I used to think that the pressure in my life was from proving myself to my parents and maintaining a standard they set for me.  They always praised my grades and the events or clubs I partook in.  I loved it when they showed me off and when they talked about how smart I was.  They were always expecting the next great thing from me and wanting to see how far I surpassed myself. 

I know now that they were also feeling enjoyment in their pride and relief that I managed to do well with school.  I strove to maintain that level of esteem from them for as long as I could.  Their pride in me was like a drug and it made me feel like I was capable of anything.  I wanted more.  With good grades, I felt like I could take on the world.

My sister and I used to talk about how frustrating it was to have that pressure on me and she had a tendency to emphasize that it wasn’t my inner drive that went for perfection, it was my parents pressuring me.  The more I think about it, I honestly never felt pressure from my parents.  They never scolded me if I did something wrong or if I didn’t get a perfect score.  They were actually incredibly supportive if I made a mistake.  But they also didn’t go out of their way to make me feel like mistakes were ok or a natural part of learning.  And the attention I got was different when it came to a mistake versus success.      

In spite of all that, I couldn’t pin that this is where the pressure came from.  I’ve been having nightmares a lot lately and a lot of memories coming up.  I woke up one morning after it had snowed and I started thinking about how some people really have a hard time driving in those conditions and I felt myself getting increasingly angry.  Then I remembered getting into an accident in the snow when I was 19.  I remember the sound of the tie rod breaking and sliding into a street sign.  I remember an incredibly sweet woman stopping and asking if I needed her phone.  And then I remembered the aftermath, being terrified to drive in the snow.

Stick with me, because I realized that the pressure came from trying to keep up with my siblings.  When I was little, I always wanted to be with my sister.  I wanted to do everything she did, I wanted to be her.  After that accident, I panicked and asked for my family to help by driving me when I was really uncomfortable—like in fresh snow. I had been picking up my sister from the train station for months and I figured she would help me.  One nasty snow after the accident, she was taking me to class on campus not too far from home and she was pointing out every five seconds that her car slid too and telling me that I needed to learn to get over this.  It really hurt me and embarrassed me and it made me feel like I couldn’t rely on her.  Then it really hit me: I had been driving for almost two years and she had been driving for over 11.  She was holding me to her standard when she had five times the experience I did. 

Then I started remembering her making snide comments about not getting number one in class—while at the same time telling me that I had to let go of the perfectionism and that she was worried about me.  We had a complicated relationship—like most siblings if I really think about it.  She told my secrets to my parents and to my aunt—including the first time I had sex.  I kept everything she ever told me and she told the darkest parts to those closest to me.  But I envied her.  So I know the pressure wasn’t directly from my parents, and reading these stories, maybe it wasn’t even from my sister.  I put that pressure on myself.  I thought I was a failure if I couldn’t get something right the first time.  I hated myself for it and I even thought I was never meant to do certain things if I couldn’t get it right immediately.  Worse, I started holding people to that standard as well.  Completely unfair, I know, but I grew up with the people I looked up to expecting me to get it right because there was no room for error.  I know I can’t breathe like that, so I am letting it go.  This month is about love and I am practicing loving who I am—including where my neuroses came from.  Make friends with what I can’t change, and relieve some of that pressure.   

I believed for a long time that family would never let me down, that they would always be there for me, and that they would always do the right thing.  I grew up with siblings a lot older than myself and I believed they would always protect me.  I honestly believed that anyone older than me would do the right thing.  I’m not 100% sure when I learned to think like that, but I know I did. 

Some parts of this are challenging to tell because I’m not sure how to articulate it, but I never learned to build up my defenses.  No matter what my family did, no matter what they did to chip away my trust, I always dove fully in and trusted them again.  Meanwhile any little mistake from people around me and I cut them out like a wart that overstayed it’s welcome.  I don’t know, maybe it was a guilt reflex.  My parents and siblings took care of me so I felt they were allowed to treat me how they wanted to, even if it hurt me. I always believed I was the accident of the family and that it was some huge sacrifice to bring me into the family.

I tolerated lying, mental abuse, being forced to grow up way too soon, becoming a therapist for my parents, being ostracized from my siblings, and bearing the burden of proving myself because of our age differences.  It takes a huge toll on your self-esteem when the people you want love and respect from see you as someone weaker than they are and prey on that.  It’s so hard to acknowledge the hurt that it brings but to also understand that they were just of a certain age where that behavior is natural—it wasn’t necessarily anything personal.  It’s a fight between logic and what you feel. 

It wasn’t until very recently that I understood that no matter who they are to you, family or not, there are things you can put your foot down with even if it makes them uncomfortable.  Familial relation or “hierarchy” doesn’t matter: you’re allowed to say who has access to you.  It also wasn’t until very recently that I understood how messed up some of the things I went through really were and that, family or not, sometimes cutting people out is necessary.  

I have a complicated relationship with my mother as well.  She had a traumatic childhood and she has a lot of unresolved emotions about it.  As a result she hates being told what to do (but doesn’t know what she wants to do when she isn’t told what to do) and she will tell you what you want to hear and then do what she wants to do.  She takes care of my son and he has dietary restrictions that, when I tried to enforce, she would tell me she would stick with it, but then I would find out she gave him things he’s not supposed to have—because they can hurt him. She told me once that it wasn’t a lie if I found out about it. 

There are some things we have to learn to accept in people around us.  some things they just won’t change.  We can choose to set a hard boundary and cut those people out of our lives or we can learn to tolerate the behavior, or accept it.  In spite of all the things my family did, I love them.  There are things I can forgive because I know they didn’t know any better.  For the things that are a hard boundary, it can be a challenge to enforce them, especially when you’ve never had to do that before. 

I often ask myself if it’s possible to have a close relationship with people who have broken your trust.  Clearly it is on some level because these people are still in my life and I still speak with them, I still share with them, and I still love them.  But I am always guarded around them.  I always measure how much to say and what they need to know and, at the same time, I am learning what is appropriate to open up about.  I used to vomit everything about my life to people as soon as I met them and I have learned to guard that a bit more.  It wasn’t appropriate and I got hurt more often than not.  So I try my best and I continue on and I have learned to integrate those lessons from my family as a way to protect myself.  No matter how much we hurt, we still have a capacity to feel love and that is the gift. 

I’ve been back and forth for years on how to handle my relationships, particularly my marriage.  I’ve been with my husband for 20 years this year.  We’ve grown up together, we’ve lost together, we’ve won together, we’ve loved hard and fought harder.  When you’re in anything long term, it’s easy to get frustrated with things…like, everything.  I mentioned about a month ago that we have been seeing things differently and I’ve felt that building up. 

I woke up on Sunday feeling like I had a choice: accept that we are on different paths and learn to separate and end this knowing we both have things we want to do.  I don’t want to feel trapped waiting for someone to be on the same page as me. The other option is to lean into my flexibility and my adaptability and fully believe, in spite of our differences, that we are heading somewhere we are meant to be together.  I’ve spent so much time fixating on what HE needs to change and my vision of the future that I never looked at where I needed to be willing to bend.

I also often forget that my family has a long history of martyr syndrome: we like to pretend that we are the victims, the ever-holy self-sacrificing angels there to save our loved ones.  We’re pretty good at it—like, I think we may have brought it over when my great-grandmother came here from Italy and shared it as an ancient family secret.  It drives me INSANE, both to experience it and to recognize that I do it as well—even though I hate it being done to me.  Sometimes I cling so desperately to my vision of how things should be that I completely lose sight of how others may feel or what they want.

For every aspect of my relationship that I’m tired of and “over,” there are so many other facets that I appreciate.  I struggle with being the fiscally responsible one, the one who has to say no to everything because I’m looking out for our future.  But my husband does help in his own way.  I definitely wish he would contribute in the ways that take some weight off of my shoulders, but he does important things for our family. 

After really thinking about it, maybe the choice wasn’t about staying or going—it was about letting go of my bullshit stories and expectations and own that THIS is who I am.  I need to stop controlling what I want other people to do and accept my role in this.  For example, I love a clean and organized house—but I hate maintaining it.  So sometimes things get really disorganized and it makes me anxious, but I know those times I let things get messy, I’ve spent time with my kid or I’ve been working on things that I want to accomplish.  It has been my flexibility and adaptability that I need to work on.  Life can be so much more enjoyable when you let go.  When you align with who you are and what you really want.  A gift I gave myself on this Valentine’s day was to promise to connect deeply with who I am, to be honest with every facet of myself, loving me, not apologizing for the life I want, planting both feet firmly on my path and never looking back.  I came to terms with the fact that I need to see what’s on the other side of my control and fear.  If I want to see what I’m capable of, then I need to give myself that chance.  Happy Self-Love day—which can be any day 😊   

In the vein of self-love, I thought it prudent to talk about early lessons in self-love–that you don’t always learn it from your family. While this story may not apply to all, the lesson does.

I got my first bra at 11 years old.  I remember walking into KMart with my mother and shyly heading into the girls underwear section.  It felt almost obscene to observe these garments that I had only heard about wearing a couple of years before.  I felt like it was all happening too quickly, like I shouldn’t be looking at these things or shouldn’t want them.  I looked at the different styles, the designs on the fabric jumping out at me.  I wanted the pretty floral one but my mother selected a few plain white ones from the rack that she thought would fit my own growing rack.  Instead of coaching me through the experience, my mother told me she was sorry she passed on her curse to me.  I didn’t think much of it at the time other than now I had new clothing to keep track of. I remember being a little excited because I felt like my sister and thought we would have something in common.

 After we left the store, I remember proudly showing my best friend’s mother that I acquired this new garment and feeling like I had a new secret all to myself.  I was conflicted by my mother’s reaction because she taught me to be ashamed of my changing body and to not trust my choices but I was honestly a little excited. Like I mentioned, I thought it would bring me closer to my sister and I wanted to trust my body.

Every time I needed to expand my bra size—which was fairly often as my mother did pass on her ample assets—she would apologize to me.  She would always tell me to be careful with the clothes I wore or she would tell me she would never have the confidence to wear the things I chose to wear.  She would get me the plainest, most non-descript underwear and act like I needed to be ashamed of it.  As I continued to grow, I would allow myself to spill over (literally) because I didn’t want to tell her that I needed another size bigger, yet again.  I couldn’t believe that I was still growing so fast.   By the time I turned 13 I was a 36DD and I started to feel like I might have to be ashamed of myself and that I might need to keep my body hidden.  None of my bras fit me and I was always uncomfortable in my own skin.  Nothing was supportive about this new undergarment anymore.

This pattern started to bleed over into other areas on my life.  I wanted to sing and I was told, “I wouldn’t be brave enough to do that!” I wanted to go out with my friends and I was told, “Make sure you’re careful and that you’re home on time!” I stayed awake about half an hour longer than normal and she told me, “You better make sure you’re still awake on time!”  Every time I wanted to have a normal life or try something new, I was met with statements like that encouraging me to always use caution and to never just go for it and trust in myself.  The only praise I got was when I turned in good grades and when I did exactly as I was told.

I honestly don’t fault my mother as she was raised to be extremely cautious and any mistake was met with ridiculous hostility from her own mother.  I see this now as I have gotten older.  I also see that without the support I needed from her to encourage or foster taking chances that could open doors, I remained timid when I needed to stand out.  I hid my body and I hid my talents because I didn’t want to stand out if I wasn’t perfect.  I picked friends with bold attitude and ambition and I found myself telling them that I wouldn’t be brave enough to do the things that they did.  I married a man who did anything he wanted to do without consulting me and when I took a chance, he all but laughed at me (this was many years ago).

Now that I have been looking at my life a little more in depth, I have to admit that I am still looking for support.  I have come to realize that the patterns instilled in me from that fateful first shopping trip with my mother have taught me to attract a certain kind of person in my life.  I have continually attracted people and situations that always demand the best from me but don’t return anything but the bare minimum.  I have kept myself out of the limelight while performing at the highest of standards and I have allowed people to berate me and belittle me for the smallest mistake while allowing them to take credit for work that I have done and I have praised them for doing next to nothing.

I sometimes have a hard time accepting what I know because I want to believe that those we love will always have our backs. The truth is if the support systems in your life aren’t working, get rid of them.  Whether it is an unsupportive partner or a bra that doesn’t fit, there is no room in your life for things like that.  Take the time to love yourself enough to speak to what you need and to demand the right support.  Life is too short to diminish your greatness because you’re carrying any unnecessary weight, whether it is on your rack or your back.   

Today I am grateful for dreams.  Over the last few weeks I have felt a distinct sense of loss and an inability to see what I wanted for the future.  I could barely see how to make it to the end of the day and each morning I felt like there was nothing I wanted to do in that day.  Nothing.  Like everyone, there have been so many highs and lows over the last year that I’m struggling to make heads or tails of what is up or down, what really matters, and what I really want.  There are moments I am so close to seeing it and I boldly declare, “This is it!” only to second guess myself a day later.  But I am grateful to be able to look toward a future with some hope and to try and decide on a life I want—I still have that ability and that is a luxury.

Today I am grateful for nourishing food.  I love to meal prep and to make sure I have healthy options on hand.  After seeing what my mother went through a week ago, I feel so blessed for the reminder how our own action or inaction impacts our bodies.  I am grateful for the reminder that our bodies are worth taking care of, that my body is worth taking care of.  I am grateful that I get to decide how I want to treat myself and that I am able to nourish myself with real, healthy food.

Today I am grateful for the chaos of the last week.  It was exhausting and terrifying and completely sideways from my normal life—but I saw first hand that I am able to do things differently.  It took me a whole week to see that, but I am grateful the chaos showed me that I am able to accomplish the things I want to and that I am able to stretch in different directions and farther than I thought.  Sometimes it takes pushing to the breaking point to see that you’re NOT going to break: you just have to learn to stretch a different way.

Today I am grateful that I have flexibility in my life.  As much as I struggle with certain parts of institutions, I am grateful that I had the time to work when I needed and the time to stop when I needed.  I am grateful that my family came together to find a solution to help with caring for my mother, my niece, and my son.  I am grateful that this is taking me to the next level in letting go in my life.

Today I am grateful for love.  Yes, I know it’s cheesy, but I have to recognize it.  I wouldn’t be where I am without the people who love me.  I’ve always thought love was a complicated emotion because it entails so much.  But as I’m getting older I’m realizing that it isn’t complicated—you feel it and share it.  We didn’t do anything special today (because there is a difference between recognizing love and feeling obligated to show it in extreme ways) but we were together.  I made pink pancakes and we ran to the store, we had some lunch, and that was it.    

Wishing you all a wonderful week ahead.

The first time I noticed I was smaller than everyone was when I was five years old in my kindergarten class.  I felt terribly shy and unsure and, looking back, I guess I’ve always had trouble interacting with people.  Like, I just didn’t get the point of it or how to really do it.  I didn’t know how to be friends with other kids.  I remember feeling like this out of place girl, scared to open my mouth, even at that age knowing I knew the answers but choosing to be quiet. 

I don’t remember what made me keep quiet because, the truth is, many of those kids were kind to me.  Not that we were overly close, but I remember getting on well with them in class.  I wanted them to like me.  I remember kneeling on the carpet, all of us gathered together to watch “Reading Rainbow” and someone said it: “the shrimp can sit in front,” followed by a few giggles from other kids.  I remember asking my parents what it meant exactly when I got home and they told me that the kids were just jealous or something like that.  But I remember my parents also becoming really encouraging about school at that time.

The name shrimp stuck pretty well after that, with both my friends, and the other kids in the class.  The teacher started saying something about it and that’s when I noticed how it really made me feel.  I can’t say it was bad at first, but I really noticed that OTHERS noticed I was different and that is when I felt different.  The name stuck with me for years.  I remember writing in my journal at eight years old that the other kids didn’t like me and were calling me shrimp.  Eight years old and feeling completely isolated. 

I adored my parents because through all of that they made sure I knew they loved me and they tried the parent tactic of telling me how jealous other kids were and that “good things come in small packages.”  It really did help but it became a daily battle—it was always some new cruel thing that was said about me.  I learned to shield myself from second grade on because, by that time, even some of the older kids I didn’t know were making fun of me.  Now, I know some people say this is a normal part of life, but the extent of the bullying absolutely took a toll on me because I would learn to get through one person treating me that way and then another would be in their place—it was relentless and constant. 

Looking back, I can see how clearly this defined my self-esteem and how much I tried to compensate for feeling like crap by being controlling and excelling in school.  I used being right as a shield for being made fun of.  I may not have been able to change my height, but I could take the time to learn everything I could and make sure I knew my stuff.  I could always prove I was still something special if I was right. 

I’m still little and it still bothers me.  We are so trained to auto-judge people by what they look like that I’ve spent my life being dismissed and disregarded as a child even though I’m a grown woman.  When I was pregnant, people would stare at me in disbelief because they thought I was too young.  Performing in the professional world was just as challenging because most people, especially older men, have no problem disregarding people anyway, but seeing a woman who looks young doesn’t take any thought at all.  I’ve heard people say horribly derogatory things about me to my husband—right in front of me.  Things like, “You’re so lucky, she doesn’t even have to kneel to give you head.” 

Logically I know I am SO much more than that.  I have accomplished so much more than that.  But all you see is a small woman and you don’t give a shit.  I shouldn’t have to prove myself to you in any way to earn your respect.  While these things still bother me, it has taught me a lot about what really matters.  Other people’s opinions are so low on the  list it is ridiculous.  Human nature dictates that there will always be assholes around no matter what you do—and you have to keep going regardless.  And I have learned to be a kinder more open person because I know first impressions mean nothing.

The last lesson I am trying to learn, or rather unlearn, is that the stories other people tell about me and their first impressions don’t mean a damn thing.  That is a lot of work to do when you’ve heard the same story for over 30 years.  That is where clearing away comes in.  As I spoke about yesterday, I’ve been getting a lot of cards about clearing the past and letting it go—and this is one of the things I have to make peace with.  Those events from so long ago (and not so long ago) have no bearing on where I’m going next.  Those events are not an indicator of who I really am.  Yes I’m short, but I am a damn force to be reckoned with.  I am smart and capable and I have carried the weight of many worlds on my shoulders.  I say what happens next.  If you have nothing supportive to say, or nothing original to say, then there is no space for you here.

Over the last couple of days I’ve pulled cards repeating similar themes: resolve the past to move forward, let go of the past, let it lie, step forward into who you are meant to be.  I have held tightly to the past, to everything I’ve done and to things I wish I had done.  To the decisions I regret making, the chances I regret letting go.  There are so many things I wish I could have done differently and there are so many things I wish I could do over.  I’m sad because I know nothing I do with change what has been done but I also don’t know how to let it go. 

So many authors I read talk about forgiveness.  How important it is to make peace with what is done in order to successfully move on.  How the past is merely a part of what has happened, not the defining moment.  There are some things I’m not sure I have earned the right to forgive.  Part of me knows that is ridiculous because there are ways to make peace with nearly anything.  I have no issue forgiving people in my life but I still struggle with forgiving myself.

In the spirit of this Valentine’s day weekend, I found it appropriate to continue to take loving action for myself.  That includes forgiveness.  Perhaps this has always been a challenge for me because a lot of what I feel isn’t necessarily shame or anger toward myself, it is regret.  How do you forgive regret?  Regret is difficult because it’s ambiguous.  You don’t have to feel regret because you did something terrible—sometimes it’s the longing for things to be different.

I know that I can’t make things different, I’m not insane.  But finding a way to make peace with the fact that some things just are is challenging, especially for perfectionists.  So, for me, the first thing I’m trying to come to terms with is just that: life isn’t perfect.  It’s messy and dynamic and flows of its own will.  Part of accepting that things aren’t perfect is accepting that I have my own unique abilities and developing those abilities is more useful than trying to force myself to fit into something else. 

When you align with who you really are, the opportunities that are meant for you will always find you.  That is how you make peace with regret.  If you believe that there are no coincidences and that your opportunities always find you no matter how long it may take, then it is safe to say that there are no missed opportunities and there is no reason to regret anything.  I love that idea, but I struggle with it.

However, the universe seems to be pressing the issue of letting go of the past and getting on with it already.  I surrender.  It is time to give over, no matter how uncomfortable it may feel.  I will be sharing some stories over the next few days in hopes of some healing.  In hopes of resolving and making peace with some things from my past.  In hopes of learning to embrace what I have been talking about for the last year—loving myself enough to accept who I am.     

I’ve always been the person rooting for the underdog, standing up for what is right.  I’ve been the neutral party trying to see both sides to come up with a resolution.  My mother’s incident on Friday has become a pivotal moment for me.  I reached out to the highest authorities in the hospital and shared my work with my family as well.  My father told me that I am a really good writer.  Seems silly to want that validation in the grand scheme of what is going on, but it is so important because there are people who need help, it’s as simple as that.  If I am able to help them, that is what I want to do.

Being in healthcare as long as I have been, I can see that everything over the past year is part of the systems that are falling apart.  I’m hopeful that part of the reason we’ve experienced these events is to guide me here, to understand how many people need someone to speak for them.  I understand how many people are so angry and I understand why they are angry.  We’ve prioritized material over people and expected people to work like machines.  We feel like meeting basic necessities is a privilege and that we are supposed to consume all the time and if you’re not taking things in then you aren’t good enough. 

Standing up for what is right, not who is right, or how a small group gets the most money is what’s important.  Taking on giants is terrifying but sometimes we have to do it, no matter what.  If it is what we are called to do, sometimes taking on what is right, no matter who we are taking on, is what we have to do.  I’m not 100% sure where that facet of my life is taking me, but I know that it is closer to where I’m trying to be.       

Next week I will begin sharing more personal stories, things I haven’t talked about before, because I now see how important it is to own our stories in an act of love.  As I’m being pushed forward toward where I’m meant to be, I see how many of the things that happened in my childhood brought me right to this moment.  I’m loving me enough to do what I am meant to do. 

I had an amazing moment on Sunday watching my husband and son play nerf darts together.  Completely uninhibited, running through the house, laughing and having a blast.  Hearing my son giggle uncontrollably and watching my husband patiently teach him how to play with the nerf gun completely warmed my heart.  These are the moments we need together.  I’ve gotten so caught up.  I’m always caught up.  No matter how hard I think about it and try to let it go, I’m always finding myself back in my head.  Watching them play today showed me how vitally necessary it is.  I struggle with shutting down—even though I know how good it feels, even though I know we all need to shut down every now and then—and I always regret it because I let myself burnout before I take any kind of break.

I’m working really hard to remember to take care of myself, especially my mental health.  Old dogs and new tricks, man, it is SO tough.  I appreciate this crew hearing the same things over for a while.  I promise I’m trying to break these habits.  I think I’m also really grateful that in spite of constantly forgetting these lessons, the universe is always bringing them back to me and saying—get your shit together.  We’re here now, enjoy it. 

After the debacle I shared with you about my mother’s health care, I took Monday off and I loved every second of it.  I was able to help my mother and take care of my kid as well as anything that needs to get done.  That emotional trauma will never go away, but I can learn to integrate it and take the lesson higher.  It spoke to so many things occurring in our nation because I know my mother is not alone in this.  We have to do better.  And (as sick as it sounds) I am thrilled to witness so many systems failing from healthcare, to education, to wall street.  Let’s keep peeling back the layers and exposing the truth in everything we do.

I had an anxiety attack late Saturday evening into Sunday morning.  After the events with my mother, the gravity of the situation really began to sink in and I felt myself fearing losing her.  One thing I’ve always prided myself on is being very good in a crisis.  That is the one major benefit of having anxiety my entire life—my brain and body kind of go on auto-pilot in real emergencies and I get a sense of clarity where I just do what needs to be done.  Eckhart Tolle talks about that in “The Power of Now” and how everything disappears except for the crisis at hand.  But after the crisis settles, the emotional component kicks in.  There were so many moments I felt helpless this past weekend that I feared what would happen.

I know that I am going to lose my parents and it is something I’ve always hated.  I’ve had a fear of losing them since I was nine years old.  And now that I’m an adult and we are closer to that moment, when I’m transitioning with my siblings to care taker, it weighs on me. Then I started fearing my own death and leaving my son behind and the weight became crushing.  I know time moves on and we only have so much time while we are here.  In the midst of that fear-based brain, I had a moment of truly understanding how fleeting life is and how important it is to do what really matters.  How important it is to let go of all the extraneous bullshit we strive for—just let it go and focus on what matters.

I have a tendency to go to the extremes with everything I feel—fear, passion, excitement, and anxiety.  Even if I love a book, I will make sure to get them all.  Like I fill my life up with so much stuff because I don’t want to feel the fears.  Having a lot of stuff makes me feel safe and gives me the illusion that I have all I need and I will always have all I need.  I see how much my life has become cluttered by that behavior and, in that moment of clarity through fear, I know how much I need to let go of.  I’m trying to hold on to past lives, to things that are no longer present, to things that I truly no longer need.  Now it no longer makes me feel safe—it makes me feel heavy and clouded.  

That was one time I was actually grateful for my anxiety.  That was probably the clearest I have ever been on making a decision through my anxiety and I felt like the anxiety actually served a purpose, gave me an answer.  On Sunday morning my son climbed into bed and told me It was the “bestest day in the world” because he loves the morning.  And that firmly planted me right in the present moment.  No amount of fear is going to change what is coming, I’ve spoken about that before.  No amount of lamenting or filling a home up with stuff is going to bring back the past, or the feeling from the past.  No THING is going to take away the pain of the past or stop the future. The key to being happy is to truly be present.

I pulled a card and it was about sensitivity.  It said “You are extra sensitive to energies and emotions right now.  Honor yourself and your feelings.”  It’s true.  I am extra sensitive right now because I’m in the throes of a deep change.  I’m in the field between the forest and the road, navigating my way between lives.  And I’ve lived a wonderful life, it’s no wonder it’s hard to let it go.  I have to trust that the next phase will be as wonderful, if not more so.  It’s time for me to embrace the change, make peace with it and lean into it.  I feel guilty for talking about it so often and not doing it.  But I’m stuck in the memory of that safety and security and the truth is, it no longer exists.  It was always an illusion anyway.  That security needs to come from within.  I am so grateful for my life, and there is a lot more of it to live.  As much as I don’t want to say goodbye, I am grateful I have all the memories of it.