Your life can be both messy and beautiful.
Observations on moving, breathing and being are just that. At least mine are.
This is where I think out loud.
I get to decide how I move, breathe and be.
Since 2020, I’ve been writing about things that surface when we slow down long enough to notice—perfectionism, self-love, balance, sadness, choice, uncertainty, beginnings. These aren’t prescriptions. They’re invitations to sit with what’s here and to get curious about what it might be pointing towards.
Some of them were written in the thick of a season of major change. Some were written from the other side. All of them are honest.
I took a long pause. I’m back now. New reflections are coming—and the only ones are still here because the themes don’t expire.
On the power of choice
How has January already come and gone? It feels like just yesterday when I shared my first post of the year On Beginnings, and here we are on the last Friday of the month, a fifth Friday at that.
I also don’t know how a whole year has already come and gone, either. It seems like a lifetime ago that it was January 29, 2020. And in many ways, it has been. We’re now in a #newnormal, or #nownormal, of a global pandemic that has shaken all aspects of our lives.
This time last year, I was planning my first road trip with my partner, and though a relatively new relationship, I thought it was my forever one. I was coming off the heels of an informal year-end review with my CEO, in which it was mentioned I could be her successor, so while the job was not without its challenges and concerns, I thought it was at least a long-term one. And I still had my buddy of ten years, Pedro (aka, Peter Rabbit), and though I knew his life was not infinite, I sort of hoped he’d defeat the odds.
Not four months later, all that had changed. Pedro had passed ten days after that, my relationship ended three months after that and my job three weeks after that (and COVID-19 had been declared a pandemic some time in-between)…
Beginnings (part 1)
Happy New Year!
I don’t know about you, but since Christmas Day, I’ve felt this tremendous pressure to be ready and able to leave all of 2020 behind as the calendar ushers us into 2021. Willing, yes! But ready? And able?
I’ve wrestled with thoughts such as, I haven’t done this yet or I haven’t solved for that yet or I haven’t come close to fixing that yet. I’ve especially wrangled with, but I don’t want to take this <<hurt, pain, ache, fear, dread>> with me into the next year—I need more time!.
Side note: don’t get me wrong. I’ve also had countless moments since early May all the way to as recently as yesterday when I've told 2020 to go f' itself, begging it to be 2021 already.
And then the clock struck 12. 2020 was over; 2021 had begun.
I let out an audible sigh of relief.
No longer was there this unrealistic pressure of out with the old, in with the new but rather an acknowledgement that there’re still things to be done, solved, “fixed”; that there’s still anguish and anxiety that came along with me into the new year; and that that’s all okay.
Another side note: don’t get me wrong here, either. I still opened my back doors at midnight to let out the old year and opened my front door to welcome in the new year. You can never be too sure…
It’s all about perspective…