Tag Archive: memories


I’m 43 years old this year. My life hasn’t been easy but I think I’ve done pretty well, and I continue to improve upon myself. This last year for me has been rough though… internally, relationally, and spiritually. I’ve come a long way from where I was. My inner life has improved beyond words, and the experience I’m having is what’s driving that. This is the most profound period of growth I can remember. I do fall down sometimes, but then I get back up to live and love and fight another day. Thank you for your support.

Lately I’m pretty worn out with being told what to do, how to think, and who to love. I very rarely ask for advice. If I do, it’s because I trust you enough to respect your perspective, not because I’m paralyzed without it. I’ve never handled being ‘handled’ well, or pressured to do something against my will. I don’t know about everyone else, but my heart and mind are not always on the same page. Since I’ve been navigating through this, my heart lands in a different spot every other day. I’ve given up on trying to control that, and honestly I don’t want to. I am doing my level best to be in the moment with myself and my own feelings so that I can find my own truth, grieve, heal, maintain, and move forward. I can’t be there when I’m being prodded out of my center by loving and well-meaning, but not in it friends. This situation doesn’t need fixing. There’s nothing wrong with me. I’ve just had several major life-changing events in the last year and I’m trying to find my feet again. The only way out is through.

Thank you, but I’m not looking for the next ‘man chapter’ in my life, I’m looking for ME. That was the entire point of ending the relationship I was in, to give myself space and time to grieve and deal with my demons. Doesn’t mean he wasn’t important to me, or that I didn’t/don’t love him. It took a year, it wasn’t an easy decision, I didn’t make it lightly, and I still struggle with it. I have no plans to cut him completely out of my life, that’s not who I am or who I’ve ever been, as many of you here can attest. He’s my teacher, my mirror, my friend and catalyst, in addition to being my ex and button-pusher. I cannot honor his contribution to my life and hate on him in the same breath; I choose honor. Sticking a band-aid on all of this and labeling him ‘The Problem’ is not going to help me grow. He may be an asshole sometimes, but he’s my asshole to deal with, and I’m no treat – believe me. Nobody has to like it, but it would be awesome if I could just be heard without the accompanying lecture. This ain’t my first rodeo, I’m not a fool. It is what it is, I don’t wish him any ill. I want him to be happy and fulfilled and have the kind of love he needs, the life he wants. I care about him. Trying to do this without his input is like only having one eye to see – I’ve tried it.   We’ve been through some rough shit together and he was my rock when all that went down, he dealt with the meltdowns; the fear, and the rage, and the self-loathing.  He was the whipping post when I couldn’t contain my rage, he took care of me and held the space when I lost my shit and came apart at the seams, and kept me on my feet when I wanted to quit, no one else.  So no, I won’t be taking that from him, I’m not going to shitcan the whole relationship and call it a mistake.  He deserves better than that, no matter what else he’s done or how much I’ve demonized or discredited him, no one has ever been there for me like that.  I wouldn’t have realized that if I’d listened to everyone else.  He keeps me honest.  He pisses me OFF like no one else.  He makes me smile when I crash and burn.  He matters to me.  And the problems didn’t go away when he did, so… I have more work to do {sigh}.  But his loving me through all that created the space for me to start looking at the toxic crap I’ve been repressing my whole life, so that’s what I’m working through now.  I’m owning my own shit, and it’s not pleasant, but it is necessary if I’m going to be who I want to be.  He and I are good, he’s not the enemy; I was my own enemy.  He’s no angel, and I am certainly no saint, but that relationship is sacred to me, now.

So please, if you need to project something at a friend when they’re struggling, why not the best possible outcome for everyone involved? That would help me. It’s what I’d do for you. It doesn’t have to come with conditions when you care about someone’s well-being, and you can’t know where someone is at when you’re not walking around in their shoes, what they’re afraid to tell you because it might change how you feel about them. I appreciate the prayers, I’m grateful for the thoughts, the support, the kind, loving energy. I know you have my best interests at heart, that you just want me to be ok again, and I love that about you – I’m so grateful, THANK YOU for caring!  ♥

…but I’m gonna have to do this my way, however that unfolds. Please respect that. Thanks for understanding.  ♥

∞E

My relationship with my mom since she’s passed has been morphing from one of frustration to one of inspiration in many ways. She had this quote from Charles Fillmore hanging in every single house we lived in the whole time I was growing up. He wrote this when he was 94:

“I fairly sizzle with zeal and enthusiasm and spring forth with a mighty faith to do the things that ought to be done by me.”

My mom was always moving, always doing. Whether it was cooking, sewing, painting, or building something from an idea she dreamed, she was making it happen, even if she lost interest halfway through. In retrospect it seemed almost frantic, all that busy-ness.  I think about it now and it seems like she was keeping something at bay by never standing still, distracting herself from dealing with her pain.  She didn’t have an easy life.  She rarely spoke of her hardships.  She nearly always spoke positively though, I think she knew the power of her thoughts even when she felt like giving up.

It was just the two of us most of the time, so we spent a lot of time together. As a kid I felt like she was trying to make me into someone I wasn’t, like who I was wasn’t what she expected and I was very rebellious, very defensive.  I had an incredibly negative attitude with her and she seemed an unnerving and annoying vessel of positivity and gooey Light that I didn’t want on me.  There were times when my cynicism and attitude got to her and she would finally snap. It was a powerful thing to behold, shocking even. Then sometimes she would just break down and cry at her sewing table, holding her head in her hands for an hour or more and that was even more humbling. I remember feeling like an ass on many occasions but not knowing how to express my regret and apologize. We didn’t do that.  I didn’t intend to hurt my mom’s feelings, I was just trying to hold my ground to whatever extent I felt she was encroaching on me, but I had no filter for that. I didn’t know where to draw the line.

We never talked about things like that. Negatively perceived emotions weren’t something to be felt or expressed, they were to be ridiculed or outlawed and stuffed, deep down inside behind a locked door and never fed or visited. When an unpleasant emotion escaped into the light, it would wreak havoc on the house, stir things up, run amok through the china closet, and knock us both out of orbit for a while, but then there would be this enormous sense of relief afterward and we would resume life as usual.

I’ve spent a lot of time since her passing remembering the shitty things I said and did to her and the attitude I gave her, understandably feeling terrible about it, like a horrible daughter.  That doesn’t change the fact that I was endlessly irritated by my chipper, happy, singing, beautiful, talented, pushy mom.

In light of recent events, I can see that I was mirroring her shadow for her so she could release the negativity that she was keeping in check, so she could actually feel her feelings. I still feel bad about it sometimes when a particularly shameful memory comes up, but I understand now that in the grand scheme of things we all need someone to trip our triggers. If no one ever does, we never resolve the things within us that need our attention, our presence, our acceptance and forgiveness. It’s so important to cry, to rage, to expel our toxic feelings in a safe way, by ourselves or with someone who loves you enough not to take it personally.

My mother was and is an incredibly strong and courageous soul. She was brave in ways I can’t imagine being. She made many mistakes, which is what I used to focus on (and remind her of, every chance I got), but ultimately her ‘mistakes’ lined me up for a rich experience full of events and people to navigate through and learn from, events and people that have paved the path to create the person I am, and I like who I’ve become.

I have recently come to the realization that I chose that experience – in detail and on purpose – before I came here and that she loves me enough that she willingly fulfilled her leading part in that experience to grow my soul into the amazing tree of knowledge that it now is, and it keeps on growing me. I am grateful for every minute of it. I find myself coaching my friends on how to change their thinking, I catch myself singing the lyrics to the songs she used to sing while she was working, I find myself wanting to paint this quote somewhere prominently displayed in my home, and I find myself building things I’ve only seen in my dreams.

Thank you, Mama.

I feel “pretty” today.

For the first time in decades maybe, that I can remember.  No special occasion.  I didn’t dress up.  I didn’t put on any makeup.  I didn’t even shower, and I don’t remember looking at my face in the mirror.  I just pulled on yesterday’s tank top and slid into a cotton hippie skirt and flip flops and started coffee.

I think it’s the skirt.  I’d say it’s been 30+ years since I wore a skirt because I wanted to, maybe longer.  My entire adult life I have kept a few skirts and dresses around for the inevitable occasion that absolutely required it, but those times have been few and far between and I can’t say I actually ever enjoyed dressing up.  I just never was that girly of a girl, I never saw the point.  But lately, just in the last few years, I’m beginning to have the experience of wanting to be a GIRL.

I’m learning to appreciate my body for its intended purpose of keeping me healthy, and moving me place to place, warning me of danger, and of filtering the environmental toxins out of my air, food and water.   The more I accept it for what it does right, the more feminine I feel.  After all, attracting and keeping a mate is important, but not as important as being strong and healthy, as being ALIVE.  I don’t hold my femininity against myself anymore, I no longer see it as a weakness.  I’m learning to embrace my womanness, and all that goes with it.  I’m keeping my toenails polished, wearing jewelry, drinking tea, reading books, writing, spending time with other wise and wonderful women, and yes, wearing dresses.  

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I don’t know why it’s happening, but I kinda like it.  It’s foreign yet familiar at the same time; like the way you automatically gather your skirts up to climb stairs, or step into your shoes, you don’t even think about it, but you do it, even if you can’t remember the last time you wore a long skirt.  A few times I’ve even had the urge to curtsy, of all things – I was never taught to curtsy, ever!  Where does that come from?!

My point is, I’m becoming softer and more feminine, balancing it with my previous independent, tough girl lifestyle and attitude.  I’m more humble, more compassionate, and have more passion for life and loving, goodness, justice, and peace.  I’m happy and proud to be a woman at this point in my life, I’m enjoying the process, as surprising as it is sometimes.

PMS, for instance.  Having an excuse for a few days every month to take better care with myself, to live without the structure of a schedule, a plan, or a To Do list.  The mood swings that cause my truths to spill out unfiltered by political correctness or subservience to a social hierarchy, making certain that I don’t lose my voice, even if I only speak through my pen or keyboard.  The way I feel a teensy bit crazy sometimes, or peacefully nostalgic about the past.  The way I’m learning to trust the future, while embracing the experience of living in today’s world.  The way I allow myself to cry when I need to, even for no reason.  I no longer make mistakes, I only learn more about myself and the nature of humanity.  I’m allowing my intuition to guide me, instead of controlling my thoughts with logic and reason.  I’m learning to appreciate chaos for the change it brings.  I’m learning to accept help from my friends when it’s offered, and to be grateful for the smallest things, taking delight in micro-moments of delicious joy at the simple act of interacting with a dragonfly, or a baby, a toad, a lover, or a song.  I bathe in the light of the full moon when it suits me, and feed off the warmth of the sun on my back while I’m weeding my garden, consciously accepting the gift of its healing and working with it to grow the food that will sustain me through this year of this life.  These things are real and good and irreplaceable, and decidedly feminine in nature.  They make me feel like I truly do belong to this world, like my time here has purpose.

I have come to realize that “pretty” isn’t something defined by a picture in a magazine, or the face you see in the mirror.  Feeling pretty for me is a way of being in the world which encompasses all things feminine and all beautiful ‘in the flow’ experiences.  Had I known that putting on an old hippie skirt would draw all that together for me, I might have done it years ago, instead of clinging to an identity that clearly doesn’t fit right anymore.

It’s ok to change.  It’s ok to evolve into something more, to accept where you’ve been and let life draw you toward who you are becoming.  Change doesn’t have to be complete or excruciatingly difficult.  It’s an adjustment from doing what you’ve always done to noticing what else feels good to you and allowing yourself to move in that direction to whatever extent you feel comfortable.  The more you stretch outside your comfort zone, the easier it gets, and the more your own experience transcends the ‘reality’ outside your door, or on the news, or at your workplace.  This life is your creation.  Make it your goal to find out what makes it pop for you personally, and move toward more of that experience.  You won’t regret it.  And just for fun one day, put on a skirt and see if it makes you feel “pretty”, too.

Much love, my sisters, we got this.  (;

∞E

I know no one likes to hurt.

Emotional pain is uncomfortable, overwhelming, debilitating and exhausting.  Everyone deals with it differently.  Some repress or deny, some vocalize and cry, some try to bury themselves in work or activities or other relationships, numbing themselves until the majority of it passes, or get angry and shut down emotionally.  Regardless of how you handle it, pain doesn’t just vanish.  If you don’t deal with it in a constructive manner, eventually it’s going to come back to bite you, either in your relationships or your health.

I’m no expert, but I’m no stranger to pain.  I’ve spent a lot of time and energy fending it off in various ways and I’ve come to realize that the best way for me to deal is to confront it directly.  You’re already hurting right?  It hasn’t killed you in the past, correct?  So, if you’re wallowing in doom or despair, my suggestion is to take it one step further and marinade in it.  Not forever, just for now.  Find out the real reasons for your distress by following the pain to its source.  I promise you, if you go down that rabbit hole you won’t get stuck there.  You can get out of the pool any time you want.  You can even take several short dips, whenever you’re feeling strong enough.

Many times emotional hurt manifests physically as sensation in the body.  Get comfortable wherever you are, breathe deeply and feel into your body until you find it.  Is it in the pit of your stomach, your heart, your shoulders, your head?  What does it feel like?  Does it feel like weight, static, anxiety, pressure, pain?  If it’s pain, what are its characteristics?  Is it sharp, dull, pounding?  Constant or intermittent?  Does it feel like a combination of things?  Does it feel familiar to you?  Sit with it, breathe and channel  your breath to that part of your body.  It’s a physical acknowledgment to your being that you’re consciously nurturing the part of you that’s hurting.

While you’re breathing, search your memory for another time in your life when you felt the same or a similar sense of dis-ease.  Is your current situation triggering a memory and mirroring an old emotional or physical response?  Is this response appropriate to your current situation or does it just feel like a replay of a bad dream?  If you feel like someone ‘did this TO you’, is that accurate, or did you have an expectation that they didn’t meet?  Are you taking something personal that isn’t?  If your situation triggers anxiety or fear, where does that come from?  Try and remember what’s caused you anxiety or fear in the past.  Follow the feeling to find out why it made you anxious or fearful.

At the core of the emotion is something you believe about yourself, see if you can identify it.  Do you, in your core, believe that you are unlovable, unsafe, unworthy, worthless or something else?  Go to the source of that belief.  Remember who you were as a child, as a young adult, or a partner.  Relive having your feelings negated, being humiliated, being jilted by a lover, feeling abandoned when someone you depended on left or died.  Feel into the loss, the hopelessness, the regret, the fear again with compassion for the person you were then.  Forgive yourself, then and now, for doing the wrong thing, being afraid, being helpless or weak, not knowing better, not sticking up for yourself, not knowing how to react.

We all find it easy to empathize with others, but we rarely cut ourselves any slack.  Learn to have compassion for yourself and your own tough life experiences as if you were your own friend.  Half of our problem is that we’ve judged ourselves so harshly in memory that our psyche (the culmination of all that we’ve experienced that’s held in our memory) doesn’t trust our mind to make the right choices for us.  We think that familiar sinking feeling means we’ve blown it – AGAIN – and are going to have to relive the same situation.  But oftentimes the reason we attract the same seemingly habitual, painful experiences is because we’re not yet aware of what in US needs to be seen, heard, and acknowledged and sometimes accepted or forgiven.  Once that work is done, the psyche can release the need to keep re-experiencing those patterns.

We don’t have the power to change the past, but we can learn from it and move into a better experience by releasing old pain.  It’s well worth the time and effort.  If you’re already feeling hurt, you owe it to your future to find out why.  Empathize with that child you were, or the wife or son or daughter you were.  Forgive the people and circumstances that caused that pain if you can, but definitely forgive YOURSELF.  No one has all the answers.  We’re all here clumsily making our way through life and its myriad of curve balls.  We’re here to make mistakes, it’s all part of the process.  Cry it out, talk it out (even to yourself), write it out, and BE KIND to yourself in the process.  When you get out of the pool, you’ll have discharged a lot of residual negative emotion, you’ll feel calmer, and you’ll have a new respect for yourself and how far you’ve come.

To your Future with Love,

∞E

My girlfriend and I decided to go to the demolition derby at the County Fair Saturday night. Can’t remember the last time I went to a fair and now I don’t know why I ever stopped.
When I was a teenager, we went to every fair we could find within 100 miles. My girlfriends and I would pile in somebody’s pickup and go, for the rides, the shows, (the Wrangler butts-shh!), and the concerts and we’d stay til they shut the place down an herded us out. I rode every cool ride there was, flirted with all the boys, giggled and ate funnel cakes and drank Pepsi and went home with big long stringers of ride tickets. I remember always having to find someone to ride the rides with me because most of “my” girls would yak. Sissies.
There’s just something about the humid night air in a farm town that makes good memories. The smells and the lights and sounds bring it all back. I can’t tell you how many times I fell in love under those swirling lights, even if it was just for the weekend. Farm boys have always had a place in my heart.
I was thinking that some of the best times of my life happened at a little old county fair in some podunk town in Colorado. Going back this weekend woke that up in me, made me remember what it was like to be 16 again, holding some sweet boy’s hand with one hand and the stuffed animal he won me in another, walking around taking everything in interspersed with crazy adrenaline rushes from rickety rides like the Hammer and the Zipper. Sweet kisses at the tops of ferris wheels, the smell of horses, manure and popcorn, the not wanting to go home feeling. I miss that.
Thanks for the reminder. Life is sweet.

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