Lumps and Bumps
I woke up and I knew I was ready to go home. I didn’t sleep quite as soundly, I felt a twinge of anxiety, and my
I woke up and I knew I was ready to go home. I didn’t sleep quite as soundly, I felt a twinge of anxiety, and my
I forgot. I forgot that recovery – my entire life – is a continuous journey. I forgot that it is not a destination. It is not
It’s true: beating ourselves up for being human just makes it harder. A lot harder. It’s not my fault that I default to thinking I should’ve
I’m calm. I feel balanced. I’m not in a hurry and I’m not attached. It’s somewhat new. I’ve been practicing hard. Not by choice at first,
I know the signs: fatigue, resistance, tiredness, repulsion. I know it because I lived it for many years, pushing it down until I could no longer
“I had arrived”. That elusive idea that once I get somewhere or that once I achieve something, I will be complete. That elusive story that if
I just posted a video about body image, and the me that is learning how to filter and edit and hone my social media marketing craft
I wasn’t always health conscious, or intentional about my health. I wasn’t always driven by a combination of loving nourishment and respect. I wasn’t always open
Being on zoom all day has taken me to a new level of exhaustion. I can’t read body language. I can’t sense if someone is interested
It is hard to expose yourself day in and day out on social media, and I had no idea I’d have to. I wrote a book