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The Prayer

When I was a little girl, I said a prayer. I asked earnestly to never forget what it feels like to be a kid. I don’t know exactly what my thought process was at the time. (I was quite young.) But there was something I saw in the grown-ups around me that I KNEW I didn’t want for myself. I remember knowing that it was VERY important to me. It is interesting to me that I was thinking that way at such an early age, but I’ve always remembered that one prayer. For the most part I believe the prayer was granted, because I seem to suck at “adulting”. No really. I identify so much easier and more quickly with children than I ever have with...

Reflections On Mothering A Daughter ~ A Mothers Day Post

The following is a poem I wrote on Mothers Day. I feel it needs explanation due to the feedback I received after sharing it on social media. It is NOT my current experience of life or my relationship with my daughter. It IS however from my own life learnings, and things I have observed over the course of time, in myself and in our connection as mother and daughter. I was reflecting on how we teach our children, especially girls, by way of modeling. The "do as I say, not as I do" philosophy never works. If we as women diminish ourselves, shrink in the face of adversity, use hateful language to describe ourselves, and fail to care for our needs and our dreams, our daughters will fall in...

The Day After

Well there you have it. History is made. Perhaps not in the way many people believed it would be. But made nonetheless. I chose not to share my thoughts and feelings about this years presidential race. There was no candidate that my conscience would allow me to support. Since that was my truth, it didn’t make sense to me to engage in the conversation. Through it all, I have been a curious, and often bewildered, observer. As an introvert and a highly sensitive person, watching all of it play out has at most times been excruciating. Now that the result is confirmed, I sit in absolute astonishment. I have never liked or trusted any politician with the name of Clinton. The main reason for this is the physical...

Lunch: Just Food? Or An Act of Profound Self Love?

I had the most wonderful lunch! I took myself to my favorite Thai restaurant. I ordered things from the menu that I’d never tried before. (I have certain go-to dishes ordinarily) I enjoyed soup and even dessert. I sipped jasmine tea and finished the whole pot. It’s like it was my birthday or some other special occasion. Only it wasn’t. No, this date with myself, as magical as it sounds, was what most would call a “Hail Mary”. Forgive me for sounding melodramatic, but this was a life or death situation. A literal Lunch To Save My Life. “Pre-Lunch” my whole body was buzzing with agitation. My pores have been seeping anger and frustration and I’ve only been about 2 steps ahead of the men in the little...

Crying: How It Sucks and Why I Highly Recommend It

I’ve stopped wearing mascara on my lower lashes. It’s become a necessity since I started crying. All. The. Time. Seriously though, there are days when I have put on makeup and DURING application, tears would come. I would clean up my face and continue to apply makeup only to walk out of the bathroom and begin crying again. The struggle is real, as they say. The reaction of most people when they hear I’ve been crying is “Oh my goodness. Are you okay?” or “What is wrong?” or some other words of concern. I SO SO SO appreciate these gestures of compassion and love. Some days they are like air to me as I’m gasping for breath. If you are one of these people, THANK YOU for seeing...

Your Child Is ALREADY Good

I was walking to my car the other day and passed by a mother with her child of 2-3 years. They were sitting at a table finishing up what appeared to be their lunch.  When I was a few yards away, the child quietly asked the mother for something, to go somewhere.  The mother's reply: "If you're good, then we'll do that."  She not only said it once, but for some reason (perhaps at the child's insistence) repeated herself a couple more times. When I heard her words, I flinched.  It was like sandpaper on my heart.  At that very moment, the child let out a tortured sounding squeal and I thought, "Yeah, I feel that!" If only she knew what she was really communicating with her...