12 year anniversary

September 16, 2006, we used to to say it'd be easy to remember because our area code was "916" and so was our anniversary.  So far it's worked, neither he nor I have forgotten.  I've not really taken notice of it, however.  It's something I think about the day before and then suddenly realize it was yesterday.  It doesn't sit on my head until I get angry with it or sad with it.  Thankfully it keeps to itself.  This year I was up at my boyfriend's house sanding the school's wooden sign that I'd taken as a project.  I got covered in redwood dust, I sweat, I felt proud of what I'd accomplished.  The day prior I was debriefing with my sweetie about being thankful for all of it.  Then I called Ethan and told him too, albeit through some tears.

I'm happy just now.  There are many things I would change, these are mostly trappings and so not really important.  I'd not go back and change anything though.  I'd marry him, I'd make babies with him, I'd go bankrupt with him, I'd live in tiny weird houses and clean up dog diarrhea from the carpet with him.  And while I'd never ever want to go through it again, I'd even have him leave me.  I love the changes that I see in myself since this all began.  I clearly remember who I was when we were married, who I was when I held baby Rosanna in my arms who I was when I called him to find out where he was and learned that he was sitting next to her and they hadn't kissed yet.  And then, having had a major life-spolsion, going on so very many dates- a necessary experience that shifted my world view dramatically and permanently. 

I am so different than I used to be!  I love it.  I would absolutely change my children's confusion and hurt.  To take that away I'd do almost anything.  And yet I also am reminded often to trust.  So I do (it's more rewarding and less stressful than the alternative) and I imagine a way in which this betrayal will serve them in their lives, I imagine how it's all perfect.  This struggle was sent to me to give me an opportunity to "level up", to remember that I am a powerful woman who makes things happen and to practice being love even when it seems impossible.   I'm working, working, working on these things daily.  I'm communicating even when it feels dangerous and reaping the rewards, I'm loving through the seemingly unlovable moments and I'm noticing how much that changes things.

What an awesome practice field my life is. 

TLC Hoarders: brain edition

Coming home today I felt like I needed to exhale.  A dramatic, cleansing release of breath that is paired perfectly with sweatpants and a flop upon the couch.  These last two days have been a bit crazy, a bit nutty.  Just look at the lack of naps two days in a row.  Driving us home today from a sweet little holiday shindig, I was lost in a future scenario...the one where I counted the minutes until bedtime and would then have the house to myse- wait.  We have a dog.  GAH!  The cat is pissed about the dog.  The latest addition to my resume is: let the animals work it out, but don't let the dog get too beat up.  Oye.  I've only had this job for 24 hours and I'm already over it.

Anyhow, this line of thinking meandered around for a bit until I came upon this little tidbit: why the exasperation?  Why go around acting like my current state is taxing and nigh on unmanageable?  My acknowledgement, or my statement out loud (verbal, physical, see: eye rolling, sighing, etc.) that my life today is more than I'd like to be handling is making it true for me.  The thing is, it's not true.

If I want to have a spotless house and take care of my other obligations today, then I could be stressed out.  If I want to get the grocery shopping done today and take care of my other obligations, then I could be fed up.  If I want to be crafty and make all of my Christmas decorations and have some time to be still, then I might be short tempered.  So the question is, why?


"Tension is who you think you should be.
Relaxation is who you are."
Chinese Proverb

"Peace is the result of retraining your mind to process life as it is, rather than how you think it should be." Wayne W. Dyer


The path to freedom and happiness is letting go, it's being good with what the day brought and being thankful for it.  I tend to do the opposite.  I dwell on the things I didn't get done and the way my house doesn't look like a magazine cover.  The funny thing is, nothing actually changes between those scenarios besides who I am then capable of being.

Mind: blown.

February 10: Something you're proud of in the past few days

Being proud of myself isn't my default mode.  I'm pretty humble, I avoid acknowledging myself for a job well done.  So let me just stew on this idea for a moment, this idea of being proud of myself for something.  Toot my own horn, you could say.

Ok.  I got it.

In the past few days I had the courage to invite people over to our home and cook a vegan meal.  I debated cooking something "normal" for them, so as not be be filed under "people whose house we don't want to eat at".  I am proud to report that I let go of needing them to like it.  Of course, I hoped they did, but I decided to detach myself from frantically making sure...which would look like: apologizing, cooking up something new, making it "right" somehow.  My mantra was, "they are grown ups and my friends, if they want something new they can ask".  And then I exhaled.  Phew!  It was tough, and I did it.

Also, I am quite proud of our kid.  She knows all her ABC's, she can count to 20, she sings 5+ songs on her own.  She says, "please" and "thank you".  She speaks her wants and needs more than she whines about them. Her joyful little self spreads happiness like wildfire through a crowd.  Yesterday she was singing "You are my sunshine" and "Twinkle, Twinkle" unabashedly in the store.  Grins worked their way across all the patrons faces.  It was awesome.  I can't take all the credit, and I'll take a chunk.  We've been conscientious of how we speak to her, how we interact with her, we follow up with our requests of her.  It's WORK.  It's working out beautifully.

Quit saying it isn't easy, you are fooling yourself and it's working

Funny thing about death- it bottom lines the world for us.

We are mortal, we are worrying about insignificant things, we are caught up in being righteous, picking fights that have no meaning and holding on to hurt that is sucking our small bit of time away from us.

People come together when another person dies.  They drop the pettiness that was so important just a moment ago.  They see the small things for what they are: small.

And they love each other again.

Not as lovers, but as people.  We let others have their space to be human and we love them for it.  It's a beautiful time in the midst of horrible sadness.

Then it fades.

We forget what we knew to be true and buy into, once again, the little annoyances that ruin our small time here.  It's so small.  It could literally end at an moment.  Truely.

How are you living today?  With loving abandon that fills your heart with joy?  Are you being outrageously fulfilled?

Let it go.  Let the ridiculous, radiant light in.  It's closer than you think.

Brick Wall

I want to cry a lot lately.  Ugh.  When I try to stifle it I get raging headaches.  Yuck.

I cried when I watched the Dr. Suess Burning Man video in this post.  In the face of elation that is created through people coming together, erasing the perceived lines between themselves and connecting in the way that was always possible- makes me whimper and my chest feels full.  The very same thing happens in my personal life.  When a "stranger" and I let ourselves be open to each other in the simplest ways.  I get overwhelmed and weepy.

Speaking of the Burning Man video, there is a structure in the beginning that is made of wood (I think) that is burned at the end of the event.  According to my buddy Eric (my Burning Man guru) people put notes, letters, photos of loved ones passed, etc on the structure to be burned up with it in the end.  I immediately thought of Sunny.  Chewy & Leia.  Mark.  I think of writing to them.  Putting their photos on the structure and letting them go via a blaze in a desert night sky.  Like, really letting them go.  All of this brings about a torrent of tears that say to me, "Hey.  You may have not dealt with these saddnesses in the past (when they happened) but they are still here...waiting for you to pour out the tears it's gonna take to move on."

I cried yesterday during the movie "We Bought A Zoo".  I won't tell you why (no spoilers!) but it was incessant.  The whole freaking movie, while I loved it, was a sob fest for me.  If my toddler wasn't requiring constant attention -it was her first theater experience don'tcha know- I would have been consumed.

Then there is the fact that while I was sitting with my wee-one to fall asleep, E did the dishes.  I almost didn't know what to do with myself.  My routine has become (check it out, I am SUPER proud of myself for creating and sticking to this one, hey- it's small but it's big, you dig?) put the kid to bed, do the dishes.  We don't have a dishwasher, so this is more of an event than it used to be.  So here I am, sleeping kid with no dishes to do....so I thanked the man.  He responded by thanking me.  For what?  For everything.  Boom.  Tears.  

I feel so undeserving.  I feel like it's a constant struggle to be the wife I see as desirable and can't-live-without-able.  I'm frustrated with myself for being the stereo-typical "have a kid then be fat forever" person I was so sure I wouldn't be.  I used to be hypercritical of my physical self when we were dating.  I can't believe I was ever so unhappy with that fabulous body.  I am grateful for my body now, it's given me a lot to be thankful for and I haven't shown that gratefulness in it's upkeep.  One of the ways I am committed to loving my body is blogged about here.

I want to be the wife/mother who relishes her duties and keeps them up with ease and satisfaction.  Lately all I want to do is the 'mother' part.  That said, being the best mom I can be is hardly beneficial to my kid if I can't hold up my 'wife' end of the deal.  

To be clear, this has nothing to do with E.  It has everything to do with me.  My knee-jerk sniveling is a red flag to me that connectedness levels are low.  My walls are up and my love-letting is minuscule.  This is all on me.  It's my safe-mode.  

Ironically my safe-mode is keeping me 'safe' from feeling and from my loving marriage.  Sounds cool right?  Time to get out my chisel and hammer and get to work on this blasted wall.  

Day 29: Bellies

My belly can be the bane of my existence.  I have an inkling that this is true for lots of other females.  I get swept up in endless comparisons, laying judgement to my shape and making myself miserable.  I cannot remember a time when I was happy with my belly area (I don't count being pregnant, I LOVED the shape of my pregnant bellyness).

I have an idea of what it "should" look like, this mid-section of mine, and yet I haven't been willing to do the work.  I suppose you could say I am committed to my misery.  Otherwise, I'd get 'er done and eliminate my ugly-zone.  It's because of this that I rarely vocalize my dissatisfaction.  Because I am accountable for it.

I've seen some posts on other blogs lately whose goal is to expose some realness to combat the f*cked up ideas of what a female body should look like.  As a female, I can attest to feeling bummed out about my shape after seeing an ad (or movie or other kind of media) that glorifies a certain body type.  Ever notice that only the thin, perfectly gorgeous girl gets the guy in movies?  Lumpy, saggy breasted women are left to be silly sick kicks, hilarious grumpy hags or disenchanted, overwhelmed, long-married martyrs with lots of kids who are snarky about their lives.  Naturally I'm drawn to the girl whose got it going on, and I'd like to think my brain isn't so soft that I can't be happy unless I have HER body.  But who are we kidding?  Being bombarded with such images hundreds of times a day, thousands of days in a row is bound to wear on a gal.  It's only a matter of time before my brain naturally goes: "Hey, why don't we look like that?  There must be something inherently wrong/bad about us!  Fix it, or else we won't have any friends!  No one will ever love us!"  etc.

So I wanted to take on my own blog posting that shows off all kinds of realness.  I can say, confidently, that I'm not alone in my feelings of body disgust.  When I send out a request for women in my life to send me a picture of their belly, some were horrified.  Many refused, despite my promise to leave out names.  Most of the photos I did get came with threats that I had better not post their names and that they really hated their picture. I think this speaks pretty blatantly to the fact that women mostly feel like their bodies aren't lovable unless they look a certain way.  They (I) feel that until they look this certain way, they have no business being proud of their body or showing it off or speaking about it as if it were already perfect.

My mantra is that I am already perfect.  I don't always buy into this mantra, but I know it's true.  There is nothing that is "wrong" with me.  All of my disturbances, upsets, sadness, anger and fear comes from a belief that I am somehow lacking.  If I stay present to "I am perfect" there is nothing that I cannot do or say.  Thank about it.  You are perfect too.

My fears had me convinced to not identify myself in the line up, but because I am perfect I am going to.  That's me, second row, far left.  That's a woman who's had one baby, one surgery to remove an ovarian cyst, one D&C, who doesn't exercise (except running after a toddler), who loves to bake for her family and her friends and has a incessant sweet tooth.

Soak up the realness!  (Thanks to the brave ones who contributed and to my Rosie whose belly was used to fill in the last square).