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I was going through a box yesterday evening when I came across a stack of old journals, many had been started, then stopped. One in particular has a few entries beginning right after my mother’s death, as I began processing that and everything that came at me in the months that followed. I wasn’t consistent with the entries: some are...
My temperament has been a little on the fragile side the last couple of weeks. And yesterday, as I looked at a calendar, I realized why. I have officially lived half of my life without my mother. From this day forward, I will have lived more of my life without my mom than with her. That sentence feels pretty weird....
And so I begin another trip around the sun. I’m a different Me this year. Or, rather, I’m more ME now than I have been in a very long time. Over the past year I’ve made an assessment of my life and have been sorting what I’m bringing with me—and what I’m leaving behind—in the year ahead. I’ve done some...
I’ve been working on a writing assignment that, on the surface, sounded fairly straight-forward. But by the time my terrified perfectionist and inner critic got done tag-teaming me, I started re-thinking this whole Writing As A Thing That I Do business. All the while, in a very significant part of my life right now I’m feeling like I’m being pushed...
I accept that I am a work in progress as long as I keep working and progressing. ????????????
So, a while back, I published The Year That Was 2016: Part One. That would indicate that there would, at least, be a Part Two, right? So, a few weeks later, here we go. I’ve determined that 2016’s raison d’être was to help us figure out what we are made of. Because 2017 and beyond will demand that we have...