Life's Little Lessons

"If you ask me what I came into this life to do, I will tell you: I came to live out loud." – Emile Zola

A Thousand Little Pieces 

I was unloading the dishwasher the other week and being productive, grabbed two mugs at the same time instead of one. In my hurry, I inevitably dropped the heavier, black mug on floor and heard the clamor of ceramic and tile colliding. When I picked it up, it was in what seemed like a thousand little pieces. The one side of the mug was missing a very large piece so when I saw it, I sighed. I thought it would be an easy repair. One piece. However to my dismay, there were multitudes of small and fragile remnants spread all over the floor surrounded by potters dust and my heart immediately sank.

It was unrepairable.

It looked like all the other cheap ceramic mugs I’ve bought over the years. They all end up the same. Chipped, cracked and eventually discarded.

Except that this wasn’t just any mug. It was a mug we got from Paramount Pictures where our oldest daughter interned two summers ago. It was the mug we bought when we visited her in California. It often held my coffee and with it, my sentiments.

But sentiments aside, I cleaned up the pieces and salvaged what I could. I got out the super glue and started first with the biggest piece and thought I had a win, but the remnants were too small and not one seemed to fit just right and I started to get frustrated over a mug that would never be the same.

The trash can looked like my only option.

Days later, I’m driving to Baltimore with my husband. My mind flittered between songs and landscapes and my marriage was forefront. Here we were on another trip, in another year, logging another mile while stubbornly refusing to give up. My mind raced to lots of things, to people and with people…problems. I have friends who are encountering their own sort of hard, and as I sat in the passenger seat on my to our destination, I heard myself whisper, “Don’t discard the pieces.”

Perhaps I was whispering once more to myself.

Relationships are much like my mug. Over time and with use, little dings and chips create cracks if you hurry too fast and aren’t mindful of their care. Every now and then, trust gets broken and a large piece shatters on the floor of someone’s home and before you know it, your heart is broken into a thousand little pieces creating remnants that feel too small to pick up and piece back together.

But much like my mug, piece by piece, chunk by chunk, things CAN be put back together. It most likely will never look the same because cracks leave scars making things look raw and edgy and the healing comes through a process that is frustratingly ongoing and one day you wake up and realize how tired and worn you are from trying to piece it all back together yourself so you call a silent truce and eventually resolve to STOP fixing and mending alone because no one is fully ever broken…not even YOU and you embrace your cracks and your raw and rough edging. We ALL have our things and those things are better placed in the Fathers hands and when we give Him our broken pieces, He works tenderly and diligently…

Making broken things beautiful…

Most people would like the damage done to what is broken to be concealed and hidden by repair so that things could look like new, the way I want my favorite mug to look and my marriage to be, but that really isn’t reality.

That is actually a pretty weighty expectation and an unrealistic picture.

Someone shared years ago of how the Japanese art of Kintsugi follows a different philosophy in mending broken items. Rather than disguising the breakage, kintsugi restores the broken item incorporating the damage into the aesthetic of the restored item, making it part of the object’s history. Kintsugi uses lacquer resin mixed with powdered gold, silver, platinum, copper or bronze, resulting into something more beautiful than the original. The item becomes unique and set apart, for no two breaks are the same.

That visual has helped me more times than I can count when I have felt hopeless and broken and that the trash was my only viable option. When my dreams dissipate and my relationships verge potential ruin; in those moments when I feel small and in my ambiguity, helpless…I must choose to remember His goodness. He doesn’t create junk and if it is important to me, it is important to Him. THEY ARE. YOU ARE. I have a Father who doesn’t enjoying watching me feel out of sorts and out of luck. He is good and tender and piece by piece, partners with me to create a mosaic masterpiece.

But the first step in this creation is the resolve that what I hold in my hands has WORTH and VALUE. When I make the decision that yes, I am committed to working on it, I won’t easily discard it…even if the pieces are too small for my finger to pick them up.

Even if I don’t feel, even if I don’t see, even if I don’t hear…

Friends, I do not know how He does it, but I do know it is an exchange of sorts and I am part of the process. It would be easy to say I just put what is broken into the Father’s hands and He gets to work and I just wash my hands and walk away. That one day, He and I just meet up again over lunch when He is all finished mending and He hands me back a perfectly pieced masterpiece, but no.

It doesn’t work that way.

Each day I have the choice to wake up and make the commitment, ONCE MORE, to partner WITH HIM. He says, “OK, todays let’s look at THIS piece. What is this one about? Why is it special to you? How did it become misplaced and broken? What was your part?” and we go from there. Every piece is different and every conversation reveals both a truth and a lie; a lie that helped create the crack and a truth that helps restores the piece. If you do this enough days, trust can be rebuilt with the hope of restoration rather than having to trash what once you said had value and worth to you.

Whatever has fallen apart CAN be made whole, it just won’t always look like what you expected and don’t be suprised if YOU are the focus of the mending. You want the attention to detail to be elsewhere and on anyone else but you because you are not part of the problem nor did you cause the break, but I assure you…you have a part.

Be the place to start. 

The Father wants to give you His attention. Let it happen.


the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth 

I’ve been thinking a lot about honesty. About how most of the difficulties I have encountered in my lifetime have had honesty, or the lack thereof, attached.

Not fully sold out to WHO I was created to be.

Just not forthright.

Like almost, but not quite because I’ll tell you what I think you want to hear.

So when I asked my son a question and he gave me an answere that was a little bit more real than I’d like, he said, “Do you want me to be honest?” I hesitated of course and gulped long and hard, but answered…


I often think of Jack Nicholson in the 1993 movie “A Few Good Men.” It’s where Jack’s character Colonel Nathan Jessup goes total Marine and screams, “You can’t handle the truth.”  Did you see the movie? If not, you should because it’s a classic and that scene will be etched on your brain for eternity as a good reminder…

We all want it. Truth. Honesty. But maybe he was on to something. Maybe we can’t handle it.

Like when I hesitated with my son, I must have conveyed…“Whoa. I’m not too sure about this. I don’t really know if I like where this conversation is going,” because he caught on and asked, in so many words, if he’d have to adjust…

“Do you W-A-N-T me to be honest?”

Because seriously, isn’t that what we do? Secretly and silently gauge on some scale if someone can handle it? If they can handle US?

Too much. Not enough.

Not being honest almost recently cost me one of my closets friendships. I felt it building but couldn’t quite figure out what IT was. IT was anger. I was angry and I thought it was with her, but it had nothing to do with her, it was of course…with me. I had somehow along the way, gotten into a rut with this particular friend of telling her the truth, the whole truth and sometimes…everything BUT the truth. I told her what I thought she wanted to hear vs. what was really on my heart because what was really was on my heart, was some days…not pretty. Over the years, I began to feel resentful and bitter towards MY actions.

She represented everyone I had every went halves with.

Intimidated my her forthrightness, I hid mine and never fully showed up the table present and whole, just in pieces and parts. I short-changed us both and after a while, you do get sick of your own shit. And that is exactly what it was…no other word for it my friends.

So word to the wise, don’t ask questions unless you are prepared to swallow your pride and give someone space to fully be themselves; space for their own thoughts, opinions, perspectives, feelings and experiences. In fact, do not open your mouth to answer if you can’t offer someone the same…the WHOLE you. The honest and truthful you. It is not up to you to gauge if they can handle WHO you are.

Honest truth.

What a concept.

One I am prepared in this leg of my journey to give. One I am prepared on this leg of my journey to receive.

the beginning, middle and end

I tend to over complicate things. Like W-A-Y over complicate and maybe it’s not so much over complicate as it is…over think. <<<<<——- See, I just did it right there. I have a disease.

Either way, over thinking leads to over complication. Agree?

It comes down to thinking I need to be somewhere other than where I am at.

I have recently been going back and have been rereading some old post/journals/blogs. Each entry is a door into my head and into my heart at THAT moment and each one has been NEEDED. I could not be HERE, in this right now moment experiencing these right now things, if I had not been THERE

I realize I have a propensity to gravitate towards RIGHT and WRONG and for this incredibly gray, in-the-middle woman…it baffles my mind that I weigh in so heavy on one side or the other, but I do. **WITH ME**

When I was little, I don’t think there was a lot of room for conversations, as in “What do you think?” It was “This is how it is. End of discussion.” So to think outside of “This is how it is”  has made me feel small, as in stepped on, as in END. OF. DISCUSSION. 

No perspectives.

No opinions.

No conversations.

And sadly and ultimately…No relationship.

I haven’t quite learned how to master the art of resting in WHO I am and yes, the people pleaser in me is still alive and kickin’ for I continuously resurect her from the dead and invite her to sit at the head of my table, but I am learning.

I do not have to TRY to convince…

So now here I am, an adult who thinks A LOT and who goes back and rereads and begins to gauge her own thoughts against her new ones and places them on a scale. Was I right then or was I wrong?

HA. I was both.

It is no longer a matter if I was right or if I was a wrong in what I thought about what I was walking through at that time…it’s just another layer of me, a ginormously large onion, right where I am at.


These my friends, are words to live by. Not necessarily wrong or right or some hazy shade of gray but…




Which some days is good. Some days is better. Some days is best.

My friend Amanda taught me those words. I sat in a chair in her kitchen with a black binder in my hands that I often still use. I was new to health and overall nutrition and she was about to teach her first class and she said these three little words. It’s as if the heavens opened up above me and trumpets began to play, they impacted me that much. They’ve allowed me to take myself OFF THE HOOK and extend grace, mercy and kindness to myself.

Where you are at is GOOD.

If you step over here, it’s BETTER.

And if you push ahead, it’s BEST. 

Whatever it may be, it keeps you in the game instead of standing on the sidelines having been picked last at recess for the daily kickball game. It rules out NOTHING, it negates NO ONE.

Live in the moment. Live right in THIS moment, just as you are. Do not cross yourself off or rule yourself out. You aren’t getting it all right nor are you getting it all wrong…you are somewhere continuously between the beginning, middle and end.

Enjoy the journey.

Much Love- 




love your enemy

It doesn’t happen all the time, but occasionally…I need to go back.

Back to my bedroom with the white furniture and the pepto pink bedding where, as a child, I spent a lot of time with my cocker spaniel named Sheba while my parents fought outside my door. Back to the house we built on Hamilton Drive as a representation of a fresh start where I spent a great deal of time by myself as my parents traveled to appointments with my sister during the months leading up to and then following her heart transplant. Back to the young woman in college on the track field who ran and ran to escape her problems and with it her life.

I have spent many hours going back to myself at different points in my life and I know that in going back, my meandering will not bring forth much productivity becuase things cannot be changed. So I sit and question…WHY this strong need to revisit? The only answer I can come up with is this:

I long to make friends WITH her.

I recently became aware how incredibly hard I am on myself and through it, realize further that SHE, myself from any day other than today, has been my enemy at times…the very person at fault and my greatest undoing. Her decisions have haunted me and she has sabotaged my efforts in moving forward with her incesant stepping and screw ups. Her mistakes, her choices and her shortcomings have flooded my thoughts and there are days, I can’t shake her.

Abraham Lincoln has said, “I destroy my enemy when I make him my friend” and  I realize that my opinion of myself, of HER, needs to change. It HAS to because I cannot afford to live double-minded…

I cannot love my neighbor if I do not first love myself.

So each time I sit with her in that bedroom when she felt at fault for the fighting or the abuse or alone in that house scared and confused or on that track worn and emptied…my heart wells and overflows with compassion towards her. I look into her eyes in hopes she SEES the compassion I have for her; the kindness and the mercy for IT. IS. HIS. I want her to see WHO He sees so she can make peace with herself again so she can embrace her original identity rather than continuously cycling through the insecurity she systematically drapes herself in.

So each time I go back and sift through my box of memories, I whisper: “You do not have to try so hard.”

Stop trying to fix. Stop trying to be good. Stop trying to be enough. Stop trying to be seen. Stop trying to be heard. Stop trying to numb the pain. Stop trying to make sense and understand…

For there is no way in this lifetime to possibly comprehend all the WHY’s tucked up inside.

So once more today, I make my enemy my friend…

And let myself off the hook.

“Love and value others the same way you love and value yourself.” Romans 13:9

Keep Up

I could begin to feel it coming on, the weight was bearing down fast and hard.

Some would say feelings are dangerous things and should not be trusted, and part of me agrees in a sense, but would also argue on the other hand against that statements validity. Feelings are important. They arrive on the scene in a flash and place a check in my gut and if I listen close enough, halt me in my tracks. They try to talk to me in various ways and give me gust of CAN-DO’s that get me off my ass and encourage follow through. They allow uneasiness to settle if I make a rash decision or if I’m headed down the wrong path or one a little too soon. They give me peace and contentment on one hand to proceed and a colored flag in the other imploring me, “Look Here.” 

So when these feelings come, I don’t try to shove them out my front door like an unwelcomed houseguest. Instead I invite them to stay for a bit and this time, I sit with them and I say,


“You are spending too much of your time looking at what other people are doing, particularly in how they are interacting with one another and you think you need to keep up. You need to be this to that person and that to another. The heaviness you feel is the weight of your own expectation and looking too long leads to you compare which inevitably makes you think you need to measure up. Before long, here you are, feeling not enough. The list grows and quickly…you don’t think you share Jesus enough, that you aren’t a good enough friend, blah blah blah…

because if you were…”

So to me, the weightiness is a cue.


Eyes off the crowd. Cheer them on, yes. Stay in the “Good For You” spirit which is honest and sincere because we were not created to go it alone. Others are vitally important, they are much like our feelings; they inspire, encourage, caution, correct. And some you got to let come and then let go. I know for a fact that one person’s ceiling may be my floor and vice versa, but I don’t necessarily think we need to step on one another’s backs to make progress. I envision crossing finish lines together, hand in hand, but then may want to pay me no mind. My head often gets lost in literal clouds and I’m known to be overly sentimental. What I am trying to say is BOTH are needed but I know in order for forward movement to take place, I must do MY part. I got to step. So I find myself doing the dance and engage the continual cha-cha of life…

step back…step to the side…step forward

I am once more reminded to set my own pace and run my own race. I want the team, I need the crowd, but if I am not careful, my identity can get wrapped up in WHO they are and not in WHO I am.

What is good for the goose is not always good for the gander, or maybe it’s what is good for the gander is not always good for the goose…whatever it may be, don’t forget you were created individually unique with purpose and are a intricate part of a family…

a family who very much needs to you to show up as YOU.

the stage

It starts out rather innocently. Someone extends a compliment or they express, in some fashion, their approval. You soak up their words like a sponge and think that what you just did or said was good. You weren’t really trying to do or say good things, you were just going along in life being YOU, but your sponge is dry and a seed gets planted somewhere inside and before you know, that seed takes root. It finds an empty, dark place to root and begins to grow. And as it grows, it hears betweens it’s ears, “THAT. That was good. Do more good.”

Because good, of course…is good.

So you find yourself TRYING to do and say more good things. To BE good. You are intentional and forthright and put added time and thought into what the next good thing could be that has your name and face attached. And one day you wake up tired because the joy and excitement of living is gone because it has begun to feel like work and you realize along the way, you’ve become a performer on some stage selling cheap tickets for a midday matinee.

You find yourself, more times than not, rehearsing your lines in your head or out loud in the car while you drive and you perfect each and every detail. Comedy, thriller, tragedy…you’re the star of a one man show and no one’s to blame for the long hours and the late night rehearsing but y-o-u.

You diligent and faithful workhorse.

**work harder**  The bar has been set and now you must exceed it  **work harder**

Stage left…

You stand before your audience and you anticipate their cheer, but instead, they are drowned out by the loud and rather long clapping that sounds kind of sad from someone hidden in the dark depths of the shadows…

He stands and cheers, but not for anything that you have said or done…

He cheers for y-o-u. Your heart knows it’s Him the moment the bravado begins…

He adores you, just as you are. Trying. Striving. Longing…it doesn’t make much difference to Him what you are outwardly doing for He is spellbound, not by your wit or your humor, but by y-o-u. His greatest desire has always been and will always be for you to understand your why…

This revelation alone takes center stage and becomes your greatest act of worship.

Life is not a performance and you do not live on a stage. Step off.

Step on step off step on step off step on step off step off step off step on step off step off…

Do it as many times as you need to, do it one-thousand times…as long as you become increasingly aware WHY you take center stage instead of your worship.

For we become like the One we worship…

May the stage never become our platform.

The Other Woman 

I dread the doctor’s office. I dread showing up on time and then sitting through the long wait. I dread the paper thin gown with the white strings in the back that inevitably rip off before I can tie them. I dread just about every last thing, but you do what you go to do.

So I showed up, I waited, I tied and I dreaded.

And inevitably accidentally eaves dropped on a conversation that was happening between two women that sat behind me…and when I say accidentally, you know what I mean. Ears are hard things to close.

The one was talking about a mutual friend and it was NOT pretty. “She this,” and “She that.” Had she known I was going to write about the whole thing, I am sure she would have changed her tune, but that’s ok because a helper was on the scene. She was sharing with one who I’ll just gloriously crown, “The Stand Upper.”

This other woman was amazing. It was like she paid the words of her friend no mind. She was rock solid, didn’t miss a beat and didn’t jaunt in defensively; to save or to fix, but rather meandered slowly but surely.

She was matter of fact.

She PRAISED the poor woman her friend was bashing till a wealth of treasure was bestowed upon the invisible woman’s feet. There was no face to the name, but I pictured her…

“Thats never been my experience of her. In fact, she is extremely dedicated and loyal. She has always been there for me when I needed her. She is incredibly encouraging. She has a full plate and manages the best she can.”

I sat there, wanting to turn around and shake her hand. I wanted her autograph, a picture, anything…and if I could be 100% honest, I was so incredibly attracted TO her in all the right ways. This other woman had something I wanted to possess; her ability to stand up and stay steady rather than being swayed and staying silent drew me in.

She was a needed breath of fresh air.

I sat in my seat waiting for my name to be called and thought about all the times I have been a giver and a taker. Since I can only assume that I’ve been the recipient of someone else’s side conversations, I’ll share about my first hand knowledge of how I have dished out my fair share of negativity towards others unbeknownst to them and have felt validated in doing so. Yes, I have played innocent.

I can honestly say, EVERY TIME, it’s a sure tell sign the issue is mine.



Which can pretty much be summed up in one word, right?


So what are my issues then if I just sit back in my seat and refuse to stand up when someone begins to drudge another through the mud and the muck? Are the issues really that much different? I think not.


I think the woman who stood up today was confident in WHO she was. She wasn’t afraid to disappoint and wasn’t out to people please. Fear of man was not a forethought and if it was, she was secure enough to push through the trembling and the best part was…she didn’t do it in a way that was ballsy or brash. She was loving and kind and steered the ship into a peaceful harbor. I appreciate accidentally eavesdropping…so very much.

It made me wonder what I would look or sound like if FEAR were not an option. If I removed THAT…WHO would I be? I want to be ME, but I want in large parts to be the other woman too.

Stand Uppers are one of a kind, in fact they are one in a million. They cannot be swayed by your opinions and are not afraid to go against the grain and form their own. They are tried and true friends.

Everyone doesn’t just NEED one, they need to BE one.




the closet

I stood in front of the closet and grabbed out a sweater. I was quick and haphazard, I was cold. Any sweater would do.

The morning went on and I stuck to the routine, but I just didn’t feel quite right. This sweater that I had on was an impulse buy, on sale. It was itchy. The color was off as well as the shape so I stood in front of the mirror trying to gauge, “Should I? Shouldn’t I?”

This sweater wasn’t really MY thing, but I spent money on it so it really should be. Right?

Another lesson learned.

I took the sweater off, folded it nicely and set it on my bed. It was going downstairs to sit on my ever growing consignment pile. One wear, oh how pathetically sad.

This unfortunately has been the story of my adult life. I get something that really isn’t ME and I force myself to wear it because I bought it or I make myself do it because I didn’t have the guts to say no. My life has been filled with “I should’s” and “what ifs.” If I am not mindful, as in if I do not intentionally guard my heart, I DO what I THINK is expected of me. I do what I THINK would make other people happy which ultimately comes down to one big, fat root: rejection and the fear of.

Stuff has consumed my life in a secret attempt to fill the tiny nooks and crannies where being at peace with WHO I am has been void. It’s been a me thing, certainly not any issue of some poor, unsuspecting sweater. In reality, I have ten others just like it, but I’ve functioned on the hopeful and unrealistic mindset that ONE more could do THE trick. One more sweater could FIX my void, hence fix ME because somewhere along the way I bought into the notion and the lie that I am broken. Unwanted. Yes, rejection has been grafted into my flesh’s DNA something fierce and I am continually pulled to be a consummate people pleaser.

But not today.

Each sweater I take off, each invitation I say no to that I know is not for me, is a another step in walking in the fullness of my original identity because here’s the thing…rejection is NOT grated into my DNA. It’s just an unwelcomed houseguest that I have entertained for far too log. I actually believe, even if my thoughts don’t always line up, that I have immeasurable value and worth thanks to Christ and every day is another undoing, another unlearning and I have no shame in being honest in saying…I am a work in progress. 

Those who say our inner struggles can be fixed and mended with Jesus in an once and done exchange at the foot of the cross actually set people up for continual failure and disappoinemnt and before we know it, we have turned Jesus into another remedy for some ailment for a sickness. My need for Him is ONGOING. The continual choice to choose WHERE I live from takes daily effort and effort my friends, does not come with ease. I’m going to Him again, and again, and again so if I’m consummate about anything, it is Him. I’m not asking Him to save me, that’s already done,  but to be WITH me as I choose to remember. 

Over and over again. 

So today I took off another sweater. I took it down the steps after holding it in my hands, debating whether or not to keep it because for YEARS, I have tried to make things work that just weren’t me and to be honest, I am tired. I am tired of the clutter and I am tired of my own shenanigans. I am tired of seeking after approval and attention. I am tired of playing head games. I am tired of trying to fit in and I am tired of stepping into things I should of never said YES to, good things, but things that just aren’t ME. 

I think I should. I think they THINK I should. I kind of want to, but it’s just not the right time, but hell with the right time, I’ll do it any way. Maybe it will grow on me, maybe I can make it work, maybe it will become me. Perhaps it will fix.

One sweater at a time. One activity at a time. One thought…

Father, remind me WHO I am. Not the ME I have created, not the ME I thought I needed to be, not the ME others expected or the ME that has flittered through life feeding off of feelings and experiences, but the ORIGINAL me. Take me back to the ME you thoughtfully and creatively made. The ME you delight in, the ME you adore. I open the doors to my closet and ask you to help me sort, show me what belongs and what doesn’t. I’m tempted to ask you to give me the courage to be ballsy enough to NOT wear what you haven’t clothed me in, but then I think…I already am. All that I need is inside of me. Father, remain ever present as tenacity buries itself deep…

My closets awaits…


the intervention

this was me for a bit today, standing alone in what felt like this massively wide space. one thing however that i’m learning is this: we are never as alone as we feel. god had other plans for me, plans to extend his hand and invite me out of my vast and deep forest, the very place i wanted to get lost in.

his plan for me was jen.

i was fuming at my desk and in the midst of the worst possible time, she calls. i look down at my phone and see that it is her, my dear and sweet college roommate who i know only means well but hasn’t a clue about the space i’m in. i quickly answered instead of sending it to voicemail and said hello. after that, the next words out of my mouth where along the lines of, “i answered just to let you know i can talk, but don’t really want to. i’m mad. in fact I’m…” and well, the conversation just went from there and my words were colorful and not nice. i thought for sure she would get the hint and say, “whoa. we’ll talk another day.” but she didn’t. SHE PERSISTED. before i knew it, i was a bundle full of words and tears.

she has been safe and compassionate and always in my corner for over 25 years.

and before i know it, she sees my blind spot and calls out what i cannot see.

“your people pleasing root is being pricked.”

she is right. i couldn’t see for i was blinded by offense.

have you ever woken up and then shown up, like FULLY to the best of your ability? it’s not your desire or your intention to be graded or measured and you don’t care to “do” good and you understand that your efforts will produce mistakes and you are ok with that. as much as you have heard it said that “no one can make you feel a certain way”, you want to call it bullcrappery for the day. people actually CAN say and do things that TRY to tell you that you are either TOO much or NOT enough and before you know it, you are placed upon the scale and weighed.

now i have to choose to believe efforts are unintentional, but reality is, it often seems personal when i know that it’s not. i often liken it to one ginormous head game of chess.

i move my pawn here. you move your rook. i capture your queen.

i am done playing games.

i swear that is why god’s other plan for me called today. “i can’t talk right now because i am too over the top LOST in this DEEP whatever…”

“that’s fine” she says. “i’ll just sit here with you and we will have awkward phone silence.”

she tricked me you know. she was my secret intervention, unstaged of course. my heart was closing off, how could she know? it was growing cold and the hot embers were burning out. as much as i wanted her to make it about them, she flipped it all around, sat me in the middle of the room in love and turned the tables…


those two words. once i remembered that i am doing the best i can, i stepped down off the scale and realized that even though what people say or do may make me FEEL a certain way, it is ultimately up to me to decide how i am going to respond and if it’s truth. truth was, i AM doing the best that i can. even if i wasn’t, even if i was slacking off, i do not need to flitter through the continual fluid place of too much or not enough…

when i realized that’s what i was doing, it wasn’t at all about what i thought it was. it wasn’t about other people and what they have done or didn’t do or what I have done or didn’t do. everyone was left off the hook. it was about me not trying so hard to make everyone happy. it was about my people pleasing.

i feel continuously pulled to have the attitude that says “to hell with you” and “oh i am so sorry, let me fix.” yes my heart gets torn in how to balance the space in between and how hard or soft i should land when i come in…so for today, i have resolved thanks to me dear friend jen, that if i show up and do my best, HOWEVER THAT LOOKS, it is simply






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