Some food for thought.
I’d hate to disappoint you so let’s dive in!
I’m many things, but my writing tugs at the more elemental qualities of my life. Things like the shaping of my identity, discoveries I’ve made about mental health, finding a surprising amount of strength in adversary, and reflecting on the more formative experiences in my life.
Let me explain.
“The real difficulty is to overcome how you think about yourself.” ~ Maya Angelou
If there were one person’s opinion that you should pay attention to, it would be your own. Our efforts to appear a certain way to the outside world are a waste of energy. More important than the opinions of of others is our own awareness of self.
Many of us, me included, put forth a great deal of effort to appear a certain way to the world. We attach our identities to things like intelligence, wealth, and external beauty. …
If you knew you would die tomorrow, would you care about your Medium income today?
When did writing become something we did for money? When did it stop being enough to have a sympathetic ear? When did writing stop being an art form, and become a hustle? And why do we seem to think that this isn’t a problem?
We can no longer be spontaneous, take risks, or be experimental. Instead we must make calculated decisions based on metrics that inevitably impact our output.
Some would say that this shift is positive. That we’re telling people what they want to…
As a mom, I can’t help but worry, “this is it. This is the one that’ll break him.” But he’s more resilient than I give him credit. His growl may be loud, complaining and feigning inevitable death by embarrassment or failure. But in truth, he’s doing better than he realizes, and it’s time for me to get on board the resilience train with him.
I’ve never raised a teenager. To be fair, most of us haven’t raised a teenager until we’re faced with one, standing in front of us, where our sweet little kid used to be. It’s a bit…
Can good people do bad things, or is there a line?
As a child, I loved shopping with my mom at Coast-to-Coast. The aisles were too tall to see over, and while most of the stores contents were hardware-like gizmos and gadgets, or upholstery fabric, there was one aisle that embodied all that I loved in the world.
Sticker books, pads of drawing paper, boxes of note cards, pens and pencils of every color, spiral notebooks, and buckets of fun shaped erasers. There was even a small box full of individually wrapped chocolates.
I’d turn down that aisle and get…
I’d like to say it’s because I simply have no faith in humanity, but I’m pretty sure it has more to do with the gremlins in my head. It’s like the experts say; when you find faults outside yourself — be it in people, experiences, or things — it’s often more of a reflection back on ourselves.
It takes a whole lot of work for me to be optimistic and hopeful. And I’m not speaking to toxic positivity, in which people become a shimmering unicorns who fart cupcakes. …
Through the process of writing and wrestling with percolating thoughts, we tend to make more of a mess than if we just sit by patiently waiting.
There’s value to the idea of seeing creativity as a practice. A habit that can be formed so that our thoughts can have time to fully bake. But that mindset, as with any mindset, has it’s limitations.
No, I’m not suggesting that we ought to twiddle our thumbs until the muse arrives. …
But I see an important caveat.
So often, our judgement of how we spend our time is what makes it easy (or difficult) to accept. Time marches on, regardless of what’s happening in our lives. Time is neutral. It’s how we judge it that has an impact.
I believe that during crisis we do the best we can with what we have. We lean on our strengths and protect those we love in the ways we know how. …
We hadn’t been in the air for more than an hour when my son started throwing up into the airsick bag. Wiping his chin and signaling to my husband to get me the change of clothes, I took a quick peek at the flight timer. 13.5 hours to go.
Not everyone’s had the experience of a long-haul flight with a sick child. But we’ve all endured difficult moments that we couldn’t change or “fix.”
Don’t misunderstand me. I was livid with the staff aboard that flight who’d served us the wrong meals and who’d then proceeded to tell us we…
I had a favorite sweater growing up. I wore it with everything. It didn’t matter if it matched my outfit or smelled like too little deodorant. We were inseparable.
One day I went to pull it on and discovered the shoulders were a bit too tight. The sleeves revealed my wrists, and the zipper no longer connected comfortably. For a while, I ignored the signs that I’d outgrown it.
Then one day, we reached the point of no return and I had to say my goodbyes. It hung in my closet for weeks, maybe even months. I couldn’t let it…