A Thank You Letter to 2016

Thank you 2016...

For showing me I’m braver than I ever thought I could be.  It takes a special kind of crazy to move thousands of miles away from everything you’ve ever known, to start over when you thought you were pretty planted, and to have faith that it’s the right thing.

For giving me confidence.  The older I get, the more I feel my confidence building and in this thirty-third year it took on skyscraper status. Between the move, new relationships, and my changed role at work, I feel as confident in myself as I ever have.

For helping me define my spiritual, social, and political beliefs. This also probably has something to do with age (and a lot to do with the election season), but this year I wrestled with and pinned down many things that before I had just accepted or dismissed.

For pushing me to let my words out into the world. 2016 is the birthday of my writing self. It was when I finally gave in to that small but annoying voice that kept urging me to put the keys to the Word file, even when the louder and more forceful voice was telling me I couldn’t do it. 

For giving me more time.  Our life here is laid back and go with the flow. We have little or no commute, eat dinner at 6 every night, and have left behind the stresses of trying to do everything and be everyone. We have more time to be a family and to be ourselves.

Thank you 2016 for being a year of newness, exploration, and discovery.

The Pain In The Feeling

“What if pain—like love—is just a place brave people visit?”

— GLENNON DOYLE MELTON, LOVE WARRIOR: A MEMOIR

The other day I spent the majority of the afternoon in bed. I wasn’t sick or physically tired but emotionally I was exhausted. The week had caught up with me and by the time Sunday was here, my heart and my head had enough. And so I let the pillows, blankets, and hum of traffic wrap me in their protective space, and for the first time all week I let myself feel. I cried out my worries, confusion, and pain. I cried myself to sleep and then cried some more, but by the time I left my bed I felt renewed. Those things that I cried over were no longer such a burden on my heart. 

Read more over at The Village Magazine. 

The Climb

When my son started crawling we lived in a tri-level house with two sets of stairs. There were no easy ways to gate them, so we didn’t. Like most babies, he was magnetically drawn to the steps, his curiosity and drive to climb to the top was pretty unstoppable. We let him explore, taught him how to slide down on his tummy, and made sure we were always behind him in case he faltered.

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We all start at the bottom, looking up at the challenges and achievements of each step. Some of us are unsure of the climb and lack the confidence to make it up the first stair. Our paths to accomplishments are filled with obstacles. A broken step, or a loose railing. Our journey isn’t easy and each success is hard-earned, one stair at a time.

Read more over at The Village Magazine.