I Almost Want to Thank It.

So, friends.  

A real moment of change has arrived.

This blog has been a space that's allowed me to discover so much of what I want and what I don't, of where I'm headed and where I've truly been.

And yet it's time to move forward, and I'm doing that with my new website. 

www.FallApartBackTogether.com.

This is a time bursting with possibility.

Please come to the new site, bookmark it, sign up for e-mail notifications - whatever you need to do to stay connected.

Because you matter to me.

And thank you.

*E

The Changing Nature of Change.

I saw a guy at the Buckle on Sunday with a wrist tattoo that read, "And this will also change." 

I kept glancing over at it, it felt right in my face.

We were in the middle of a thing, me and my love, and I'd been reminding myself of a similar sentiment all morning, "You won't feel this way forever."

"I like your change tattoo," I said.

:::

Yesterday was my last day at the job I got in the fall.

It quickly went from perfect to needing to change to needing to end.

Getting there, to 'end', was grueling and emotional for reasons that still aren't clear.

After allowing the answer to come to me, after waiting to know the right move, I spent my last day feeling completely uncertain about my decision, foolish for having made the choice I made. 

And as I started to feel myself swirling down instead of just around, I had to stop. 

Remember.

"And this will also change."

:::

My husband's a writer, though he'll never tell you that.  He's a quiet guy, a man of few - but very carefully chosen - words. 

It's been good for me - necessary - this quiet.

He's been good for me - necessary - this man.

He wrote to me Sunday night while I was at work.  Words matter in this house, and seeing his name in my inbox made my pulse quicken.

He had something to say.

At the end, this, "We've been talking about how long ten years is, but recently I've realized it's nothing. In fact, all of the time we'll get in a lifetime of marriage isn't that much. Seventy years at best. When everything is tallied, how much of that time will be weekend long fights, or driving to work, or fixing the bathroom sink. It all adds up, let's minimize our subtractions."

To the additions,
*E

The Quiet Sound of Anger Floating.

There's something in me that needs to get out.

It's a mass, a knot of emotion, something old.

It looks angry, frustrated - unseen.

I keep seeing glimpses of it.

It doesn't match.

:::

There were shiny moments.

But divorce, generally, is gray.

Fear and tears and what's-the-right-thing-to-say-I-don't-want-to-get-in-trouble.

I love them both but it feels like I'm not supposed to.

Younger me didn't have the machinery necessary to move the emotional rocks and boulders, didn't know there was anyplace to put them.

This knot of oldness, just sitting here, slowly taking its hood off.

Ouch.

:::

Now that I know it's there, now that I've felt it and seen it, how to dismantle this knot, this knot of rocks and boulders?

My life is no longer nine years old.

She is 31 and she is here.

She is looking.  She is wanting.  She is striving.

She is trying.

:::

So I think I'll look right at this knot and I'll breathe life into it.

I'll fill it so full of my now that it won't be able to withstand my was.

I'll fill it with air.

I'll fill it with love.

I'll fill it with grace.

And then I'll watch it float away.

*E

Note:  It's important that you know that this post is not at all about judgement or criticism.
It's about me processing and releasing.  I love my parents completely, and am fully cognizant of the fact that they did exactly what we're all trying to do: their very best.

Hello, Hotel? Goodbye, Coffee!?

I'm home with Isla today.

She is sick, glassy-eyed.

I don't think we've had a whole day alone together since before Osiah was born, almost
two years ago.

That feels both hard to believe and, if it's accurate (which I think it is), wrong.

Which is leading me to: where and when can I get away for a night in a luxe-ish hotel with my
four year old?

The intense love we both feel for a night in away in a hotel, the way we wait eagerly for the next time is, apparently, genetic.

This pleases me.

:::

I stopped drinking coffee one week ago today.

I am astounded by how much better I feel.

This is fairly earth-shattering, as espresso has been, for years, a non-negotiable thing - I adore everything about drinking it.

And yet I think I can truthfully state that I'll never be a real coffee drinker again.

I feel clearer, more focused, and more rested than I have in years.

My skin looks alive.

And, I swear to you, the dark circles under my eyes are fading.

:::

I'm working out.

I'm eating food that fuels me.

I am listening, without judgement, to what my body wants me to eat, drink, and do.

I am finally giving myself over to myself.

I am trusting what I already know.

And you know what's nice?  I'm not fighting it. 

That right there is progress.

Progress.

Choices.

:::

Wellness is a family value that matters to me.

It's something I can model am modeling for my children.

A whole, well mama is something they deserve.

A whole, well me is something I deserve.

Clarity, focus, purpose.

*E

PS: I didn't give up caffeine completely.  I've been drinking Runa Tea and I am in love.

Day One, In The Bag.

I almost tried to talk myself out of day one.

CAN YOU BELIEVE THAT!?

I have a cold - can you work out with a cold?  Won't I be miserable?

Oh my God.

So I got over the ridiculousness that is often me, laced up my hideous cross-trainers, and
rocked it.

:::

I am done lying to myself.

I can do this.

Ready?

*E

Speeding Toward What I Already Know.

Whole body health.  

That's what I want.

That's what I need, what I deserve.

And that is what I can attain.

A shift is in order, friends.

:::

I know it's all connected, that if my body feels lousy my brain feels lousy, and that if my body and my brain feel lousy I'm not going to be the kind of mom I want to be, the kind of wife my sweet husband deserves.

The kind of writer and consultant I need to continue to be and become.

And so, instead of telling you how I've been grounding-out-to-first with this whole-body thing, I'm instead going to tell you what I'm going to do to blast this ball out of the park.

1. Order the Isagenix 9-Day Cleanse.  Wait eagerly for it to arrive.  Open it.  Do it.  Reboot.

2. While waiting eagerly for said cleanse to arrive, throw a birthday party for my almost-four daughter.  Eat the food that's there (see: Uncle's potato salad, Caesar salad, veggies, strawberry pie, etc.) in moderation.  Life must continue, reasonably and with thought, until the cleansing begins.

3. Decide where I'm going to work out.  THIS. IS. HUGE.  Working out has been continuously shoved to the back of the closet, the dress that kind of fits but not really but sometimes I try it on anyway - STOP.  This body WILL BE a powerhouse.  I want to do pull-ups, see muscles, and show my children how attainable and normal physical health is.  Insanity.  60 days.  THIS IS NON-NEGOTIABLE.

4. Journals.  Two.  One for inspired thoughts and one for nagging, you-can't thoughts.  With me at all times.  Ready for my words so my words don't spin around in my brain.  Angel Naivalu suggested this and I love it.

5. Accountability.  Who's on board?  Who wants to get behind this train, to make sure it stays firmly on the tracks?  Leave a comment if you're in.

:::

These are the next steps.  

The things that I will do.

Whole-body, all-of-me wellness.

All of me.

It is ON.

*E

PS:  And while we're here, can I ask a favor?  Would you ask your friends to come on over and read this blog?  Pretty please?  The time has come for this community to grow.  Let's do it, yeah?

Hugs and kisses all around.

The fact that you keep coming here, that you you keep reading - my love and gratitude is profound.

Thank you.

Mama Once Told Me.

The whoosh of thought and words and hands-to-keys has been absent, somewhere far off, sleeping up in the gray morning clouds.

This morning, I began to worry that it really wasn't ever going to come back.

And then, driving - listening and singing and driving -

"Mama once told me: you're already home where you feel love."

And we're back.

:::

Back to this morning, when I was sitting on the kitchen floor with my children.  We were playing sped-up Ring-Around-The-Rosie, running in a little circle, falling down, shouting with laughter, both my girl and my boy doubled-over in delight.

After our last round said boy climbed onto said girl and hugged her so hard they both fell over.  They lay there like that for a few quiet moments.

"I love you, Osi," said girl.

"Home," said boy.

:::

At ease. 

I'm shocked by the changes I'm noticing in my Self.  I write it that way (even though capital-S-Self irritates me) because these changes feel like fundamental ones - deep core shift changes.

Sitting still and allowing things to happen around me.

Waiting for answers to become clear.

Waiting.

Patiently.

Patient waiting is new.

It's allowing me to quietly bloom like the generations-old daffodils in my newly-green grass.

Allowing me to work my seconds and my minutes and my days and myself like gears
in a decent watch.

:::

So even though the words have been absent, I have not.

"Home," I say.

*E