No one else loves me bigger than their body. They may appreciate my work, my efforts, my writing, my whatever, but nothing I do, can do, will do, will ever make them love me bigger than their body.
To the pile of laundry in my closet, “Let it go, let it go…”
Everything had been just fine. I swear it. The baby was happily playing at my feet and little man was in the basement with a small horde of his extremely loud friends playing ninja Spider-Man. I finally unpacked the suitcases I’d shoved in the back of our closet. I felt accomplished, we were having a… Continue reading The Witching Hour
To the potential dismay of his teacher I will continue allowing him to color outside the lines, I may even encourage it a little. Because we cannot truly be categorized, we do not live inside a box, we do not live in black and white. We live in a wild wonderful world, complete with colors abundant, flavors to be tasted and savored.
I stand back, and in the strangest way look at my life, my children, my husband, the interaction of those around me, and the interaction of myself within those interactions. It’s all very surreal, the bigness of it, and yet the incredible smallness of it.
Can I tell you a secret? I don’t normally do this, tell secrets, but sometimes, maybe, sharing something you’ve suppressed or held down can be life-giving, freeing. Not just for the secret holder, but for the ears that hear.
I’ve shared this before and feel it’s important to keep sharing: That while those unwanted houseguests wanted to rob the joy of my first child, while they played tricks on my body telling it it wasn’t hungry and that I didn’t need to eat, while I began wasting away body and mind, while everything felt like it was falling apart, in the midst of it all, I stopped and I got help.