My disease hates when I’m happy. My disease hates when I stray from needing it to tell me my every move, validate my every thought, and rely on it for comfort. Especially when it has to do with my body, the food I put in my body, and people commenting on either or both. And …
See? Doing the right thing always trumps reacting to … anything. Our feelings. Our mood. What’s happening in the perceived version of to instead of for. Corporate politics and drama almost fucking got me today – almost. As salespeople we are feeling a bit desperate as the world continues to spin without us. We’re feeling …
I feel damned if I do, and damned if I don’t. I feel exposed or hidden. I feel arrogant and seeking, or too modest and quiet. I feel confused and defensive, while simultaneously humbled and challenged. Because I forgot that I want to. In July my shin was killing me, to the point that I …
It’s been a few days of total awareness. It started with a walk and hearing my anxiety gain an audible pulse. It started with the remembering of our date night shifting and the attachment that it must mean something. (Please read the actual text: shifting, not what my brain said: not happening). Then it …
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 brain was fully awake and driving me wild. I’m rebooted. When I got to the beach on Sunday afternoon, I was done. I ate dinner in bed at 6, …
I forgot. I forgot that recovery – my entire life – is a continuous journey. I forgot that it is not a destination. It is not a place to reach or to graduate or to exceed. I forgot that it is not a permanent feeling, or look, or experience. I forgot. I forgot when I …
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 done something differently than I did. It’s not my fault that I default to thinking I am wrong, or unworthy, or out of place. It’s not my fault that …
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, but willingly now. Life is grey, not black and white. Most of my life I have lived in the black and white. The all or the nothing. The best …
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 deny how it felt. Many are obsessed with the idea that work must be filled with passion, purpose, and overwhelming love. Many are sold with the notion that you …
“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 only I could look like x, or feel like y, then I’d be happy. The chase to nowhere and the high to nothing. I lived that way for a …