking - I am. Yet with every bookstore I visit to drop off books, every podcast I record, every event I attend I still find myself feeling like “this isn’t really my reality.” Much like becoming a Mom, I have dreamed of becoming an author for so long. Dreamed of inspiring others not by telling them what to do or how to think, but rather by sharing my own thoughts - the good and the ugly - and hoping that my words help another feel like they aren’t taking this journey alone. Yet standing in the reality of it somehow leaves me feeling like I am dreaming or even not worthy of the title. Not worthy of the reality of a dream come true. I think we often hit a milestone, have a dream come true, find ourselves on the edge of everything we ever wanted - and not knowing what to do with it. Nearly rejecting it before we even have time to relish in it. The truth is that the moment our dream arrives - whether it is a new baby, the promotion we have been waiting for, the dream job, the dream house, the dream location, the dream relationship. The arrival is only the beginning. It is the growing into your dreams when our new reality really begins to form. It is the leaning in to both the responsibility and the blessings of our wish fulfillment when the real becoming happens. I wonder how many opportunities we are given that we end up walking away from - scared of or in disbelief that we couldn’t possibly be that person who receives such a chance experience. A change in reality isn’t an overnight change. It is the conscious choice over and over again to keep following the directions we are being called. To not just have a baby. But to become a Mom. To not just write a book. But to continue to share my voice. To be the author not just of my words, but of my new reality. So, the next time you find yourself on the edge of a brand-new version of you. Relish in the fact that this new adventure is just getting started. It takes time to step out of the old versions of you and into the all of you that you are becoming. It’s not the destination, or the title, or the initial accomplishment that holds the joy. It is the journey. The evolution of you. Embrace. Evolve. Wrap yourself up in the knowing that you made it this far. And the best is everything that you will become as you continue to boldly step into the new.  My son, Joey, went through a phase of asking everyone he met: “what’s your opinion of ____________” and inserted whatever his interest was at the time.
He asked me the other day “Mom, what is your opinion of AI?” There is rarely a question that is asked of me that doesn’t have me contemplating it on a grander scale than maybe what was originally intended when the question was asked. I am officially guilty of being an overthinker - and proud of it! When he asked me this question, he was referring to the AI music videos that he has found on YouTube. He looovvesss music and finding the original music videos but has also become fascinated with some of the AI-generated videos set to the songs he loves. If you ask him which ones he prefers - it will be the original every time. Yet he does find appreciation in the AI ones as well. I admit, they are pretty amazing. As of late, people have developed some strong opinions in one direction or another of AI. Even though the technology has been around a long time - far longer than most of us think. I am a firm believer in as above, so below; as within, so without. In short, what we witness externally, even on a grander scale, is a projection of what is happening within our lives and ultimately within ourselves. So naturally, or naturally for me, I thought of AI in the likeness to my same physical existence. I thought of AI like my brain. A super charged, super-efficient brain. Without all of the background noise and distractions of course! But here is the catch with the brain and our existence as a whole. The brain can essentially be dead, we can literally be considered brain dead, and our body is still considered alive. However, if our heart gives out, our heart, it doesn’t matter how incredible our brain was - our body is considered dead. Our creative powerhouse comes from our heart, our inspiration, our intuition, our imagination is fueled by our heart center. Our prefrontal cortex may be behind the decision making, the planning, the problem-solving, the figuring out what to do with our creations, but the inspirations for our brain activity - they start in the heart. It seems to me we are currently living in a world with too much brain activity, too much brain-led decisions and choices, and not enough heart-led ones. Are you following me?? I hope so. So, what is my opinion on AI? I think it’s pretty cool. The heart in the picture of this very post was imagined by me but generated by AI. Since I don’t have an artistic bone in my body - it would have taken me a year to draw that picture. I like having the option to create images that mirror my words. To create physical representations of the feelings my words inspire within me. But my words, every single word I write, comes from a place so deep in the center of my heart my brain is actually surprised when it goes back and reads some of the things I have written. In a world that is in desperate need of balance and love - to find an equilibrium within us - and in the world around us, AI could either be the biggest blessing or a further continuation down a spiral where there is too much brain activity and not enough heart activity. If used properly and strategically integrated, it could propel our heart-inspired creations into existence far faster than we could have ever imagined. Just like this heart image that allowed me to get my words out faster. Yet if it is used in an attempt to further numb our emotions, to block out the callings of our hearts, to attempt to replace our creativity, we will see the world around us crumble. Do you remember the movie Neverending Story? If yes, have you watched it as an adult? The lessons and symbolism extend far beyond what I understood as a child. “In the heart of every dreamer lies the courage to defy gravity and reach for the stars.” Like in the Neverending Story, if we stop dreaming, if we stop finding inspiration from the center of our existence, from our heart space…. The Nothingness will spread here to us too. So, should we fight against AI? No. Absolutely not. We should love it. We should embrace it. We should be grateful that it has come this far. And we should whisper to our hearts “it's safe to open” and allow our hearts to rise to meet it. We should let it spark our creativity not by replacing it, but by the knowing that we have an avenue to bring our creativity into action. Into this world. At hyper speed. A supercharged brain can finally handle a supercharged heart. Our bodies, this world, could pulse with the most unimaginable vibration of love and peace and hope far greater than has ever been available to us before. If only, if only, we remember that a world without a beating heart, much like a body without a beating heart… Will never survive.  Alexander Den Heijer once wrote: "You often feel tired, not because you've done too much, but because you've done too little of what sparks a light in you."
That for me is writing. It wasn't always that way. My journaling days ended somewhere around the 8th grade when I put away my purple, jelly-bean covered diary with a lock that didn't work and didn't start another journal until my 30s. Words though, words, have been strung together on random scraps of paper, gum wrappers, cut out of magazines and taped to my bedroom walls or hung from my fridge with magnets. Yogi teabag quotes torn off and used as bookmarks, Dove candy wrapper inspirations tucked inside my laptop bag. My mind seems to wander not in imaginary lands or dreams but in fantastical thoughts and quotes that often provide reassurance or a sense of love. When I was at my lowest point in life, millions of thoughts and emotions swirling around in my head that I had to expunge from my heart, my mind and soul before I would be lost in them. That is when I found the power of pen and paper. My journaling started off as frantic, uncontrolled and completely private. Thoughts and emotions poured onto the paper between tears without even realizing the story they would eventually tell. All I knew was I had to get what was inside, out before it swallowed me whole. Some may call it narrative therapy, others automatic writing. To me, it didn't matter what it was called only that I found after each entry my heart became a little lighter. I began reading the words on the page and reflecting on the woman who got to that point to write them. I realized I had lost myself. Instead of growing into the woman I thought I would be, I grew into a shadow of everything I had hoped to be, to feel, to do. By external standards I was successful, beautiful, happy, "had it all." Internally I felt like a fraud. An actor in some low-budget, rom-com drama. It was through my writing that I not only recognized the gap, but also began to fall in love with, the way the "inside me" not only saw the world but felt the world and believed in the world. Even more so - fell in love with my true self - not the woman everyone wanted or needed me to be. My writing became my own little fantasy world. Yet I wasn't writing about far off magical lands of Utopia. I was writing about moments, experiences, sights and feelings that I was actually experiencing. Suddenly ripping a rhododendron wasn't just ripping out a plant from my flower bed, it became incredibly symbolic of my own excavation of the things that were dead, dying and suffocating me in my own life. Watching the sunrise in the morning transformed from not just a sunrise, rather the feeling of hope, validating my belief that the light will find us even through the darkest of nights. A sink full of dishes and a mountain of laundry became a blessing that I had clothes to put on my children and the time and food to prepare healthy meals for them. Writing opened my mind to a new way of perceiving absolutely everything in my life. It saved me in a moment when I needed saving, and it opened a new doorway to my soul I could have never imagined. I have seen my writing move grown men to tears, children feel seen, and those grieving feel a moment of nostalgic love. Yet even with the power I know that exists, I was inconsistent. Wrapped up in what people would think about my writing, if it would resonate with others, if I would run out of ideas, if it would impact me negatively. In the days and sometimes weeks, sometimes months, when I stopped writing for one reason or another, life around me seemed to dim. I found myself tired more, drained, floating like an untethered boat. Until I attended a content marketing course through Coppyblogger Academy and in one of the videos courses the simple instruction to "write every day" was given. Yes, of course, that was from a business and growth perspective - but for me it reminded me of Heijer's quote. Writing every day, getting my thoughts out every day, fuels my soul. It replenishes my own well by finding aspects of the normal day life to be utterly grateful for. Writing keeps me vulnerable. I want to be vulnerable. I have done enough relationships where we skirt on the surface of life - that is not me. For me, it is writing. For you it may be dancing, singing, sitting outside, laughing, reading, walking, meditating, playing a sport, whatever it is that makes you feel truly alive. Alive for you. Not for anyone else around you. Whatever it is for you - find a way to do that and do it Every. Day. Watch how your life unfolds, opens up, resonates more, matters more, when you take a few precious moments of these fleeting days to do the one thing that lights your soul up. And you, beautiful soul, deserve to shine too.  Perhaps one of the hardest lessons thus far has been the realization that despite all of the things in life that happen "to us" ultimately, we are always in the driver seat of our own lives.
So how do we want our garden to grow, a bed of roses? Or a land of thistles? Maybe a touch of both... That rose in that picture was given to me by the most unexpected person, during the most unexpected encounter, in what felt like the most unexpected (and worst) timing. Yet it forced me to open my eyes and realize that for a long period of time I had returned to a place of all talk and all dreams. Scared to actually dig my shovel into the dirt of my existence and build the life I fantasied over. I had been existing - but not really living. Living will actually look different for each of us and that is okay. In fact, it should. Trying to keep up with and how everyone else wants you to look, function, thrive is actually the exact problem so many of us find ourselves drowning in. That was given to me right after I had almost settled back into trying to chase that white-picket fence of a life. The one that can make you look REALLY good on the outside to everyone else, but feel completely alone, lost and worst of all, unseen by those you surround yourself with. Despite the degrees and certifications, I have obtained over the years, the thing I was most proficient in had become morphing myself into what everyone else needed me to be. Even if that meant tearing myself apart in my shadows for the gaps that I felt existed between what I was and what everyone else wanted. A simple rose to remind me to pause and think about what type of life I wanted to grow. A thistle isn't bad, in fact you need some jagged moments to keep you moving forward and not stagnant in any period of life. And now, a thistle brings even more meaning and resonance as it is the single flower engraved on my dear friend's tombstone. A reminder that what makes a garden beautiful is not so much the flowers that exist but rather the love poured into it. But a rose....a rose is often considered to represent the balanced union between the divine masculine and feminine energies. Not an external balance - an internal harmony between the divine masculine and feminine inside of YOU. A harmonious intersection between embracing both your softness and vulnerability and stepping into your complete power to leave a lasting impact on those around you. I want that. I want to feel fully alive and fully present in every aspect of my life. Where one part of me is not compromising myself to make it easier for others to love me, accept me, engage with me. Believing that there are actually people out there who will want me around just for me - and not because of what I can do (or can't do) for them. That there is a place out there where I don't feel like I have to hide or play small. Wanting that and believing that is possible can be a challenging journey. Hence why some thistles are still needed along the way. The ones to poke you just enough to remind you of your bravery, your strength, to infuse your internal determination to solidify your devotion to yourself no matter how hard life may rail against you. The trick is to appreciate their gifts, learn from the lessons they teach us, and find the strength within us to say, "no thank you" and return to the tending of our roses. Much like that rose, this little note is my symbolic act of returning to tend to the aspects of my life that matter most. The ones that I want to watch flourish. Let this be a beginning for you too. A moment to pause, to breathe, to center yourself and scribble down what in your own life needs more tending to - not out of service or demand - but in order for your heart to feel full and your soul at peace. Maybe your rose garden isn't quite ready to be tended -but maybe it is time to plant the seeds.  "Don't question it..." he said as I lay next to him my eyes scanning his entire being for some type of certainty, guarantee, or confirmation of belonging.
I have done that a lot - looked for belonging in my external world. Growing up with no cousins, grandparents, aunts or uncles closer than a 12-hour road trip, my home roots always felt like they ran shallow. I thought that home was something external. Yet, I never quite found that "place" that I could go to where the weight of the world seemed to melt away because I was "home". No nest to return to. Believe me I have searched. I searched, I tried to create, I built falsehoods around me, I filled those voids with everything material or relationships that required a lot of effort to make them fit the mold I was searching for. Holidays have always felt a little bittersweet without the dozens of houses to run around too, or the large parties where everyone gathered. The family vacations and parties, the noise, the chaos, the drama - I missed all of that. It made me feel lost. It made me feel lonely. On a trip in the budding of a new, divine connection, I went out onto the balcony wrapped in my towel, hair still dripping wet from the shower, cheeks streaked with tears. I stood in front of him telling him I had nothing to offer. I had no roots. There wouldn't be any big holidays or dozens of family parties. No gatherings or get togethers. None of that. It was just me. Just me and my children. I didn't have it. It wasn't my life. Slowly I began pushing him away in that very instance because I felt inferior to what I thought he wanted. In that moment it wasn't about him, it was about me. He never asked me for a thing - I was staring in the mirror of my own reflection of perceived lack. The truth is, I have had moments where I tasted "home." Often like a flash, so fast like the feeling of pop rocks on your tongue that fizzle for a moment and then disappear. Leaving you clinging to that sensation, searching for it once again even though it has passed. It was a sense of home though, just not external. I have felt home in the core of my heart. I have felt home in different states, in different countries, embraced by loved ones, and with the sensation of my babies snuggled in my arms. I have felt belonging on the edge of the ocean in silence as the sun lights up the night sky, and in a crowded concert venue with my favorite girls. For a long time I underestimated that feeling. I made the sense of belonging in myself less important than the sense of belonging in a physical structure or crowd of people - blood or not. It has taken life shattering over and over again. It has taken my heart breaking over and over again. It has taken standing up, slowly, over and over again to make me realize that I was never meant for the "home" and "family" I thought I needed. The definition of home by the Oxford Dictionary begins with "the place one lives permanently...." the flaw in that definition is that nothing external is ever permanent. So maybe I wasn't lost, maybe I was "ahead of the curve." My home has become my inner being. My soul's sense of belonging. That is not defined by a structure, a tribe, or even a zip code. It exists solely, squarely, in my own internal ability to find belonging wherever I go, with whomever I go with, and whatever I bring (or don't bring) along my journey. I have become my own soft space to land - and now, I no longer question it. My goal is no longer to reconstruct a Norman Rockwell painting of home, family, traditions and love. It is to create an internal essence that makes everyone around me feel at home when I am in their presence. Maybe someday that will include a large blended family of chaos. Or maybe it will include the arms of a singular love on a remote island in the tropics. Or maybe it will include solo-adventures around this big, beautiful world. Regardless, I have come to realize it doesn't much matter where I find myself planted or floating around in 1 year from now, or 10. I have found my home in me. |
AuthorJust a woman, finding the beauty in the ordinary, every single day. Archives
May 2025
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