….and it was the best thing that ever happened to me.
It’s not the money I miss, but the years I spent being angry.
Angry at myself.
Angry at my decisions.
Angry at my business partner.
Angry at the world.
Angry at myself.
I’d recently paid off all my debt, had nearly no monthly expenses, and was streamlining my life. I had one ghostwriting client who paid like clockwork, an apartment on a lake, and was figuring out single motherhood; truly…a life built for a princess.
Then I let ego start driving the bus. I got caught up in doing…
Money is a trigger word. Most people have a strong belief about it. I did. I grew up Catholic; Sunday sermons were “Money is the root of all evil.” Struggle was where it was at. My dad taught me if I didn’t have cash I couldn’t have it. I’ve had six-figure years and barely five-figure years. I’ve chased easy money and filed bankruptcy. I’ve had no debt and been drowning in it. My profession is one where it’s a badge of honor to be a “Starving Artist.” Money “ruins” the craft.
It’s taken me untold hours to excavate my beliefs…
Holy Christ I am all the feels.
I’m not sure it’s the relief of 45 coming to a close, or the glass ceiling shattering, or the apres book release hangover, or my “vacation” weekend of #allthetrauma, but wow did all my emotions show up ready to party this morning!
I should really get better at scheduling the crisises (crisii?) of my life.
Nonetheless, the day is unfolding with a trillion creations begging for life. A novel idea about a woman battling her different selves depending on which mirror she steps into, an article about sorry v. aftercare, an article about…
I have this habit of immediately turning my family and friends’ passions into strategies for million-dollar businesses. It’s what I do; I’m a legacy builder. I’ve done it my whole life, starting with my mom. I made her so successful one year for Christmas she spent the whole thing in an anxiety-filled haze, crying while sitting at her sewing machine until 2am every night to get all the orders done.
It was a disaster.
She’s asked me not to “help” anymore.
Same, my dad’s cattle waterer company (are you tired of breaking ice in water troughs every winter?) Same, my…
I’m not sure I’ve had a trigger to write quite like the current cover of Time.
See, I disagree. Vehemently.
2020 was my Best Year Ever. 2020 was the year I got my life back. 2020 was the year my kids got their mom back. 2020 was the year I reclaimed ME. 2020 was the year I realized what matters, who matters, and who could fuck right the fuck off. 2020 was the year I learned to meditate — REALLY meditate. 2020 was the year I got gifted glorious staycations (that turned into meditation retreats). 2020 was the year I…
I’ve now lost count of how many times I’ve opened and closed the draft of this piece; did it again yesterday, in fact, so I could write the Edison one (good lord, I didn’t want to do this one so much I RESEARCHED THOMASMOTHERFUCKINGEDISON. …whooboy, if that isn’t the depth of avoidance, I don’t know what is)
love is complicated
love is messy
love is pain
love looks NOTHING like the stupid-ass fairytales we were raised on
If there was a handbook for love, I missed every publication.
As my babes grow up in this beautiful environment that is becoming…
I spent the morning doing something I vowed never to do.
I researched Thomas Alva Edison with an open mind.
For all that his journey is remarkable, by the end of my research, I’m not sure where I stand on his value as a man or measure. He is so oft-quoted as a pinnacle of tenacity with such quotes as:
“I have not failed 700 times. I’ve succeeded in proving 700 ways how not to build a lightbulb.”
“Opportunity is missed by most people because it is dressed in overalls and looks like work. ”
…but at what cost? He…
generous or forgiving, especially toward a rival or less powerful person.
The unintended consequence of accomplishing my goal of being present and *in the moment* is that I find myself without the deep pools of thought that used to be my swimming holes. In the before times, when meditation was just a neato intention, I used to let my mind sink into the Waters of Ponder and frolic gaily until I could connect the dots on things that I wanted to espouse grandeur.
Now that I’ve found my way to daily meditation (most days), this shift has…
Gosh…there’s really no way to do this justice, so I’ll apologize right up front for how convoluted this is probably going to end up (yay for rough drafts and editing??).
During a lengthy conversation with my cousin/BFF/little “sister,” I was gifted a phenomenal paradigm shift that still has me reeling. I encouraged her to write the article (that would likely do this idea the justice it deserves), but for now, I’m going to jot it down so that I can remember it while it’s fresh. (See, it’s alReaDy meandering.)
In short, what if the way to heal the world’s pain…
Save the Natives who occupied this land before we arrived, this nation is one founded in cowardice.
As I sit here on the morning after the election, watching the votes tally, I’m wondering how we repair this rift so evident in the way ballots were cast. Social media is rife with hatred and vitriol (so much more remarkable after I spent 6 months away); true to their nature, the news outlets are keeping viewers hooked to the heroin drips of updated results; politicians…
Mom | Explorer | Wonderer | Lover | Literary sniper. Chase what matters; ignore the rest.