I have mastered nothing. Not even my ever popular Caesar salad dressing with bacon bits. Not even my oldest, most beloved friendships. Most definitely not mothering, or writing or falling soundly asleep. Like a sentence, I can be rewritten a thousand times, but always saying the same thing: I’m me. Just me. Here. Now. Under the same sun I was born.
I sure love being right all the time. I’m grew up smack dab in the middle of women, my voice, tiny, had to be even louder, my mind, stubborn, even more sure than ever. I was raised to be right. Astrologically? So fucking right all the time. Aquarius and their constant pursuit of social justice. Then I got married and I get to be right in where we should eat tonight, forgetting to buy coffee creamer and the state of our Tupperware drawer. Now as a mom? Do I even need to say it? Always right.
I do this thing. Where I pull way back from people. And, I’m talking about this because i just did it for two weeks over the holidays and I’m somewhat still in it but coming out of it. And, I’ll tell you all this and you might tell me you do it to. It’s probably totally normal.
As little girls we hear fairy tales of true love. As young women we go searching for it. As we age we do more than we ever thought we would to save it. No one teaches us that measurement of marriage is something as deep as it is wide or tall.
When this card shows up I know someones been leaning hard into their shadow self, not because they are a weak person but because something is influencing them in some kinda way and they are taking the unhealthy way out.
Anyone who grew up near the water knows the wild, untethered dance of water, knocking you down, spinning your ankles skyward and sending you tumbling, churning, seeking breath as sand scratches, burning against your back.
The bags are packed. Correction–the bags are more or less packed.
This week I read The Simple Wild by K.A Tucker. A story about Calla. – young millennial who travels to remote Alaska to reunite with her estranged father, meeting handsome and hardheaded Jonah along the way.
We look at abuse and neglect in a very narrow black and white way, there’s good touch and then there’s bad touch. We want to believe that where’s there’s love there can’t be harm. And where there’s harm, love isn’t possible. But Greenwood’s novel depicts the opposite for us, showing us where love cuts through the cracks of very dark and damaged places.
A relaxing oasis of a hotel in the heart of Waikiki, Oahu, Hawaii.